Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet...

I had a lot to pray about tonight.  I will spare you the details. Prayer comes easier sometimes and harder at others. I love to meditate, but I am not a meditative person. I try using candles, background music, mantras (including the rosary of course), but it seems on nights like tonight when I need to pray the most, when I want to meditate the most, it becomes the hardest for me to do so.

As a result of my recent addition of Pandora radio stations to my arsenal of music, I discovered a piece of music that I had never heard before, which is one of the truly neatest things about listening to Pandora. The work is by Gavin Bryars and is called "Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet". It is a symphonic mantra the likes of which I have never experienced before.

While he was working on a film about homeless people, some of them spontaneously broke into drunken song. Some sang bits of opera, others sang ballads, and still others folk songs. One old tramp who was not drinking, sang the religious song, "Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet". While this particular footage never made it into the film, Gavin retained the tape. In what can only be called a truly inspired turn of events, he created a loop of the tramp singing the hymn and allowed it to repeat over and over again. He noticed that the tramp's simple singing had a tremendously powerful effect on those working in his studio. He determined to create an appropriate accompaniment for the tramp's simple singing.

In a musical odyssey that began with the original filming in 1971 and ultimately culminated in this 1993 version, Gavin created an incredible work that stands on its own as a hauntingly beautiful choral symphony, but also serves as an absolutely wonderful way to enter into prayerful meditation. My words here cannot possibly describe the beauty of this work, or its power to move one into prayer and meditation. I offer this perhaps less as a review and more as a personal recommendation.

If you are like me, and if you find that your prayerful meditation comes only with great difficulty at times, I offer this wonderful piece of music. And, even if your goal is not to be moved to prayer, the simple song of this old tramp, who never lived to hear the result of Gavin's work, will move you to contemplate your life more deeply. Gavin concludes his own notes on his work with the following:

Although the old man died before he could hear what I had done with his singing, the piece remains as a restrained testament to his spirit and optimism. The rhythm of his vocal line may be erratic and there is considerable irony in the relationship between what he is singing, and his circumstances at the time. But for me there is great poignancy in his voice and, though I do not share the simple optimism of his faith, I am still touched by the memory of my first encounter with what Grainger would call the "human-ness" of his voice, and through this piece I try to give it new life.

He does indeed. I know the simple singing of this tramp and the beautiful orchestration that this composer lent to it gave me new life tonight. May it give you new life as well!

Opening Pandora's Box of Music...

I am a musician.  I started playing on a toy organ when I was in the second grade, (a "Polychord Electric Piano Organ" made by Enemee and given to me at Christmas by my mother).  We couldn't afford lessons, so I was self taught from music books that came with this first instrument and with the line of subsequent organs, each representing a next step in my growing love for and ability to play.  I am now the proud owner of a three manual Allen theater organ with a full AGO console and a sound so realistic that if you close your eyes I swear you can't tell the difference, (well maybe you could, but I sure can't).

Over my many years of playing, I have developed a wide and seemingly contradictory range of taste in musical genres.  So it was with great interest last weekend that I read a review of "Pandora" by Andy Ihnatko in the Chicago Sun-Times.  (The columnists are really the only reason I am still reading the Sun-Times, but that is fodder for another blog entry another time).  I was particularly intrigued when Andy said that he felt like Pandora was literally reading his mind.  It seemed to him that as he would think, "wouldn't it be nice to hear...", that particular piece of music would start to play next.

So this past Monday morning I began my day by visiting the Pandora website, www.Pandora.com, and setting up my first Pandora radio station.  You do this by picking the name of a favorite artist or a favorite song.  One of my all time favorite songs is "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen.  So I typed in the title and Pandora created a station called "Bohemian Rhapsody Radio".  Interestingly, the first song was not Bohemian Rhapsody or even by Queen.  Pandora boldly selected a "similar" piece of music, based on its unique method of analyzing music for its tonality, modality, rhythm, etc.  I was really amazed at how absolutely "right on" this first choice was, and how this station continued playing song after song in the style of Queen and "Bohemian Rhapsody".  And yes, it eventually did start to play songs by Queen, and played my favorite "Bohemian Rhapsody."

