Camilla: You, sir, should unmask.
Stranger: Indeed?
Cassilda: Indeed, it's time. We all have laid aside disguise but you.
Stranger: I wear no mask.
Camilla: (Terrified, aside to Cassilda.) No mask? No mask!

The King in Yellow (Act II, Scene ii)

Regnat non regitur qui nihil nisi quod vult facit

I have been reminded that today in France they celebrate the storming of the Bastille, an event in 1789 where 98 Parisians were killed while attacking a decrepit medieval prison, thus freeing four forgers, two lunatics, and the comte de Solages, whose own family and had arranged for his imprisonment on account of incest.

Why anybody would celebrate this particular event is quite beyond me.

Feast of Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha
On the Sounder Train

Dear Reader,

Work continues to be a succession of crazy deadlines. Our current round of corporate videos required my working until about 10:30 Friday night, and some small edits and corrections on Saturday morning. To clear my head I went for a walk.

In the process of wandering the neighbourhood in pursuit of a pipe rack at no less than nineteen assorted yard sales, garage sales, and estate sales (a pursuit in which I was wholly unsuccessful) I became rather too warm. The temperature was upwards of 85°, and at some point I became dehydrated and simply stopped perspiring.

While the condition did not go as far as heat stroke, I was plainly not doing well by the time I arrived back home. I drank a large amount of liquid refreshment and, fortified by a "MythBusters" marathon on the televisionary engine, I slept on the couch much of Saturday afternoon.

Fully recovered by Sunday, after Mass Francine and I constructed another section of back yard fence.

Work has continued on various Cruenti Dei projects, including Turn 12, a Renaissance Rules expansion, and background for a new continent or two. Francine found a fantastic application called NoteBook by a company called Circus Ponies. It has proved indispensable in the writing process of these new books.

I continue to re-read The Lord of the Rings. What astonishes me about these books is how much I missed on previous readings. In details great and small these are proving extremely Catholic books. Some of the details - as small as odd phrasings that in previous readings I simply glossed over - have changed my understandings of characters and even events.

Of course, it might simply be that I'm more aware at 42 than I was at 12, or even at 30.

One particular detail struck me so forcefully that I searched the very internets for confirmation of my observation, finding it in Paul Kocher's book Master of Middle-Earth. It is just this: that every event in The Lord of the Rings is told from the perspective of the smallest person.

Depending on the chapter, this is Frodo, or Pippin, or even Gimli.

This is a detail easily overlooked - indeed, I overlooked it the previous twenty or so times I've read the books - and yet it completely colours the narrative.

For those of you in the area, I'd like to re-extend my invitation, found here.

Where: Pistachio House. If you need address or directions, e-mail me or respond to this post with your e-mail address.

When: Saturday, July 18, starting about 3pm. If you show up earlier, you may be put to work cleaning. :)

Details: This is a potluck! We have a grill for use (and a fire extinguisher, should it become necessary). BYOB. And you might think about bringing a camp chair, as the number of chairs here will not come close to sufficiency for the numbers expected.

Again, remember: "silly, not stupid!"

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America

WHEN IN THE COURSE OF HUMAN EVENTS, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. —That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, —That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. —Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.

He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people, and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the consent of our legislatures.

He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:

For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:

For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:

For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:

For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:

For depriving us, in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury:

For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:

For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:

For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:

For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

WE, THEREFORE, THE REPRESENTATIVES OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by the Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

— John Hancock

New Hampshire: Josiah Bartlett, William Whipple, Matthew Thornton

Massachusetts: John Hancock, Samuel Adams, John Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Elbridge Gerry

Rhode Island: Stephen Hopkins, William Ellery

Connecticut: Roger Sherman, Samuel Huntington, William Williams, Oliver Wolcott

New York: William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Francis Lewis, Lewis Morris

New Jersey: Richard Stockton, John Witherspoon, Francis Hopkinson, John Hart, Abraham Clark

