Honesty and Truth

This blog entry is dedicated to my feisty red-headed cousin, Judy.  Her thoughts and insights are amazing.  Maybe this is egocentric on my part since she describes my feelings and thoughts about the official Catholic Church so precisely.
Her dialogue is honest, open and challenging.
These are some of my thoughts she has brought to the forefront:
 If there is a Supreme Being ( I say "if", not to offend anyone but because this belief is really a matter of faith) than there is also an ultimate truth. 
The word "supreme" by its very meaning is the "top" or the "best" and it is singular.  There is only one since if there were two than the fist one would no longer be supreme.  The second one would be the second best or the next best.  If there is one Supreme Being than it really doesn't matter what we name this being, it is still the one and only!
Our human minds search the truth about, but never really fully understand, this Supreme Being since we aren't that Being.  Also it doesn't really matter what we call this Being because, in essence, we are all referring to the same Being since there is only One.   Therefore it doesn't really make sense to fight or argue over what we name this Being.  It is and always will be Supreme.  I guess!  I say "I guess" because anyone who pretends to know for certain is, I believe, arrogant.
Discussing truthfully can offend a lot of people.  I know from personal experience that you can't ask certain questions or state your "truth" without causing an uproar.   This is too bad since finding the truth (as best we can) about this Supreme Being appears to be an ultimate goal of existence (at least to me and possibly Alfie). 
There is a new expression floating around a lot lately - "speaking truth to power".   Power doesn't like the truth because it may show them to be fraudulent.   Also truth can be painful.  I know that from personal experience also.  When I was an adolescent I asked my cousin, Susie, if I was pretty and she said, "your average" and this hurt since I really wanted to be gorgeous and a famous singer. In many ways it is a lot more comfortable to live in fantasy.  Oftentimes I  like to hear lies, "beautiful" lies.   Oftentimes I don't feel strong enough to hear the truth.  But when someone speaks the truth, they challenge us and they make us grow.   Hopefully the truth can be so lovingly given that we don't block it from getting into us.

AWAKE!

So it is now 5AM and I have been awake since approximately 2:30AM.  I lie in bed and my mind starts wandering to this thing and that.  I wish I could put it, i.e., my mind, to sleep so I can be rejuvenated in the morning when most normal people are getting up and moving.  But, there is always so much to think about.  Does anyone else have this problem?  Typically I think about some deep issues such as love, relationships, the meaning of life, the truth about an Almighty Being, Eternity, etc, etc.  Then I think about everyday things - "my to do list" - deciding what should be done first and the most effective means to get the job done.   I think about the people I haven't called in awhile, the people I miss seeing and/or talking to.  I think about
deciding what to pack for Mike and Shelby's wedding;
what to include and how to organize the slide presentation for the Friends of Fontaine Annual dinner on Oct. 18th.    I think about people from my past - people who helped form me into the person I am now - good parts and bad.  I remember lessons I learned that never left me; for example when I was 17 years old I went to speak to our pastor at St. Michael's Church in East New York, Brooklyn, Father Owen Shelley.  I was in my first "serious" relationship with a guy named Jerry and I was beginning to see things weren't going to work out for us.   I remember that Father Owen said that as difficult as it would be for me to change and become like him, that was how difficult it would be for him to change and become like me.   That bit of advice has stayed with me throughout my life.  It is a very powerful statement and I have thought of it and returned to it in many circumstances throughout my life.  Change does not come easy for anyone.  When we are strong in a belief and it has been ingrained over many years, it takes a huge amount of desire and then effort to change - even a tiny little change.
Another lesson I learned by experience, is that love is profound and unconditional love is nothing short of a miracle so when a person really loves you, you are changed forever by that love.  It leaves me with a great sense of gratitude. 
It is now 5:22AM and I will attempt to go back to sleep for a little while.  Lucky for me I am retired and I have no appointments this morning.

