PEACE........STILL A DIRTY WORD.

Rachel Maddow has a new book out this week entitled "Drift". It focuses on how easy it has become for our country to constantly be at war, and how little those wars impact most of the nation. Only about 1% of us are affected in any way by what's going on in Afghanistan or what happened because of our invasion of Iraq. There is no draft, and no "war effort"....no plan to pay for the five BILLION a week that we're spending right now for a war that almost 70% of the us don't want, and no one even considers any other path for resolving the issues...we're still convinced that killing the enemy is the only choice.

I don't think many of us think much about that small percentage of people who comprise that 1% who are indeed affected by these wars...how they have suffered and how the pain continues for them. Christmases come and go for most of us, but for the families of over five thousand victims of these wars there is an empty chair at their tables and most certainly tears in their eyes...and that's just in our country. (tens of thousands of Afghans and Iraquis are "collateral damage") and they don't seem to really count at all.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if all of our paid representatives and all of the religious leaders that we support would spread the gospel of peace? Instead of railing against gay equality, or birth control, or ultrasounds and bailouts? What if the conversations included plans to gather those people in the world who don't want to stand among those thousands of white crosses and listen to TAPS while they bury their kids or their Mom or their Dad...and forge more paths to world peace?

There are those voices of peace all around us, and they will never be silenced. They exist in every corner of the world, and they never give up hope.

Remember the man in Sarajevo who sat down and played his cello in spite of the war going on all around him? The beauty and hope that poured forth in that glorious act of courage exists in all of us...all over the world. How we tap into it and fill the air with it is elusive knowledge. It's very very difficult, but will never be impossible.

POLKA DOTS

When school was over in June we moved from the North Hills to the South Hills...no more Susie and Billy...but no more getting beaten up at the bus stop by Philip either. I would be in second grade seven years old, and ready for a new adventure. The owners of the house we bought entertained us in the gameroom with slides of the rose garden that we would soon be inheriting. I remember the colors of the roses that were mixed in with tall light blue delphiniums. I don't remember any tours of the house, just evenings with the slide show.

My Dad and I had our work cut out for us...there seemed to be a hidden clause in this whole deal about maintaining that rose garden. We did our best, but the delphiniums were biennials, and the roses got Japanese beetles, and we had a Boxer puppy ( Woof 1 ).

The neighbors were very friendly, and I had finally accepted the fact that school was going to be a much longer commitment that I had envisioned , but now I'd be able to walk to the local Catholic school with the other kids and avoid those treacherous waits at a bus stop. One rainy September morning I was strolling along with my new twin friends when I happened to glance across the street where another little group was heading to Saint Margaret's. My little seven year old heart absolutely fluttered when I caught sight of a glorious six year old girl as she skipped along like a little Von Trapp munchkin. She was wearing the most beautiful Blessed Mother blue raincoat with white polka dots AND was carrying a matching umbrella. I must have swooned or at least been pretty light headed for a few minutes...awed by this vision of loveliness...(did I mention the pig tails?). I made my mind up then and there to befriend this marvelous vision of heavenly beauty. We walked home together that very afternoon....and that night I dreamed about sharing that umbrella for the rest of my life....Even in my dream I knew better than to start a whining campaign for a matching ensemble...it wasn't as if I'd be begging for a Pirates uniform. I was already beginning to understand the rules.

IS THIS WHAT "LESS GOVERNMENT" LOOKS LIKE?

Lots of Republicans seem to be talking about a lot less government intrusion into peoples lives. There are lots of them talking about the Supreme Court case concerning the health care provision that requires everyone to have insurance. One Republican congressman was particularly vocal yesterday when he was furiously denouncing the idea of the government making people buy something that they don't want. Meanwhile, I've been reading for months about Republican state legislators all over the country pushing for these ultrasounds and probes that would be required for any woman who wanted an abortion. Now being a man perhaps I don't quite know what I'm talking about, but I can't imagine that the majority of women would want the government forcing these procedures on them...they do have a legal right to terminate a pregnancy...like it or not. Our own governor in Pennsylvania has suggested that women can just "close their eyes" rather than look at the required screen with images of the ultrasound. This is "less government" ?

In my limited understanding of this mandated health insurance idea....isn't the gist of it the idea that we all end up paying for all those people who go to the emergency room for treatment without any insurance ? If this country's health care system is ranked 37th in the world....seems like we have to do SOMETHING different. Since I try to always write about what I know....this is an appropriate time to wind this up. I have a lot to learn.

THE COLOR OF OUR CHILDREN'S SKIN

Last night...around midnight the phone rang...always a scary sound around here, but the call was actually anticipated and quickly answered. After months of anxiety and patience, we learned that my one and only nephew was accepted into Carnegie Mellon University. This young man has worked hard for a long time for this. He also received acceptance letters from several other prestigious institutions, but has been very interested and hopeful about CMU. He has excelled in more areas than I ever dreamed of, from tennis to baseball to singing and dancing in the school musicals. He's polite, funny, kind, and thoughtful as well. I don't worry that he'll have a good life.

