Stuck in a Starter Home

There was an article in the New York Times a couple of months ago with this headline: “Stuck in a Starter Home.” The story described people who bought small houses when they were just starting their families. Now, some years later, these people want to buy larger homes, but high mortgage interest rates and soaring real estate prices are forcing them to remain in their cramped dwellings.

One young couple lamented the fact that their two daughters have to sleep in bunk beds, since there are no extra bedrooms in the house.

I can just imagine what my dear old mom would have said if she were still alive. “‘Starter home’? What the heck is a starter home? It’s called a home. You buy a house, you raise your family there, you live in that house for 60 years, and then you die. That’s what life is all about.”

That’s a formula that worked quite well for my parents, along with a number of other folks I know, some of whom are still with us and many who’ve passed on. The common denominator for these people who view home ownership the way my mom and dad did, is the fact they grew up during the Great Depression. When you were not sure where your next meal was coming from, and when you spent a few years living in an apartment with 11 extended family members because two of your uncles were out of work, you developed a powerful “attitude of gratitude.” The idea that you deserve to live in a house where everyone has their own bedroom with a walk-in closet is simply not on your radar screen at all.

When my parents purchased their first home in 1960, a tiny 3-bedroom ranch with one bathroom and no basement, even calling the place their “first home” would not have made sense. It was their home, period. When two more kids were born, bringing the total number of residents to seven, there was no talk of buying a larger home. What they did was buy bunk beds. 

My three brothers and I were crammed into one room with two sets of bunk beds. It was, shall we say, a cozy arrangement. We once heard a comedian on the Ed Sullivan Show say, “My apartment is so small I have to go outside to change my mind.” We didn’t laugh. We just nodded our heads, as if to say, “Yup, we can relate.” My brothers and I envied our sister, the only girl sibling, who had a room to herself. But on the other hand, her room was no larger than a mid-sized tent, except with less head room.

Even though our house was bursting at the seams (and with seven people and one bathroom, the word “bursting” also applied to our bladders), my parents never would have agreed to be interviewed by a Times reporter and whine about being stuck in a “starter home.” That house was simply their home. They loved it, and we loved it, too. My dad ended up living there for 58 years until his death; my mom for 62 years. 

It’s not that my parents thought there was something wrong with selling a small house and buying a larger one. If someone could afford to do that, great. But the idea that someone “deserves” to get a larger home, just because they want one, is an attitude my mom and dad would’ve set straight without hesitation. Here’s Mom: “Don’t be so ungrateful! Thank the Good Lord you even have a home!” And my dad would’ve employed his patented silent glare, which was scientifically proven to be able to melt steel. I miss them.

Wandering Mind During Eucharistic Adoration

Recently, I went to Eucharistic Adoration at my parish. We have it twice per month on Friday evenings. Typically, by that time I’m tired from a long week at work, so instead of going to Adoration with my wife, I’ll tell her, “Have fun, hon,” and then I’ll kick back on the couch and watch the Red Sox pregame show.

(By the way, if I somehow could get back all the hours I’ve spent watching sports on TV, I’d probably spend those hours … watching sports on TV. I suspect this fact about me will require a bunch of extra time in Purgatory to cleanse my soul of the sin of “bad priorities.”)

Anyway, as I mentioned at the beginning, recently I did accompany my wife to Adoration. (Hmm, it must’ve been a light week at work.) When I kneeled and gazed at the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, inside the monstrance upon the altar, my prayer echoed St. Thomas when he saw the risen Jesus for the first time: ‘My Lord and my God!”

I prayed that fabulous declaration a few times, as the reality of Who was right in front of me sank in. Adoration is really a special spiritual exercise.

Then, about 15 minutes later, my prayer changed to the plea of the father who brought his son to Jesus for healing. This desperate man exclaimed, “I do believe, help my unbelief!”

You see, after my initial awe while in front of the Blessed Sacrament, my mind started to wander. As I kneeled in that quiet church, this is what my brain started thinking about: Who is the starting pitcher for the Red Sox tonight? I can’t forget to finish up a project at work that I didn’t quite complete earlier this afternoon. Where should we go out to dinner on Saturday night? Should I order steak or salmon at the restaurant? Did I have any red meat this week? Maybe steak will be OK. Do I need to do laundry this weekend? Do I have any business trips coming up this month? How much cash do I have in my wallet right now? Hmm, I haven’t wondered that in ages, so why am I concerned about it now? If I pull my phone out of my pocket and check email, will my wife give me a glare? Yeah, I’d better wait till later. How long do I have to kneel before it’s OK to sit down? Does my car need an oil change? It seems like a long time since the last one. I’d better make a mental note to check that out. And on and on and on.

Every insignificant random thought that could enter my skull did. It’s like I walked into church and suddenly develop E.A.A.D.D. (Eucharistic Adoration Attention Deficit Disorder.) When I realized exactly where I was and what my brain had been up to for the past 15 minutes, I focused on the Eucharist and quietly prayed, “Jesus, I do believe, help my unbelief! Or better yet, help my lack of concentration!”

The Eucharist is truly Emmanuel, God with us. Jesus could not have been more clear in John, chapter 6. And St. Paul further reinforced the fact that Jesus is really present in the Eucharist in 1 Corinthians, chapter 11. The Eucharist is, as the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches, the “source and summit of the Christian life.”

