Month: September 2023

Feast Day of St. Jerome (of Stridon)

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St. Jerome was known for his writing. He translated the Hebrew Scriptures from Hebrew to Latin, which was unusual at the time since most people translated it from a controversial text called the Septuagint, also called The Greek Old Testament. He is the second most prolific writer of in ancient Latin Christianity. The first is Augustine of Hippo, who actually had no problem with the original Septuagint.

As a result, perhaps, he is the patron of translators, librarians, and encyclopedists as well as archaeologists, students, Biblical Scholars, and against anger, the latter of which I believe stems from his widely known bad temper.

As a student in Rome, he indulged his hedonistic side, but also attended the catacombs of Rome to visit the martyrs and Apostles there. There were early inscriptions and wall art that I imagine he studied, although he referred to the place as giving the feeling of the terrors of hell.

To put it simply, Jerome was a person of contradictions, some of which can be sourced as his being a student, a constant learner, and a voracious reader and writer. He had a group of women who surrounded him that read his scholarly works, and several were turned towards a life of consecrated virginity and the ascetic monastic life. This had a negative impact on these wealthy women’s donations, and he became at odds with the Roman clergy.

He is considered a saint in the Catholic Church (and a Doctor of the Church there), Eastern Orthodox, Lutheran, and Anglican.

His iconography is often depicted in libraries and/or scriptoriums surrounded by books, parchment, vellum, and writing implements. He sits at a desk, holding a quill. He is also depicted with a lion having apocryphally removed a thorn from one’s paw.

In my sketch below, I have chosen to leave the lion and the saint outside the view as we look into his small cell of scholarly works.

Mental Health Monday – Quietude

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Today is the observance of Yom Kippur. It is the Jewish day of atonement, a time to think back on the bad we’ve done and ask forgiveness, and to look forward on how we can be better stewards of ourselves and our time.

When I was a child, we were not allowed into the temple. I don’t know if that was because the tickets were too costly or if we children made too much noise and fidgeted too much. I have strong and fond memories of playing in the parking lot (which was devoid of cars) and playing with other children. We were dressed relatively nicely, but still playing outside until one of our parents came out to the door at the back, and from the top of the stairs shushed us. If I were being honest, this happened more than the one time.

Growing up, I had difficulty on this day. As a teenager, I would sleep until one in the afternoon, hoping to shorten the fasting we were required to do. I was annoyed that I couldn’t participate in my favorite pastime – writing – because writing was work. (Not to me, but my parents would not hear of it.) We didn’t have computers then, so that wasn’t an issue for me.

As I grew up, I never had a temple near me to attend services (except once) and so I spent my Yom Kippur fasting, reading one or two books, and speaking to G-d.

After I had my kids, I would take them on walks, read to them, and watch PBS.

On these Yom Kippurs that fall during my Catholic years I find myself seeking quiet. Reading. Praying. Fasting. (I try to only take my medicine with a little bit of water.) Thinking back on the last year and looking forward.

For those of you who are not Jewish, who do not observe the fast, this is a reminder that we all need that quietude; that time to take for ourselves where we’re not making shopping or to-do lists, where our brains are not turning over a mile a minute. Take the day if you are able, or an hour, or even a block of fifteen to twenty minutes, and just be. It can be contemplation, meditation, prayer, or just simply resting your mind. That time is your refuge, and it is needed just as much as water is for life.

(c)2023

The Travel Organizer – Limited Quantities

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I published this chapbook, The Travel Organizer several years ago, and I was reminded recently that I still have some copies available for sale. I have a limited number that I’m offering on a first come, first serve basis. What that means is that I would need your name, postal address, email address, and payment, and I will send them out within a few days. Please note: DO NOT put this information in the comments box. Comments are public and will be seen by the wider audience. Please use the payment button below and follow the instructions. Your information will not be shared or sold to anyone.

The Travel Organizer

Sample photos below cut:

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Celebrating Tomie dePaola

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As I mentioned briefly in yesterday’s Mental Health Monday post, September 15th would have been writer/illustrator Tomie dePaola’s eighty-ninth birthday. Sadly, he died in 2020 from complications to a bad fall he had at his studio. He wrote over 250 children’s books, writing full time after retiring from teaching in 1978.

His books were a staple in my classrooms over the years, often having parts of the curriculum built around specific books and themes that he wrote about. Two of my favorites were Strega Nona and Charlie Needs a Cloak. Legend of the Indian Paintbrush was something I brought out during November and the Thanksgiving lessons to build around true Native American mythos rather than the stereotypical Pilgrims and Indians tropes that continue to be taught. The Tale of Rabbit and Coyote was another one that brought another culture alive for the children in my classes. He wrote many books on holidays, primarily Christmas.