When he turned sixteen and began to drive I worried a little bit more...I've watched too many news stories for too many years about teenagers killed on the road. I've told him many times that if he's ever in a car with someone who is doing anything dangerous to get out...call me anytime...from anywhere...and I'll come and get him. So as much as this promising young man has going for him, his uncle still keeps a vigilant eye on him, as do his parents and sister. He's really not a kid that needs to be watched like a hawk.

After the good news last night as I tried to go back to sleep, my thoughts drifted to those families who's phones also ring late at night... with horrible news. As the outrage continues over the killing of Travon Martin, and our own nightly news almost always reports another young person killed, I'm keenly aware of what a dangerous world this is for young black men in particular. How sad for the families with kids who are immediately deemed "suspicious" because of the color of their skin. If my nephew walks into a store in the evening he's looked at very differently than a black boy his age would be looked at in the same situation.

It's a whole different world for a young person if your skin is dark, but we all bleed the same blood, all hearts break with the same pain, and burying a child ruins many lives forever. I worry a bit when my nephew is out with his friends, but not when he's simply shopping or going to school. My friends of a different color don't have that same luxury. A trip to a convenience store for candy and an iced tea can prove deadly for young black kid. While life is about to begin for kids like ours, it all too frequently ends in a cemetery for so many countless others.

WALKING WITH WONDERFUL WOOF

Woof gives me a certain look every evening after dinner. It doesn't mean "I need to go out" and it doesn't mean "I'm hungry" or "lets go to bed"...it's a very clear suggestion that we go for a walk. When I ask her for confirmation of the request she leaps around for a minute or two just like she did six years ago when she was a puppy. I go to the little drawer where I keep her leash...as well as the corkscrew, which causes some confusion for her at odd times,  and she sits down patiently while I slip it over her head (the leash..not the wine opener.) Her leash was passed down from two Woofs ago and it used to be pink...that was Woof #4"s favorite color. Now it's kinda gray, and worn, but any new collar that I've tried is quickly rejected...as though I'm trying to choke her with some Bison yoke.

She prances and dances down the street with me and we pass first the new neighbors who fight a lot and watch different programs on different tv sets on different floors. Sometimes our Polish neighbor whom we met by sharing a little mountain of mushroom compost one Spring and who whistles all the while he works in his pristine vegetable garden. He waves hello with a big "Hi!" to Woof and we keep moving. As we round the corner at the bottom of the street we can hear the chatter from the outdoor diners at the Italian restaurant...people love the BYOB idea there and they bring a lot. We can smell the garlic in the air and Woof would love to stop in...but we keep moving towards her favorite rest stop...the corner Donut shop. The owner is a boxer lover who drops whatever she's doing when she sees us and runs out to hug my dog...not me.

On those times when someone different is working Woof is inconsolable. I try to explain about people having time off, but she still doesn't get it.

We pass the house where the Jack Russell jumps against the front window, the house that kept their Christmas lights up until February, the house that the family lost and had to move away with their little boy and their big dog that was Woof's good friend...and we both feel bad.

In twenty minutes Woof and I have discussed the elections, world peace, and why my partner forgot to put the ham in the oven on Sunday. We're back home in about twenty minutes, I'm ready to watch Rachel, and Woof is ready to put her pajamas on. All's right with the world.

THE ENCHANTED COTTAGE

So this idea that I was expected to go to school EVERY day really took me by surprise...it wasn't even optional....five days every week was a real bother for someone as busy as I was. The big rage around that time was an outdoor log cabin....I think Sears sold them in a kit, and it was about the size of a tree house, but had four sides with windows and a door, and of course I was less afraid to beg for one of those that I was for a black baby doll. My Dad agreed, and soon he and my Uncle were busy putting my new little cabin together in the back yard. Now while I think my Dad was envisioning a sort of an OK CORRAL for his unusual little son, the little son was picturing more of an Enchanted Cottage. Billy next door was thinking we'd use it as a hideout, or a camp for gunfights while I was thinking that it would absolutely charming for afternoon high tea. Susie and I of course prevailed, proper curtains were hung and tied back with cute little ribbons, wall to wall carpeting from a remnant in her gameroom was installed (poorly) by the two of us, and we were looking at windowboxes in magazines when my Dad put his foot down.

