“First World” Dilemma

Posted on September 14, 2015 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

NXVnTTdINEVFS1Ux_o_first-world-problems-read-by-third-world-people(Sunday sermon, St. Sebastians Parish, Milwaukee, WI.  References are local.)

I apologize for having to trouble you with this today but it’s been weighing heavily on my mind for several weeks now and I can’t keep seem to get it out of my mind.   Yes, there have been sleepless nights and yes, alcohol has been involved…but, well, here I go.  I’m going to take a big risk here but, but…should I cancel DirectTV or not?  I’ve looked for support groups for this kind of thing but, do you believe it – there are none!  I’m on my own as only America wants me to be.  I did an internet search for “loser folks who want to cancel DirectTV” and couldn’t find anything. I couldn’t find just one.  Where are those kindred people when you need them the most!  Those folks who are at parties with me and smile at me at the right times and engage in small talk with me…where are they now in my time of DirectTV need? Today I graciously ask for your prayers and your support, (cough) financial support, that is.  The second collection today is to help me pay the ETF, which I learned stands for “early termination fee.”  Your generosity is appreciated…and in gratitude there’s a five dollar gift certificate to “Cranky Al’s” for every $20.00 you give me because, you know, we Americans only give to worthy, worthwhile causes if we get something back.  That’s the American way, isn’t it?  Giving for the sake of giving just doesn’t cut it any longer. People of our first world country preoccupy themselves with what? – itself – along with there is waaay too much overtime time spent on dwelling with minor, trivial things instead of the greater things of our community, our country, our world – we seem to be quite pleased with ourselves, we seem to be quite pleased with who we are as people of God.  Aren’t we?  “Should that back wall in my front room be a cream or a light pink color, I’m not sure.”  Years ago I was in Chiapas, Mexico with the Mayan Indians.  The morning meal the mom prepared for us was delicious.   When we finished breakfast the mom immediately and I mean immediately began to prepare lunch.  I was blown away when I saw this unfold each day.  There were no breaks between meals in providing food for working and hungry people and every one of the meals was made from scratch.

Did you know that the Mayans are to the Mexicans what Blacks are to Whites in our first world, always-right country?  How poorer can a poor people get?  My unfunny joke is that the Whites look down on the Blacks, the Blacks look down on the Puerto Ricans and the Puerto Ricans look down on the Mexicans who then look down on, you guessed it, the poor people of Chiapas.  The Mayans are presently looking for a class lower to look down upon so if you know of any available poorer group please let them know. As first-world people are we even able anymore to consider greater and broader issues and events in the lives of people other than our own?  As first-world people are we even able anymore to consider greater and broader issues and events in the lives of people other than our own? Here’s the point of my sermon in case you wish to read the bulletin: If you begin thinking that your life is small (but super important) then your life will remain small (with a huge illusion of super importance).  If you begin thinking your life is small but you are able to make your life bigger and enlarge it through your prayers, your thoughts and your actions then you and your “first world” life will be bigger; much, much bigger.

First World: “What color is the couch is in your living room? “I’m still not sure of the color I chose.” (Copying your neighbor makes for good guests.)
Third World: “I wonder if it’s safe to drink this water.”

First World: ”How big should my toilet be? I am now the proud owner of a “two flusher-handle” on my toilet…one for number 1 and a second for number 2. I needed to take a MATC class to get the sequence down right.”
Third World: “Will my son and daughter live beyond 20 years?”

First World: Donald Trump’s hair.
Third World: Having a dictator-type, duly elected president with big corporate funding.

First World: “Tonight, is it Bel Air or that new Vietnamese restaurant?”
Third World: “Our crop may be ruined by that last big rainstorm.”

