the more things change

Tonight's entry comes from a very special guest blogger, my father. How is that possible, you ask, considering that he's been dead for twenty-five years? My mother recently gave me copies of some letters he wrote during the mid to late 1970s. He's no Ted L. Nancy but I was amused nevertheless. I am as much interested in his style of writing as I am in the content of the letters. I plan to eventually share three with you. Look for a missive to a member of the New York Giants this fall and a baseball related letter later this spring.

We'll start with a thirty-year-old message to Jimmy Carter's press secretary, Jody Powell. I don't have the clipping that was originally enclosed. We'll have to guess what it was about.

March 16, 1978

Mr. Jody Powell
Press Secretary
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20500

Dear Mr.Powell:

I know you are overwhelmed with problems, and I hesitate to send you "just another clipping," but I thought this letter to The New York Times is particularly significant in light of the many issues that confront our society today.

I have not attempted to target on any specific piece of legislation or advance any similar cause, but I do wish to direct your attention to the increasing burden that the middle class -- that is, the producer group -- is being asked to carry for those others in our society who are solely consumers.

If the size of the middle class continues to diminish, if its ability to function and educate its children is further inhibited by ever increasing tax burdens and government programs, the ability of our economy to create sufficient wealth to take care of the needs of all will be critically undermined.

I seriously do not think I overstate the case.

Sincerely,

something happening somewhere

Some heavy thunderstorms in the area knocked out our electricity for a few hours last night. Everything went dark except the glowing screen of my laptop. We used it to help us find a flashlight and a little battery-powered lantern. By the time I called KUB for an update, the automated voice told me there were still about 3,000 customers without power.

Rather than just sit there, we watched two old TV shows that had been saved on my computer for almost a year. When my TiVo starts to get full, I will transfer some shows to my laptop using the TiVo Desktop software. I don't always get around to watching them, although I did make a dent in my archived collection during the writers strike.

My son and I watched an episode of "The Loop." The single-camera comedy was a short-lived favorite of ours that was never given a chance to find an audience. In almost every episode, the airline employees are asked to find ways to cut costs. Maybe the show was ahead of its time.

Then my wife and I watched an episode of "Monk," a good show that I rarely see. I only recorded this episode because it was about a radio host suspected of murder. That idea has been used before, going back to "Matlock" and "Perry Mason." I thought that Steven Weber was very convincing as a modern-day shock jock. And I should know.

When the new fall schedules are announced at the upfronts next week, a couple of shows that I had picked last year will be gone. "Back to You" and "Aliens in America" got the bad news this weekend. I'm all caught up on "Back to You" but there are quite a few "Aliens in America" episodes on my TiVo. I'll move them over to my laptop in case the power goes out again.

corpuscle crunch

Ben & Jerry's had their Free Cone Day and Baskin-Robbins had their 31 Cent Scoop Night last week. Today our local Bruster's offered free pints! Well, almost free. You had to donate a pint of blood to get the pint of ice cream.



My wife's blood is always in demand. She gets postcards and phone calls from Medic Regional Blood Center about all the blood drives in our area. She's a universal donor. I'm a universal recipient. How appropriate for our relationship.



We both gave blood and got ice cream and a t-shirt. Unfortunately they only had XL shirts. I only need a large. My wife had to go to choir practice so I took home her pint of Turtle and some Chocolate Oreo for myself. The girl at the window asked if I wanted a bag or a spoon. A spoon? C'mon! I don't wear XL shirts anymore.



My day started with some sad ice cream news. One of the first things I read this morning was the obituary of Irv Robbins, as in half of Baskin-Robbins. The Los Angeles Times had a link to test your flavor knowledge. For me, it was more like a reading comprehension quiz. I scored 100% because all the answers were in the articles I had just read.

show some restraint

Thanks to an email reminder from my friend Bean, my family and I went to Baskin-Robbins after dinner tonight. It was their annual 31 Cent Scoop Night. While blogrolling this afternoon, I had also read a posting on Reality Me about the promotion. Just like last year there was a line out the door. A sign on that door warned customers of the ten scoop limit. Another sign advertised that they needed help. I was tempted to hop behind the counter and pitch in.



Back in my scooping days, we had to wear hats when working at Baskin-Robbins. Tonight, an employee in a red shirt kept touching her long hair after bending over to scoop out some ice cream. The lower she had to reach for the ice cream, the closer her hair got to the tubs. My wife said that she didn't want this girl to serve us. When it was our turn, I told the girl that we needed another minute to decide. She moved on to the next customer and we were helped by a guy with short hair.