One of my friends says that he knew he was gay when one day he heard the news that Judy Garland had died....and he fainted....and he was nine. I knew something was up with me...and maybe my Dad did too...and picturing his son as Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm instead of Hopalong Cassidy might have been a not so subtle hint about some difficult times ahead. What was a tea house without windowboxes and petunias? I opted to abandon the shack until I was about ten and decided to turn it into a roadside shrine in honor of the Blessed Mother and weary travelers. My childhood experiences were beginning to evolve into constant differences between what I was expected to do and what I had absolutely no interest or intention of doing. Except for the constant interruption of that damned school stuff, I was just as happy as a lark.

BABY DOLLS, UNIFORMS, AND BAD APPLES

When I was six years old I really wanted a baby doll...a black one. My friend Susie had one although she was white as were all the other kids in our neighborhood. Susie was progressive and I was confused. I remember thinking that I shouldn't really want a doll...and I'm not sure if I ever actually asked Santa or the Easter Bunny for one....but I never got one, so we had to share. Susie's Dad was a doctor so she always seemed to get extravagant toys...like a really big dollhouse that we played with for hours. Our other friend Billy was into more normal boy things...cowboys and Indians and holsters and guns. Every picture of him shows him with some wild west outfit on while Susie and I look like the Bobsy twins. On Halloween we dressed like tigers with big long tails and Billy was a monster.

Since I was a Catholic and Susie and Billy were pagans, we went to different schools. On my first day I stood in the playground in my little gray coat holding my Mom's hand while we waited for the bell to ring. One of the nuns who looked to be about nine feet tall came over and began gathering us first graders together and I very reluctantly released my Mother's hand and was taken away to the gallows. To my surprise my own teacher Sister Theckla was much prettier and nicer that her name was, but I was horrified to learn that we were expected to come to school every day. I thought it would be more of a short term commitment.

Philip Slatbridge sat in the first row and was trouble for all of us from the get go. When Sister would tell us to color the apples red, Philip would make them black. Anytime I glanced at his desk he'd just be scribbling all over his paper as I strolled up the aisle with my perfectly colored circles and squares. I was distraught to learn that Philip and I were thrown together at the same bus stop at 3:00, and since I looked so much like Little Lord Fauntleroy in my little gray coat (with matching cap of course) he naturally picked on me. I tell people that he beat me up every day in first grade but I think he probably just pushed me around a lot. I still dream about tracking him down and killing him. (not really),

well...maybe kinda really. I actually told my parents that the nuns used to trap him in the office with yard sticks and take turns beating him. Maybe they did.

My parents were baffled by many things about me (duh!) especially my refusal to go to school without my gray coat and hat. Around this time of year it was warming up and I still insisted on my little uniform. When it got to be around 80 degrees and I was still bundling up we had a show down. After a major inquisition I provided my explanation. At the end of each day, Sister Theckla would say " You may go to the cloakroom now and get your wraps and then you can line up to go home". I interpreted that to mean...have a "wrap" or you stay here. My gray coat was my ticket out. It took a great deal of convincing for me to arrive without my green card...but it sure felt a lot cooler as I rushed home to change our shared baby doll and rearrange the dollhouse. This school thing really interfered with my very busy schedule. More about that later.

MUSIC AND ME

My Mother hates church music. She seems to think it goes back to when I was ten years old and first began to sing in the boys choir at our church. We learned the Requiem Mass for the dead and sang it almost every day at the eight o'clock Mass, unless it was a special saint's day. I had a little electric "Magnus" organ with about 15 keys, and when my Mom would be trying to take a nap I'd often come into her room, plug my little organ in, and serenade her with the Mass for the dead. I guess that really did her in...or at least her dislike for church music has  traumatic roots.

My grandparents had a tradition of singing every evening after dinner as soon as the dishes were done. My Mother would play the piano, and they'd all sing...all the old standards and of course the Irish tunes. My grandfather encouraged me to branch out from the Requiem and expand my repertoire...at least into some lighter Sacred music. When I got my first chance at the big Wurlitzer for a Sunday Mass, he was delighted, although he was very sick at the time and didn't live long enough to come to the church to hear me at the keyboard. He and my grandmother used to harmonize to songs like "Kentucky Babe".

Parties at our house always involve music. My Mother still wows the crowd with her great style and everyone sings along. I have friends who play very well, my nephew plays, and even people who really have awful voices spend a good part of their time here around the grand piano. I've been singing in church choirs most of my life, and can't imagine my life without music.

Our cottage is relatively near the Chatauqua Institution in New York, and they usually have several big musical performances during the summer. We take turns picking a concert every year, and my choice a few years ago was the "Verdi Requiem"....which is not for the faint-hearted. When my other half got to choose the following year we ended up with Wayne Newton. He was awful. About halfway through the evening a well dressed older man behind us said.....much too loudly..."He stinks". Different strokes for different folks.

Once in awhile I'll ask my Mother to listen to a piece of music that I really love. The first thing she always says is " I hope it's not church music." I guess that Mass for the dead really permanently did her in.

