Monkling's Blog

For the 3 or so people who read my blog, I spoke about the ordination that took place on Saturday. On Sunday was the first Mass. Frank & I both went and didn’t travel with Stephen. That is because he had 2 first Masses to serve at and was heading to Alonzo’s directly from another classmate’s first Mass earlier that day.

As we passed by the Church in our quest for a parking spot (because parking spots are so plentiful in Brooklyn – note the sarcasm) I saw that the windows to the Church were opened. Not a good sign. Passing it a second time, still in search for a spot, I could see the front doors opened. Now, considering it was about 95 degrees out, this did not look good. I was pretty certain that meant the Church wasn’t air conditioned.

Sure enough, we walk into the furnace of a Church, half an hour early, because we wanted to get a good seat. Okay. It wasn’t quite like a furnace. Yet. It didn’t get that bad until more people filed in and it became more crowded. All that hot air, ya know.

The priests, deacons & seminarians come walking in as the Mass begins. Now keep in mind, I was wearing a fairly light, short sleeved dress & I was sweating bullets. These poor guys had on several more layers of clothes – cassocks, robes, etc. and those aren’t exactly made of light weight material. The sweat was just pouring off them. The ones with the forethought to have tissues and handkerchiefs mopped their heads and faces every few minutes. Those who hadn’t thought of that just suffered.

The Mass was wonderful, of course. There’s something so special seeing those young men say the words of consecration for the very first time. For Alonzo, though, it was somewhat different. Just as he’s saying the canon, we hear sounds outside. They get progressively louder until they nearly drown Alonzo out. It was a marching band. I can’t say I ever experienced a Mass quite like that.

Before the final blessing, several priests spoke, including one of our auxiliary bishops who was the rector of the seminary where Steve & Alonzo both lived. Now I’m not saying this was deliberate – it may just be that great minds think alike, but he said the exact same thing I said in a reflection piece I wrote for the diocesan website. It had to do with all these men being brothers so Alonzo’s mother just got herself a whole mess of new sons. Just sayin’…

Yesterday I got a little behind the scenes story, which is where I got the title of this blog post from. I do love knowing things that go on that most people don’t know about (until now, anyway, where the entire world can know if they were to read my blog).

At the preparation of the gifts, 2 servers go up to the priest with water, a small bowl and a cloth so the priest can purify his hands before the consecration. Stephen was the server with the cloth. He hands it to Alonzo. After Alonzo wipes his hands, he attempts to fold it neatly. He was struggling with it. Steve says to him, “Just give me the damn cloth!”

“No. I am going to fold it!”

Oh, did I mention our parish priest, who I guess played a role in the ordination similar to a best man, knew it would be hot in the Church. He made fans that there clearly weren’t enough of and that I didn’t see until there were no more. It consisted of a stick with a piece of paper attached. The paper had a photo of Alonzo wearing sun glasses, mountains in the background. I think palm trees would have been way more appropriate. Or a desert scene.

This was ordination weekend – a busy time around our household. Another one of my boys, Alonzo, was ordained a priest this past Saturday.

Stephen missed last year’s because he was off in Rome & England but this year – he’s home! He served at the ordination along with a bunch of my other boys. He & I drove over to the cathedral together (an adventure driving in traffic with my son, let me tell ya!)

Steve was wearing his clerical blacks & collar so that he wouldn’t have to dress once he got there. As we pulled up in front of the cathedral, the cops directing traffic saw the collar and waved him into a spot right in front. After that, I think I will always travel with him – as long as he’s wearing the blacks.

I went off to hunt for a seat as close as possible while Steve went into the sacristy with the rest of the guys. The cathedral isn’t all that big & the first half was reserved for family, priests, seminarians, deacons, etc. That meant even though I was only 1 row back from the reserved seats, I was pretty far back. And let’s not forget the height factor. When you’re short…well you don’t get to see much what with all those taller people surrounding you.

The Mass & ordination, as usual, were beautiful. I found myself sitting in the middle of a crew from the parish where Alonzo did his pastoral year. I could tell they loved him by how they cheered quite loudly. I also got a chuckle at another point in the ceremony. After the bishop lays hands on them (at which point, the men are officially priests) the other priests there all come up and lay hands on the men. We have a newly ordained priest in our parish who is a friend of Steve’s and also a close friend of Alonzo. When he got to Alonzo to lay hands on him, the people behind me whisper, “That’s his best friend.”

I love the actual ordination but I also love seeing all these priests there – all smiling, all so happy in the life they’ve chosen. Everyone is greeting everyone else & it’s such a joyful atmosphere. I can go every year and it just never gets old.