You would think, number one, that I would get to Adoration more often rather than choose to watch the Red Sox pre-game show after feigning exhaustion; and number two, when I do go to Adoration, that I’d be able to focus on the body and blood, soul and divinity of the Creator of the Universe for more than, say, three minutes.

I saw an interesting quote online recently: “Thankfully, none of us have ever disappointed God, since He knew from the beginning that we were idiots.”

The only explanation for my behavior at Adoration is the fact that I’m an idiot. But despite that, God is filled with compassion, forgiveness, and mercy. So, I got that goin’ for me, which is nice.

I highly recommend going to Eucharistic Adoration whenever possible. But if you’re like me, be prepared to pray, “I do believe, help my unbelief! And especially help my lack of concentration!” 

Oh No! Work Email Not Working!

Recently, I experienced a near digital disastrophe. On a Friday afternoon, I received an email from a client with instructions to click a link and download a file. This occurs fairly regularly where I work, so I clicked the link, but nothing happened. After a few moments, I shrugged my shoulders and moved on to something else. That evening, I got an email from my client’s I.T. Department, which said, “We had a breach. Hopefully, you are reading this email before you open the one you received earlier today.”

I typed a reply on my phone: “I did open that email this afternoon, but nothing seemed to happen. Have I been hacked?” It was getting late, so I went to bed.When I woke up Saturday morning, I saw that the I.T. Department had replied to my question at about midnight. (I.T. people working at midnight on a Friday is NEVER a good sign.) The message said: “Change your password for your email account ASAP!”

So, before I even had my first cup of coffee, I sat down at my computer and tried to change the password of my email account. This is when I discovered two things: 1) I am not an “administrator” at my company and therefore not authorized to create a new password; and 2) although I am not an administrator, apparently I have enough authority to accidently delete my existing password. In other words, my efforts had caused my work email account to become completely inoperable. 

And this is when I discovered there are two types of people in the world: 1) those who, when faced with a technology dilemma, say, “Oh well, it’s the weekend. I’m sure our I.T. guy can figure it out on Monday,” and then proceed to enjoy a couple of sunny, summer days; and 2) those who say, “Omigod! Omigod! My work email is dead! What am I gonna do?! What if a client tries to contact me?! What if our I.T. guy is on vacation all next week?! What if all my email messages have disappeared?! This is the worst thing ever!!” and then proceed to be wracked with anxiety for the next 48 hours and never even notice the couple of sunny, summer days.

Guess which category I’m in? Yup, it was a stressful weekend for the ol’ left-hander, despite the sunny, summer weather.

Not surprisingly, things worked out fine in the end — but only after a couple of sleepless nights. Early Monday morning, I went to the office and got the phone number of the I.T. consultant we use. I reached him and explained what happened. He asked me confusing questions such as, “When you clicked on the bogus link, did the address bar say, ‘login-dot-microsoftonline-dot-com’? Or did it say something else?” 

I replied, “It’s, um, it’s my computer. Broken. And email. Also broken. Fix, please.”

He realized he was speaking to someone in his 60s, which in the I.T. world is similar to speaking to a 5-year-old — except we seniors tend to whimper more frequently. So, he said, “All right. Let me check from my end to see if there’s been any suspicious activity with your account, and then I’ll reset your password. I’ll call you back.”

His voice was so confident, it made me feel much better, even though I didn’t understand a single thing he said except, “All right” and “I’ll call you back.”

As Wendell Shakespeare wrote, “All’s well that ends well.” My email account was resuscitated by 8:45 a.m., and I was ready to take on another busy work week — right after I drove home and slept for two full days.

Daily Mass on Vacation

When I’m on vacation, I enjoy having the opportunity to go to daily Mass, which I usually cannot do during a normal work week. There are many nice aspects of daily Mass while on vacation, such as:

• Even when far from home, the Mass is the same, so it feels familiar. No matter where you are, no matter how far away from your usual surroundings, the Mass is celebrated in the same way. The Scripture readings are the same, the prayers are the same, the responses from the people in the pews are the same, and Jesus being truly present in the Eucharist is the same. Of course, listening to the priest speak with a Rhode Island accent is a little weird. Especially if the priest is originally from Poland. That good ol’ Polish-Rhode Island accent combo is, um, interesting.

• Daily Mass is a great way to get spiritually grounded, which is necessary when facing a hectic day of sitting on the beach, taking multiple naps, and eating way too many fried clams. After all, Jesus himself said, “What father among you would hand his son a snake when he asks for fried clams? Or hand him a scorpion when he asks for some stuffies and a Narragansett Lager?” (Luke, chapter 11, Ocean State Translation of the Bible).

• When I’m at daily Mass, I usually feel rejuvenated. This is because I’m often the youngest person there! And trust me, being the youngest person present for any event hardly ever happens anymore. Since a particular co-worker retired last year, I am now officially the oldest employee at our firm. But in church, especially at daily Mass, I’m often tempted to belt out a song: “You make me feel so young! You make me feel like spring has sprung!” Don’t worry. I do not actually belt out any songs at daily Mass. As we all know, there is never any music at daily Mass, which is why the entire Mass is usually concluded in less than 25 minutes. (For many folks, this is the main reason they agree to attend daily Mass with their wives. But certainly that’s not something that would EVER cross my mind. Certainly. Um, I mean, probably certainly.) Anyway, being a back row bass singer in the church choir with a limited six-note range means that I will not be doing any solos in church anytime soon. The main point I was trying to make here, before I was so rudely interrupted by myself, is that being ONLY in my 60s means that I’m often the youngest, or at least one of the youngest, people attending daily Mass.