THE LAKE

Lake Erie is the most shallow of all the great lakes, hence it can go from a perfectly calm glassy expanse to a raging wild ocean-like swirl of huge waves..sometimes more than ten feet high, in a very short time. Any time the forecast is for stormy weather or a volatile atmosphere the boaters keep a vigilant eye on the water and the sky at all times. The map of shipwrecks on Lake Erie is enormous and hard to comprehend, partially due to the unpredictable changes that frequently defy the forecasts. When I was a kid my family spent a good part of the summer at my grandmother's cottage on the lake and when a storm was brewing my dad and I would sit out on the glider under what we called an "indian blanket" and watch the storms approaching from the horizon.

When we bought our cottage on the lake it seemed to be much closer to the water than my grandmother's had been...and I was wary of the fury that I knew was part of life on the lake shore. About eight years ago we got a call from a neighbor who lives next to our cottage telling us that we needed to make a trip north. There had been a violent spring storm that destroyed our cement deck as well as our shed with porch furniture and the boat motor, as well as half of the hillside above it. It was an expensive repair, but we now have double the protection from the inevitable storms.

So many of our friends have said the same thing while they lounge on the deck with a glass of wine and watch the waves..."wow, we could imagine we were anywhere with this gorgeous view". Spending time in our own little slice of paradise has also elicited something like " this would be the room that we loved at the ocean...but couldn't really afford."

The storms still come, and I miss my Dad, but often feel his presence when I'm the last one to race into the cottage as the wind howls and the waves crash...and I can hear him say " time to go in little buddy."

SIDE EFFECTS

There certainly are a great many ads these days for the drug companies.  It seems that along with the vast selection of remedies for almost any condition there are also some pretty scary side effects.  Some have always sounded rather benign, but it seems like they've up the ante lately...maybe because they're required by the FDA to be more explicit, but whatever the reason the treatments sound worse than the cure.  I love the little butterfly that glides into the bedroom window and lights on the pillow for LUNESTA and gently allows that lucky person to sleep for eight hours, but it seems that the side effect isn't quite so mild.  You might get a great night's sleep and then have your neighbor tell you they saw you mowing their lawn in your jockey shorts at four in the morning.."there have been reports of users of LUNESTA driving or engaging in other activities without remembering". YIKES.  Was that you in your dalmation pajamas at the WENDYS drive through in the middle of the night?
  Between the one that calms your nerves but might cause you to beat up everyone in your neighborhood, try to kill yourself, or bleed to death....and the testosterone aid that will cause any females in the house to begin to grow facial hair if they "accidentally" come in contact with it...I think I'd rather wing it.
  But of course my favorite is for all the men who have a certain more embarrassing situation...and can now take a little pill once a day...just in case their companion happens to brush by them and they suddenly find themselves in matching bathtubs in the rain forrest.  Trouble with this one is backache, headache, upset stomach..(all of which might just temper the "urge" for me)..and the much dreaded FOUR HOURS.  Now work with me here...I imagine most romance occurs in the evenings...so if you get that most dreaded of all side effects...you're told to call your doctor right away...at three in the morning?  If I called my doctor I'd get an appointment for three weeks later.  A trip to the emergency room might be awkward..."and what is your emergency ?". FOUR HOURS ?
   I think I'll stick to Tylenol and Bayer, and be hyper-vigilant about bumping into my partner when he's painting the garage.

THOUGHTS ON VOTING REPUBLICAN IN 2012

I don't understand why certain people still support the Republican party. Why any gay man or woman would vote for any of the current candidates while they all repeatedly state that they would not support marriage equality for gay couples, how they are against any gay or lesbian couple adopting children, and how they would re-instate "Don't ask Don't tell" and resume discharging qualified men and women who have volunteered to serve their country, is beyond me.

Why would anyone who thinks that women have a right to choose whether or not they want to become pregnant, or at least want a VOICE about their own bodies vote for one of these candidates? There was legislation proposed yesterday in Arizona that would require a woman to prove that she needed birth control pills for a health condition and not contraception before she could get a script, while women in Maryland as well as here in Pennsylvania will be forced to have procedures to shame them if they choose not to have a child. How could any woman support people who are pushing for these things?

Why would anyone who embraces the words " Blessed are the peacemakers" vote for trigger happy men who are chomping at the bit to kill thousands of people in Iran...because they MIGHT have evil intentions. How can they sit in the front pews and sing "Let there be peace on Earth and let it begin with me"?

How could anyone who relies on the government to feed and house them vote for people who would attempt in some way to force them out into the cold...or deny them medical care because of their pre-existing condition..."let them die" was the response at one GOP debate.

How could a college kid who graduates and needs health insurance from his or her parents for several more years vote for a party that wants to eliminate that insurance?