Pennsylvania: Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Morton, George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, James Wilson, George Ross

Delaware: Caesar Rodney, George Read, Thomas McKean

Maryland: Samuel Chase, William Paca, Thomas Stone, Charles Carroll of Carrollton

Virginia: George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson, Jr., Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter Braxton

North Carolina: William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn

South Carolina: Edward Rutledge, Thomas Heyward, Jr., Thomas Lynch, Jr., Arthur Middleton

Georgia: Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, George Walton

---

The annual tradition continues, though for this year at least, I have refrained from the inline citations. It's not that there are fewer violations in this administration; there aren't. It's that I frankly think that perhaps the document needs a year or so to breathe on its own without my footnotes.

So go out and celebrate! And to all my friends in the UK, no hard feelings, okay? You're a terrific country, but it just wasn't working out. We shed a few tears when we broke up, but we both knew it was for the best. You talk normal. We talk funny. You like tea and Doctor Who. We like... well, you get the point.

I'll always treasure our time together.

Feast of the First Martyrs of the Church of Rome
On the Sounder Train, near Sumner, Washington

Dear and faithful reader,

I've been sleeping poorly, mostly due to continuing nightmares in which my son prominently features.

To take my mind from this troubled vale (and perhaps to entertain or excite you, my one faithful reader), I present some interesting links.

Jackson dies, almost takes Internet with him - best recent news headline

Carcosa intrudes: the astounding Amargosa Opera House of Marta Becket.

And speaking of Carcosa, here is an extremely interesting essay on Beauty and Desecration: explaining why "we must rescue art from the modern intoxication with ugliness". Just fascinating.

Yesterday being the feast of Saints Peter and Paul, I was reminded of a place I found beautiful: the Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls. Nowadays, you can tour part of it without ever going to Rome.

Those who enjoy maps, or history, or the shady edge of myth may enjoy the Atlas of True Names.

Just when you thought the world could not possibly be any more surreal, here come the superheroes.

Speaking of surreal, go read a few of Greg Homer's book reviews.

And then there's the physicist trying to build a time machine.

I think that should be enough for now.

THAT is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.

O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.

Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

("Sailing to Byzantium" by William Butler Yeats)

There is an ineffable sadness to this day for me. By artillery and force of arms, the Sultan ended the ancient Empire and the life of its last Emperor. Sic transit gloria mundi.

Happy Easter, everyone!

Rejoice, heavenly powers! Sing, choirs of angels! Exult, all creation around God's throne! Jesus Christ, our King, is risen! Sound the trumpet of salvation! Rejoice, O earth, in shining splendor, radiant in the brightness of your King! Christ has conquered! Glory fills you! Darkness vanishes for ever! Rejoice, O Mother Church! Exult in glory! The risen Savior shines upon you! Let this place resound with joy, echoing the mighty song of all God's people! My dearest friends, standing with me in this holy light, join me in asking God for mercy, that he may give his unworthy minister grace to sing his Easter praises. ...

Exultet iam angelica turba caelorum: exultent divina mysteria: et pro tanti Regis victoria tuba insonet salutaris. Gaudeat et tellus tantis irradiata fulgoribus: et, aeterni Regis splendore illustrata, totius orbis se sentiat amisisse caliginem. Laetetur et mater Ecclesia, tanti luminis adornata fulgoribus: et magnis populorum vocibus haec aula resultet. Quapropter astantes vos, fratres carissimi, ad tam miram huius sancti luminis claritatem, una mecum, quaeso, Dei omnipotentis misericordiam invocate. Ut, qui me non meis meritis intra Levitarum numerum dignatus est aggregare, luminis sui claritatem infundens, cerei huius laudem implere perficiat. ...

[Exultet]

You Are Riding Boots

You are very sophisticated. You have refined tastes, and you don't fall for cheesy trends. You are naturally chic and stylish. You can pull together a great look in no time flat. You don't need a lot of flash or bling in your life. You prefer the glamour of the understated. You treasure wisdom. You are attracted to ideas and things that have stood the test of time.