I saw several people with multiple scoops including a guy who showed me his five. I only got a single scoop of Chocolate Mousse Royale, which was all I needed. As good as it was, I realized that I have lost my ice cream jones. When I first moved to Knoxville, I would eat ice cream almost every night. That's part of the reason I gained the weight that I lost a couple of years ago. I still love sweets but if I had to choose between ice cream and cake, I think I would take the cake. Or the cookie or the brownie or some candy.

fragility of life

A tragic car crash claimed the life of a woman whose son goes to school with my son. My wife and I accompanied our son to the funeral at Holy Ghost Parish on Saturday. Even though we didn't know Mary Lynn Hurley, we wanted to show support for her children, Jacob and Caitlin. Years later, I still remember which of my friends came to my father's funeral even though they didn't know him.

The News Sentinel's website has two versions of their article about the crash. The early version of the story was updated to be the same as the article in Friday's paper. As the story developed it was revealed that the other driver had a suspended license and a medical condition which may explain why he was seen slumped behind the wheel before the crash. What now differentiates the two postings are the comments that were left on Thursday vs. those left on Friday.

Thursday's comments include several responses to a deleted comment that suggested the other driver should have died instead. Another reader felt it necessary to post the office hours of the deceased woman, which drew an angry reaction a few hours later.

On Friday morning someone posted a comment that will affect your emotions. It appears to have been written by Jacob Hurley about his late mother. It serves as a powerful reminder that the reader comments posted on local news sites will be seen by the families of the people involved in the corresponding article.

underdogwood

A family errand kept me from napping yesterday. I was very tired and almost didn't bother going to see the Dogwood Arts Festival Parade. Besides, the parade is usually televised, right? Well, not this year but more on that later. My trip downtown was made completely worthwhile when I saw a certain gigantic nose rounding the corner onto Gay Street (not a euphemism).



Right there, behind The Andy Griffith Show Rerun Watchers Club was a copy of my favorite parade balloon ever. What a surprise! Not plane nor bird nor even frog. It was none other than Underdog!



When the a bad weather forecast caused the rescheduling of the parade to last night, it pushed the event into the May television sweeps period. WVLT couldn't clear the inventory to broadcast the parade. They aired their regularly scheduled programming instead. Only Dino Cartwright, the station's promotion director, was there to announce the parade entries as they passed the reviewing stand. The April 11th parade was supposed to last an hour. Tonight's event was over in half that time. I suspect that several groups couldn't make it on the new date. The News Sentinel says that only four of the ten originally scheduled bands showed up.

Across the street from where I was, Brittany Bailey from WBIR was operating her own small camera. I guess her report on the parade is an example of the "one-man band" or "backpack journalism" we've been hearing about.

By definition a parade means road closures. My wife needed to get to the Tennessee Theatre for the second performance of the Berlioz Requiem. My son and I rode with her, which got us downtown early for the parade and the concert. Shortly after we found our spot along the parade route, a guy with a protest sign sat down next to us. He was protesting some judge over some issue related to somebody's divorce. He tried telling me about it but I couldn't make out most of what he was saying. It was like listening to Boomhauer. A festival official came over and told him that he couldn't be there. He replied "free speech." Unable to dispute that fundamental right, the parade marshal changed her tack. In rapid succession she told him that the parade wouldn't be televised, that the specific judge wouldn't be there, that it was an event for children and that this wasn't the appropriate place for his protest sign. He correctly replied that it was a public space. They left him alone after that.

Underdog wasn't the only balloon in the parade. Like last year, there was a big pink dogwood blossom. Curious George got a hole in his hand from dragging his knuckles on the street. A wind gust blew him very close to my camera which left me with a weird shot of his mouth.

sure as heckfire

This is an actual conversation that took place while waiting for the light to change at the intersection of Walnut Street and Summit Hill Drive tonight. My son and I were driving home from the Dogwood Arts Festival Parade. I looked out the window at the driver in the next lane and said:

"Phil! Phil Williams..."

"Yeah?"

"It's Frank... Frank Murphy."

"I didn't even remember recognize you! Who's driving your car?"

"That's my son."

"He's not supposed to be that old."

