Merry Christmas !!!!!!! Be proud to say it!!!!!

 

     Yesterday I went to mass at a Senior Home where I would be attending a Christmas party.  The priest spoke of another senior home where he had a mass.  I really like this priest.  He is so good with the seniors.  He was sent to Rome a few years back for a course in his work with seniors and I would have loved to have taken that course, because he is such a gentle heart.  The people love him and it is easy to see why.  He knows everyone by name (which has never been my strongest suit) and he makes each individual feel as special as he and she should feel.

     Yesterday as he remarked about this other senior home, a sadness began to mar his face as he spoke about some senior homes only having a mass service once a month for their residents.  This for a Roman Catholic is unacceptable.  He spoke about how religion is not adequately provided for those who want it and how it will, in his opinion be reduced further in the future.  The provision of religious services may disappear in the future he predicted.  These were not his words. This was my interpretation.  “Perhaps I do too much here,” he spoke out.  He provides mass for these elderly people each day.  They responded in unison, that it cannot ever be too much.  This is true because whenever I visit this home and there is a service, it always appears more attended than my own neighourhood parish.

     At the end of the mass, I approached this sweet priest who so cares for his people.  I told him that I related with his sermon.  I proceeded to tell him how with all the organizations I belong to, one wanted nothing to do with any course I have taken that has anything to do with any spirituality or faith sounds to it.  It disqualified any such course.   I have so many courses that it did not affect me.  Slow me down a bit, perhaps but not seriously affect me.   These courses which were so casually dismissed were taught by an experienced psychologist who happens to be a priest and a Jesuit.  The people who dismissed these courses so casually neither have the education, experience nor wisdom of this delightful man (who hates my book.  He did not tell me this of course but I was informed by one of his confidents). 

     As I rushed my words out to the delightful priest he respond, “More contemplation and less medication.”    Those words really had an impact on me and I realized that I have not been contemplating enough myself.  As I completed my formal studies, I became caught up in life.  Starting a practice is a full time job, one that our studies do not prepare us for.  We have to become concerned with the business side of things.  My mother once said that I make money from the sufferings of others.  I quickly responded that physicians make money at the suffering of others.  She agreed.  “Besides,” I continued unnecessarily, “I do not make that much money at all.”  I obviously spent more money on my studies, professional development, seminars, insurance, etc…than what I am paid.  “If I did not have income from other sources I would not be able to do what I do,” I argued.   She did not say anything further.  The point was already made that I needed to survive too.  “How is your book coming along?”  She asked.  “Have you stopped writing?”  “No.”  I responded.  I told her I was still at 171 pages and expected to write a couple of more hundreds but I stopped for a bit, because of life again.  It appears I need to upgrade all my electrical in my home.  Even though an old house has lots of charm and is solid it needs to be upgraded.  And electricians want to be paid like physicians without the education to match.  I could have saved so much money going into that field and be making a small fortune now.

But let me return to what I was saying before I was curtailed by life – seniors – religion.

     Are religious services disappearing for seniors?  Is religion disappearing?  Here it is Christmas Eve.  I have had two days of parties and I am tired already.  I returned home yesterday to watch some Christmas shows that were not too Christmassy at all.  I tape everything and then watch what I want when I have the time.  I deleted most of what I had taped.  I watched a rerun of Home Alone, part 2 and five I believe.  Five is never as good as one and did not come close to two -  disappointed once again with  all the different actors and without the same punch.   I suppose I wanted to hear some Christmas music like Silent Night and the only thing that came close was some rock version.  I didn’t even bother taping any of the Canadian Christmas shows.  The one I watched last year was from a Canadian talent whose satire about Christmas with sexual overtures was so disappointing that I feared watching anything else.