This stuff is not easy. “Camel color or blood red for the bedroom walls.”  ”Oh, that blood-red color is so yesterday and her curtains are draped to the floor…”Who does she think she is?” …First World. I fear we’ve all become “Valley Girls” – male and female – in our self contained compartments whose accessories make us relevant and real.  The saddest part of our humanity is that the curtains and the wall colors make us feel alive. Make us fee real.  ”Just look how relevant I am, I have a smart TV…,” which isn’t very smart unless I’m the dumb one. El Salvador is prayed for each week, including today and what do we know about them…we know that a small group of white people visit there from time to time…Anyone ever google it?  Does anyone look on a map that extents beyond WTMJ’s weather map that begins at Sheboygan and ends at Racine?  The extent of our TV weather map ends the vast and diverse world that we First Worldly people have the luxury to avoid…ignore…forget about. And if you think that I’m mocking you or your lifestyle, you’re wrong because I’m included.  I signed up to go El Salvador along with those “white folks” and chickened out at the last minute.

Let me try a different approach in case you’ve dismissed me during the first.  We all abhor the word “victim” unless it applies to ourselves and then we call Habush, Habush, Habush, Habush and the other guy to see what the Habush clan and the other guy can do for us.  They send us sadly away.  Can we be “victims” of a first world environment over which we had no control except that our parents moved here?  Can we say anything less for our “third world” folks?  Victim means that something happened to us and we had no control.  Victimization is terrible when it brutally occurs  and it is the same terrible when accepted, blindly or otherwise.  First World folks gladly accept “victim” applied to us because we enjoy and take for granted the goods that make our lives as good as they are.  “Goods,” a word that applies to both supplies and to an attitude.  “It is good for us to be here,” people say each week in churches throughout the U.S.  The Psalm today was giving thanks to God for the goodness God supplies us each day.  Two different applications but one word.  Goodness.  If First World people accept that they are victims than perhaps a breakthrough to God’s mandates may make sense to us because then we are no longer victims but active players in a church that welcomes activism and in a culture that needs them. And God found that good.

Folks, we are in this “first world” dilemma together.  We got it too good, we don’t know what to do about, we want to do more but how often do we.  We need to question and challenge ourselves on a regular basis (which is called “prayer”, by the way).   What persistent voice is heard in our minds?  Is it God’s voice of peace and justice for our world and reflected through our lives – even with the smallest part of our bigger selves that we can share?  Or is it “that cream color or a soft pink color on that back wall that will balance off and compliment the other walls, especially the carpet.” Isaiah says that God opened his ears to hear (to hear ourselves but also the cries of so many others)..can God open our eyes to see beyond our comfortable eyes the uglier aspects of the world that we also inhabit.  Can God give us ears to hear struggling voices that we will never personally hear?  Can God give us feet that truly walks along side each person instead of behind or in front.  Can we allow others to taste the satisfaction of going to bed every night without putting a gun under their pillow?  Is it possible for others to taste what we taste?  Or is it just for us?  Or is it just a “third world” problem or a “that neighborhood problem?”  I often kid priests who send kids to Appalachia for a week for a mission experience.  “Why not send them to 3rd and Burleigh for a week?” I ask.  But that would be too close to home.  That would narrow that TV weather map to a “third world” experience along side our comfortable “first world” neighborhoods. Like 20 minutes away.  But this is America and I love this country.  But we…no, forget the word “we,” I am on my own and like it or not, I’m going to do this.  I will.

Can God please open our hearts (your wallets, actually) to contribute to this needy fund to help me decide whether to cancel DirectTV or not?  It agonizes me to no end and I don’t think you appreciate how important this is to me.  I’ve already texted seven friends about this…even while driving…(“because I can do text safely and no one else can”…American thinking?) and no one can help me.  Seven other friends changed the subject when I brought up DirectTV to them.  I’ve posted my dilemma on Facebook but no one has “Liked” me.  (Please “like” me on Facebook after Mass today.)  No one cares about my small life and the isolation I’ve created for myself.  My “First World” life is worthless….