Well that did it.  I started setting up station after station based on my broad taste in music.  As of this writing I have set up the following stations:

• Bohemian Rhapsody Radio
• In the Mood Radio
• Star Wars Radio
• Seventy Six Trombones Radio
• Java Radio
• Volare Radio
• Scott Joplin Radio
• Billy Joel Radio
• Bette Midler Radio
• Dies Irae Radio
• Yanni Radio

When I am in a particular mood, I can select any one given station.  But Pandora also has a "Quick Mix" feature that allows you to select all or any combination of your stations and then plays them at random.  I have been listening to my Pandora stations all week and have filled my work day with an incredible variety of music.  And as much as I know about music, I have also discovered many new titles and artists thanks to Pandora.  If you love music as much as I do, I highly recommend this wonderful service.  It is free of charge, so there are no monthly fees or contracts to worry about.

Pandora also has a tremendous customer service team.  I know this simply because I sent a quick email to thank them for their service and I received a personal reply the very next day.  This is a testimony to their dedication to the development of their service and their earnest desire to provide their listeners with the best service possible.  My hat is off (and my headphones are on) to Pandora!  I hope you will enjoy this wonderful service as much as I do! 

Happy "Interdependence" Day!

This Independence Day Weekend has brought to mind Steven Covey's book, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. Covey makes a wonderful point about maturity that I think bears some careful consideration as we celebrate the 232nd anniversary of our independence as a nation...

When we were first born, we were totally dependent upon our parents for our very survival. We could not eat unless they fed us. They clothed us, they sheltered us, they literally provided for our every need. And not just our parents, of course, but our grandparents, our aunts and uncles, and even our older brothers and sisters. Without them, we could not have survived.

Of course we slowly learned to do things for ourselves. We "grew up", we "matured", we learned how to take care of ourselves. We were certainly still dependent upon our family for a great deal, but little by little we were learning what we needed to know to get by on our own.

Then one day, and that day comes at a different point in each of our lives, we come to a blinding realization: "What does my old man know anyway?" "Why is my mother such a nag?" And we decide that we are finally mature enough to make our way through life without the unwanted and unneeded interference of our parents and those other "know it all" authority figures in our lives. We have finally matured.  We are finally grown up. We are finally "independent".

We struggle on with this delusion until we finally really do grow up, until we finally do become mature. Then we realize that dad was probably right after all, that mom wasn't being a nag but was actually worried sick about us. We realize that not only shouldn't we try to go through life without the love and support of those around us, we realize that we would be fools to try to do so. We recognize that we are "interdependent", that we really do need each other to face the trials and tribulations of day to day life. We need to share with each other those many talents and abilities that make it possible for us to do together so well those things that we could never have done if we were to remain apart from each other. We need each other to fully celebrate the many joys that life sends our way each day. We need each other to face the many challenges that life can bring our way.

Perhaps it is time that we stopped celebrating our "independence" as a nation. At one time, when we were young and first starting out as a nation, we thought we could do it alone. "No entangling alliances" we were warned. But, as we have grown and matured as a nation, we have come to understand that we cannot do it alone, and that in fact we would be foolish to even try. We need each other. We need our many talents and abilities. We need to share the very fibre of our being with each other so that together we can accomplish things that we never could have done if we had remained apart.

Our nation has been brought together over the past two centuries from literally every corner of the world. Name a nation, and there is an American citizen who either just came from there or who can trace their roots back to there. No other nation in the entire world can lay claim to the tremendous variety of cultures, languages, and religious beliefs that make up the United States of America. We are who we are as a nation because we have come to depend on each other. And, when the world needed us the most, we were there standing shoulder to shoulder with victims of war and natural disaster. We have won the love and the respect of the rest of the world time and again over these many years.