I'm sure I will have a proper post at some point. Really. Just now I'm moving furniture and books about.

Meménto, homo, quia pulvis es, et in púlverem revertéris

Remember, man, that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return.

Champagne and Francine's fantastic beef last night. Heading for Saint James Cathedral this morning.

Shrove Tuesday
(Mardi Gras, if you prefer)
Seattle

Gentle Reader,

After 128 days in hospital, my son went home to his mother's house on Saturday. I meant to post this earlier, but I was hoping to include some photos I took of the day. I still haven't uploaded the photos, so I figured I'd better post before too much more time has passed.

Tristan can walk with the help of a walker, though slowly and haltingly. He was sent home with both a walker and a wheelchair, which he can transition into and out of without assistance.

He's still on 20-hours a day bed rest, but it beats 24 hours a day.

Keep praying.

I promise I will upload the photos soon.

Friday the 30th
Work

Gentle Friends,

A sure sign you're not yet awake: pouring coffee in your oatmeal.

Fortunately I caught myself more or less in time.

I shudder to think of the consequences had I not.

He stood up for the first time since he was run down. Briefly.

He said his physical therapist cried. So did I, a little.

His nurses and the staff threw him a little party with a cake.

Huzzah!

BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

( Already at work... )

source

St. Sebastian's Day
Pistachio House, Tacoma

My Dear Friends,

For eight years now, I have been constantly reminded, nearly every day, of the words that New York Boss Mark Hannah reportedly uttered of Theodore Roosevelt, "I can't believe that goddam cowboy is President of the United States". Indeed.

Today, the cowboy ambles home to Texas. Praise God.

I'm staying home today, with millions around the country and the world, to watch this moment. Of course, I've been watching Presidential inaugurals since 1977, so that's not particularly new.

However, (and however you feel about Mr Obama's politics) this is an amazing moment in the history of my country. For centuries his were a people enslaved, and then freed to poverty and powerlessness, a bloody stain on our Declaration of Independence and our Constitution, and they now celebrate - we now celebrate - the inauguration of one of their own as President.

It was only forty years ago that African Americans were allowed to march in an inaugural parade.

It is one of the miracles of genius of our democracy that we can have these peaceful transfers of power from one president to another, from one party to another, and now from one people to another.

It awes me.

And there are three million or more people in the bitter January cold of our capital to witness it.

This is the biggest party our country has ever thrown. I for one, plan to enjoy it.

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.

(Langston Hughes)

Edited to add: Aretha Franklin is sheer genius.

Edited to add: Congratulations, Mr. President.

(or double your money back)

Doctor Smith, I presume?

Minas Tirith is matchsticks!

Insurance won't pay for cure - but will pay for suicide.

Steampunk cellphone huzzah!

Presenting Sir Terrance of Pratchett

Libraries

Invisible library

Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God
Pistachio House, Tacoma

Gentle Reader,

Francine being ill and confined to the couch, last night's festivities were muted. There was champagne and cheesecake and midnight kisses, but the majority of the evening's revels consisted of rambling about Pistachio House and vaguely listening to the television.

We are clearly the exciting, dangerous people your parents warned you about.

Speaking of parents, mine visited last week, the first time they'd spent Christmas with us. They flew in from Chicago on the 24th, and their flight was only delayed three hours. It was great that they were here, and it was wonderful that they were able to visit Tristan in the hospital.

Tristan is gaunt, but mostly in good spirits. As the nerves in his reconstructed right ankle knit together, he has experienced some excruciating shooting pains. It's difficult to be there for that, but I rather imagine he's having a rougher time of it than we are.

( a photo )

The snow of the last few weeks made it rough to get around - the local municipal authority snow contingency plan seems to consist largely of hoping it melts quickly. After two weeks, warmer weather has now come, and Tacoma (at least) is back to cool weather and rain, our winter norm.