(walking away saying…)
“Cream or a light pink?…I think a soft green or a variation of blue might work in the den but not the front room, but I’m not sure.”  God…I sound like I live in the Highlands.

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Packerland, “‘Tis the Season”

Posted on September 13, 2015 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

Men-s-Nike-Green-Bay-Packers-12-Aaron-Rodgers-Limited-Green-Team-Color-NFL-Jersey-18066I met Aaron Rodgers today in the mall. No kidding.  I didn’t know that he was black.  I then met him again near Boston Store but he was Asian.  No kidding.  Still, – one more -I met Aaron outside Victoria Secret and he’s a woman!  (Bruce, step aside.)  Aaron’s quite a guy in Wisconsin as the Packer season begins and all thoughts and dreams are linear…whether this year or not?

I care as much about the Packers as I do about Hillary’s emails but I do care about the issues pushed aside during these boring weeks of ups and downs from employees at work endlessly talking about people I don’t know (and they don’t know either) while how many social issues persist remain to be persisted.  When I belittle employees about their Packer loyalty they tell me that it’s a clean escape from the issues of the day and these are the same people who multi-task at work when can I barely get my one task completed.

But it’s the jersey name that intrigues me on the back of a 20 or a 50 year old.  The jersey costs $119.00 or $94.00 for Aarons’.  (Please read that sentence a second time!)  That doesn’t include the hat; I’m sorry the cap on the head of a bald man who’s only driven past exercise places and promised his wife 30 years ago to attend one.

Identity is a pretty personal and cherished thing in our culture and in our minds.  I’d need an agent before I were to wear green and gold with someone else’s name on my back.  Identity is hard won and I would prefer people know me as who I am and not some Aaron somebody who replaced the guy we once loved, then loved to hate and then loved again.  I can’t remember his name.

Besides, green and gold aren’t my colors.  I would, however, wear a black and white jersey if it said “Mel Torme” on the back.  At least, I’d be closer to my identity than that Asian guy is to Aaron.

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Walt, David, Chet & Harry

Posted on September 11, 2015 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

WalterCronkite2No, these four guys don’t own an ice cream chain.  Growing up these four guys informed a nation every night.  As much of the “worthy” news was gathered and delivered in thirty minutes; with fewer advertisements than we have today.

Trust was  built because we didn’t know these men.  If Chet was cheating on taxes or his wife we would never have known.  Walt was the solid voice because of his fatherly presence and deep voice (taking off his glasses for effect also helped.)  When Walt questioned the Vietnam War even the president said, “If Walter is against us…”  The man could say “Hi” to you and you’d bow in reverence.  Good television persona or an earned trust?  The latter.

Four guys crystallized world news and news they felt had an impact on our lives either now or soon.  News delivered with one steady camera, no graphics, certainly no laughing or mocking because it is the “news” after all and never belittling anyone because of an agenda.

We’d let the B/W TV warm up and for thirty minutes were captured by the day’s events.  Commentary, if provided, was crisp and clean with an extra effort toward balance of pending issues.  Eric was Walt’s key man.  NBC years ago tried Bill Moyer but it didn’t work.  ABC with Harry didn’t need commentary because he’s last name was “Reasoner,” he had “reason” in his name.

I think the nation survived well through their many years on the air.  We’re here because of them.  Robert and Jim were “over there” on PBS but that one was one hour and they talked too much.  (I was young, what can I say?)

Today with the internet, hundreds ferret out for us the news of the day for our digestion.  What are we digesting?  I have no idea.  A website instantly can tell us what “side” they’re on by their lead story.  Do we stick with a couple of sites we like because they’re “liberal” or do we seek out the opposing opposition because we like what they tell us?  The news is still wrapped because someone somewhere is composing and putting before us what he/she thinks we need to know.

I’ve lost a sense of what is “news” anymore.  A baby drowned by her mother down South is a tragedy but is that national news?  Hillary’s emails, as dumb as it sounds, is “news” because of her aspirations.

