Long Ago and Far Away

 O, call back yesterday, bid time return.

~ William Shakespeare, Richard II 3:2

The first time I voted, I was 19 years old. The 26th Amendment was freshly passed a few months before Election Day, giving the right to vote to citizens aged 18 and older. It was a proud and exhilarating feeling for my classmates and me to register in our little college town and vote in our first election.

My friends and I marched en masse to our polling place, the local firehouse, on Election Day afternoon and lined up behind a mix of other students and local residents. Grey-haired, grandmotherly volunteers, their reading glasses draped on neck chains, were seated at folding tables, ready to assist us. After my registration was checked, I was given a paper ballot.

The paper resembled the sheets that used to be handed out in grade school for sketching in art class; it was coarse and somewhat grey in appearance, with flecks of brown (lumber?) dotted here and there. A wooden pencil (with no eraser) was also provided. 

There were a few grey canvas curtains on metal rings sheathing wooden voting cubbies. Each on our turn, my classmates and I entered the sacred space of the voting booth. I marked my ballot and returned to the table sentries.

One of the smiling ladies instructed me how to fold my ballot, shielding its contents from view, and to tear off and keep the perforated triangle at the top left; this scrap of paper, stamped with a number that matched the number printed on my ballot, was my receipt.

There was a large wooden crate at the edge of the first table with a huge metal padlock latched on top. It had a slot cut into the wood near the padlock, wide and long enough to accommodate the folded ballot size. The lady directed me to drop my ballot into the slot, which I did. I had voted, and the election results were readily available later that night.

This was before the internet, cell phones, voting machines, AI, or any other technological intervention, which were all beyond imagination in the 1970s. Yet Election Day was completed and the nationwide results were official within one day.

Anyone who prefers today's "system" should be able to explain WHY. Based on more than five decades of faithful voting, I would take a rough sheet of grade school sketching paper on Election Day over a month-long mail-in ballot any day.

First line of a 1972 election ballot

Saints and Souls

Although its meaning has been distorted in our secular world, today is what Halloween ("All Hallows Eve") is all about, the Feast of All Saints. This holy day, observed on November 1, is a "solemnity" in the Catholic Church. That means it's a Holy Day of Obligation and all good Catholics should hightail it to Mass.

It fortuitously happens that this year All Saints Day falls on a Sunday, so the headcount at church should be healthy. Tomorrow, November 2, is All Souls Day. It's not a Holy Day of Obligation, but many Catholics go to Mass to pray for their deceased relatives. These departed loved ones could very well be unknown saints in heaven. I can think of a few in my own family who might already have made the cut. 

"All You Holy Men and Women Pray for Us"
Refrain of the Litany of the Saints
(which I'll be singing in choir at noon)

Virtual Voting

Have we all seen enough election TV ads? Good gravy. If you have to try that hard, candidates, you're probably not a wise choice.

Living in California as I have for decades, in recent years I always vote with a sense of futility. This is especially true since the implementation of "mail-in voting." Very few Californians that I know have much confidence in the state's "system" of vote counting, which tends to drag on for weeks until the ruling political machine's desired outcome is publicly justifiable.

A voter can still cast a ballot at a polling place on Election Day, but you need to be a good gambler. There are fewer locations, and there are often delays, long lines, power outages, and issues with the ballots. Judging by the numerous glitches reported, in-person voting is discouraged.

You wouldn't catch me anywhere near a voter's "drop box," which are stationed on the streets all over town. That's such a telling term--"drop," indeed. I don't even "drop" it into a USPS mailbox. 

Earlier this month I mailed my vote. Ever since mail-in ballots started a few years back, I always hand-carry my sealed/signed bright yellow envelope into the local post office and present it to the counter clerk, announcing "This is my ballot." The clerk dutifully nods, takes the envelope, and tosses it into a bin. In the ensuing days, I get progressive email notifications that my ballot has been a) received by the Post Office; b) sent to the Registrar's office; c) received at the Registrar's office; and d) counted. 

This is the best I can do with the current California voting "system." Even so, I've reconciled myself to the fact that my vote is probably either a) inconsequential or b) in the circular file.

How I miss walking a few blocks to a neighbor's garage to stand in line with other neighbors, to vote in person on Election DAY, and to learn the results that night. As an old song laments, those were the days, my friend.

For decades, I wore my "I Voted" sticker all Election Day.
Now it goes in the trash as soon as I open my mail-in voter packet.

Driving Progress

"It's futile to resist change, man."

~ Fillmore, Cars3

In the spring, I treated myself to a "new" car. It's actually three years old and was coming off a lease, but as the driver of a 20+-year-old car, that was new enough for me. In fact, it was too new for me.

This car talks to me. It beeps at me. If a tire touches the line separating lanes, the steering wheel shakes and the dashboard glows bright orange, announcing LANE DEPARTURE. As my mother would've said, it's a bit much.