     Merry Christmas is a greeting which is said with some reserve these days.  Clerks at stores tell me that they are not allowed to say it.  They have to say, “Happy Holidays.”  I have to add Merry Christmas to my cards now.  At one party I went to, a man told me that this year his institution is not having any party associated with Christmas and that ironically it was a Jewish person who complained about that.  I did not find that ironic at all.  The high school I went to had many Jewish students and I never heard a complaint about Christmas celebrations.  It took one college student to complain about angels on a tree to have every angel removed from the trees.  Whenever, I see an angel on a tree, I celebrate.  What is it that has made Christmas a negative connotation?  A lawyer last year in Toronto or was it the year before, had a Christmas tree removed from the lobby.  A politician with more sense over ruled her.  The Nativity set at old city hall has once again this year been vandalized.  A business man at his own expense installed some sort of glass enclosure that he assured cannot be broken.   Where is Jesus in Christmas?  The only time I have felt this is when I went to a communist country.  Is it not in Communist countries where religion is considered a negative?  What does this mean? 

      I do not think that religion should be shoved down anyone’s throat.  But where is the respect for those who are elderly and have a religion not to be able to practice it?  Where are we moving to?  Are we moving ahead or backwards?  I understand that religion can have a negative connotation for some.  With self professed preachers burning bibles of another religion to instigate them is not very holy.  For people to profess to love God while looking down at those less fortunate, to kill, to rape, to abuse all in the name of God is not what religion is about.  Christmas should be a time of peace, of joy, of giving and of love. 

    At this senior home where I was yesterday, this priest who had brought birds to the home had to remove them.  Elderly people used to sit and watch these birds for hours.  Yet some family members thought them disgusting and so they were removed.  I got this from reception, or words to that effect.

     It was an American man who was looking for a senior home for his mother but could not find anything appropriate for her, who introduced a new concept.  This was brought to Canada.  In my undergrad all my courses were in psychology or related to health (except if I felt the need to give my brain a rest.  Then I would take an English or creative course).  Since nurses had five years to get a degree I had many in my classes.  We learned from each other as well.  There was always so much experience in the room.   Animals were found to enhance the well being for seniors.  Seniors having responsibility such as watering plants also improved.  Cats would settle on a bed where an elderly person was dying before anyone knew he was.  Once a pet owner died, another would take the responsibility for the feeding.  It was found that not only did the Seniors live longer but they were healthier and happier as well.  We need to step back and reflect when listening to complaints about what one considers offensive.  That American man who wanted something more for his mother knew that a senior home had to be more than an institution.  It had to have a real home experience with pets and plants.  At that time there was one home in Toronto following that concept according to one of my classmates fortunate enough to experience the benefits it has.  

     I looked at my mother and told her how wonderful her Christmas party was.  I told her that each moment I have with her is a gift.  I told her that when I grow old they probably won’t be concerned about how much fibre I have.  Being a baby boomer, there will be so many of us that they will try to figure out how to diminish our numbers before we drain the system.  But I pause as I contemplate.  We have a new generation of youths who give me hope.  They seem to be more compassionate and take an active role in helping others.  I wonder, maybe they won’t put us all to sleep.  Maybe they will not abandon the old.  Maybe just maybe, they will permit seniors to enjoy their pets or birds.  Maybe, just maybe, they will allow a senior to practice their religion and provide the services for it.  Maybe just maybe there is hope that we may once again move forward rather than backwards.  Maybe just maybe we may once again know what it means to live in a democratic society once again where it means more than just speaking your mind but living it. 

     Yes Father, I have been contemplating.  Your words touched me.  Your parting words of less medication and more contemplation I immediately responded to.  Medication is important.  There are chemical imbalances that can be controlled with medication.  However, people do need identify with the source of their problems which requires exploration and recognition.  This should not be denied them.  People need to be treated as a whole person.

     Today I am off for another celebration.  I used to be able to party and party but I have slowed down.  Yesterday I was more tired than my elderly mom.  She was happy and I was exhausted after a three and a half hour dining experience (with no Christmas music.  She noticed). 

    The night before, I was stopped in the ride program.  There were about five policemen (no women?) and one lane was cordoned off.  I was stopped of course and I had nowhere to pull over since one lane was closed.  There was traffic behind me.  He asked me how much I had to drink.  “Nothing ?”  I said.  I wanted to say I had ten drinks but I did not want to be arrested needlessly.  Besides I really did not drink anything with alcohol in it.  It takes one drink to floor me.  So if  I drive, I do not normally drink at all.  “He reached inside my car his head lowered to smell any possible alcohol.  I wanted to ask him,  if I had been impaired and therefore should not be driving how I would still have to move my car since traffic was being blocked this way.  But this was not the time to have this discussion.  He waved me through after much surprise that indeed I did not drink anything at all.  It must have been my car.     