It’s not that I’m lazy but I miss the condescension of all the available news to be winnowed down to thirty minutes to help me understand the world both globally and nationally.

These four old guys did it for me and I miss them all..and they presented it seriously.  No laughing when reporting the news.

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Sts. Barnes & Noble

Posted on September 8, 2015 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

stack-of-booksChurch.  It’s that place that your parents forced you to attend because they believed it was salvation for their children and they were not to be disappointed.  After all, salvation of their children hinged on their own or so they were taught.  Selfish or altruistic, who knows.

My Church (capital “C”) taught me that there is no salvation outside of it (or “her” as the Catholic Church likes to describes it(her)self because Jesus is a male and married to the it(or her).  Most other major religions boost the same acclaimed end in their certitude about the great mystery of the life after this one.  (Does Kool Aid come to mind?)

“Pray, pay and obey” is the organized religion’s joke about itself when it’s the first one that only matters.  Pray.  Recognize something greater than yourself and then do something about it.  Be strongly rooted in your life but own that your roots belong to someone else.  Look at everyone each day and see a connection because they are a part of your life as much as you are a part of yours.

A friend of mine told me that he spends quiet time on a Sunday morning at Barnes and Noble.  I looked the two of them up in my Catholic saints book but couldn’t seem to locate either one of them.  It was enlightening to be enlightened by a personal response from him to a divine call.  And it’s only a book store.  One hour or three?  Doesn’t matter when the quality is measured against evaluating the past week and renewing the new week to come.

It’s not the same as my rote ritual which was created to be such.  The repeating of repeating words are intended to bring about that necessary future salvation.

Most people believe in God but would never agree on who He/She is.  Most people would admit to praying in an anonymous survey because they want to give the correct answer even if that answer isn’t practiced.

I stand before hundreds of people on a Sunday morning repeating and repeating in hopes of an eternal resolution for them and my good friend sits quietly at Barnes and Noble.  Who’s right?  Who’s enjoying salvation?  Eternally, I have no idea but he’s response to life’s chaos and choices is a “time out” time at a book store on a Sunday morning while I’m trying to please the masses through the Mass.  I believe that his salvation is achieved right now in his resolve and resolutions while we Catholics are still waiting for ours.

Right?  Wrong?  I wonder.

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A Pull of Your Ear & A Theme Song

Posted on September 7, 2015 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

51ZaUqmr8tL._SY300_If you’re under 60, just ignore this because you’ll either be depressed or think it’s dumb.  Over 60 folk may find some solace.

You don’t think of your end until it draws near and I don’t mean death.  Retirement can mean a good 20 or more years of “ending.”  The thought of six, seven or more years until that time has an ominous feel to it as though we’ll become a different person; we’ll digress from “is” to “was” in the blink of the midnight’s minute.  I know friends who couldn’t wait for that ball to drop –  says something about their jobs.  If your job is not a job but a career than that passing minute while you sleep redefines your life.

“Was it worth it?” is our persistent minds asking the worth of its length.  30 or 40 years of doing something ought to amount to something?  Whether 1 or 12 jobs during that time deserves a recognition of some sort and it doesn’t matter if you walked out the door alone on a Friday afternoon or drove home in a tux after a farewell party with 200 people.  (The former is more likely the case.)

Some of the “was’s” have stories where students or associates return to thank them for whatever affected their lives because of the “was’s.  They are heartwarming and meaningful.

Retirement often means retelling episodes and escapades as though they happened yesterday in spite of the passing  forty years. The stories can be recounted again and once again in an effort to validate or prove once again that the stories happened.  (I hope I don’t do that but instead recall an episode of mine in thirty seconds or less.)

Transitions suck because they change what we are.  I know many people who remain an “is” in retirement and I know even more who became “was” because the “was” becomes the “is” of their lives.  I feel sorry for them but act as if I’ve heard the story the first time.