I'll admit I was a little surprised, even if there is a logical explanation. By the way, my parade coverage is postponed until tomorrow. I need to sleep.

little lambs eat ivy

Thursday nights mean big crowds downtown. My wife sings with the Knoxville Choral Society and didn't want to be late for their performance with the Knoxville Symphony Orchestra tonight. The show didn't start until 8:00 but we pulled into the State Street garage at 6:00. There was still plenty of time to walk to Market Square and get a big salad at Trio. Meanwhile, outside the restaurant, people were arriving for Smokedown Sundown in the City. Because Sundown is an open air event, the smokers come out in droves.

While we got to the Tennessee Theatre with plenty of time to spare, several audience members and two violinists took their seats well after the concert started. Tonight and tomorrow night the Symphony is presenting the "Requiem" by Berlioz. It basically follows the format of a Catholic funeral Mass. In fact, the piece was commissioned for a state funeral in Paris in 1837.

I was impressed that there was too much music for the stage to contain. The KSO brought in musicians from surrounding areas on a "per-service" basis. In addition to several extra tympani players, there were about 140 members of the Knoxville Choral Society (including my lovely wife) packed onto six rows of risers. A soloist named Andrew Skoog had a chair near Maestro Lucas Richman. Best of all, there were four brass choirs surrounding the audience, two on either side of the stage and two more in the back of the auditorium. Horns, trombones and tubas in the four corners of the theatre created a great surround sound effect.

The Berlioz Requiem will be performed again on Friday night. My wife will have to get there early because of the rescheduled Dogwood Arts Parade that runs right past the Tennessee Theatre starting at 7:00 p.m.

short-term solution

A baby bird celebrated Earth Day by falling to it at our house. It wasn't exactly an Opie and Andy moment, but my son and I decided to return the little tweeter to its nest. He got his lawn mowing gloves and a step ladder while I grabbed the camera.

disturb the sound of silence

After two days of watching CNN, I can't take it any longer. Pardon me while I borrow a formula from my friend Bean's blog, Strongly Worded Letter. Former radio deejay Tony Harris has the good looks to make it as a TV news anchor. He probably Googles himself regularly, therefore it shouldn't take him but a day or two to find this:

Dear Mr. Harris,

May I humbly suggest that you compare a tape of your coverage of today's Papal Mass with the coverage on EWTN, the Catholic network. Granted they have the advantage of already knowing the format of a standard Catholic service, however you will have to notice that you and your team were talking at the times they knew to be quiet and vice versa. More than once you chose to listen in to the proceedings at the wrong time. For example, your viewers heard a minute of silence after the homily and the Prayers of the Faithful read in multiple foreign languages. EWTN used those opportunities to explain what was happening. You completely obliterated the second reading, which was in English, and went to commercial during the Responsorial Psalm.

Furthermore, may I suggest that you spend some time listening to a good play-by-play announcer in your favorite sport. I can think of several baseball and football announcers who know how to be quiet and let the game happen. They may be in the middle of an anecdote about a player when then simply pause the story, let the game unfold and then pick up the story later. Unlike you, they do not spend 20 precious seconds explaining to the audience that they are about to stop talking to let us hear whatever it is that they are talking over.

Thank you for your attention,
Frank Murphy
Knoxville, TN

Now that we have that out of the way, let's move on to the photos my sister took at Nationals Park today. The Popemobile passed close by as she and my mother were walking to their seats. Once they got there, they had a pretty good view of the altar and of the Pope as he headed back to the dugout after Mass.

five years until Willard

Happy birthday Grandma! No, my grandmother doesn't usually read my blog but I once sent a link to my aunt, who printed the entry and gave it to Grandma.

Grandma turns 95 today. She was born one year after the Titanic sunk, 48 years after the day Lincoln died.

On her 14th birthday, the first footprints were left in the cement at Grauman's Chinese Theatre by Douglas Fairbanks, Mary Pickford and some others. On her 34th birthday, Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in baseball.

Congress ratified Amendment XVI, which allowed them to collect an income tax, about two and a half months before Grandma was born. Her birthday didn't become the official Tax Day until she turned 42.

About nine years ago Grandma gave me a gift subscription to the statehood quarters. Every few months we get a panel in the mail from the Postal Commemorative Society. At the time, Grandma made me promise to continue buying the panels after she's gone. Fortunately for me, Grandma is still going strong and the final quarters will be released this year.

Grandma spent her 80th birthday with us in Los Angeles. We took her to the Chinese Theatre, to Beverly Hills and to the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences. That's where she saw the statues of some of her favorite stars, like Jack Benny.

polymath on the Potomac

The cherry blossoms are peaking in Washington, DC this week. My wife and kids took some time during their Spring break to visit the monuments on Friday, the day before all the crowds showed up for the National Cherry Blossom Festival. My brother-in-law was also there and took this picture of the Jefferson Memorial that is absolutely postcard-perfect.