In the early days, when I was still flailing with my newly acquired automotive challenges, I found myself talking back to the car. "I know, I know!" "Alright, I get it!" I learned inside a car wash that the car brakes automatically. Evidently, it was heading for a guard rail. "Okay, okay!"

Driving home one night the dash lit up with a message: "You seem tired, pull over and take a break." "Excuse me?" This is a bit too much automotive surveillance for me. 

On the plus side, the car looks good and rides beautifully. I've figured out how to use some of the features, but it's slow going. Take, for example, locking the car. This should be as easy as flicking a light switch, yes? Ha! Don't be fooled.

The locking mechanism is a keyless fob, of course. Try to lock it on the first try; I dare you. An extra five minutes is needed for every time-sensitive destination just to lock the blessed car. Please don't direct me to the user's manual, which is about five inches thick. There are no less than 14 pages detailing various means of locking/unlocking this automotive wonder. "Really?"

A new car was a practical decision. I was spending crazy cash on the old car, not so much on repairs as on replacement parts that were giving out with time. There have been no replacements or repairs so far on the newbie, but the increased insurance and registration costs even that equation.

I don't regret buying a newer high-tech car; it had to happen eventually. But I do miss the simplicity of my old beater. I especially miss that magical metal key.

From Disney's Cars movie series

A Fast Read

“You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.”

― C.S. Lewis

Speaking as a constant reader, it has been many years since I finished reading a book inside two days. Recently this rare achievement recurred. Christian Craighead's One Man In was almost impossible for me to put down. I began reading it last Wednesday afternoon and was done by Thursday night. If you are a fan of action books, this true-life story is for you.

Having already viewed his lengthy interview with Shawn Ryan, it was surprising to find myself so absorbed in Craighead's written memoir of his harrowing day fighting terrorists. It continues to both fascinate and reassure me that we have such men as the author walking among us. We don't deserve them, but I'm grateful they are here.

My Native Land

Indigenous: 1. having originated in and being produced, growing, living, or occurring naturally in a particular region or environment; 2. INNATE, INBORN syn see NATIVE

Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary

Originating in and characteristic of a particular region or country; native (to)

Dictionary.com

Every day we are told by media, politicians, academia, social media, and the culture in general that the USA is a "nation of immigrants." People coming to America to establish new lives for their themselves, their families, and their posterity is our country's natural state of being.

By that definition, I'm a natural-born indigenous person. So were my parents. We were all born in the USA. According to the definition, we all originated, grew, and lived here. We occurred naturally; we're natives of the USA.

That being settled, I don't need a holiday such as "Indigenous Peoples Day" to celebrate myself. Much preferred is the longtime holiday to honor the man who discovered this amazing "new world," Christopher Columbus. His overseas journey, which took no small portion of guts to undertake, opened the American continent for the rest of the world. 

Did bad stuff happen in the centuries since Columbus discovered America? Yes, indeed. Show me a time in history when bad stuff didn't happen. As one example, read what the Aztecs were up to before Christianity converted the people of Mexico. Hearts cut out of living bodies? Hmm. It seems those particular indigenous people celebrated some terrifying customs that are not missed.

Columbus Day is a treasured tradition in the United States. President Trump made an official proclamation for Columbus Day to be honored on October 12. Indigenous people such as I applaud the recognition and respect the president has conferred upon our national history.

Statue of Christopher Columbus - Newport, RI

Defining Terms

 Geno-cide – the deliberate and systematic destruction of a racial, political, or cultural group.

~ Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary

the deliberate and systematic extermination of a national, racial, political, or cultural group.

- Dictionary.com

Genocide is a strong word defining a brutal act. Yet, like “racism,” the word “genocide” is so overused and misapplied today that it has lost much of its true meaning.

Is Israel’s military trying to eliminate members of the Islamic terrorist group Hamas? Yes. A group that promotes the destruction of the Israeli people by any means needs to be eliminated. A group that attacks, tortures, and murders men, women, and children in cold blood for no other reason than hatred should be eliminated. That is what Israeli military forces are systematically doing.

That is not “genocide.” That is self-defense.

What has been happening in Gaza would never have transpired without the unprovoked atrocities of October 7, 2023. Critics of Israel like to skip over that part. Jewish families were attacked, raped, tortured, and slaughtered in their homes on their sabbath morning. Women’s breasts were cut off and kicked around the street like soccer balls. Infants were roasted in microwave ovens while mothers were forced to watch. People were burned alive, their charred bodies melded to the loved ones they were clutching. Children were murdered in front of their parents; parents were murdered in front of their children.

Yet there was no global outrage at Hamas. Almost immediately the world told the Israelis to stand down. “Cease fire” became the catchword.

If your family had been deliberately slaughtered for no reason except ethnic hate, would you stand down? I suppose no one knows exactly what they would do in such a horrific circumstance. But I like to think I would fight back. Kind of like Israel has been doing for three years.

Just for safety, I would want every single member of Hamas hunted down and killed to prevent the possibility of them ever attacking my family again. Genocide? I think not. Justice? Oh, yes.