When that “is” door closes behind you, you have no idea (and will never know) whose lives you’ve touched.  The “is” or the “was” is up to you to simply appreciate the adventure and mystery that unfolded for you during those many years.  My dentist told me that a bartender at his club told him how much a priest named, “Fr. Joe” meant to him in returning to the Catholic Church.  My dentist told me that I should know this because he knows that it’s me.

Whether it was me or not my title here says it all.  Carol Burnett pulled  her ear at the end of each show to tell a relative of her love and Bob Hope’s theme song was “Thanks for the Memories.”

The rest is up to me and the stories I wish to tell either as a “was” or an a “is.”

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Math & Music

Posted on August 31, 2015 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

6a00d8341bf67c53ef016762dd7cc4970b-800wiHow can two completely opposite disciplines combine?  It may have already occurred to you but for me it was a surprising union.  Here’s a blah, geeky definition of math,

the systematic treatment of magnitude, relationships between figures and forms, and relations between quantities expressed symbolically.

Isn’t that exciting and make you want to get up and dance the night away?  Yet that is what math does.  Without mathematical wonders that most of us ignored in school produces the structured music that allows us to dance without falling on our feet.

Structure?  Who’d associated that with the strong feelings that music oozes forth on our first date or “our” wedding song or the song you hear thirty years later that evokes a memory as though it was yesterday.

How did Wagner, Beethoven, Mozart and Spanky and Our Gang pull it off by tidying together two such strong and diverse disciplines?  Is it the melody that fills the head first and then the structuring or vise versa?  Passion or numbers.  I’m told that Paul McCartney can’t read music so it must be true.  Or is it firstly that all rigid, rock-strong structure that presents us with melodies that make us cry, laugh, or hum along with.  And what about humming?  Does our shower time need to be structured?  Do those loosely hum-able, wet mumbles need to be placed on five bland lines complete with sharps and flats?    That song that fills your head for some reason throughout the day has a complete and utterly unbending system to it that seems to defy the good feeling you receive by reliving it.

I officiated at a wedding with a young couple in their 20’s.  One’s a astrophysicist and the other is a nuclear physicist.  I began the Mass saying that the three of us will never compete for a job but I hope that today their making beautiful music together.

Opposites do attract and their harmonies can last generations if not centuries.  I have no idea about its structure but I love the result – melodies singing about love, life, unions, divorce or just enjoying a Sunday morning.

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Me, I & Myself

Posted on August 30, 2015 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

687474703a2f2f6d656469612e63756c747572656d61702e636f6d2f63726f702f33382f38332f383030783630302f4d655f6d7973656c665f492e6a7067“Me” wondered why “me” clothes were getting tighter; “me” thought it was age creeping (or widening) “me” body but I uncovered that it’s the “me”self that causes this slow inflation.  But more about “me”self later.

Life always begin with the “me.”  It is the “me” that needs tending to until I become the “me” as in “What’s in it for ‘me'” which fortunately can only be controlled by “me”self.  The “I” of us is our public persona or our working-hat which carries us through life and takes care of the needed money.  The “my”self needs to be nurture and cultivated.  I don’t think “my”self can be taught but I believe it can be witnessed in others which can influence us.

The easiest on my threesomes is the “me.”  Its agenda is clear and its territory is cleanly marked.  It has no doors but only one window that only looks back at “me.”

We say that with age comes wisdom but that’s a fanciful attribute attributed to older folks when we don’t know what else to say about them.  We figure that since they lived so long they must have learned something but we also know that history repeats itself (say “again” twice, please).  We can accumulate all kinds of knowledge but without wisdom or its ability to recognize opposing views and then synthesize them into an opinion – we are just stuck being smart people as “me.”  The easiest part of life (“me”) can carry us through life and even influence society and self-interest rules and regulations.