This Cardinal Disappoints Me

As a thoughtful Catholic, I am once again embarrassed and disappointed to hear that Cardinal Gerhard Mueller, head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith continues his attack on American nuns.  In order manage my bitterness and rage; I prayed the words uttered by Christ, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do”.   Why does Cardinal Mueller continue to press ahead with this nonsensical, wasteful investigation of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR)?    When Cardinal Mueller accuses the nuns of thumbing their noses at the Vatican, I can’t help but picture an immature, arrogant, vindictive man stomping his feet in a futile attempt to maintain his position of power.    Cardinal Mueller made a special point of criticizing the LCWR’s decision to honor Fordham University Theologian, Sister Elizabeth Johnson at their annual assembly this summer in Nashville, Tenn.    This criticism makes me question if Cardinal Mueller actually took the time to read any of Sr. Elizabeth Johnson’s many scholarly works, and if he did, did he fail to comprehend them?  For if he had read, listened to, and understood her enlightened message, he, too, would be praising her as one of the most saintly individuals of our era.   

Photo is my classmate, Pat, from St. Vincent's Hospital School of Nursing greeting the Guest Speaker, Sr. Elizabeth Johnson, at the St. Joseph Provincial House here in Latham, NY  in April 2013

September 18, 1971

43 years ago today, i.e., September 18th 1971, at St. Michael the Archangel Catholic Church on Jerome Street in Brooklyn, NY was the scene of this life changing event.  I said , "I do" and Bob said it too and here we are all these years later married still.  I don't think we had a clue as to what we were in for- does anyone really know what they are signing up for when they say those words, "For better or for worse for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health until death do us part".  Bob was pale and clammy, I was on a Equinol (thanks to my dear Daddy)and we made it though the day.   Bob was truly the best man for me and I hope I was the best woman for him (he always wanted to marry a nurse and I always wanted to marry a man who was stronger than me).  I think we both got what we wanted.  He told me long ago that our love was different than other loves - you know the loves that eventually dissolved, gave up and fell by the wayside.  He said our love would survive the test of time.  He promised me that and I cherished that promise through thick and thin.   It hasn't always been a bed of roses but it certainly was worth it and I would do it again in a heartbeat.  After all, anyone who knows me well, knows I looked far and wide to find the "best" man for me and with the help of God, I found him.  Besides, I always loved his voice and his sense of humor - what more could a woman ask for!
The Mass was con-celebrated by Fr. Godfrey Leuchinger, OFM Cap, Fr. Owen Shelly, OFM Cap and Fr. Al Varriale (of St. Rita's Church  and counselor extraordinare.

One of the Lucky Ones - Article that appeared in the Times Union

My cousin Glenn drove Engine 54  for a firehouse in the theater district in midtown Manhattan.

At age 50, Glenn was a senior member of his company. Not too long before 9/11, my husband and were in Manhattan to see a show on Broadway and we decided to walk over to Glenn’s firehouse to say hello.

Glenn wasn’t there that day, but the younger guys on duty were more than happy to laugh and socialize with the family of one of their brothers. It was obvious they were a close-knit bunch of guys who loved to taunt and mess with each other.

We left the firehouse with a smile on our faces and a bounce in our step. These young, handsome, cheerful and robust bunch of guys had that kind of effect on you.

As fate would have it, Glenn’s firehouse was one of the first to respond when disaster hit the World Trade Center on that beautiful morning in September 2001.

He was on his last day of vacation. Shortly after the planes hit, all the off-duty firemen were called in to work. As they stood somberly awaiting their assignments, one of the men asked the question on everyone’s mind, “Were any of our guys lost?”

The answer they heard — “everyone” — was too horrifying to fully comprehend.

Everyone from Engine Company 54 who happened to be on duty the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, was gone — 15 men in all.

In a state of disbelief, the survivors started to ask about the men in surrounding firehouses.

The word — everyone — was repeated over and over again. The shocking truth was that almost all the firehouses in the nearby communities had lost all the men who were at work that morning.

At 1 a.m. that night, the guys from Engine Company 54 were down at the World Trade Center site, digging through the rubble, desperately hoping to find their brothers alive. As dawn approached, the full impact of the devastation came into focus — 50,000 desks, chairs, file cabinets and computers, as well as the steel and concrete of the world’s most majestic pair of skyscrapers, were reduced to white ash and unrecognizable rubble.

The surrounding buildings contained massive gaping holes and furiously burning fires.

The area was promptly labeled ground zero, a term previously used to describe the devastating destruction found at the epicenter of a nuclear attack.

Because Engine 54’s firehouse is in the center of one of Manhattan’s biggest tourist areas, typically the doors are left wide open. After Sept. 11, people from all over the world came to the firehouse to show their support and pay their respects.