     This year I wish you all a Merry Christmas.  May each one of you have a special person you can share Christmas with and if not, remember what Christmas is and that you are never truly left alone.  Thank you for reading my blogs. 

      Every time you hear a bell remember that an angel has got its’ wings – It is a wonder life!

Merry Christmas

Silva

TRIBUTE TO MY POSTMAN (at Christmas) published

TRIBUTE TO MY POSTMAN

It was the Christmas season and the previous year I had left a gift for my postman on a decrepit old chair, inside my small porch.  When the day had passed and I received my mail, I noticed that my small gift remained though the card that said “for my postman” was gone.   

Not disheartened, I left the small gift there for a week where it remained. 

The following week, I replaced the small gift with another.  I left a note, “For my post man.”   Again, the gift remained, though my mail was delivered promptly each day. 

I did not give up and on the third week after placing a bigger gift on the tired chair, I came home and was excited that the gift was gone.  My mail waited eagerly for me.  I marveled that finally my post man was pleased with a gift that I had left.  You see they were all wrapped so that the interior could be seen.

A year has gone by and Christmas is creeping up.  It has not snowed and I am weighed down with school work so I am not in the holiday spirit.  But I have not forgotten my postman so once again I left a small gift for him with a card and placed the card and the small gift on the same decrepit old chair.  Only this time I placed the chair directly in front of my door which he would have to move or lean over to put the mail through my letter opening, on the old door of my old home.  I then promptly focused on my exam question and forgot my mail and mail man.

I heard a loud knock at my front door.  I climbed down the tired stairs and rushed to the front door opening it.  There stood my postman, all rosy from the cold.  He looked at me and I thought he would cry.  He must have hated my gift, I thought.  Instead he looked at me solemnly and thanked me.  “You have no idea how much this means to me.  Even a card makes me very happy.  Thank you so much.”

I looked at him in surprise and thanked him.  Like a fool I babbled about last year leaving different gifts which I thought he had dismissed because he did not like them.  He assured me that he appreciates any gift or card but since he moves quickly when he delivers the mail he may have missed his gifts.  He kept thanking me for his small gift and I felt dumbfounded.

You see my postman delivers the mail into the letter opening of my door at all times.  He does not save time doing this for he could easily just leave it on the decrepit old chair in my small porch. 

I have watched my postman walk or run in the rain during intense suffocating heat, during storms and with snow so deep it makes one wonder how he does his job at all.  Yet, my postman always has a friendly smile and shouts out a greeting whenever he sees me outside.

So you see, though I left him gifts, outside my door which I thought he did not want, I kept replacing them because he more than deserves a gift that he wants.

And when my post man was so appreciative with my small gift yesterday it was I who fought tears as I shut the door.      

Christmas is about love, is it not?

     I was shopping at Costco last week for Christmas and I saw a handsome man fill his cart with large expensive gift packages.  He smiled at me and I smiled back.  He was full of the spirit of giving.  What I wanted to say was, "Hi Santa where is your white beard and hair, and don't forget me this Christmas."  But, I kept my mouth shut, which I have difficulty doing most days.  I still believe in Santa Claus.  Perhaps I kept my mouth shut because I was still feeling the effects of my cold or flu which the walk in doctor had suggested I could have.  I always thought I needed a fever for it to be a flu, but who am I to argue with a physician.  It is her domain after all.   I looked at the huge gift baskets which would not fit in my car nor my budget and I picked a small lovely package which looks pretty good when it is alone, afar from the big stuff.
     I love Christmas.  It is my favourite time of the year.  I love the Christmas lights, the Christmas cards and all the commercialism surrounding it, because it motivates my thoughts of Christmas.  Many people complain about commercialism but I lived somewhere once where there was none of that and what I felt I was missing was the spirit of Christmas.  It seemed absent to me.  So bring on all the commercialism because all it does for me is get me excited about Christmas and not the shopping. 
     Gift exchanges are special to me.  I do not care about the amount of money or what the gift is.  It could be a biscuit and I would be happy.  Years ago I was asked by a child if I could give her money instead of a gift.  I knew immediately that it was not the child speaking.  It must have been a parent.  This child was learning that money was important at Christmas, not the thought.  I explained to the child that I could never compete with the amount of money she receives.  I explained that when I choose her gift, I search for something for her that I think is special (looks expensive but is not).  I have never received a gift from her but this is not her fault.  She never learned about giving, just receiving.  This Christmas why not remember its roots?  What is the meaning of Christmas?  Are we lost in providing the biggest gifts and receiving them in exchange? Why not spend some time with an elderly person and holding them so they can feel what it is like being touched again?  Why not visit a neighbour who always seems alone and make them feel special for a tiny bit of your life?  Why not accept that gift graciously even if it is not what you want?  I always buy myself something at Christmas.  I do not expect others to buy extravagently for me.  What I do like, is to receive a card or letter (that is just for me and not a hundred others).  What I do like is a smile.  I do not need all the things that I can actually buy myself.  What I think is most important is the thought.  Why not look outside yourself this year and really look into the faces of others.  A smile can be a magical moment.  Merry Christmas, Happy Hannakah and Happy Holidays.