The rain forced us to beg a ride to Mass this morning, but it's now given way to blustery winds and cold. I believe I shall stay in the rest of the day, drink coffee, and perhaps write.

Again, clearly exciting and dangerous. Beware!

I wish you, dear reader, the very best of the new year, and may the blessings of God come upon you and your house.

or, "Lurking at the Threshold"

A year ago at this time, we were preparing for our wedding. That went spectacularly well.

( some photos to remind you )

In fact, January was fairly spectacular all around. I wrote through February, and in March I obtained a promising position with a promising young firm in Seattle.

And then, somehow, the year completely slipped the tracks and plummeted into a ditch from which it never recovered. Death, disaster, and looming economic ruin stalked our family like a great looming, stalking thing.

Well, I'm done with it.

Here's to a new year, full of promise and lacking in all dread!

And as a reminder, here's my traditional list of the first sentence of each month's first post concatenated with the last sentence of each month's last post. There will be, I fear, an unavoidable bit of recursion at the end.

The Year that Mostly Was

January: The LORD bless you and keep you! Prayers, well-wishes, and general good vibes actively encouraged.

February: The interview yesterday was with Alteon Training a wholly-owned subsidiary of The Large North American Aeroconglomerate. This afternoon, I walked the bounds, but I was unable to find any evidence of what our nighttime disturbance might have been.

March: Gary Gygax, who co-created the game Dungeons & Dragons and helped start the role-playing phenomenon, died Tuesday morning at his home in Lake Geneva. Alleluia!

April: More details soon. Thank you.

May: Please continue to pray for the soul of India Escobar. Thank you.

June: Tonight we chanted vespers. Your polar opposite is the Urûk-Hai.

July: WHEN IN THE COURSE OF HUMAN EVENTS, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. ... and therefore I believe the President and Vice President of the United States must be impeached.

August: Bless you all for the love, the advice, and the support. Clearly, somebody in scheduling at the DNC has a sense of humour.

September: You decide. Roald Dahl was a spy.

October: It is useless to complain that your chefs cannot repair your automobile. Anybody looking for a writer?

November: Remember, remember the fifth of November, / gunpowder, treason and plot, / I see no reason why gunpowder treason / should ever be forgot. Please pray for my son, and for the drivers of these vehicles.

December: It has been some time since I've posted here, and longer still since I've posted regularly. ... and therefore I believe the President and Vice President of the United States must be impeached.

Some things I've learned from compiling this list:

My friends are good to me.

There are rather less political posts than I would have suspected.

I had exactly one LJ entry in October. And it was a whinge about work.

I had fewer posts this year than in some months of years past. I must change this. Even if I'm whinging (and I despise whinging nearly as much as I despise personal drama), there is some value to journaling it rather than bottling it.

May the new year prove more joyous for all!

(... and therefore I believe the President and Vice President of the United States must be impeached.)

It has been some time since I've posted here, and longer still since I've posted regularly.

For this, I deeply apologise to you, my one loyal reader.

My only excuse is this: it has been a trying time, and I've been working long hours.

In the past few months, I've spent weeks at a time out of state. I've been to Charlotte, North Carolina; Palm Desert, California; Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania (twice, thank you); and most recently to Los Angeles, California.

I'm awfully tired of business trips, and there's another one in the offing: a return to Charlotte in the New Year.

In addition, I've been spending some time with Tristan, though probably not as much as I ought.

Numerous responsibilities and projects have fallen to the wayside, including this journal.

So what, you may ask, compels me now to write? What new disaster, what new calamity, has stirred my (electronic) pen?

Just this: today is my 42nd birthday.

I thank all of those who have taken the time, quite unbidden and unexpectedly, to wish me happy returns of the day. Thank you.

Of course, if you really loved me, you would have taken me down to the pub for a beer. But I digress.

Looking back at the past year, as one often does on these occasions, prompts me to ask in a somewhat plaintive wail, "what the hell was that all about?"