The awareness of “my”self emerging has loads of doors and many windows that assimilate and capture as much of life as I can absorb.  The analogy I’ve always liked is we are sponges that soak up all kinds of information – especially these supposed “information days” – but when do we squeeze out an informed and balanced opinion that isn’t biased on “me” but now “my”self?

The “I” sees us through life’s mechanics.  The “me” is the one who remembers to take a shower in the morning and then remember throughout the day that there is no other number 1 in the world.  The “my”self is the broadening that makes sense of this often senseless world.  The “my”self is the keeper of what’s important and hoping others consider them as important.  The “my”self is the peaceful balance between the work-a-day “I” and the selfish “me.”

The “my”self is the 82 year old who wants to learn the history of China or how a clock works or takes up painting landscape while the “me” is the one counting the remaining pennies and then “I” wonders where all the time went.

I like “my”self more than I like “me.”  Or should I say “myself likes myself;” it’s not good English but I think you get the point.

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Religion & Choices

Posted on August 19, 2015 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

starbucks_choicesTry ordering a cup of coffee today and hear what happens.  It’s not easy.

Decaf or regular, black, ground, roasted or blended, whole, two-percent, skim, soy, and in some places, organic milk. gluten free, sugar or not?   Cappuccino, mocha, latte or eight other names I can’t pronounce.  Small, medium or large?  If you’re experienced you’d just say, “I would like a vanilla latte made with skim milk, two shots of espresso, with whip cream on it. Oh and I’d like that in a tall size.”

Religion has been reduced to a cup of coffee.  The varieties of religion, times of services, the music served, the sermons heard, the kind of folks surrounding you, the “how much push for money,” the educational needs of your kids for you to be in “this church” all add up to a cup of anxiety-driven caffeine.

These are the days when choices abound when it comes to beliefs and values.  Some give up their parent’s church simply because of that. Beliefs and values.  Others may stay in that church simply because of, well, that.  The Biblical Joshua addresses all the people: “If it does not please you to serve the LORD, decide today whom you will serve, the gods your fathers served beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose country you are now dwelling.”

If you are challenging yourself and questioning what is important to you then I applaud and will walk with you the whole way.  If it’s simply convenience and comfort for you than enjoy your coffee cup and church of your choice.

The present crop of U.S. Bishops use the term “individualistic” a lot these days. A part of religion definition is conformity but true membership needs to be a conscious decision.  I’m not sure of the bishops’ context unless they means being selfish, otherwise they are off.  To be an “individual” is the goal of every human life.  If you’re 40 years old and in a Catholic Church because mom taught you that, then there’s plenty of fire exists.  The sacrament of Confirmation is still given way too early (8th grade or high school junior) while mom’s words are still clearly heard.  It is not the faith of the family that is transmitted but the family’s faith.  And that needs to be owned by each person in her or his own way and time.

Are our lives of Jacob’s choosing or is it God’s granting?  Or perhaps a little of each?

All churches have a kernel of truth within them if they stand the test of time.  I don’t know any pagans but I’ve grown to appreciate pagans who were (and are) not who we define them to be.  Their connection with the earth and something beyond themselves is the forerunner of every decent church that exists.

Typing away at this, I’m sitting on my porch with my laptop and the rain is falling.  Yet I’m wondering what a supposed “pagan” would be doing about now.  Most likely kneeling in thanksgiving for the gods sending this needed rain?  Knowing that gods exist because there is rain?  Grateful to be in shelter during rains like this?  I don’t know what that means because I’m a Catholic and live in a semi-safe home.  The Catholic Church has borrowed every pagan gesture and action available and simply added “Jesus” to it and that makes it now true and right.  The Lutherans have much to share even if they say they are the “one true church” which Catholics already have copyrighted.

Jesus says, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted to him by my Father.”  As a result of this, many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him.  Jesus then said to the Twelve, “Do you also want to leave?”  Simon Peter answered him, “Master, to whom shall we go?   You have the words of eternal life.  We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.”

