There was a knock at the door, when I was worrying. There’s so much to worry about just now. The restaurant had cut Michael’s hours for a few weeks, since they don’t do much business in July in a college town, which meant the checking account was grumpy with us. The news out of Washington every day continues to be grim, and the local news isn’t very nice either. I was also worried that I’d go to hell. I am... Read more
I went to Mass. I’ve been going almost every week lately. I’m giving myself permission not to go if I think it would give me another panic attack, but lately it doesn’t. I still have to stay in the foyer, pacing around. It’s a nice little parish. I wish I could tell the pastor I think so. I wish I could shake his hand and say that his homilies are nice and the music is very good. But I tend... Read more
We need to keep aware of what we, the people of the United States of America, are doing to immigrants right now. When I write the phrase “we, the people of the United States of America,” I’m not just being flowery. I’m reminding you that the United States is supposed to be a republic, which is a type of democracy. A democracy is a government of, by, and for the people. What your representatives in the government do, they do... Read more
I couldn’t find the Works of Charles Dickens. I have been trying to learn to read again, lately. Reading used to be my defining characteristic. I was the shy and lonely child who disappeared into books. Growing up in Columbus, I lived two blocks from the Whetstone branch library, and we went there almost daily. I’d get a stack of chapter books from the library and mow through them before it was time to go again. When I was... Read more
The first thing I have to be absolutely clear about, as a Christian, is that God will judge us by the way we treat immigrants. There are very few things about which we can truly say “the Bible is clear” and not end up with a debate. But the Bible is clear on immigrants. The Bible clearly states, “‘When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as... Read more
The calm after the storm is more difficult than the storm itself. When I’m running around trying to help a family in a terrible situation, I don’t have time to think about how terrible it is. After it’s over– when I’ve failed to rescue anyone, but I’ve done everything I can, and life goes on– that’s when I start to feel it fully. I am much healthier than I used to be. I’ve grown up a lot from when my... Read more
(A caution to my more sensitive readers: this story involves an injured animal, and a gun.) The rain came back. The heat wave ended– not in fire, not in ice, but in steam. The temperature dropped from ninety-five with a heat index in the three digits, to the high eighties and rainy every few hours. The rain made the earth simmer like a pot of rice. In between rains, Adrienne and I went outside. I pulled weeds, and she played... Read more
This isn’t a good story; just a true one. A good story has a good ending. I’m not sure how this one ends, and I may never know. I haven’t seen the children I’ve referred to as the Artful Dodgers since last Friday. Friday, at ten in the morning, just as the catastrophic climate heat dome began to settle over the Ohio Valley, the five-year-old I call The Mandrake came up to the door by herself. She asked for... Read more
Hi friends! This is not a real post, this is just my every-several-months blogkeeping notes, explaining what I’ve been up to and where to find me when you’re not reading Patheos. This spring, the Pezzulos had an uncanny Easter. We got to organize the world’s least organized Easter egg hunt. I saved a baby bird and found myself the adoptive mother of a traumatized cat. We planted the garden. With the new/old car I’ve been swimming and visiting historic sites. And... Read more
The rain finally stopped. We’ll be without it for several days now. The abnormally cold spring ended. The morning of the summer solstice dawned bright and steamy hot. The five-year-old girl I call The Mandrake came to the door before noon, wearing next to nothing, asking for a popsicle to cool down. Later, I drove the grandmother of the Baker Street Irregulars downtown to the Juneteenth festival, with her disabled girl in tow. The grandmother was fretting, because the... Read more
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