The Jefferson has always been my favorite memorial. There's something about its location and its architecture that speaks to me. I was surprised to learn yesterday that it's design was completed by a committee after the original architect died. I happened across a show on the Smithsonian Channel about the various memorials in and around D.C. They also said that when the Jefferson Memorial opened, on the third president's 200th birthday, bronze was too expensive. They used a plaster statue painted to look like bronze. After the war ended, a real bronze statue was installed. Nobody knows what happened to the plaster original. It's got to be in somebody's garage somewhere.

virtual refrigerator door

At any given time, my "drafts" file has a dozen or more ideas that could possibly be turned into blog entries. The paragraph below has been stuck in there for a while waiting for me to get back to the topic of fine art. I almost included it in a post that mentioned Jackson Pollock but I ended up taking that entry in a dessert direction.

In December my daughter spotted a Picasso-style doodle that resembled me. Soon after I posted the photo of it, she found the Mr. Picassohead site that lets anyone make an electronic drawing. She made one of me and another of three of my favorite movie stars, the Marx Brothers.

with two you get eggroll

The White House may have had the Jonas Brothers perform today but we have our own Easter Monday tradition here on the blog. Last year and the year before, I showed off our family's decorated eggs. This year we take a look at how my son makes his annual Earth Egg. Using regular Paas dyes, he soaks one in blue until it reaches the desired hue. Then he uses a Q-tips cotton swab and a glass of water to erase the dye from the land masses. He dips another swab in green dye and paints on the continents. Obviously the North and South Poles are left white.



My son was happy with the way his Asia turned out. Below, he's displaying India for the camera. The finished product takes its place among the rest of our 2008 Spring collection, with Europe and Africa visible. Last year we showed you the Western Hemisphere before it got peeled and eaten.

all ears

The members of my extended family are planning and preparing for my grandmother's big birthday celebration this Spring. One of my cousins volunteered to assemble a DVD with pictures of Grandma throughout the years. I spent this afternoon going through photo albums and scanning images that I could email to him. In addition to a bunch of snapshots of Grandma sightseeing in Hollywood, I found two old photos that were solely for my own amusement.

When we lived in Virginia, we often visited Grandma on Long Island for the Fourth of July. I always enjoyed listening to WLNG while in the area. Whenever possible, I would seek out a Paul Sidney remote broadcast. Here we are at the Independence Day parade in Southampton, talking about radio on the radio.



Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey used to let deejays ride the elephants from the train to the venue in the various cities they visit. They don't anymore. When the circus was in town two weeks ago, I thought about the times that I was fortunate enough to have done so in the streets of Washington D.C.

eyes are smiling

The annual Women Today Expo happens this weekend at the Knoxville Convention Center. Wow. That means it has already been a year since my wife and I showed off our makeovers in the fashion show at that event. To promote this year's expo, the News Sentinel has a slideshow on their website. Look for me in photos 8 through 13. Those are the ladies from Garde Bien Spa Salon fussing over me in the first few pictures.

I think more than a few people will show up this weekend expecting to go to the Food City Food Show, which had been a part of the Women Today Expo for years. The line to get in to the Food Show was always so long, it made me think that more people came to it than to the main event. The Food Show's popularity has allowed it to be spun off into a separate event to be held in September. I guess that means Chef Walter has this weekend off for a change.

Food City sponsors Chef Walter's daily cooking segment on WVLT. Today he made an Irish Soda Bread that looked spectacular. It made me want a piece of my mother's soda bread, slathered in butter. I called Mom today to tell her about it and to ask if she would mind me putting the family recipe on my blog. Here it is, in time for the early celebration of St. Patrick's Day in some Catholic dioceses around the world.

My Great-Grandmother's Irish Soda Bread

• 4 cups all purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 teaspoon salt
• ¾ cup sugar
• ½ cup butter
• 1 tablespoon caraway seeds
• 1 cup of raisins
• 1 heaping teaspoon baking soda
• 2 to 3 cups buttermilk

Mix flour, baking powder, salt and sugar. Cut in butter, dough becomes like pebbles. Coat caraway seeds and raisins with flour and add to mix.

Mix baking soda into 1 cup of buttermilk. Slowly add to flour mix, a little at a time. Continue adding buttermilk slowly, until the dough is moist and forms a ball (or pulls away from bowl). The amount of buttermilk needed depends on the weather.