• Speaking of the fact that everyone present at Mass was a senior citizen, it did make me ponder the fate of the Church. Of the approximately 40 people at that Mass, I estimated that in 10 years at least half will be dead, a quarter will be in nursing homes and unable to attend Mass in person anymore, and the remaining quarter (hopefully including me) will still be able to shuffle out of the house and make it to church. In other words, the demographics are not great. What we need are a lot of those folks who are currently too busy raising their families to attend daily Mass to start attending when they become empty nesters. That’s something we all should pray for: that busy, stressed-out young adults come to realize how beneficial daily Mass is, and take our place over the next decade or two.

Anyway, those are a few thoughts that occurred to me when I went to daily Mass while on vacation last month. And if you think I spent way too much time thinking these odd thoughts rather than paying attention to the Mass itself, you are partially correct. (And, of course, I am using the definition of the word "partially" that means: completely.)

The best reason for going to Mass, whether daily or Sunday, is the fact that it is the Mass! It’s where Jesus becomes truly present in the Eucharist – body and blood, soul and divinity. Let’s all resolve to meet face-to-face with Our Lord more frequently.  

Get a Tan? Bad Plan, Man

Earlier this summer I wrote about a visit to the beach, and noted how pale my skin is. Put it this way, if I took my shirt off and stood next to the Pillsbury Dough Boy, people would assume that we were identical twins — except that Poppin’ Fresh has been working out more than me. 

Here are some facts: I’ve never had a tan in my life; I’ve had skin cancers removed on three different occasions; and depending on how much time I spend in the sun, my skin color can match all 40 shades on the Sherwin-Williams red paint chart.

Recently, I was contemplating all the dumb things I’ve done in my life. And by the way, I’m not going to share the complete list with you — at least not until I double-check the statute of limitations in various northeastern states. I will, however, relate one item that made the list: when I was a young man, I tried really hard to get a tan. Considering the gene pool from which I descended, that made about as much sense as Danny DeVito deciding that his goal in life is to be able to dunk a basketball.

Here’s a section of a newspaper column I wrote 22 years ago: 

“When I was a kid, my father worked as the head lifeguard at the Clinton Town Beach. My siblings and I were at the beach every day from 9 a.m. until 5 p.m. Additionally, our ancestors hail from County Albino, that region of Ireland which is perpetually shrouded in fog and has not seen sunshine since a freak weather condition in the 4th century caused the sun to appear for almost 20 minutes. Each year our flesh would turn bright pink in June, then change to ruby red in July, and finally settle on a festive shade of fluorescent maroon by August. We never got tan. All summer long our skin would blister and peel, and similar to snakes, we would periodically shed our skins, leaving behind crusty one-piece outlines of ourselves. When beach-goers saw one of those skin carcasses blowing across the sand, they’d comment, ‘Looks like one of the Dunn youngins shed again.’”

So, that’s what I experienced during my youth. And now, over a half-century later, that’s why I have my dermatologist on speed dial. The dumb thing I had to add to my list occurred soon after I graduated from college. I got a job as a production supervisor in a factory, and I was assigned to the second shift. I decided it was the perfect opportunity to get a good tan. 

Each day I drove over to Hammonasset State Park and laid out on the beach for hours at a time. Not surprisingly, I did the bright pink to ruby red to fluorescent maroon transformation. Here’s the most ridiculous aspect of this adventure: at the time, I was genuinely convinced that I looked just like a California lifeguard you might see in a Frankie Avalon beach movie. What I actually looked like was a guy who accidentally stepped in front of a worker who was spray-painting the big concrete spheres in front of a Target store.

As a little warning to everyone who thinks laying out in the sun is fine, here’s another segment from that old column, describing what happened when I was sent to a specialist to have a melanoma excised:

“It turns out the official medical dictionary definition of the word excise is, and I quote, ‘Carve a Chicken McNugget-sized chunk of flesh out of the middle of Bill’s back and then close it up with a bunch of Frankenstein stitches.’”

Let’s hear it for pale guys in the shade!

A Day in the Life of the Trinity

Our faith tells us that God is a Trinity of persons. So, surely there is a lot of communication between the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I wonder if that communication goes something like this…

Jesus: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

The Father: “You say that quite often nowadays, Son. What’s going on this time?”

Jesus: “Well, just look. There are people on earth who say they love you, but out of fear they won’t let anyone with a different skin color live in their neighborhood. And then there are others, who like to quote me, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself,’ but all that means to them is to try and have sex with as many people as possible.”

The Father: “Yeah, I see what you mean.”

Jesus: “Well, when we put sinful people in a fallen world, we knew there was sure to be trouble.”

Holy Spirit: “Hello? Remember when I said that was not a great idea?”

The Father: “I remember. It is chaotic, that’s for sure. But it’s still a much better idea than creating little obedient robots who never do anything wrong. How can you enter into a loving relationship with someone who is unable to say no? Free will is the only thing that makes true love possible.”

Holy Spirit: “I know, but free will has caused so much heartache!”

The Father: “Yes, but how great is it when someone repents and asks you into his or her heart?”

Holy Spirit: “Yeah, that is pretty awesome.”

Jesus: “So anyway, Pop, will you forgive them, for they know not what they do?”

The Father: “Yes, of course. But as we all know, forgiveness really works best when they realize their sin and feel remorse about it. It’s hard to forgive someone when they think they’re doing everything right.”