Underground Railroad

Underground Railroad  by Larry Gara, Brenda Stevenson, and Peter

Ripley            essay: by Silva Redigonda 

     The central idea of this book is the escape of Black African slaves via the Underground Railroad.  The authors provide a history of origin of how the Black Africans were captured from their own land in Africa, their resistance, their torture and finally their escape via the Underground Railroad. 

     The authors use a historical account of events and facts to demonstrate the theme.  The story is told "in the context of a free North and a slaveholding South."  There are accounts of rescues, underground hidings and tunnels connecting nearby rivers to the stations. This is the Underground Railroad, particular routes where people both Black and White helped slaves escape mostly to Canada.  What is considered are the existing laws during this period, the perils of the people captured and those helping them and the obstacles found in the North.  What is missing is the emotional void when families are split, due mostly to the factual historical account. What is demonstrated is the means in which slave owners try to retrieve what they consider their property, their logic in trying to justify keeping their slaves and the resistance to the law when freedom is granted.  Freedom for the African American is ultimately not what it is believed to be because prejudice still reigns despite changing laws.  The text indicates that religion; dance, music and food were vital aspects of the slaves' cultural life. It is interesting that it was the Quakers who opposed slavery, yet there was division regarding the Underground Railroad.  Many thought it too extreme.

     There is an accurate portrayal of the 19^th century politics. In 1833, William Lloyd Garrison heads New England Anti-Slavery Society. Britain passes the Emancipation Act freeing slaves and outlawing the slave trade.  In the 1830's Committees organize in Northern cities to prevent the return of fugitive slaves to the South.  In the 1850's Fugitive Slave law requires escapees to be returned. In 1861 the Civil war begins.  In 1863 Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation takes effect abolishing slavery in Confederacy. There is a recruitment of "blacks" as soldiers. In 1865 the Civil War ends in April.  Thirteenth amendment to the U.S. Constitution outlaws slavery and Lincoln is assassinated.        

     The authors are persuasive in sustaining the effectiveness of the Underground Railroad. It separates myth from actual accounts.  The details from escaped slaves are utilized to project truth. Harriet Tubman (1823-1913) was born into slavery about 1820 in Dorchester County, Maryland.  She escaped in 1848 to Philadelphia and returned to Maryland's Eastern Shore area about twenty times, leading more than 300 runaway slaves to freedom.  It is unknown exactly how many African Americans made the journey on the Underground Railway.  Runaways are estimated at about 100,000 prior to the Civil War.  Most fugitive slaves were illiterate and left few records. 

     Slavery was outlawed in Canada in 1834 and officials refused U.S. requests for the return of slaves.  That did not prevent men from entering Canada in attempts to retrieve runaway slaves.  By the end of the Civil war the majority of Black Africans, at least 20,000 headed for Canada.  The provision of numbered accounts, dates, and stories of individual slaves throughout the text permits the reader to understand the period of the 19^th century as it pertains in this context.  The authors do not impose opinions or judgement.  It is strictly a historical account.  What is missing is the emotion of the story.  It is a text full of dates and accounts of various locations.  Yes people are telling their stories but the emotion is too controlled.