Tomie was a devoted Catholic. One of my favorite houses to visit on retreat has a mural in their chapel that he painted in 1958 (he was 24 years old!), depicting the Blessed Mother with some Dominican friends: St. Rose of Lima, Blessed Jane of Aza, St. Catherine of Siena, St. Catherine de ’Ricci, St. Mary Magdalen, and St. Maria Goretti.

I never get tired of sitting with it, praying, and thinking of Tomie and his stories.

Mural by Tomie dePaola

Visit his website, which lists all of his books as well as offering his biography. There is also a link to The Tomie dePaola Art Education Fund.

Recently, Tomie was honored with a series of US Postal stamps, seen below. You may find them at your local post office.

Mental Health Monday – Time

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I’ve mentioned before my writing planner – the calendar where I schedule topics to write about. Some just happen, and others reflect items on the calendar. For instance, I’m working on something for All Saints Day as well as my two writing classes (with prompts), although I’m not sure that those will be going off this year. We’ll know soon enough.

Friday was the birthday of children’s writer and illustrator, Tomie dePaola and I had planned a reflection on his work as well as a personal connection.

Friday was also the first night of Rosh Hashanah.

As I was getting ready for Rosh Hashanah, Tomie dePaola was still on my radar. After each mundane task, I would think to myself (or even say aloud) that I needed to write and post the Tomie dePaola piece. I shouldn’t say “need;” I wanted to.

I took my son to work, I got groceries, I picked my daughter up from school, I started dinner, I picked my son up from work, I continued with dinner: roast chicken with sweet potatoes if anyone was wondering.

And as it drifted towards sundown, I knew that I was going to miss Tomie dePaola’s birthday.

I just couldn’t make the time stop. Dinner was nearly ready, my oldest was coming over for dinner, and I still had to clean off the table and vase the flowers.

I could have gotten frustrated.

I could have gotten angry (at a whole host of things).

I could have assigned more tasks to my family, who had also worked all day, stepped aside, and wrote what I wanted to, shared the photos that I wanted to, and it would have been done.

However, it wouldn’t have been done right.

It wouldn’t have been done with the reverence that Mr. dePaola deserves.

I let the time pass, and I decided to be okay with that.

I spent the holiday with my family, reading, sitting prayerfully with G-d, and knew that tomorrow is another day, and I can celebrate Tomie dePaola tomorrow.

Which is my plan.

Stay tuned.

Cougar Shadow at Superstition Mountains

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Twice a year this shadow of a cougar appears in Arizona as the sun sets. The next time it will appear is next week, so here is your heads-up to look out for it, or if you’re in the area of Apache Junction, Arizona, east of Mesa, visit and see it for youself.

It appears the third week in September, and the best time, according to those in the know is about thirty minutes before the official sunset.

This links to an older article, but the facts and timing directions are still accurate, so check it out here.

Some other attractions nearby include:

Superstition Mountain Museum

Circlestone

Apache Trail Arizona

Lost Dutchman State Park

Providence

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Fate. Coincidence. Providence.

Are they real? Really real?

Thinking about them happening, they might be far off and existential and not as real as touch, but when they happen –

BOOM!

The slight increase in heartbeat, a hitch in breath, the exhilaration of being aware as something remarkable happens right in front of you.

I’ve been aware of the spiritual, the extra-natural, and they are few and far between. Sometimes they travel to my consciousness after the fact, but when they happen within the moment, in the context, they become something special, something extraordinary, something to be held close for all time, and beyond time.

I had two times this week that something like that occurred.

Fate?

Coincidence?

Providence. All the above.

—

Several months ago, my memoir teacher recommended a book to me – one of many – The Cartographers. I presumed it was about maps or map-making, and I wasn’t able to find it in the library app on my Kindle. In the meantime, I read a bunch of other books. On Monday, I decided it was time to try again, so I checked the library app, and there it was: The Cartographers. I checked it out and began to read. Even in the pre-table of contents pages, I wasn’t sure about it – there was a warning of suicidal ideation and self-harm and to take care reading it. I burrowed on.