Jesus: “True dat. But the very first time I ever made this request to you, you forgave the people who crucified me, even though they all thought they were doing the right thing.”

The Father: “I know. But many of them felt guilty about it later on.”

Holy Spirit: “You’re welcome!”

The Father: “Yes, when you touched their hearts, Holy Spirit, it made them see the error of their way and repent.”

Jesus: “And the way things are going on earth nowadays, you need to put in some overtime, H.S.”

Holy Spirit: “Ain’t that the truth.” 

Jesus: “No, I’m the truth, remember? And the way and the life.”

Holy Spirit: “Whoa, hold on there. Who’s the one who guides people into all truth? Me, that’s who.”

The Father: “Excuse me, but we’re not going to do this again. All three of us are THE TRUTH, and all three of us are on the same team. In fact, all three of us are one in being, the single divine presence in three persons.”

Jesus: “We know.”

Holy Spirit: “Yeah, we were just kidding around.”

The Father; “Well, Holy Spirit, you’d better get going. I’ve never seen things more out of control on earth. It’s really quite remarkable. In an age with unlimited information at their fingertips, people have never been more ignorant.”

Holy Spirit: “Well, it’s like you always say: ‘The two most abundant things in the universe are hydrogen and stupidity.’”

Jesus: “Yes, but they're just too lovable to completely abandon. Let’s get to work saving their souls.”

The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, in unison: “Amen!”

OK, maybe that’s not exactly how communication within the Holy Trinity occurs. I doubt they sound like characters in a bad sitcom. But there’s no doubt that God loves us, despite our sins and ignorance. He’s eager to forgive us, even when we know not what we do. 

Being forgiven by the Lord of Heaven and entering into a loving relationship with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is the most joyful sensation ever. If you’ve never experienced it, what are you waiting for?

So Many Words, But Nothing To Say

Our complex has a really nice swimming pool. Recently, I was hanging out by the pool on a sunny Saturday afternoon. There were about 50 people there. The pool is very large, with lots of chairs, tables, and umbrellas all around it. So, it didn’t seem crowded at all. There was the typical background noise you’d expect at a public pool: kids splashing and giggling, folks chatting in little groups, and some lively music coming from someone’s cell phone.

Then, after a while, I noticed one young man, who was standing in the shallow end of the pool with a few of his friends. He was talking very quickly and very loudly and completely non-stop. Frankly, it was amazing. This guy had a terrific voice, kind of like a radio announcer. He was articulate, with excellent enunciation skills.

Somehow, my ears zeroed in on his frequency. His relentless monologue was cutting through the din of the crowd and flowing directly into my brain. No matter how hard I tried to tune him out, every single syllable he proclaimed went directly into the core of my consciousness.

As someone who does a little public speaking now and then, I was extremely impressed with, and jealous of, his vocalization talent. What a set of pipes!

But here’s the thing: this young man’s non-stop soliloquy, however well-delivered, was completely inane. He spoke thousands of words over the course of 20 minutes, and every single one of those words was meaningless. He talked about his car (a Honda Accord); he talked about his dog (Sparky); he talked about his job (dispatcher for a freight company); he talked about his favorite team (the New York Yankees); he talked about his girlfriend (Darlene, who apparently was not present, based on the comments he made about her); and he talked about his favorite eatery (New England Pizza in Vernon). These particular topics certainly have aspects about them that can be interesting. And yet Mr. Chatterbox did not offer a single interesting take. Every single thing he said about every single topic was fatuous, insipid, pointless, vacuous, and vapid. (Yes, I had to turn to the Thesaurus to paint a complete picture of this gentleman’s performance.)

It was stunning to listen to this young man speak so many words and say absolutely nothing. He should go into politics. In addition to being stunning, it was very maddening. I was starting to have an anxiety attack. If the CIA needs a new and effective interrogation technique, they should hire this man. (On second thought, if the government unleashes this fellow on a terrorism suspect, it surely will be labeled torture and a gross violation of international law.)

I was angry at myself for not bringing my noise-canceling earbuds with me. On the other hand, I’m not sure the latest technology from Apple’s laboratories can keep up with this guy.

What that young man needs is a writer on staff. I was tempted to go over to him and offer my services. “Sir,” I planned to say, “you have a real gift for speaking. But what you need are some interesting words to speak. I’ve been known to string together a few sentences and tell engaging stories once in a while. How about we work together? I’ll write the copy, and you recite it.” 

But I decided not to approach him. I noticed that even his friends could not get a word in edgewise, so what chance did I have, as a total stranger, to break his filibuster?

The next time I go to the pool, I’ll bring my earbuds. And if they’re unable to block out Galloping Gabby, I’ll contact Apple Corp. This could be their biggest technological challenge ever. 

Spiritual Sloth and the Mr. Meh Believers

One of the Seven Deadly Sins is Sloth. Most people think this means laziness. So, for example, if someone chronically oversleeps and arrives at work late, and then while at work reluctantly puts forth the absolute minimum amount of effort needed to avoid being fired, we might say he’s guilty of the sin of Sloth.

This hypothetical guy might be guilty of being a lousy employee, but the sin of Sloth refers more to a person’s spirituality. Someone who has a very busy, active life — works hard at his job each week, is involved in many other activities, etc. — can be guilty of the sin of Sloth. If this person’s attitude about God and religious faith is bland and indifferent, that is spiritual Sloth.