Put a tablespoon of flour on a board and coat hands with flour. Knead dough a little and shape it into a loaf. Cut an X into the top.

Bake in two greased and floured 8 inch pans (or as one loaf on a cookie sheet) at 375° for 45 to 50 minutes, again depending on the weather. Test with a cake tester. Cool on a rack. Enjoy.

six years six months

For the first five years after 9/11, firefighter Aron Safell marked the anniversary by erecting 343 crosses on the lawn outside his firehouse in Garland, Texas. He displayed the crosses for the final time in 2006 and sent me several photos which I posted on my blog. Each cross had the name of a firefighter, including my cousin Terry Hatton, who died at the World Trade Center. Aron has kindly offered to send nameplate photos to the families of any of the firefighters lost in the line of duty that day.



In November, the Garland Fire Department opened a new administration and training facility. Let me have Aron continue the story by quoting his email:

The chief asked for any memorabilia to go into the display area. I wanted the "Cross for a Brother" memorial to somehow fit into this. I removed all the nameplates from the crosses and pitched a few ideas to the chiefs. An office Captain and I came up with an idea and sent it off to a trophy company. What a memorial! They used all the original nameplates and created the Twin Towers memorial for the front area of the FD administration offices.

lines of code of Harry

Video games have never been my thing. I was too cheap to ever put my quarters into an arcade game and too interested in other aspects of my TV and computer to get involved in gaming at home. The computer games I owned were titles like "Jeopardy" and "You Don't Know Jack." Even though I'm not a gamer, I still think I want to see the documentary "The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters," which is about a champion Donkey Kong player. I've heard many good things about it.

Like any normal boy his age, my son enjoys video games. He plays "Madden '08" at home and is going to a "Mario Kart" party tomorrow night. Today I jokingly told him that there was a new game coming out that may finally get me interested in picking up a controller and exercising my thumbs. The game will be based on one of my favorite TV shows, "Dexter." I've previously written about the Showtime series, which is currently being shown on CBS. Are any of you watching it on regular TV? I wonder what a "Dexter" video game will be like. Maybe you'll control the main character as he goes to the store to stock up on cellophane, duct tape and syringes before going about his bloody business.

on campus

Unafraid to jump on the bandwagon, we went to Mass today at John XXIII University Parish after seeing the article about Fr. Eric Andrews in yesterday's News Sentinel. Turns out that before the priesthood, he worked at the Jim Henson Company, original home of the Muppets. We were unsure where to park and ended up in a nearby faculty lot. The strong wind nearly knocked us down as we walked to the church. Fr. Eric was there to greet the congregation, however Fr. Paul Rospond celebrated the Mass. The newspaper article made me interested in hearing a homily from Fr. Eric too. Fortunately there is an assortment of both his and Fr. Paul's available online, where parking is no problem. I realized this morning that I had already heard Fr. Paul's sermon last night while I was looking up the Mass times. It was posted after he celebrated the 5:30 p.m. Mass.

We found seats about five minutes before Mass began. Similar to a movie theatre before the days of "The 2wenty," a series of slides promoting upcoming events at the parish were showing on a big screen behind the altar. My wife asked me to find her a hymnal. As I went out to the narthex to get one for her, I noticed that nobody else had one either. When Mass started, we saw the lyrics to the processional hymn projected on the screen. The page changed to reveal the next stanza at the exact right moment. I kept looking until I found a guy in the choir with his thumb on a handheld remote, controlling the PowerPoint presentation.

It was a perfect day for us to visit UT because the writing team of Jefferson Bass would be signing books at the Frank H. McClung Museum. Better still, they would be speaking to a capacity crowd in the lower level auditorium. I went down to get seats while my wife and son looked at the museum's Forensic Anthropology exhibit, which is only there until May 7.



Dr. Bill Bass showed slides from the real-life burned-body cases that inspired parts of "The Devil's Bones." During the Q&A session that followed, a question about plasticination prompted an anecdote about cultural differences in dealing with bodies. We heard about an American doctor who opened a medical school in China. He needed cadavers for the students to examine. The government sent him ten beheaded bodies. He thanked the officials but asked for ten more with their heads and necks still intact. They brought him ten live prisoners on a chain gang and told him that he could kill them any way he liked.