    This book is interesting.  Though the book is a historical account it does provoke emotions from the photographs of slaves in captivity.  There is one photograph of a captured slave in shackles, covered by a net.  This man is captured in Africa and the brass he wears tells us that he is an African King.  This man sits looking at the camera proudly with scorn and contempt.  Trapped as an Students of all ages should be aware of how easily equality is dismissed.  It teaches the abuse of power for personal gain.  It makes us ashamed of what we do, what we are capable of, and what we don't do to stop injustice.          animal, this man is the heroic one. This image is the story.  This is a story that should be taught in schools. 

The Story of the Pope: PIUS XII, by Robert L. Reynolds

             Review by Silva Redigonda

     Though the title implies that the focus of this book is about Pius XII, the book's central focus is rather about the structure and life of the Vatican and Roman Catholic Church. Pope Pius XII is written in the text of the present Pope and very little appears to be known of him.

     The author describes daily life in the Vatican.  The author also provides a list of presiding staff with a brief discussion of their origins.  More importantly the structure of the Roman Catholic Church is presented in the form of a diagram which offers the reader an appreciation of its' Corporate structure.  The Vatican is presented as self-sufficient in daily activities, and one recognizes whether Catholic or not, the enormous power of the Catholic Church.  What is interesting in the format of this book is that the author divides topics with narratives of Pope PIUS XII.  What is also presented is the power of the Pope.  When the Pope speaks, the world hears. 

     The author states that the Pope [Pius XII] "is immensely powerful."  He supports this by indicating that the Pope is the spiritual ruler and guide for almost a fifth of the human race.  Infallibility of a Pope is described. "Nor in his capacity as this man or that, but in virtue of his dignity and office…At the decisive moment, when he speaks ex cathedra, Pius and Leo fade into the background; it is the office, the role of the apostle, the Holy Ghost, which is there." 

      The author indicates that during the eighteen years of Pope XII's reign three periods are significant [as part of the 19^th century].  This is regards the many people wanting to see him, Catholic and non-religious alike.  One is WWII, when the Pope received hundreds of thousands of servicemen and women of every allied nation. The second is in 1950, the Holy year and the third is the Marian Year of 1954-55, when pilgrims were in the millions.  The author mentions that the Pope was taken aback when meeting service women, wearing army shirts and trousers.  Though visibly shaken, the Pope recovered quickly.  This is not surprising considering the photographs in the book that depict a sea of men who are priests and in different levels of power structure. There are scenes of men in lecture halls and men walking together in groups.  Women, are scarce and certainly not among the Great. One nun is mentioned as having a position close to the Pope in the Vatican and that is Sister Pasqualina who was head of Pope Pius XII's household staff including six nuns who were cooks.  It is interesting that women appear influential, as mothers of men who choose priesthood.  Yet, women so alienated may remain a mystery to them.   

     The author depicts Pope Pius Xll as a man who was alone [as most great men are].  Once Pope, Pius Xll ate breakfast alone though it was not required by law. One wonders if this was his own time to prepare and face the burdens of the day unswayed and alone with God. The author discloses that when Hitler's Wehrmacht went into Poland, those with the Pope at the time and seeing him receive this news, "saw him walk slowly into his private chapel…[where he] began to sob deeply."

     This book is highly recommended.  Though the theme appears to be regarding the structure of the Catholic Church and Vatican,  the reader focused on Pope XII.  From the basis of this book the reader respects Pope XII as the leader of her Church in the 19^th century and appreciates him as a man who may have been somewhat uncomfortable in the presence of women in other than traditional roles.  The reader feels that Pope XII was a holy man who grieved for the world.

     Robert Reynolds has provided enough information about the Church that encourages any reader to want more of it.  One will want to read more of Popes, more of the Vatican and how it operates and more of the structure of the Roman Catholic Church.  It motivates one to compare the Church of the 19^th century to that of the 21^st century.  This book initiates interest to venture deeper into the Roman Catholic Church, its’ structure, its' history, its' Popes, its' clergy and most important its' people.  