I love it when people who tell me that they’re confused, unsure or doubting about their faith.  It is never that I will solve their confusion but I encourage it.  Be confused.  Doubt is a gift from the gods.  Unsure means that you’re a thinking individual (there’s that word again) and questioning this or that to help you decide the “this or that” in your life.  Be a wondering person about the “this’s and that’s of life.”  Wonder away and never settle down.  Wonder until you see the white light and then wonder no more.  The rain helps the earth whether it comes to us from the “One True God” or the “gods.”  The Jews wisely taught us that all questions only lead to other questions and then other questions until you settle with what you’re looking for but still not be absolutely sure.

I don’t want to stand and preach to a bunch of Catholics who bought Catholicism “hook, line and sinker.”  I want to stand in front of a bunch of them who’ll wrestle with me about choosing and then enjoying a strong cup of coffee; black.”

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Cats and Their Staff (Me)

Posted on August 16, 2015 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

Quiet, no peaceful.  Content, no blissful.  Settled, no sedated.  Attentive?  No, but watchful.  My two cats.  Try sleeping for 23 hours a day and see how you feel!  Just try smelling the same furniture for 11 years and see if there’s a new scent to be gathered and retained.

Their satisfaction is simply a daily supply of water, a crumb-filled place to poop and dry food for the rest of their lives.  An enclosed surrounding that suits them just fine, keeping their seemingly high anxiety set at low.  A petting is only allowed when it is beckoned by them and they will also determine its length.   One of them uncannily knows when I’m typing or on the phone as his cue to jump up to be a part of it.  The AT&T guy comes to fix stuff and the other one hides until his scent exits.  The uncanny cat just plops himself in the middle of the AT&T’s work space begging to be stepped upon so he can yell that he is present.  (Sounds like an aunt I knew.)

But it’s the sleep.  It is the sleep that prompts my little diddy.  With the head gently resting on something contour and the body at rest; if there is a picture of blissful it is truly that.  Dreams?  I don’t it.  Birds they can’t have?  It’s not going to happen.  A tasteful mouse?  Not in my house but if I had mice they’d be the pleasure of these two sleepy but now awake cats.

It’s all instinct, I’m told when the female wakes me up in the morning (no alarm clock needed) and the male first greets me when I arrive home from work.  He’ll watch a movie with me in my lap and sleep through the whole thing (even a Bruce Willis thriller!) and she’ll jump up periodically to let me know she’s still alive.

I know when to touch them and when to back off.  After all, I’m staff.  I live in their house although it seems I’m left with all the bills.

They take nothing for granted but except whatever they want.  One surprising treat at 8:20 p.m. one night needs to now be a nightly ritual.  No exceptions, even if I come home at 10:30, it’s still 8:20 to them.

Being single, they are great and wonderful companions.  I wouldn’t trade them for a dog any day.  (Wisconsin winters are not dog friendly at 6:30 a.m.)

This has been too many words to emphasize the bliss and complete peace that she now shows me watching her as I type this on my porch on an quiet August night.  I can only dream of a piece of that bliss.  But then again, she can’t dream…but I can.

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How Long Is A “Moment?”

Posted on August 15, 2015 by Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.

Rev. Joe Jagodensky, SDS.'s avatarSoulful Muse

TheMomentHorizon2It’s got to be in the top three of my favorite words.  It is timeless but controlled.   Limitless but has an end.  It always has a specific beginning but you never know the end.

The worst of all “moments” is the nurse’s departing comment, “The doctor will be with you in a moment.”  “Oh good,” I say to myself as that good feeling melts into wondering if he’s reading a medical journal to hone up on my medical procedure.  I’ve already read the Pain Barometer poster and the poster of what a wonderful hospital this is and the cheesy, tranquil picture I’d never place in my home.  I’ve seen the stuff that he’s about to use on me but refuse to examine it for fear of knowing too much.

So, what’s left while lying on your back, half naked and staring up at the ceiling tiles and refusing to count…

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