A slang word used nowadays is “meh.” It means something like, “Who cares?” or “I can’t be bothered,” or “So what?”

Here’s how it’s often used: “Hey, what did you think of that new movie?” Reply: “Meh.” Or: “Wow, look at that beautiful sunset!” Reply: “Meh.”

When someone offers a blasé “Meh,” it means they have no interest or excitement about the topic. In the same way, if a person’s attitude about religious faith is “meh,” that is sinful Sloth.

I know a guy who has a fulltime job where he puts in at least 40 to 50 hectic hours every week. Then, on most Saturdays, he has a part time job. Also, he’s involved in a bunch of extra curricular activities with his family and friends. Very few people would call him lazy.

But sometimes when this guy goes to Sunday Mass, as he walks into church, this is what he is thinking: “I can’t wait for Mass to be over, so I can get back to enjoying the remainder of this rapidly disappearing weekend.”

At that moment he is not thinking about prayer. He is not thinking about the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. He is not thinking about fellowship with other parishioners. He is looking forward to Mass being over before it even begins. This is spiritual “meh.” This is the sin of Sloth.

By the way, I know what this particular fellow is thinking because we’re very close friends. In fact, I see him every time I look in the mirror. 

Now, to be fair, this guy is not Mr. Meh EVERY time he goes to Mass. There are many times when he genuinely wants to be there and is truly passionate about being in communion with the Lord of Heaven. But those “meh” occasions do happen.

The opposite of spiritual Sloth is spiritual passion. This is a vibrant faith, which produces the desire to draw nearer to the mind and heart of God, and to develop close friendships with other believers. And this spiritual passion is not just for Sunday mornings at Mass. It’s possible to be, to use an old evangelical term, “on fire for the Lord” the other six days of the week, too. In his first letter to the Thessalonians, St. Paul wrote, “Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. In all circumstances give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thess 5:16-18).

To be honest, it’s a major leap to go from a Mr. Meh kind of guy to a First-Thess-Five fella. But that’s OK. We can take baby steps in the journey from spiritual Sloth to spiritual passion. 

There is another passage in Scripture, from the book of Revelation, chapter 3, where believers are criticized for being “lukewarm.” In that message, the Lord warns those people, “I will spit you out of my mouth.” 

Even though the book of Revelation can be very confusing, this particular passage is clear. The Lord says He is not impressed with Meh Christians. There is no doubt that spiritual Sloth is sinful.

If you are a spiritually passionate believer, congratulations! But if you are like, um, my close friend, who shows up for Mass sometimes wishing it were already over, let’s work on those baby steps of improvement together. Let’s not lose sight of who God is and what He has done for us. Then, when we have the opportunity to be in communion with the Creator of the Universe, the last thing we’ll want to say is “Meh.”

Jesus’ Message Is: Himself

Many people think Jesus was a wonderful person who taught a wonderful message, but then after He died His followers corrupted that message and turned it into a strict and oppressive religion. If only we could return, it is claimed, to Jesus’ original meek and mild message, the world would be a much more loving and joyful place.

Well, I agree. If we returned to Jesus’ original message, the world would indeed be a much more loving and joyful place. But what exactly was Jesus’ message? Some folks say His message was love and peace. OK, that certainly is part of it. But what is the true essence of Jesus’ message, what we call the Good News, or the Gospel? 

Hold onto your hats, because this might come as a surprise. The message Jesus taught was Himself. That’s right: Himself.

Sure, Jesus’ behavior was often very meek and mild. And He said a lot of stuff about love and peace, forgiveness and mercy, turning the other cheek and sacrificing for others. But the heart of His message, the focus of all His teachings, was Himself.

For example, Jesus said, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one goes to the Father except through me.”

Whoa, that's very harsh. Jesus sounds kind of arrogant, doesn’t He? The only way to get to Heaven is to go through … Him? He didn’t really claim that, did He? A wonderful person with a wonderful message of love and peace would not be so self-centered and egotistical, would He? 

That must’ve been a fluke. Maybe Jesus was just having a bad day when He said those words. Well, let’s take a look at some other statements Jesus made about himself:

• “The Father and I are one.” 
• “Before Abraham was born, I AM.” 
• “I saw Satan cast from heaven like lightning.”
• “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.”
• “All power in heaven and earth has been given to me.” 

Oh my, this doesn’t make any sense at all. Jesus was a wonderful person who taught a wonderful message, a message that we all know was corrupted later on into a strict and oppressive religion. Jesus was a meek and mild holy man who simply wanted everyone to love each other. All these quotations from Jesus’ own lips sound like the words of a person who was really full of himself; a person who thought he was the center of the universe.

Yes, that’s it! Now you’re starting to get it! Jesus IS the center of the universe. He is the Second Person of the Holy Trinity. He has always existed. He is the eternal Word, as the beginning of John’s gospel explains, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God….Through Him all things were made.”

If you read about Jesus’ life in the gospels (and you should!), He comes across as a very humble man. But when you ponder what He actually said about Himself, He comes across as a raving egomaniac. And that would be the correct conclusion — IF He were only a mere mortal. If Jesus was just a man — no matter how holy and wise — the statements He made about Himself are unacceptable. Those are the words of a person with a severe narcissistic disorder. 

However, Jesus was not just a man. He was (or more accurately, He IS) the incarnate Son of God. He was both humanity and deity in a single body.