Sometimes when I ask someone why they don't want Obama in the Whitehouse, they'll say..."There's just something about him...." If it's not the war, or the economy, or the environment, or taxes....I wonder what it is....could it possibly be the color of his skin? "No of course not....I'm on the church diversity committee...but did you ever notice how dark he looks sometimes?". Hmmm.

PREPARE YE FOR THE CRUSADE !

I'm beginning to think that Rick Santorum could actually become the Republican nominee and that it's not inconceivable that he could become our next president. Mitt Romney is not becoming anymore popular in spite of all the money they're throwing at him, and Santorum is far from the dark horse that he used to be. Barrack Obama didn't beat John McCain and Sarah by a landslide, and if Santorum actually became the GOP candidate the right wing crazies, the evangelicals, the Catholic church, and everyone with ultra conservative views would rally like never before to crown the king.

When the Catholic church (my church) did everything but make the congregation take a solemn vow not to vote for a pro choice candidate (Obama) in the last election, I can only imagine the pressure to vote for an anti-choice, anti contraception, anti marriage equality guy like Rick Santorum. He's like the dream child of the American bishops and the poster boy for the Vatican.

Rick Santorum would be terrible for this country...terrible for world peace, terrible for women, terrible for gay people, terrible for poor people,college minded kids,atheists,black people,anyone who believes in separation of church and state,muslims, gay couples with kids,and social security recipients. Other than that....HAIL TO THE CHIEF !

ZIPPITY DO DAH !

My my my what a wonderful day! I start waiting for Spring on December 26 every year. I look forward to a couple of snowdrops around the end of January, and crocus at the end of February....but no long wait this year. The crocus are almost finished, as are the snowdrops, and the daffodils are opening all over the city, and have been for a week. I generally count on daffodils around April 1, and even then it's often not until mid April when they're in full sail.

A week or so ago I was complaining (again) about what a long "pre-Spring" we were having...it felt like we ought to be turning the calendar to April instead of March, as it seemed like 70 degree weather ought to be right around the corner. Guess what..

Woof and I are busy as beavers in the garden...planting pansies and primroses along the winding paths. The grass is ready for mowing...in mid-March...while the image of the St Patrick Day parade in the snow one year is just a long ago memory. I remember planting in my garden once on the first of April...and then the disappointment when it snowed two weeks later. I felt that I'd really learned a BIG lesson that year...and I might be unlearning it all over again. It's TOO early...It's too early.

Whatever this is all about...I love it, my dog loves it, my partner comes home from work with the roof down, everyone is grilling outside. the cushions are back on the porch furniture.....am I really awake?

SPEAK UP !

It's very easy to think that one voice can't make any difference...can't change anything. In many cases that's true....but there are many other times when it isn't. There is tremendous power when voices join together...witness the backlash against Rush Limbaugh after his nasty attack on the young woman from Georgetown. Every person who sent an email, made a phone call, signed a petition, or otherwise expressed their protestation about this kind of verbal assault made a difference. Make your opinion heard!

When the priest in Maryland refused to give Communion to a lesbian at her mother's funeral, there was a public outcry. I certainly opened my big mouth about that disgraceful bigotry as did many others. It was announced yesterday that he has been relieved of his post at the church. One more homophobe bites the dust. If no one had spoken up once again..nothing would have happened. Every voice of protest was heard.

Public protest was a big factor in ending the Vietnam war, and while thousands of us marched in the streets against the Iraq invasion, there weren't enough of us. If the sixty percent of Americans who don't support the war in Afghanistan were to take to the streets, and the news every night was about the protests in city after city, the war would end...and the boy down the street would be sure to arrive back home alive.

Kudos to those who speak up and raise their voices for peace and justice. Whether that's the kids on the Joseph Kony campaign that seeks to end his reign of terror, or those folks who contact their representatives when they sense injustice, or those who tirelessly march for equality and freedom. Spread the word, raise your voice, and never think that you don't matter. Together if we hunger and thirst for justice, and never ever give up hope, change will eventually come. Speak up.

WE'RE CREATING MONSTERS

Rick Santorum said he wanted to "throw up" when he read JFK's speech about the separation of Church and State, and since I'm such a great supporter of Mr. S. I thought I'd use the same language in my response to the latest grisly news from Afghanistan. It likewise made me want to throw up. At around three o'clock in the morning while the village near Kandahar slept, sixteen innocent people were murdered at point blank range in cold blood. Most of them were women and children. Normally a rampage like this brings out the darkest side of most of us....who was the monster who did this?.....I hope this guy gets all that is coming to him...let's throw the book at him...Now somehow those feelings are here, but there's a twist.

About all we've heard about this staff sergeant is that he was married with two kids,,,and that he was on his fourth tour of duty, serving three times in Iraq.

