{"id":92289,"date":"2015-04-25T00:16:12","date_gmt":"2015-04-25T07:16:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/admin.patheos.com\/blogs\/markshea\/?p=92289"},"modified":"2015-04-25T17:29:56","modified_gmt":"2015-04-26T00:29:56","slug":"what-i-saw-in-noo-yawk","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/markshea\/2015\/04\/what-i-saw-in-noo-yawk.html","title":{"rendered":"What I Saw in Noo Yawk"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>

April 17: Arrived Newark on Alaska Flight 8 at 4:25 PM bearing two extremely heavy bags and one light one.\u00a0 Erin Raymond, a wonderful Army wife and mom (and human dynamo of organization)\u00a0I met some years back when she invited me out to Leavenworth to speak there promises to meet me at the Newark airport and whisk me away in a chariot of fire to a magical far off land called \u201cWest Point\u201d, where lembas and elvish wine will give me heart and joy to face what follows. Traffic \u00a0turns out to be terrible and I, being a barbarian, have no phone except for skype on my computer.<\/p>\n

I wander up and down the sidewalk keeping a look out while pushing a cart with my luggage on it. As I pass a line of people I hear somebody say, \u201cThat\u2019s Mark Shea!\u201d \u00a0I don\u2019t have that happen, like, ever when I travel, so it catches my ear and I turn to the sound of my name. \u00a0Turns out it\u2019s reader Steve Schloeder and his wife who are fixing to catch a cab somewhere. \u00a0We shake hands and then he whips out his phone and we do the selfie. \u00a0Very strange experience to be recognized in Newark. \u00a0We chat for a bit and I walk on.<\/p>\n

An hour passes. \u00a0So I phone Erin on skype and it turns out she\u2019s nearly there. \u00a0A few minutes later she arrives and we head off north along the Hudson. \u00a0I\u2019m sort of surprised at how the land between Jersey and the Manhattan skyline off to the east reminds me of the Dead Marshes. \u00a0I half expect to look down in to the swampy muck next to the freeway and shout, \u201cThere are faces! \u00a0Dead faces in the water!\u201d<\/p>\n

Eventually we get up into nicer, woodsier country about an hour north and near West Point. I never had a mental picture of West Point. \u00a0I sort of figured it would be \u00a0more urban somehow. \u00a0Turns out it is out in the country of gray granite and beautiful northeast deciduous forest (currently all brown but just now touched with new green that is stitched like quilt all across new England). \u00a0It is a much lighter sort of forest than the brooding dark evergreens of home, yet at the same time, you can completely believe that an H.P. Lovecraft could find eldritch horror out there on a windy New England sort of night.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Eldritch Horror Not Being Seen Picnicking in New York Wood<\/em><\/p>\n

Once through the gate and into Chez Raymond, conversation fills the evening. I meet Dave, Erin\u2019s husband, who is a Lieutenant Colonel and an expert in cyber-warfare, as well as her kidlets Lucas and Ainsley, who are both great. \u00a0Ainsley is busy finishing up prep for tomorrow\u2019s base-wide yard sale, where she and her friend are going to make a serious capitalist killing selling cookies and muffins to passers-by.<\/p>\n

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The Swiss Family Raymond<\/em><\/p>\n

I\u2019m pretty beat, so I hit the hay about 9 and immediately fall asleep\u2013for three hours. \u00a0My eyes spring open at midnight and the pain in my neck and head tell me I won\u2019t get to sleep for a good while, so I take a pain pill and sit around for four hours waiting to get sleepy. \u00a0Fun.<\/p>\n

I finally get back to sleep at 4AM and am rousted out of bed at 7 by Erin. \u00a0First stop: off\u00a0to pray (7:30 AM) at a cadet retreat and then speak to some 20 something troops about Making Senses out of Scripture<\/em><\/a> at 08:30\u00a0 hours, for one hour (including Q and A). Strong men and women weep at newfound knowledge.\u00a0 Our nation is made safer by troops\u00a0who now can handle spiritual as well as physical armor and weaponry.\u00a0 Children sleep in security\u00a0and contentment.\u00a0 I feel\u2026 good.<\/p>\n

After that, we head home for a few hours (chatting merrily the whole time cuz Erin is a house afire with tales and stories of military and family life, as well as abundant involvement in all kinds of Catholic apostolates and good work). \u00a0Among other things, I discover that a turretted house on yonder hill across the Hudson from West Point was built by the guy who did the design for The Wizard of Oz<\/em> and modeled after the Wicked Witch of the West\u2019s castle. \u00a0Also, the Flying Monkeys jackets were modeled after the West Point cadet jackets. \u00a0You\u2019re welcome!<\/p>\n

After a bit of lunch and some scribbling here and there, we depart again for a little tour of West Point (where one\u00a0motto of the school the students often hear is \u201cThe history we study was made by the ones who went here\u201d: pretty catchy). \u00a0West Point was originally part of a series of gun emplacements built to rain fire on British ships attempting to penetrate the colonial interior via the Hudson during the Revolution. \u00a0It was decided to turn it into a military academy in 1802 under the rather sensible belief that the better educated a soldier was in all fields, the better soldier he will be. \u00a0We wandered the grounds, saw the gigantic mess hall (which the children call \u201cHogwarts\u201d), visited the various statues of famous grads (Eisenhower, Patton, MacArthur), and wandered the graveyard where Custer, Ed White (first to walk in space and killed on Apollo 1) and, curiously, the woman who wrote \u201cJesus Loves Me\u201d are\u00a0buried (she and her sister used to teach Bible to the students).<\/p>\n

\"Patton<\/p>\n

George Patton Reading Magnificent Son of a Bitch Erwin Rommel\u2019s Book
\nSource: Wikipedia<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n

Finally, it was time to go to\u00a0evening Mass, after which I spoke\u00a0about Mary, Mother of the Son<\/a>. \u00a0<\/em>Thirst for knowledge aroused but not fully sated, the crowd rushes to the book table and lightens my luggage burden while simultaneously rewarding me with money with which I can purchase food for my children: an equitable exchange.\u00a0Then back to the house and sweet sleep.<\/p>\n

Next morning Erin\u00a0whisks me away to a curious underground bunker where\u00a0Sunday school happens, secure from nuclear attack on our sacred coffee and donuts (all of West Point is built out of the granite on which it sits. I\u00a0speak on This is My Body: An Evangelical Discovers the Real Presence<\/em><\/a>.<\/p>\n

After this comes the Trip to the Big City! \u00a0New York! \u00a0The Big Apple!\u00a0 The City that Never Sleeps! \u00a0I figure, \u201cIf I can make it there, I\u2019ll make it anywhere!\u201d \u00a0We take the train from Croton-on-Hudson (one of many massively English names in that region. \u00a0I resent not being able to tell people I was born in \u201cEverett-on-Snohomish\u201d) to Grand Central Station.<\/p>\n

Grand Central, it turns out is really really big. \u00a0I would have been utterly lost and never even made it out on to 42nd St. had not Erin been there to provide solace and guidance. \u00a0Here is what it looks like (nicely recovered from all the damage wrought by the X Men):<\/p>\n