Jon Jefferson told of one of his first meetings with Dr. Bass over lunch at Calhoun's on Bearden Hill. As Jon was trying to understand the way a weapon's marks can be visible on a murder victim's ribs, Dr. Bass reached over and began stabbing the half-slab on Jon's plate. Other patrons turned to look and then relaxed once they realized the man with the knife was just good old Dr. Bass.



The audience members filed upstairs and got in line to get their books autographed by the authors. The line wrapped all the way around the circular museum lobby. Since my copy of the book was already signed, I took the opportunity to revisit the Forensic Anthropology exhibit myself. Jefferson and Bass have a busy week ahead. You have several opportunities to get a signed book. Or you could just buy one online.

in the Netherlands

For Valentine's Day, I surprised my wife with her favorite flowers. I would have rather waited until her birthday but that plan failed last year. Sam's Club had sold out by then.

I avoided the lovestruck crowds at the florist by purchasing tulips last Friday. My challenge was to keep them hidden and alive until today. Of all the plants for sale, I chose the one with the greenest, tightest buds, hoping that they wouldn't bloom for six days or more. Once I got them home, I worried that the heat and light in the house would prompt the flowers to open. After thinking about it for a few minutes, I hid them in the coolest, darkest part of the basement. Last night I brought them upstairs and left them where she would find them first thing this morning. As you can see, the timing was pretty good. They will probably open fully by tomorrow.

metal mettle

While looking online to see which Super Tuesday candidates were endorsed by our local newspapers, I was distracted by the front page of the Metro Pulse. The cover story is about guitarist Randy Rhoads, who is one of three famous musicians who died shortly after being in Knoxville. The other two are Hank Williams and Sergei Rachmaninoff.

I was not familiar with Randy's music while he was alive. In fact, it wasn't all that long ago that I first heard of him. I was invited to a year-end presentation of video projects by the students in a media class at Providence High School in Burbank. One of the upperclassmen appeared in a documentary about his late uncle, Randy Rhoads. I recognized Randy's sister Kathy in the film. My wife and I knew her as one of the other room mothers at St. Finbar School.

Kathy's husband Richard is a talented cabinetmaker. He made a gorgeous wooden ambo for St. Finbar Church as well as other altar furniture. When I looked online, I discovered that he is now in the wine business too. Kathy and Richard's daughter Jenna was a classmate of our son for seven years until we moved to Knoxville. Jenna turned up in some red carpet photos as the date of a young actor named Daniel Hansen.

My wife took an extra copy of the paper from the stack on the bar at Patrick Sullivan's last night after my Einstein Simplified show. Now we need to find an old parish directory with Kathy's address in order to mail her a copy of the Metro Pulse. As she read the article, my wife saw that Randy's last name was misspelled on the plaque when he was inducted to the Hollywood RockWalk in 2004. Kathy and her mom are in the photos from the ceremony. They eventually fixed the plaque.

Knoxville has a statue honoring Rachmaninoff and an annual festival for Hank. Perhaps it's time to think of a way to commemorate Randy here too. And spell his name correctly.

super fat Tuesday

Because February 3rd fell on a Sunday, the Catholic church didn't observe the feast of St. Blaise this year. On the church calendar, Sundays trump the lesser celebrations of the saints. After Mass, I told Fr. Michael Woods how as a kid I liked the annual throat blessing on that day. He said he might offer the blessing at daily Mass the next day. When I said that I would be at work, Fr. Michael invited my family and me to follow him to a small room off the narthex. He asked my son, who was the tallest person in the room, to reach up and grab a box stored atop some cabinets. The box held a fancy candle for the traditional throat blessing. Actually it was more like two candles intertwined to form a handle. Fr. Michael used it to give the blessing to my wife, my son and me.



As I used my camera phone to take a picture for the blog, Fr. Michael was reminded of a recent conversation he had with another parishioner. I have mentioned here a couple of times that the twelve days of Christmas start on December 25th and end on January 6th. Fr. Michael has mentioned the same thing in his homilies and the parish newsletter. The other parishioner wanted to know if Fr. Michael was getting his material from me or vice versa. It was probably neither considering that we were both drawing from the same source material.

I told Fr. Michael that I did intend to pass along something he mentioned in the latest All Saints newsletter. Easter 2008 is March 23rd, which is as early as it can be. It basically occurs on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox. As an Irishman, Fr. Michael is well aware that this means no St. Patrick's Day this year. On the church calendar, that is. Much like the way the feast of St. Blaise got pre-empted by the Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time, March 17th of this year is Monday of Holy Week. Fr. Michael says that he will be wearing green under his purple Lenten vestments.

in this world the headlines read