 

By awesome deeds you answer us with deliverance,
    O God of our salvation ~ Psalm 65:5

Going the Distance

“I have such pride in my husband’s work. I’m proud of my work, too, but most of all my marriage and family."~ Eva Marie Saint, 2018

Eva Marie Saint, Academy Award winner for her role in the 1954 film classic On the Waterfront, died today at age 102. Saint also starred in Alfred Hitchcock's iconic 1959 spy thriller North by Northwest. Her stellar roster of co-stars included Marlon Brando, Cary Grant, Montgomery Clift, Gregory Peck, Paul Newman, and George C. Scott. She sure knew how to pick her roles.

Saint's film catalog is not as voluminous as many of her contemporaries; she was open about wanting to put her homelife first. She achieved that goal. Her marriage to director Jeff Hayden lasted 65 years, until his death in 2016. Saint is survived by their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

In recent years Saint was revered for being the oldest living Oscar recipient as well as lauded for her screen work, which in later years included television. It's always sad to see a star from Hollywood's golden age leave us. Setting aside her honorable age, there's no doubt Eva Marie Saint was a star with staying power. Rest in peace.

Eva Marie Saint in the 1950s

A Heartfelt Story

“You can usually tell that a man is good if he has a dog who loves him.”

~ W. Bruce Cameron

Movie theatres aren't places I frequent much anymore. Years ago, I went to the movies regularly; there were usually good choices to make. In recent years the quality and content of the films offered has taken a severe downturn, just my opinion. And the price has skyrocketed. Not much out of Hollywood catches my interest.

I hadn't been to "the movies" in six or eight months, but today I decided to go see Heart of the Beast. It was a good call.

Heart of the Beast has been heavily promoted on social media. There were so many clips on Instagram that I almost felt I had seen most of the movie. But all the clips I saw looked intriguing. The movie seemed like a solid story worth watching, and I'm glad to report that it is.

Although set in Alaska, Heart of the Beast was filmed in New Zealand. The scenery is spectacular. Brad Pitt does yeoman's work as James Belmont, retired US Army Special Forces officer. But his character's military service dog, Odin (named "Uber" in real life), steals just about every scene. Even Pitt has said in interviews that Odin is the real star of the show. 

The comments on Instagram leading up to the film's release were entertainment in themselves. Innumerable times, the producers actually had to swear in writing that "the dog lives" in order to shore up attendees for the movie. Yes, Odin survives. But any dog movie is going to yank at your heartstrings, and Heart of the Beast does exactly that.

No spoilers, but I liked the ending. It's a movie worth seeing. Even though Odin is fine at the end, if you're a dog lover, bring tissues.

Scene from Heart of the Beast

A Blessed Day

 "Faith makes things possible, not easy."

~ Blessed Fulton J. Sheen, 1895-1979

My father was a huge fan of Fulton Sheen's television show, Life Is Worth Living. It first aired in the 1950s and was revived as The Fulton Sheen Program during the 1960s. I remember Dad watching the shows with studied focus. Some memories are forever.

Venerable Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen will be beatified today at a Mass in St. Louis, Missouri. He becomes Blessed Fulton Sheen, one step closer to canonization. The required miracle that advanced Sheen to this holy status is the 2010 resuscitation of a stillborn infant, dead for over an hour, who was revived and is today a perfectly normal teenager.

The boy's parents had prayed for Fulton Sheen's intercession during the crisis. No medical professional can explain this outcome.

Sheen had a commanding presence, a sonorous voice, and a magnetic gaze. Through first his radio show, which aired from 1930 to 1950, then television during the '50s and '60s, he educated millions about the Catholic faith. One of his most famous quotes is: "There are not one hundred people in the United States who hate The Catholic Church, but there are millions who hate what they wrongly perceive the Catholic Church to be.” 

My favorite quote of Sheen's is from his Emmy Award acceptance speech: "I wish to thank my four writers, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.”  He had the gift of wry humor, often applied during his talks.

Fulton Sheen was also a prolific author. He wrote more than five dozen books, available at major bookstores and online.

Sheen was devoted to his daily Holy Hour, time spent in silent prayer and reflection in front of the Blessed Sacrament. It is said he never missed a day, and he always did it before he was to speak on the air. He died in his private chapel, in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, in December 1979.

After the 1960s, there is a generation or two that lost out on Fulton's Sheen's teachings. But he has experienced a huge revival in the digital age, with his shows airing on EWTN and YouTube. I found his entire series on YouTube last night. I recommend watching Episode 1, Quo Vadis America. It is so relevant to current events that I got the chills.

Sheen believed that communism was the worst threat to our nation. Considering the dangerous trajectory our politics have turned to, the man has been proved prescient.

The family of that stillborn baby is jubilant at today's beatification of Archbishop Sheen. They call him "an old family friend" and eagerly anticipate the verification of a second miracle attributable to Sheen, which will be required to declare him a saint. 

My father would be very happy about today's events. Hopefully by now he and the good Archbishop are already "old friends" in heaven.

Blessed Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen ~ 1895-1979