That's not to say that we have not made our share of mistakes. Yes, we are not perfect. Yes, our image has been tarnished at times. But that should not be a cause for us to forget who we are, where we have come from, and what we stand for as a nation. In recent years, we have had a dust up or two with other nations, including one that caused many fine dining establishments across the nation to rename one of their more popular menu items as "Freedom Fries." Hopefully those wounds are healing, because this was certainly not always the way things were between us.

It was on the 100th anniversary of our very first Independence Day that the people of France gave the Statue of Liberty to the people of the United States in recognition of the friendship that was established between the two nations during the American Revolution. That statue has stood ever since as a symbol of everything our nation has always stood for: a people of many peoples, a nation of many nationalities, a land of promise and hope welcoming those who were no longer welcome anywhere else in the world. Perhaps no words say it better than those of Emma Lazarus, whose poem has greeted everyone who has visited the Statue of Liberty, whether as an immigrant first coming to our country or as a citizen of our great nation visiting her imposing visage: 

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command 
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame,
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

May God Bless the United States of America!

Happy Interdependence Day!

A Night at the Opera...

When I returned to the world of Mac OS after a dubious, necessity imposed foray into the wonderful world of Windows, I became a user of the built in Safari web browser.  It worked well enough, but there were some web sites that were a little bit (if not a lot) quirky on Safari, and I found that I had to shift from time to time to Microsoft's Internet Explorer for the Mac in order to get something done on the web using a page that did not play nice with Safari.

Of course Microsoft stopped supporting and updating its Internet Explorer for the Mac some time ago, which is when I started using Firefox side by side with Safari.  Usually, if one browser couldn't handle a page properly, the other one could.  Safari would get updated and it would run better than Firefox.  Then Firefox would get updated and it would run better than Safari.  In the end I had really just grown accustomed to having both browsers ready to go, and I had gotten into the habit of using the two side by side so much so that I didn't think this was at all unusual or an inconvenience.

Enter Firefox 3 (genuflect here please), the latest and greatest browser to grace the internet, and a true boon to all of us Mac users.  It has received rave reviews and like most other Firefox users I did not hesitate to update the copy on my Mac.  I really did find that it lived up to all of the praise—a great evolutionary next step in the long tradition of Firefox browsers.

That is until last week, when I tried to access the e-Edition of the Chicago Tribune (another blog entry, another review, another time).  It didn't work.  Of course I reflexively switched over to Safari and, for whatever reason or reasons, I couldn't access the paper with Safari either.  Each time I would attempt to enter my login and password, they would simply disappear in both browsers and nothing would happen.  I checked with technical support at the Tribune, and they graciously reset my account login and password in the hopes that it would solve the problem.  Unfortunately, I still could not access the paper with either browser.  On a hunch, I attempted to login on one of the Windows machines at the parish and was able to do so without a glitch.  This led me to the conclusion that the Tribune web masters must have made some sort of a change to their site that meant it would no longer work on my Mac.  After a couple of days of booting into Windows on my Mac just to read the paper, I decided to experiment a little bit further.

To make a very long story short, the problem had nothing to do with my being a Mac user, (although that is what we Mac users have been trained to think in this Windows/PC dominated world), but rather was something quirky going on with BOTH Safari AND Firefox.  In the past simply switching from one to the other allowed me to access just about any web content that might be out there, but now neither one would let me read my daily paper.  And so, being home on a nice extended day off, I decided to look around and see if there might be another browser that I could try on my Mac.