The main gist is a high school graduate who is lying to her mother about going to college; she lives in NYC with two roommates, meets an odd boy and just shows us her life and gives us some insight and lessons along the way. This did not seem like a book my memoir teacher would be drawn to, but I was definitely drawn to it. I couldn’t believe how much the main character, Ocean, resonated with me in very familiar and emotional ways, sometimes painful. I really related to her, the existential crisis that was continually her personality – I feel that in my bones. As Queen sings, “Is this the real life; is this just fantasy?” Or a simulation on some alien being’s computer. As Ocean asks, “Are you dead too?” I don’t feel that despondency, but it’s a good question.

Are the fate moments real and everything else is fluff? Or the opposite: all the misery and doldrums are real, and the fate moments are the fluff – the golden fleece, the silver lining, the gold at the end of the rainbow.

About halfway through the book, I suggested to my daughter that she would really like this book. She’s seventeen, and it seemed like her kind of style and subject that she might enjoy. She told me to text her. I searched for the book on Amazon to give her the link, so she’d know the title and the author, and I told her to borrow it from the library. It popped up on Amazon: The Cartographers by Peng Shepherd, but the cover seemed different. I thought it was the difference between hardcover and softcover editions, and then I realized that I was reading The Cartographers by Amy Zhang.

Not the same book at all.

My teacher had recommended a book about maps and murder and mystery – all in my wheelhouse, and I was reading a book about teen angst and friendship (and loving it by the way), and I suddenly realized that I was reading the wrong book.

Although was it really the wrong book?

It was the perfect book for me, at this moment in time.

Is that fate?

I don’t know, but it was perfect.

—

Then today. This morning, I had time to attend mass. The homily was about the poor. Blessed are the poor. But not just bless them but look at them. See them. We all come to the poor and houseless with preconceived notions and judgments; even me. Some of the things my priest said resonated with me, and tears welled in my eyes – I felt seen. I wasn’t, and haven’t been at a poverty level, but I understand not being able to move up, not being able to break even, being embarrassed and isolated. I was seen, but that’s not why I’m writing this.

While my priest was talking about seeing the poor and understanding how difficult it was for the poor to rise from their circumstances, I was wishing that a friend of mine could have been there to hear this homily. This friend is a good and decent person. They do so much for so many without asking for anything in return; it is just in their nature to give more; to volunteer; to be Christ in the world. I’ve witnessed that and have been the beneficiary of that. But I’ve heard them talk about people helping themselves and wanting to do more to get people back on their feet, and I wished they were there in the church this morning, listening to this homily that I thought was something they should hear.

The mass goes on, we say the Our Father, and offer peace. I turned to acknowledge the parishioners behind me with a hand wave of peace, and there they were – the one person I wanted to be there listening to the homily – they were there in the pew a few feet behind me listening to the homily.

I smiled.

I was pleased with how the world works.

And I guess that’s how the world works: being where you’re supposed to be when you’re supposed to be there.

Providence, maybe.

The Cartographers by Amy Zhang

The Cartographer by Peng Shepherd

September 11th

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In our travels, I’ve been touched by how other countries have commemorated 9/11. We saw a tree that had been planted on the grounds of Belfast’s City Hall with an adjacent plaque that touched me deeply.

In our recent tour of the Mohawk village of Kahnawake in southern Quebec, we learned quite a bit about the Mohawk people of the area and their history, including their history of building many parts of New York City. One of the things our tour guide brought to our attention was the primary economy of Kahnawake; it’s easy to see once entering the village boundaries that cigarettes are one of the dominant businesses for the tribe. The second largest career for the Mohawk of Kahnawake is ironwork. This began long ago and continues to this day with many Mohawk men traveling each week to New York City to work as ironworkers, and then returning to their families on the weekend.

We were told about, and I subsequently read about a tribute that the ironworkers did for the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center, creating a replica that is kept in the chapel at the St. Francis Xavier Mission Church. With the WTC replica is a cross made from iron that came from the NYC site, and an artistic sketch showing the relationship of the traditional Mohawk with their older tools of their trade and the more modern Mohawk with their modern tools of the trade. There are also eagles and eagle feathers, both a symbol for the United State as well as an important symbol for First Nations/Native people, all set in front of the buildings rendered before the attacks on one side and the longhouse on the other, with both traditional and modern skylines reflected at the base. The visualization evokes many emotions and feelings for so many thoughts and for me, the pride depicted on the Mohawk faces supplants the sadness and creates a new somberness that dulls the pain and raises the heart.

Looking at the workmanship brings an emotion that welled in my chest: the work put into creating such a piece that is both simple and stunning while respecting the lives lost and the lives changed on that day.

When we returned to Quebec a couple of weeks later, we were able to tour the church itself and it was then that I took the pictures that I’m glad to share with you today on this twenty-second anniversary of 9/11.

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