Bepi - Published

We are gathered here today to remember Bepi.  Bepi immigrated to this country from Italy and later sent for his bride more than 40 years ago.  Together they had four children.  Bepi worked hard all his life and led a very simple life.  He was a carpenter and with those skills, he raised and educated his family.  Bepi enjoyed the simple things in life.  He loved his garden that provided fresh vegetables.  He would marvel at the beauty of nature, as he nurtured his roses and different colorful fruits all from his labor.  I loved Bepi.  I loved Bepi because he was a kind man, a gentle man.  He was the only man aside from my own father that I could open the door to and it did not matter how I looked because he always envisioned me as a child and not as a woman.  I loved Bepi because he was the only person aside from my father who refused to take any money when I needed his carpentry skills.  You see Bepi was generous with his self.  This generosity expanded to everyone who knew him.  And if there is a heaven then Bepi is already there watching us and pleased that we are all with him today.

          I have written this for Bepi because there was no eulogy that day in church.  Just prior to entering the church I saw his casket in the limousine.  He was all alone.  Others were in the comfort of their own limousines.  I touched the door near where he lay and entered the church.  I did not want to do this for I felt that he should not be alone.  I knew it was cold but someone should have been at his side.

                Inside the church there were many people and all were watching each other to determine who had come.  They would have something to talk about later.  You see Bepi did not have any real friends.  Bepi was always ignored.  And on that day, his day, he was alone in his limousine while his family kept warm in another.  And the minister raved on about heaven and hell and judgement day and did not speak of Bepi.  For if he knew Bepi, he would have known there was no need to speak of such things because for Bepi there could only be heaven.  But the minister failed to see Bepi because he saw a congregation of people that were in his church who were not normally there.  So, he took the opportunity to warn this flock that death was near and so was hell and heaven.  So, once again Bepi was ignored.

So Bepi, I want you to know that I love you and have always cared for you and treated you with respect when I know so many others failed you.  I want you to know that though there was no eulogy for you in church that day, there will be one for you today.  Because Bepi you deserve to have your story told.  I loved you and would have been proud to have you as my father.  I would have held my head high.  I want you to know that though there was no police escort for you that day along the many miles to a cemetery that is so far from your home, you had an escort of angels as you looked down from above.

Good by my friend. 

Will you be ok this Christmas season?

Christmas is a time of joy for many.  Sparkling lights, beautifully lit and adorned trees, lots of shopping and fun with family and friends.  Is this you?  How about another side of life?  Alone and abandoned by family, isolated with no friends, feeling hopeless, drained and sad?  Afraid that you won't get that A which will drive you to suicide?  |Failing school and feeling a failure?  Working hard for your family to give them what they need this Christmas but not being with them, their most cherished gift?  Are you happy with the busyness of the season?  Are you frustrated and anxious knowing you are on your own?  Have you seen too much sadness in your work, to enjoy yourself in your personal life?  Are you far from home this year because of other commitments which keeps you from your family?  Are you being abused at home?  Are your pets being abused?  What do you do?

     As much as some people enjoy the holidays, others fall into a pit of desperation?  Do you recognise yourself in any of the above?  Do you have your own story?  Where are you in this picture?  Do you feel strong enough to deal with all your woes because therapy is just for the weak?  Really?  Are you feeling that you cannot escape the abuse you find yourself in?  Really?  Have you been convinced that you are the cause of another's rage?  Do you believe it?  Who are you?  Have you lost yourself? 

     Why not take some time today and ask yourself, "Who am I?"  That is all.  Think about where you may be at this point of yourself and ask that question?  Do you think you are who you are told you are?  What is making you sad?  Look in the mirror and ask yourself this question.  Then write it down.  Take as much time as you need.  How do you define you?  Do you define yourself by your work?  Do you define yourself by your abusive partner?  Do you define yourself as a role in a family unit?  Who are you?  After you take your time to write that all down, ask yourself how you feel about who you are?  Now, take another look at the mirror and ask yourself, how do you find the person you want to be?  There is no shame is getting the help you need.  I think that it depicts strength.  If you are being abused why not take steps today to regain your self?  Why not close the door to what makes you feel so unhappy and open a new door to discover a new you, or simply reclaim yourself.  What do you think?