My cousin told me, “I feel like I’m at an unending wake; I’ve never been hugged so much in all my life. Even the hugs are pulling me down; I just can’t stand it anymore.”

He described a pervading sense of numbness, as if the firemen had been anesthetized. He knew more than 60 firemen who died and he asked, “How can you lose so many friends in one swift swoop?” I had no answer for him.

There was no relief from the sorrow. Funerals and memorial services occurred in a constant stream. After many weeks, the wife of one of his comrades spoke as if her husband might still be found alive. My cousin told me how painfully heartbreaking it was to hear her clinging to this hope once he’d been to ground zero and had seen firsthand the minuscule particles that remained.

Because the word “off” was penciled into my cousin’s schedule for Tuesday, 9/11, most people defined him as one of the lucky ones. Yet, I know firsthand that he never recovered from this devastating loss. It appears that his life blew up along with those majestic towers. The overwhelming anguish he suffered led to severe post traumatic stress syndrome and his mind still contains an indelible picture of a hell known as ground zero.

Mary Beth Buchner lives in Latham.

First Anniversary in a Place called Heaven

One year ago, in the early morning hours of 9-11, my father left his body and went somewhere else.  People tell me how lucky I was to have my Dad for 68 years and I know they are completely correct.  
My father was a brilliant man and he grasped certain complex concepts that others couldn't "touch".    I loved to hear him talk about the stars and the galaxies and the many principles of physics that influenced our daily lives.  He seemed to know certain things innately and he retained countless facts without any effort.  If it was a subject that was "up his alley", it was a pleasure for him to read and study and remember.   He even got in trouble in pre-seminary school at  Garrison New York, for reading books that weren't part of the assignment.  These books were not "girly" magazines or frivolous fiction; they were books on the working of electricity!  He always needed to know why things worked the way they did.  He understood anatomy and physiology better than many doctors and nurses.  And when we were young children, he built us - his kids - a recorder player from scratch - things he had laying around his house.  How many kids can say their father did that?!   I didn't even realize it was home-made until years later. I thought every kid had a 3 foot high rectangular wooden box for their record player.  
But the most important lessons I learned from my Father had to do with love.   One quick story will illustrate my point.  One time when I was a child, the front doorbell rang and when I went to open it with my father quickly following behind, there stood a woman with a strap around the back of her neck from which hung a box of trinkets - thread, pencils, and other little inconsequential things.  She asked if we wanted to buy anything - obviously she was going door to door, trying to sell her wares.  My father, with a wave of his hand, dismissed her rather abruptly.  She turned and looking dejected began her descent down the long flight of stairs at 62 Interboro Parkway.   A few minutes later my father ran down the stairs and up the street after her.  I followed close behind to see what was up.  I had no idea what he was doing and why.   He called after the woman, she turned and waited.  When my father reached her side, he apologized for his harsh response to her.  He then rummaged through her container and found something he probably didn't need or want, paid her more than it was worth.  She thanked him and we turned and walked back home together.  He never explained his actions to me, but what he did that day taught me more about love and the type of person he was than any elaborate words he could have spoken.
So, today, on the first anniversary of his passing, I have to believe he is somewhere good, surrounded by love.

My Fortune Cookie

My Fortune Cookie said, "Find release from your cares, have a good time."   Was that a coincidence or did someone know that a boulder was lifted from my chest earlier in the afternoon when Dr. Chang shared the biopsy results with us.  I can't remember when I heard such good news.   There is NO cancer in the lymph glands - the malignancy appears to be confined to the prostate gland which is out of Bob's body!!  Good-bye you terrible disease!  Stay away, we don't like you.

 We celebrated over lunch at the Pearl of the Orient toasting each other with some Chinese Tsingtao Beer.  It was a marvelous day.   Praise God.  Thank you, Dr. Theodore Chang, and all the scientists and engineers, etc. who came up with this marvelous Robot.  By the way that horrible bruise is almost gone.  Some people have drains placed during surgery which likely eliminates the terrible bruising  but, the other side of the coin is the fact that this exposure to the outside could be another potential source of infection.    Thank you for all the prayers and good wishes.  The next step is continued recovery and periodically checking the PSA levels which should be and continue to remain 0 now that the prostate is gone