There is only one way for someone to say such arrogant things and yet truly be a humble person: He has to be divine. So, as I mentioned earlier, if we returned to Jesus’ original message, the world would indeed be a much more loving and joyful place. If we understand that Jesus truly is divine, and that He really rose from the dead, and if we follow his commands — repent and ask for forgiveness, love our neighbor as ourselves — our relationships with others will improve drastically. And this will result in a much more loving and joyful world.

After all, He is the way and the truth and the life. No one goes to the Father except through Him. We simply need to put our faith in Him and take Him at his word.

Be Careful What You Wish For, Grandpa

Our grandson, the Rhode Island Wonder Boy™, lives close enough so we are able to see him on a fairly regular basis. I know people whose grandchildren live on the other side of the county, and they get to see the kids maybe once per year. So, we are very fortunate. But, of course, we wish we could see our grandson more frequently.  

I wonder if that was the wish of a guy I met last month at a work event. He is about my age; that is, he’s getting close to retirement. He and his wife have been empty-nesters for many years. They live in a rural part of the state and have a nice swimming pool. Recently it was decided that their 14-year-old grandson would spend the summer at their house. 

They were looking forward to this, although with a little trepidation. After all, when a married couple in their 60s have the house to themselves, it can be somewhat disruptive to have a grandson suddenly living there 24/7. Also, this grandson is 14 years old. It’s been a long time since I was that age, but I do remember that at 14, I was, um, what’s the right word? Oh yeah, a jerk. Everything was raging: raging hormones, raging stupidity, and raging arrogance. I’m not saying every 14-year-old boy is like this. I’m sure there are one or two kids somewhere on the planet who don’t fit that mold. Well, at least one.

This reminds me of something I recently heard on the radio from a comedian. (I’m not sure, but I think it was Jim Gaffigan.) He observed that the Bible doesn’t tell us anything about Jesus’ teenage years, and he speculates it’s because even the Son of God was a surly teen. At a family picnic, one of Jesus’ uncles might have said, “Hey Jesus! Nice to see you. Wow, you’re getting big. How old are you now?” To this, Jesus rolled his eyes and said, “Duh. Here’s a clue: what year is it?”

Yeah, I know. Borderline sacreligious. But I thought it was funny.

Anyway, getting back to the guy I met recently. Right after he and his wife agreed to have their 14-year-old grandson spend the summer with them, he found out his daughter had just broken up with her boyfriend, and she was going to move back home. Plus, she was bringing her seven-year-old son. 

So, after having the house to themselves for quite a few years, these folks were about to host a 14-year-old grandson, their 30-something daughter, and a seven-year-old grandson. Talk about a drastic change — and I don’t mean just to the weekly grocery bill.

I suspect this fellow was a lot like me: he wished he could see his grandchildren more often. And I suspect he’s now muttering to himself, “Careful what you wish for.”

When I was talking with this guy, I said, “I’m sure it will work out fine.” But in the back of my mind I was thinking, “Yeow, better you than me, pal.”

Certainly, if either of our kids and/or our grandson suddenly needed a place to stay, we would welcome them with open arms. If there aren’t enough beds, someone can sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep outside in a tent. (And you know how much I LOVE camping!)

Familial love is one of the most powerful forces in the Universe. People do what they have to do to help out family members in need. That being said, however, when you’re in a comfortable senior citizen routine, having the equivalent of the D-Day invasion of Normandy show up in your living room just might be a little stressful. 

Not a Big Fan of Camping

Occasionally, a friend will ask me, “Do you ever go camping?” In my mind, that question is no different than if he had asked, “Do you ever barbecue puppies?” Both activities are equally reprehensible. 

Let’s take a macro view of human history. For tens of thousands of years mankind has worked hard to make life safer, healthier, and more comfortable. The most important aspect of this relentless quest has been the invention of a thing called a “building.” Buildings keep rain off our heads. They are able to keep at bay both biting cold in the winter and oppressive heat in the summer. They prevent wild animals from gnawing on our jugular veins while we sleep. And buildings stop insects from regularly crawling inside our ears and nostrils and the nether regions of our underwear.

When someone chooses to go camping, all of these amazing advancements in human safety, health, and comfort are thrown right out the window. Except when you’re camping, there is no window, just a flimsy screen by the tent entrance, which causes bears, racoons, snakes, spiders, and earwigs to laugh heartily while saying, “Oh fellas, this is gonna be a fun night. We’re gonna drive these humans CRAZY!”

The one word in the previous paragraph that makes me shudder is the word “chooses.” People actually choose, of their own free will, to go camping. I could understand it if they had lost a bet. “Yup, your favorite team lost a playoff game, so you either owe me $100 or else you have to spend the night outdoors inside an oversized trash bag!” 

Or I could understand if someone decided to go camping on a dare, or if they did it to barter for goods or services. “OK, if you actually spend the entire night outside, then I’ll let you borrow my pickup truck.”

But people do this horrible activity willingly! And furthermore, they spend a lot of hard earned money in the process. Camping equipment is not cheap — tents, sleeping bags, air mattresses, battery-powered lanterns, bug spray, coolers, cooking equipment, etc. Then there are the fees at campgrounds, which can be rather pricey. Purchasing all this stuff, just so you can spend a long weekend at a campsite, costs about the same as seven days in a fancy hotel. Just in case you weren't aware, hotels have walls and ceilings. And heating and air conditioning. And beds and toilets. And TVs and mini-refrigerators. And hot water and towels. Also, many hotels are located near state parks and lakes, so if you really want to go swimming and hiking during the daylight hours, you are not required to spend the night sleeping on the ground and feeding your blood to mosquitoes, gnats, and grizzly bears. 