Now I, like many of you, had heard about the Opera browser.  I had even tried it some years ago, but it just didn't win me over.  But that had been some years ago and, needing to find an alternative to Safari and Firefox, I decided to go out to their home page, www.opera.com.  Version 9.5?  Whoa!  It had been a few years.  I downloaded it to give it a whirl.  All I can say is, "five stars" and "two thumbs way up!"  What a beautifully designed and engineered piece of software!  It absolutely blows the socks off of every browser I have ever used.  It makes me wonder if all of the reviewers who spilled so much ink raving about the latest release of Firefox have even looked at Opera recently?  (And, of course, it allowed me to access the e-Edition of the Tribune without a single glitch, which was the original motivation behind my search for a new browser in the first place).

I have been running Opera, and ONLY Opera, through all of my usual web sites.  No problems.  Not a single one.  And Opera has so many unique features that, for the first time in a long, long time, I really feel like I am getting the most out of my experience of surfing the web.  But please don't take my word for it.  Opera is free for the asking.  Download it.  Try it for yourself.  See if you don't agree that it is the best browsing experience that you have ever had.

Necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention.  Necessity drove me to check out new browsers.  Necessity led me to try Opera.  But love at first sight has made me decide that Opera will be my one and only browser on the Mac.  What a pleasure to be able to use only one browser again after all of these years.  No more switching between Safari and Firefox to try to access web pages that would work on one and not on the other.  They all run with flying colors on Opera, thanks to its superior and truly elegant engineering.  I hope you give it a try and that you find it as awesome a browser as I have found it to be.  More importantly, I hope that if you like it you will pass the word along to your family and friends so that it can get the user base and good press that it deserves!

Mom's 90th Birthday...

If Mom were still alive, today would have been her 90^th birthday.  Celebrating Mom’s birthday was always a huge priority for our family, so the date of June 6^th is really emblazoned in my memory.  I remember once telling Mom that she was born on D-Day, and she quickly corrected me by saying, “No Ralphie, they launched D-Day on my birthday!”  And she was quite right—she was here long before D-Day.

Besides being D-Day, the 6^th of June seemed to be a magnet for special events in our family.  Mom and Dad were married on June 6^th.  My brother and I graduated on June 6^th.  It has always been a very special date on the calendar for our family.

It is hard to believe but it has already been ten years since we had the last really big birthday party for Mom.  We had surprise parties for her 70^th and her 75^th, and both of those experiences convinced us that, what with her weakening physical condition, it would definitely NOT be a good idea to have a surprise party for her on her 80^th birthday.  (At least not if we wanted her to be around for her 81^st birthday!)  And so the task became one of convincing her that we should have a party for her 80^th.  She was absolutely against it.  She did not like it at all when we made a big deal about her birthday.  All she ever really wanted was to be together with me, my brother and his wife.  On the other hand, it began to become clear that part of her really wanted to get together with a larger group of her family and her friends.  And so the negotiating began.  It wouldn’t be a party, it would be a Mass of Thanksgiving followed by a reception.  No one should be allowed to bring gifts, because the way she saw it everyone had been a gift to her throughout her life and she wanted this gathering to be a way of saying “thank you” to everyone who had filled her life with so much love and joy over the years.  And so the decision was made to go ahead with the celebration and the invitations went out—which is when the fun really started.

I still have the recordings of Mom calling me and leaving me a message every time someone called to tell her that they were going to be coming to her party.  It brought her such great joy to call me and let me know that this special cousin or that special friend was going to be coming.  She got more and more excited with each passing day.  (By the way, the reason that I still have all of those recordings is really a fluke of my geekiness.  At that time in my life my Mac was also my answering system.  Little did I realize that there was a folder filling up with archival copies of all of my phone messages.  After Mom passed away and before I began a dubious and short lived flirtation with PCs, I did some file cleaning on the Mac and found over one hundred phone messages that Mom had left me during that time, all of which I still have and treasure to this day.)