Few of us can imagine what that could do to a young man..or woman. There is of course no possible excuse for this father killing innocent women and children...or is there? The soldiers in this ten year war are seeing their friends blown to bits, just as they were in that big lie in Iraq. They watch the people they are ostensibly fighting to protect burning the American flag, while the army they are supposed to be training often deserts, or even worse...turns on them and murders them from within.

Maybe our young men and women are committing these horribly shocking atrocities because of the traumatic events that are cementing their future mental health problems. Maybe saying goodbye to your wife and kids four times as you leave with no guarantee of ever seeing them again is sometimes more than someone can bear..especially when you're asked to risk your life repeatedly for people who appear to hate you. Maybe that's why otherwise wonderful people desecrate corpses, or burn something that they consider to be sacred, or blast through a doorway and just begin shooting.

I voted for Barrack Obama before, and I'll vote for him again, but I am not happy about his stance on this endless, pointless war. I'm sick of these puffed up generals and advisors with their chests covered with medals who keep talking about "completing the mission". Afghanistan is a mess of a corrupt country that will be no better after we finally leave. This war is causing good people to do horrible things. The soldier who killed these poor souls will be duly punished...his life is over as well. No excuses, no apologies will make this any better. God rest their souls, and God help the rest of us to end this war.

I HATE GUNS

Once again we're watching people's lives changed forever because of the plethora of guns in this country. Whether it's the photo of John John Kennedy saluting his father's casket, or the parent's of the kids who died in Ohio, or the policeman's little boy who shot himself with his dad's gun, or the distraught mothers that we see every night on the local news trying to make sense of the senseless killing of their teenage son or daughter, the pain continues.

I hate guns. I hate everything about guns. I hate the NRA, and I hate hunting.

While the right wing in this country is always ready to amend the Constitution to prevent someone like me from marrying my partner of 30 years, In MY idea of a perfect world they'd be trying to get rid of the second amendment...the right to bear arms. Anyone who wants a gun just for sport..either target practice or for hunting, would just have to find another "sport". Period. John Lennon was a "dreamer" with his beautiful song " Imagine", but ended up in a pool of blood as countless others do every day...everywhere in this country.

In the history of this world, there have been some magnificent voices of peace. From Ghandi, to Jesus, to Mother Theresa and Dr Martin Luther King, we were taught about non-violence, but the lesson never remained in our hearts, and we continued to bury our loved ones.

It's ironic that being a pacifist is such a joke in our lifetime. I read the other day about the priest who was called in to bless the atomic bombs that were to be dropped on Japan. Whatever your concept is of "God"...it's hard to imagine blessing a bomb....or a semi-automatic. Banning guns altogether is part of my own naive pacifist nature that still imagines a better world. It's not a  joke.

A LETTER TO RICK SANTORUM FROM GOD

Dear Ricky

I've been more than a little concerned about some of the things that you've been saying lately and I've decided that you might just need a little guidance and clarification. First of all sweetie, I didn't actually choose you to run for president as your wife has suggested. I rarely do things like that after I got burned on the Sarah Palin thing....after that I decided not to play favorites.

Honey, lots of people really like to have sex, and they don't always want to have a baby. Now you've tried it seven times so far, and produced quite a brood...but not everybody wants to do that, you have to be a little more tolerant and not so afraid of sex. You kinda scared me when you talked about my gay creations too....I love them ! Just because they make fun of your little sweater vest, and didn't invite you to the last Cher concert, you're all wrong about them. Love is love, please think about that.

When they do want to be more like you and get married, that's a real compliment...you know the imitation and flattery quote. You've got to lighten up about that babe.

Why would you want to throw up when you read about separating the church and the state? I want NOTHING to do with your politics Richard...NOTHING! Please I beg you leave me out of that mess!

Honey, now about Iran. You're not reading the Bible again. You Catholics just never seem to do that much. There are families just like yours who would be hurt and even killed if you start a war...I hate the words "collateral damage"..and you need to think about that buster.

Basically Ricky, honey, you aren't going to be Mr President...you're just not the right guy. You need to do some work on yourself...maybe get some therapy...and revisit some of your....I hate to say ..."whacky ideas". Frankly you embarrass me. I want you to go home, pay your fair taxes in Penn Hills (need I say more?) and take one of those little yellow pills and rest. All the crazy thoughts will eventually go away, and maybe one day you'll be a normal person. Good night sweetie.

GOD

TULIPS

When I was a kid the Joseph Horne Company in downtown Pittsburgh had a big Spring event every year around the twenty-first of March. The whole first floor would be filled with flowering trees and thousands of Spring flowers and shrubs. They also had live birds in white cages in the displays, and perfume sprayers as you entered through the revolving doors with lilac and lily of the valley scents. In one area they had huge glass vases filled with hundreds of tulips in every shade and shape. You could pick out the ones you liked and order the bulbs right there, and they'd then be delivered to you in the Fall, just in time to plant them for the following Spring.

