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Sea Lion Caves smell like fish, which is nice for those of us who like the smell of fish. But permit me to begin at the beginning as we make our twisty-turny way down Highway 101 on the Oregon Coast, looking out at the remote horizon, compensating for inertia with each curve and struggling to keep the laptop from sliding off my lap and on to the thermos between our seats. “Mustard seeds!” says Jan, quietly pleased, in between her… Read more

“discrimination against my culture.” There is something so reassuringly Gallic in this story.  It’s like the peace that comes with knowing Spring will come again. Read more

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…is purely coincidental: Next up: Rainbows are not guides to pots of gold but are, in fact, sunlight refracted through rain which will reveal the chemical composition of the sun. Read more

He wanted background on the Church’s theology of Hell because he was doing a story on the Francis/Scalfari kerfuffle. We talked for about 45 minutes and it was such an interesting chat that I thought it would be good to turn the interview into a podcast. He very kindly let me have his audiofile of the conversation. And so here it is! Read more

So my wife and I, being old farts, but adventurous old farts, have decided, now that the kids no longer particularly need us around, and given that I can work from literally anywhere, to embark on a Grand Adventure! Starting today, we are getting in our van, putting a big air mattress and some sleeping bags, packing a bit of food, driving all the way around the western United States, just to see what we can see.  We’ll be heading… Read more

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery. Thou’art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost… Read more

Am I a stone and not a sheep, That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross, To number drop by drop Thy blood’s slow loss And yet not weep? Not so those women loved Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee; Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly; Not so the thief was moved; Not so the Sun and Moon Which hid their faces in the starless sky, A horror of great darkness at broad noon — I, only I. Yet… Read more

My latest over at The Catholic Weekly. Read more

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