Well not exactly “Moving Day” nor “Moving Back Home” either. It’s like this – my boy is back! After 2 years in Rome, he is home. Sort of. A week from today he moves back out again into the parish where he will be living & working for the next year. But that’s not what this blog post is about. Oh, no. It’s about the boxes he had shipped from Rome to NY.

One of them made the trip rather well and very quickly. It made it across the Atlantic in 4 days and all in one piece. The second box, well that was another story. It arrived a couple of days behind the first box and I have to wonder how it ended up arriving at all:

Once it was in the house and opened up, it fared even worse:

I’m not sure how the boy is going to get it up into his room. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Thus, it is sitting in my living room. I don’t think it will be leaving anytime soon. I’m thinking I should just get a tablecloth, throw it over the box & claim it’s an end table.

Did I mention he had the box filled with books? He also had some packing in there. Not ordinary packing you’d expect like bubble wrap or foam peanuts. Oh, no. He used dirty clothes. Which might have been okay if he had left out the underwear. And most of the dirty clothes are winter clothes, which makes one pause and ask, “Exactly when was the last time the boy did laundry?”

I’m not sure any of us want to know the answer to that question.

I was sitting here, staring at my long neglected blog and thinking the year is half over and I’ve barely posted. Once the concept of “half” got in my head, for some really odd reason, this Partridge Family song got stuck in my head, as well: I’ll Meet You Halfway 0/~ Ha, now it will be stuck in your head!

That’s really all I have to say but hey, it’s more than I’ve said here in 2 weeks!

Stephen once told me this story. I’m not sure when but it seems like ages ago. I bet he forgot he even told me. I just came across this same story that someone posted as a note on Facebook & I wanted to post it here because I think it’s that good:

A professor stood before his Philosophy 101 class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full? They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course, rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He then asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous – - yes.

The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and proceeded to pour the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

“Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things – - your family, your partner, your health, your children, your friends, your favorite passions – - things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.”

“The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else – - the small stuff.”

“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for your life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out dancing. Play another 18. There will always be time for me to go to work, clean the house, give a dinner party and fix the disposal.”

“Take care of the golf balls first — the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.” One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented. The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of beers!

I’m not quite sure if DEP is a universal abbreviation so, just in case it isn’t, that stands for the department of environmental protection. That’s who we pay for our water & sewers here in NYC.

They got this brilliant idea to pay people thousands of dollars to install some sort of automatic electronic reader in everyone’s home rather than paying people to go around and read the current meters. Personally I don’t see that as cost efficient but, then, when did a government agency ever do anything that was cost efficient?

But moving on, I’m not certain that we ever got a notice about this work being done. If anything came at all, I’m thinking it was stuffed in with the bill – like I pay attention to anything stuffed into a bill. In any case, I had no idea anyone was coming until I saw a little notice hanging on my door that said they were here but couldn’t gain access and I need to reschedule.

Personally, I found it rather irritating that someone expected me to be home and yet never told me when they’d show up. How was I supposed to know this wasn’t some sort of scam? They probably wanted to just get in here and rob me. Oh, well. The only thing I ever had of value was already stolen – so there! you can’t get anything from me, anyway!

That was a few weeks ago. This afternoon I happened to be out and came home to another notice that they had been here to upgrade my meter but oops, no one was home. And if I don’t call the number right away, they might deny me service.

Fine. I’ll call the stupid number. Which I did. “Press 1 for this, 2 for this, 3 for this….” When I finally just hit zero, I was told there was a wait & 7 other people were ahead of me. I hung up. Yeah, like I have nothing better to do than wait to talk to someone & schedule another appointment. Uh, I mean my first appointment since I never had an actual appointment in the first place.

I wander into the kitchen to stuff my face with something & see a DEP truck parked across the street. Obviously they are still around, in one of my neighbor’s homes.

Since I’ll be around for the rest of the day, I decided to try something. I took the notice he had stuck in my mailbox. I wrote on the back of it that I’m home now if he wants to come & install the stupid thing (I didn’t word it exactly like that) and I put the notice under his windshield wiper.

20 minutes later – the truck is gone. Clearly getting all the meters updated is not a huge priority to the guy.

Editing to add – the woman found my little note, came back & did install it. Not only that, being a woman & all, she cleaned up after herself & there was no mess down in the basement. Not that I’m trying to be sexist or anti-guy or anything but I’m sorry. All the men I know are slobs.