I remember planting "Red Emperor" tulips with my Mom on a cold Thanksgiving weekend when I was about nine or ten. Those particular tulips are still available, and one of the first to bloom. Now they come in yellow and orange,but I still prefer the red ones with their black centers and broad petal spread. Our first Woof also had her eye on our tulips, which we discovered a little too late one year.

When my cousin and I moved into a big old house together I came across a wholesale catalog for Spring bulbs and we ordered hundreds of them. When they were delivered we were astounded by how many crates there were. We had friends over for a planting party, and got to work on the thousands of bulbs, and planted all day. About a week later I received a call from the company saying that they had over-shipped the order by four times..and that I should return the extra bulbs....which of course was impossible. They finally relented when I explained that I'd never ordered wholesale before and consequently had no idea of what to expect. That Spring felt like an earthquake in the garden and all around the house. We had tulips aplenty.

Over the years I've discovered that most tulips only last one season...unlike the ones I knew as a kid. However, the "Darwin Hybrid" tulips are really perennial..and very reliable.

They're tall and strong...like a "French Tulip"...and they last for years and years. I buy them from Van Bourgondien Wholesale (www.kvbwholesale.com.) ( anybody can buy from them.)

I always tell people that you have to be a true optimist to plant tulips...because it's about the last thing you feel like doing on a cold Autumn day when the garden is already starting to go to sleep....but come early April, you'll be really really glad you did.

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

Wow...we gay folks are getting a break for awhile...the GOP is picking on women this go round. Between what one woman called the "cranky old celibate bishops" and Rick Santorum as the standard bearers, and the wacky governors with their ultrasounds and probes swelling the ranks, you women out there had better start taking to the streets. It seems like a century ago that Hillary was talking about breaking through that glass dome for women's equality. Now we have all male panels discussing women's health, while Rick Santorum wants to take females back to the middle ages.

To add insult to injury, just take a glance at the Limbaugh attacks. Don Imus was sent packing for a nasty comment about Rutgers' girls basketball team, Issah Washington gets the boot for a three letter word, but that nasty and hateful walrus attacks Sandra Fluke for three days and he's still spouting his venom because there are too many Republicans who either agree with him or are too afraid to say that they don't. Remember when the gay soldier was booed at one of the GOP debates and none of the candidates said a word?

These are "Stonewall" times for women....time to raise your voices and say NO! Allowing people like Rush Limbaugh to bully one young woman from Georgetown also allows him to attack every woman in this country. Letting these whack job politicians and holier than thou men of the cloth invade and control your bodies is preposterous. Silence implies complicity, and activism begins with anger. Of course I don't speak for the whole gay community, but a vast majority of us would gladly join you in your battle. It's time.

BLACKIE

Blackie ruined my summer when I was ten years old. He seemed to appear out of nowhere one hot morning while the whole neighborhood was bouncing around on our Pogo Sticks. ( I think about ten of us got them for Christmas that year, and we all discovered that they were fun for about eight minutes.) Even when you got pretty good at it, jumping up and down and maybe moving about ten feet just didn't cut it for very long. Every once in awhile we'd all get them out and hop around for a few minutes just so our parents wouldn't think we were ungrateful. Barbara Sellers was a year or two older than most of us and she was tall with big black hair that stuck out from under her little red  cap. She was really good on her Pogo Stick, and would still be hopping around when the rest of us were all sitting on the curb chewing pieces of long grass.

Out of the blue Blackie appeared....a really big black crow who watched Barbara for awhile from a nearby tree and then flew down and landed on her foot....which caused her of course to dismount...and made us all laugh. He sort of stuck around that whole day....making his crow noise...and just hanging out with us, either in a tree or walking around like a pet or something. I didn't pay too much attention to him at first...but after a while he became sort of a nuisance, and we'd try to shoo him away when we were trying to play hop scotch or a board game under Mrs Winters big shade tree. Blackie's mood quickly turned ugly, and he got louder and more persistent...trying to horn in on everything we did.

After a couple of days Blackie's mood further deteriorated as we became less and less intrigued by his antics, and he suddenly began to swoop down on our heads from out of nowhere. Susan and her sister Mimi who were what might be described as "fragile" started the real chaos (now as I think back) because they were the ones who started screaming "BLACKIE ! " when they'd spot him in the trees while we were busy building an Indian campfire or something. Now Blackie must have gotten a big kick out of the screaming and consequent scattering of the group, because he began to dive bomb and screech even louder as he attacked the tallest person in our little gang. Fortunately  for the rest of us that was usually Barbara, with her red hat and wild black hair being his primary target.