When the big day finally arrived, it was more than any of us could ever have hoped for.  Mom had such a delightful time and she really had the chance to visit with so many of the people who she loved so very much.  And something pretty special happened:  everyone knew that they were not supposed to bring presents, but a lot of people really felt like they should bring Mom at least some kind of small gift.  Knowing Mom’s great love for angels, she received about two dozen statues and figurines of angels for her birthday.  She was so happy and couldn’t wait to get home to find a special place in the house for each and every one of them.  Needless to say, we still have each and every one of those special angels as a wonderful memory of that great celebration.

After a few days had passed and I had a chance to show Mom the rather informal video that we had taken of the party, she said something pretty incredible:  “Thank God I had the chance to celebrate with all of my family and my friends while I still have my health and could still really enjoy myself.  I have a funny feeling that the next time everyone gets together it won’t be for my 85^th.”  As it turned out, our last family birthday celebration with Mom was just us for her 83^rd birthday in 2001.  Mom passed away in January of 2002, just a little over four months shy of her 84^th birthday.  And her family and friends did get together again that cold and snowy day, so far from the beauty of June 6^th.  Another kind of Mass to celebrate and give thanks for her life, and another kind of reception to thank everyone for the gift of their love and support for her and for all of us.

So now Mom is celebrating her 90^th birthday with all of her family and friends who are with her in heaven.  And now the angels are the real thing, not just statues and figurines.  One day I’ll be there at that party too.  But until then, I’m watching the video again, playing back some of those awesome phone messages, and looking at her precious angels all around her house.  Happy birthday, Mommy!  We love you, we miss you, and we will always celebrate June 6^th as a special day, a day filled with love and many, many happy memories!

Memorial Day Reflections...

This Memorial Day weekend, like every national holiday weekend, is filled with special news items that are meant to touch our hearts and our minds with the "true meaning" of the holiday. Some are better than others, but this Memorial Day I was deeply moved by one of these "human interest" stories.

It was about a gentleman by the name of Mike Mullen. Mike takes time out of his frenetically busy schedule to make regular visits to Arlington National Cemetery. In particular, he goes to visit the section where the young men and women who have lost their lives in our most recent wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have been laid to rest. He doesn't necessarily know who they are, but that doesn't matter. He kneels down to say a prayer at their graves. When he was asked why, he simply responded that he "has to be here" to honor those who have given their lives in service of our country.

You might be wondering why the name Mike Mullen sounds familiar. It is because he is Admiral Mike Mullen, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the highest ranking military officer in the country. He has been making these visits for many years, long before he rose to such a high office. He makes them because he believes that as an officer he should honor the memory of those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for our nation. He makes his visits in civilian clothes so that he will not attract attention to himself. His visits are a very private, very personal thing. Had it not been for a very observant reporter, we would never have even known about his devotion to our fallen veterans.

This news story really made me start to think. As a former chaplain in the naval reserves, I had the honor of knowing the son of the Admiral who was at that time the Chief of Naval Operations. As a result, I gained an insight into just how incredibly full and demanding the day to day schedule of such a high ranking officer really is. If Admiral Mullen can make time in his busy schedule to visit these graves on a regular basis, where are our elected representatives? If Admiral Mullen can take the time to pay his respects, why can't the members of the House of Representatives stop by and say a prayer, not just once in a while, but once a week? Where are our Senators? Where is the President, the Vice-President, the Cabinet, the Supreme Court Justices? I'm not talking about the fancy, wreath laying ceremonies that get all of the press coverage to score political points in the media. I am talking about putting on your jogging suit, taking your body guards if you have to, and going out to kneel in prayer at the graves of the young men and women who are dying in these wars. Maybe if our government leaders made a few more visits to Arlington National Cemetery it might motivate some new legislation, or change a policy or two here and there, or maybe even have a positive influence on the next big court decision. I don't pretend to have the answers that will bring about an end to war, but I do think we should all make ourselves aware, very, very aware, of the price that is being paid each day that we wait for those answers to be found.