No, of course not. Not in the US, anyway. Not yet. But I do find it odd that no one seems even the least bit disturbed by this:

“And meanwhile, you’re coming of age in a 24/7 media environment that bombards us with all kinds of content and exposes us to all kinds of arguments, some of which don’t always rank that high on the truth meter. And with iPods and iPads; and Xboxes and PlayStations — none of which I know how to work — information becomes a distraction, a diversion, a form of entertainment, rather than a tool of empowerment, rather than the means of emancipation. So all of this is not only putting pressure on you; it’s putting new pressure on our country and on our democracy.”

Obama in a Hampton University Commencement speech: May 9, 2010

Information is a distraction? Information & technology poses a danger to our country & to democracy? I always thought it was a lack of information that was the biggest threat.

For my part, I’m just waiting to see how soon it is before legislation is brought up to place limits on the Internet…

Just call me paranoid.

You might be thinking that I’m referring to a dinner for old people, what with being…. uh, I’m not even sure how old I am. Seriously. I forget. Must be a senior moment! Anyhow, this dinner was for college seniors, or, more precisely, ones in the particular university my daughter attends & for the sorority. But let’s backtrack to a few weekends ago:

It was the night of the induction dinner. The new pledges were officially part of the sorority. Theresa came home from that dinner, reminiscing about her induction dinner a few years back. One of the things they do at this dinner is have the parents of the girls write something and then they read it at the dinner. Being me, I went with funny. Theresa was pretty much making fun of me & what I wrote. Honestly, I suck at writing that sort of thing. So she laughs at me (because that’s what my kids do!) and then goes off to bed.

After she leaves, I go into my desk, pull out a piece of paper & show it to Frank. It said something about the senior dinner & how they wanted the parents to write something. Great. And now, after having her laugh at me, it would be an even more difficult task!

I tried my best. I went for serious instead of funny. I emailed it to the girl in charge and let out a sigh of relief that, if nothing else, at least I got the job done.

Tonight was the senior dinner. As I was sitting on the couch, watching the ballgame, I got a text from Theresa that said, “Thanks, Mommy.” I texted her back to ask if I did a better job this time. Her response was, “lol.” I’ll take that for a huge YES.

Here I thought my job was over when she graduated from high school. Little did I know there was still more. The good part is she graduates in exactly 2 weeks. Then, after some summer courses & 1 more year, will have her Masters. Then I’m truly done. Well except for Stephen, but that’s another story altogether.

Tonight Frank & I were invited over to dinner at our friends’ house. After dinner we were sitting and talking. Our friends’ 12 year old daughter was right there at the table the entire time. After a while, Lisa says to her daughter, “You never hang out with the adults. I thought adults were boring. ”

“They usually are.” Then to us, “But you’re interesting.”

I don’t think it had anything at all to do with my fascination with the bottle of cinnamon schnapps that had gold flakes floating in it. Nope. Couldn’t have. “That can’t be real gold. How how that be gold? Why would they put gold flakes in a bottle of schnapps? If you buy a bunch of bottles and filter out the gold, could you bring it to someone & they can make a ring out of it? ”

Lisa poured me some. “You know what I want to do? I want to stick my finger in there and see if they feel solid” And i did attempt to pick up a flake. “It doesn’t feel solid. It’s soft.”

“Well gold is a soft metal,” John said.

I squished it between my fingers. I stared at the bottle some more. “I still can’t believe that’s real gold.”

Somehow I doubt our friends ever had dinner guests who stuck their fingers into glasses of schnapps. But that couldn’t be why I’d be interesting. On the other hand, at least we didn’t play games with quarters and break their crystal glasses. (Apparently other dinner guests did that.)

Matter of fact, a very bad thing. Earlier this afternoon I heard a commotion next door. It was on the Demon Spawn side. Looking out my window, I saw this:

Let me tell you about the last large party the Demon Spawn Family had. There were probably 100 people out back. They were very loud. They had music so loud that people several blocks away could hear it. That party lasted well into the night, past 2 a.m. People called the police. Does that give you an adequate idea of just how loud and annoying their parties are?

Now you may think calling the police would be helpful. Let me remind you that I live in New York City. In addition, we live in one of the largest police precinct in the 5 boroughs. That means they cover a large geographical area, some of which encompasses uh… well pretty bad neighborhoods. Therefore, they have way more important things to do like show up at robberies, murders, & important stuff like that.

Then there is the secret rumor that the Demon Spawn family is well connected & pays them off. I can’t attest to whether or not that is true. I can tell you that when the police were called for their last party, none ever showed up.

If you saw my last post about the rocks we found all over our property, you’ll know I now have an additional concern. I have it covered, though. I took photos. That way, if there is any damage, I can prove that it did not exist prior to today.

Whatever day their party is, I suspect Frank & I will be sleeping in a local hotel for the night. If we don’t, it would be too tempting to buy a shotgun and we wouldn’t want me owning one of them.