In a matter of weeks I no longer participated in any of our regular summer activities unless I was confident that Barbara was there, and I could count on Blackie to attack her....and not me. Blackie was an unusually clever crow, with his own twisted sense of humor. Sometimes he'd be nowhere to be seen, and we'd almost forget about him while we played follow the leader on our bikes, only to get just far away from our front yards for Blackie to come tearing out of the trees...screeching like a banshee...and we'd ALL start to scream while poor Barbara would try to steer with one hand and protect her head with the other as we raced to safety. ( We'd already discovered that if we ran into someone's open garage he'd fly right in with us and continue to flap around and try to land on our heads.)

Many a sultry summer night I'd lie awake thinking (worrying) about Blackie. It got to the point that if Barbara wasn't already outside with the kids when I'd look out my bedroom window, I'd stay in. I'd taken particular notice over the preceding weeks of all of my friends' heights...and determined...much to my dismay...that I was the next tallest kid. Without Barbara as my ace in the hole, I'd surely be attacked. One day when I was actually brave enough to venture into the woods to check out our newly constructed shack while Barbara was in Ocean City for a week...my theory proved to be correct. Susan and Mimi started screaming their warning....everybody ran.....and I froze. So did Blackie. I figured that the standoff couldn't last forever....but it almost did. For what felt like eight or ten hours but was probably about two...( it really did start to get dark) I stood motionless while Blackie sat motionless on a big tree branch. I promised God that I'd become a priest or something if He'd resolve the situation, and also considered whether or not I could survive an attack if I made a break for it...and decided to wait him out. After a really long time he actually made some strange sound that probably meant something like "oh for God's sake" in crow, and he flew away...disgusted.

That whole summer was a write-off. I lived in terror of that crow, didn't mind rainy days, and went back to school as white as a ghost. To this day when I sit on my back porch with Woof and I hear a crow...I think of Blackie. who just flew away one day and never came back. Woof seems to notice crows too...and I swear she feels a sense of relief because she knows I'm a lot taller than she is.

MY LETTER TO FR. MARCEL GUARNIZO

Dear Father

Thank you for standing up for our Church by refusing to give the Body of our Savior to a sinful woman. If Barbara Johnson wants to participate in our faith perhaps this will be a first step. I hope you will follow through with the example you gave at her mother's funeral and likewise be a little more careful about just who receives Communion in the future. I personally know quite a few other homosexuals who regularly attend Mass, and I hope to reveal their names to you in the very near future. Perhaps together we can make an example of them as well. I know your decision with that lesbian woman made some national headlines, and my hope is that a cleaner Church will be the result.

It stands to reason that Priests like you are on the forefront of a whole movement. There is no one better than you to judge just who really "belongs" in our church and who doesn't. I have a very good friend who works in our hospital and is privy to information about women who have obtained information about abortions. I'm sure you would agree that they too should be denied the Sacraments, as well as those people who continue to fight for the so called "women's rights". Weeding out the sinful elements has to begin somewhere, and it obvious at least tome that you are God's messenger.

With the whole country talking about birth control, I've been noticing how some young couples are not procreating...where are the families with nine or ten children? People who practice birth control are certainly not in the state of grace...please keep that in mind.

People like you, and Rick Santorum, and even Rush Limbaugh are on the right track. Holy Communion is not for everyone, and it certainly isn't for homosexuals, divorced people, adulterers, or those who refuse to accept children as God's gifts. I hope to see fewer people receiving the hosts..especially in our church.

Keep up the good work...here's to a thorough cleansing of the flock.

A Grateful follower.

REPLACING YOUR DOCTOR WITH YOUR BOSS

I find it astounding that our congress is actually debating a bill that basically says that a boss's religious convictions can determine the health benefits that he (most bosses seem to be men) will provide for the employees. That means that if you are a woman who works for Macy's and become pregnant at age 35 and your doctor recommends you have an amniocentisis, but like Rick Santorum your boss thinks that those tests lead to too many abortions, you're out of luck. For several strange reasons, the Republican party seems to be more and more controlled by people with very extreme positions.

With the Santorums of the country trying desperately to marry the government with their churches, it seems that women are the primary targets for loosing their rights, (Usually it's the gay community). How can it be a good idea for the boss to make decisions that women and their doctors ought to be making? A Catholic woman who works for Mercy Hospital doesn't have to use birth control just because the hospital provides it for women who do. If Terry Lundgren who is the CEO of Macy's doesn't believe in contraception, should all his women employees have 16 kids?

The scariest part of this bill ( Blunt-Rubio ) is that it would actually allow an employer who didn't believe in radiation for cancer opt out of giving his employees coverage. Really. There was a letter in our local paper yesterday from a woman who's had it with "cranky old celibate men" (the bishops) and the ultra right wing of the Republican party trying to tell people how to manage their reproductive lives. Calling a bill like this "Religious Freedom" is really nonsense. "The campaign to stop Birth Control" would be closer to the truth.