There were certainly times of joy: co-habitation gave way to glorious wedded bliss. Chronic unemployment fell to relatively lucrative and more or less creative work.

And yet, there was death and disaster in equal measure, tiring my soul and emptying my bank accounts.

I am so very weary so often these days.

So what can I say at 42? At the age of the Ultimate Answer?

Not much, it turns out.

I can say that God is good to me. There is nothing that has been taken that He has not first given me. Why disaster strengthens faith is beyond my ability to discern, but that it is true is now beyond any ability to dispute.

I can say that there is no earthly thing more precious than friendship, than love. It continues to pour out on to me through all the difficulties and the delights.

And I can say that I am continually astonished that the world is so very different than most people - myself included for a very long time - seem to think.

This world is magical and mythical and musical. And if you, my single and beloved reader, doubt that this is so, I invite you to behave as if it were. A week should do. You will be astonished.

Listen.

Last week on the bus, I sat across from an elderly gentleman wearing brand new jeans and a clean, unpatched coat. His hair was long, lanky, and yellow, and his face was creased so deeply it looked like furrowed earth.

He had a plastic garbage bag on the seat next to him, filled with precious things. He had a soda can that smelled as if it contained kerosene. I suspect he was flammable.

As I approached, he lurched over and touched two fingers solemnly to the seat I was about to take. Then he sat back upright and polished off whatever was in the soda can.

As we went on, he puffed madly at an unlit cigarette butt and muttered to himself. I made the mistake, I think, of trying to ignore him for some time.

And then I caught some of his words - a fragment, really - "carpe diem".

I began to listen more closely. His muttering was fairly indistinct, and I caught no further words for some time. He did stop, I noticed, every once and again. It finally occurred to me that he was having a conversation with somebody I could not see.

And then I finally caught a solid phrase - "benedicta tu in mulieribus". It was the Ave Maria, the Hail Mary. In Latin.

I looked up at him rather sharply as I caught his words.

He stared back at me, wild-eyed, stopping in mid-sentence.

And then he stood up and got off the bus at the next stop.

What did it mean? I confess, I've absolutely no idea. There was a time when that would have bothered me.

You might think him a sad, mad drunk, and perhaps that's a fair assessment. I don't know.

But as today is December 17th, I invite you, my single dear, dear reader, to pray for the wisdom to see the world in all of its hidden splendour.

I pray for that most every day.

Of course, it's part of a very long list.

Tristan was struck by an SUV while crossing the street in the early morning hours of last Saturday while I was in Pittsburgh. The driver left him in the road, where another vehicle ran over him. Only then did a witness to the second hit-and-run call 911.

His pelvis was badly broken, both legs were damaged, his right ankle was crushed, and two tiny bones in his left wrist were broken.

In addition, there are numerous bruises and scrapes. Big ones.

He also suffered a concussion and some minor damage to his right eye. A week later and he's still seeing double out of his damaged eye.

He's been through at least fifteen hours of surgery in the last few days, and his prognosis is good. He may have another surgery on Monday.

There do not appear to be any life-threatening injuries, or brain damage, for which we are all very grateful.

The pain medication his making him slightly loopy, but his biggest complaint is that he's not allowed to eat or drink for a bit due to some minor damage to his pancreas.

Tristan's Mom has been at the hospital more or less constantly, and he's had a long line of visitors. Francine and I have been there quite a bit since I returned from Pittsburgh, and I anticipate that we will be spending quite some time there into the immediate future as well.

Those interested in updates on Tristan's condition can go here: http://www.carepages.com/carepages/SupportTristan

We will try to update this daily. For privacy reasons, registration is required.

Please pray for my son, and for the drivers of these vehicles.

thom

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

(Lt. Col. John Alexander McCrae, MD)

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
gunpowder, treason and plot,
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes,
'twas his intent
to blow up the King and the Parliament.
Three score barrels of powder below,
Poor old England to overthrow:
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.