By the way, there is another activity often called “camping,” but it is nothing of the sort. Some people spend the night in a three-bedroom raised ranch on wheels, and actually tell their friends that they went camping. Sleeping in a recreational vehicle (or RV) is not camping. Everything I previously listed that is available in a hotel room is also available in an RV. The cost of purchasing an RV — along with gas, maintenance, camp site fees, etc. — is equal to the cost of booking a hotel room … every night for the rest of your life.

So, I think it’s clear that the proliferation of camping is a sign that a sizable percentage of Americans have simply lost their minds. That’s the only explanation. For all you campers who are going to write me a nasty email, I bet you will write it from a comfortable BUILDING, rather than a tiny tent. Which kind of proves my point.

The Eucharist, Part 3

This is the third and final segment in our series about the Catholic doctrine of the Eucharist, the belief that the bread and wine at Communion truly become the body and blood, soul and divinity of Jesus Christ. Not coincidentally, a large Eucharistic Congress is taking place in Indianapolis this week. So, please pray for those people.

So far, we’ve discussed the fact that some groups accuse the Catholic Church of inventing the doctrine of the Eucharist during the Middle Ages, many centuries after the time Jesus walked the earth. These folks insist that everyone during the early years of Christianity knew that all the talk about Jesus’ “body and blood” was just symbolic. No one, it is claimed, believed that bread and wine somehow miraculously changed into the real body and blood of Christ. 

Last week we examined some passages from the Bible, specifically Jesus’ words in John, chapter 6, and St. Paul’s writings in his first letter to the Corinthians, chapter 11. When you read these verses from Scripture, there is no hint of any figurative or symbolic meaning; the words about eating flesh, drinking blood, and recognizing the body of the Lord come across as quite literal.

This week, let’s take a look at the teachings from some early Church fathers. These words all come from the first few centuries of Christianity; that is, way before the Middle Ages, when the doctrine of the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist was allegedly invented.

• St. Ignatius of Antioch (c. 110 AD): “[Heretics] abstain from the Eucharist and from prayer, because they do not confess that the Eucharist is the flesh of our savior Jesus Christ” (Letter to Smyrnians 7:1).
  
  
• St. Justin Martyr (c. 100 – 165 AD): “For not as common bread nor common drink do we receive these; but since Jesus Christ our Savior was made incarnate by the word of God and had both flesh and blood for our salvation, so too, as we have been taught, the food which has been made into the Eucharist by the Eucharistic prayer set down by Him, and by the change of which our blood and flesh is nourished, is both the flesh and the blood of that incarnated Jesus” (First Apology, 66).

• St. Irenaeus of Lyons (c. 140 – 202 AD): “[Jesus] has declared the cup, a part of creation, to be His own blood...and the bread, a part of creation, He has established as His own body” (Against Heresies 5:2:2).

These quotations, and many similar ones, clearly spell out what the early Church believed and practiced regarding the Eucharist. (See my book “The Gospel According to Morty,” specifically the section titled, “Is the Real Presence Really Real?” Available on Amazon Kindle.) It is simply impossible for an honest seeker to claim the Catholic Church “invented” the idea of the Real Presence sometime during the Middle Ages. 

Renowned historian J.N.D. Kelly was a professor at Oxford and an expert on the early Christian church. Although Kelly, who died in 1997 at age 88, was a life-long member of the Anglican Church (a Protestant denomination), he had the honesty to write: “Eucharistic teaching, it should be understood at the outset, was in general unquestioningly realist, i.e., the consecrated bread and wine were taken to be, and were treated and designated as, the Savior’s body and blood” (Early Christian Doctrines, page 440).

A significant percentage of practicing Catholics do not accept the Church’s teaching on the Eucharist. They think it’s just a symbolic ritual. I suppose that’s understandable. It is hard to wrap your brain around the claim that mere bread and wine are transformed into the actual body and blood of Jesus, just because a priest said some words. 

Here is one last quotation, from St. Cyril of Jerusalem (c. 350 AD): “Do not, therefore, regard the Bread and Wine as simply that; for they are, according to the Master’s declaration, the Body and Blood of Christ. Even though the senses suggest to you the other, let faith make you firm. Do not judge in this matter by taste, but be fully assured by the faith, not doubting that you have been deemed worthy of the Body and Blood of Christ” (22 [Mystagogic 4], 6) (Emphasis added.)

Please take the time to investigate the doctrine of the Eucharist, which the Catechism of the Catholic Church calls the “source and summit of the faith.” Christ is truly present. The Eucharist is the closest we can get to Our Lord on this side of Heaven. 

A Day at the Beach

Recently, I spent a lovely afternoon hanging out at a beach in Rhode Island. Here are some random thoughts:

I saw a woman come out of the water and I said to myself, “Oh, she’s got seaweed all over her leg.” Then I looked a little closer and said, “Oops, never mind. Just a massive tattoo.”

As the afternoon wore on, I thought, “That sunblock I sprayed on myself four hours ago should still be working, right?” Later that evening, I had my answer: “Wrong!” Say hello to Mr. Redneck. Or if you prefer, Mr. Red Calves. Or Mr. Red Left Ear. (I have no idea how one ear got burned but not the other.)