We don't all have the luxury of living in Washington, D.C., but there are National Cemeteries all across the country and, unfortunately, their number is growing. Maybe we can all take some time out of our busy schedules to visit the graves of those who have given their lives for our country. At the very least on this Memorial Day, maybe we can follow Mike Mullen's example. We can take some time away from our barbecues and yard parties, our parades and our celebrations, to visit the local cemetery. Once you're there, look for a government issue gravestone—you can't miss them. Kneel down. Say a prayer. Thank God for the sacrifice that all of our veterans have made in wars past and present. And pray to God that we will have the wisdom and the strength that we need to fight for the rights of our veterans who are returning home, so that they will know by our love and care for them how much we truly appreciate the sacrifices that they have made for our nation.

Have a Happy and a Holy Memorial Day!

Getting Caught Up with my Emails...

My email inbox has become a bottomless pit these past few weeks, so I decided to use part of my day off to get caught up with reading, archiving, and deleting my piled up emails. People forward emails to me all the time, many of which can be very moving or very humorous. I was in the midst of suffering from an acute case of the PLOMs (Poor Little Old Me, that is) due to the ton of email that I was trying to process when I came across this one. I simply had to share it with all of the rest of you who are blessed to have both a dog and a cat in their lives. I hope you laugh as loud and as hard as I did...

Excerpts from a Dog's Diary

Dear Diary,
• 6:00 AM: At last! I Go Pee! My favorite thing!
• 8:00 AM: Dog food! My favorite thing!
• 9:30 AM: A car ride! My favorite thing!
• 9:40 AM: A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
• 10:30 AM: Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
• 12:00 PM: Lunch! My favorite thing!
• 1:00 PM: Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
• 3:00 PM: Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
• 5:00 PM: Milk bones! My favorite thing!
• 6:00 PM: They're home! My favorite thing!
• 7:00 PM: Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
• 8:00 PM: Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
• 11:00 PM: Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

Excerpts from a Cat's Diary

• Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.
• Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!
• There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
• Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow—but at the top of the stairs.
• I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released—and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now...

There was, unfortunately, no attribution of credit for this incredibly creative and funny piece, so I regret that I cannot give credit where credit is due. But, to whoever you are, thank you for the best laugh I have had in a long, long time!

A Few Days Away with Wiley & Murphy

On Tuesday, May 6th, at 10 AM, I received a call from the kennel where my brother and his wife had put their two collies before leaving for a couple weeks of vacation in England. Murphy, the older dog who just turned 11, had stopped eating and was becoming weaker with each passing day. After consulting with the veterinarian, it was decided that Murphy needed to be brought home to familiar surroundings where hopefully he would start eating again and recover. Realizing that I was the only one with a key and therefore the only one who could take care of Murphy at their house, I worked a 24 hour day through to 10 AM on Wednesday to get all the paperwork done and make all of the necessary arrangements in order for me to leave for a few days. Then I packed my bags, took Wiley with me out to my brother’s house, and brought Murphy home from the kennel. We stayed with him to nurse him back to health until my brother and his wife returned from England on Sunday afternoon. With each passing day he ate a little bit more and regained more and more of his strength. But what really amazed me was the way that my dog Wiley watched over Murphy and helped me take care of him. Everywhere Murphy went Wiley was right there with him. Even when Murphy laid down to rest, Wiley would find a spot right next to him to watch over him and protect him. In the end I think that Wiley did more to help Murphy recover than I did. And as a result of watching the two of them together, I learned a valuable lesson on just how important it is that we simply be there for each other when things aren’t going well. There is no substitute for the presence of loved ones in our lives when we need that extra tender loving care. If our dogs know how to do this, how much more so should we all know the importance of being there for our family and our friends when they need us the most. By Sunday afternoon I realized that Wiley and Murphy had given me something that I hadn’t had been able to get for a long, long time: a few days away to rest and recuperate from some of the stress of my own hectic schedule. As I sat in the yard with them and watched the sun set for the first time in years, I realized just how much I have been missing. In the end, I think they wound up doing more for me than I did for them!