Speaking of sunburn, I get it that the beach in the summer is not my ideal environment. I’ve never had a tan in my life, and I’ve had skin cancers removed three times. But now that my hair is gray, I look more pale than ever. I look like Andy Warhol and Edgar Winter had a baby. To give you an idea, if I took off my shirt and stood next to the Pillsbury Dough Boy, I’d make Poppin’ Fresh look like he was from Puerto Rico.

Speaking of taking off one’s shirt, I was pretty much the only person on the entire East Matunuck State Beach who kept a shirt on the whole time, even when I was in the water. I do that partly to avoid the sun and partly to keep young kids from exclaiming, “Look Mommy! Frosty the Snowman is swimming!”

I can only assume that tattoo artists are now in the same tax bracket as investment bankers. There were more works of art on display on that beach than in the entire Louvre. Have you ever gone to an event at, say, a fancy country club, and walked through the parking lot filled with Mercedes, BMWs, and Bentleys, and thought, “I wonder what all these cars are worth?”? Well, I took a long walk on that beach and thought, “I wonder what all these tattoos cost?” The total has to be equal to the annual GDP of some mid-sized country. The U.S. economy is not in recession as long as people can afford that many tattoos.

Walking around for hours while barefoot is something I do exactly once each year, when I visit the Rhode Island shore. Even though I pamper my feet with socks and shoes the other 364 days, I’m always taken by surprise at how tender the soles of my feet are. I’m pretty sure every part of my body is tougher, including my corneas. Walking around the smooth sand at the edge of the surf was OK. But then some areas had a lot of pebbles, and the walkway at the pavilion where the bathrooms were located was made of some kind of asphalt with embedded gravel. So, by the end of the afternoon, my doggies were howling. But on the plus side, this year the blisters on the soles of my feet healed in only nine days.

Even though I’m not cut out for the sunny shore, and even though I limp for a week afterward, I love going there. The smell of the salty green ocean and the steady drone of the crashing waves are delightful sensations. Whenever I go to the beach, I just close my eyes, inhale deeply, and listen. Within 15 minutes my blood pressure drops 20 points. It’s awesome.

I had so much fun at the beach this year, maybe instead of waiting until next year, I’ll go again later this summer. I just have to wait for the burns, the blisters, and the sand-in-your-shorts chafing to heal.  

The Eucharist, Part 2

Last week we noted that some groups claim the Catholic Church invented the concept of the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist during the Middle Ages, long after the time Jesus walked the earth. Further, it is claimed that everyone understood from the beginning that the bread and wine were just symbolic, and nothing in the Bible describes the false Catholic view.

Well, this week let’s take a look at that claim. In the gospel of John, chapter 6, Jesus says some interesting things. While speaking to a large crowd, in what became known as the “Bread of Life Discourse,” Jesus compared Himself to the manna that came from Heaven and fed the ancient Israelites. He said, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”

At this statement, many in the crowd were shocked. They argued among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us [his] flesh to eat?” This was not an unreasonable question. 

Because Jesus’ statement was so shocking and offensive, many people conclude that He must have been speaking figuratively. Throughout His ministry, Jesus often spoke in figurative and symbolic language, for example, comparing Himself to a gate and to living water. But during this sermon, right after the people grumbled, read what Jesus said next, and count how many times He used figurative and symbolic terms:  

“Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.” 

Whoa, there is nothing figurative or symbolic there at all! Jesus not only did NOT offer any symbolic interpretation of His original claim, He instead repeated the harsh and startling statement four more times!

There is just no way an open-minded person can read John’s gospel, chapter 6, and conclude that Jesus was only speaking in figurative language. This is strong proof that the Catholic doctrine of the Eucharist came directly from the mouth of Our Lord, rather than from some scheming Church leaders in the Middle Ages.

Here is some additional biblical evidence. In St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, chapter 11, he discussed the believers’ communal gathering each Sunday. He wrote, “Therefore whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will have to answer for the body and blood of the Lord....For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body, eats and drinks judgment on himself.”

Interestingly, one of the most popular Evangelical translations of the Bible, the New International Version, is even more stark: “For anyone who eats and drinks without recognizing the body of the Lord eats and drinks judgment on himself.” 

Whether it’s the current Catholic translation, “...without discerning the body,” or a popular Protestant translation, “...without recognizing the body,” it is quite clear that St. Paul believed the body of Jesus had to be present in order to be recognized. How could Paul, a brilliant man who chose his words carefully, have picked the words “discerning” or “recognized” if he thought the bread was simply bread, a mere symbol and remembrance of Jesus? 

How could Paul possibly have been so upset, accusing the Corinthians of conducting the ceremony in an “unworthy” manner, of “sinning against the body and blood of the Lord,” if the body and blood of the Lord was not actually there to sin against? 

It is illogical that Paul would write these words if he believed the bread was just bread and the wine was just wine. This passage in 1 Corinthians, along with John chapter 6, are clear evidence that the Catholic doctrine of the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist is found in Scripture. Claims that the doctrine is unbiblical are simply wrong.

Next week, the National Eucharistic Congress will take place in Indianapolis. For our third and final segment of this series, we will review next time what the early Church fathers said about the Eucharist. Then you can make your own educated decision about the accuracy of the claim that the Church’s teaching on the Eucharist was “invented” in the Middle Ages.

How Many Photos Are Enough?

From the time I was born, up to the age of 10, there were exactly nine photographs taken of me. Each one was in black-and-white, and they were spread out fairly evenly. There was one of me as a baby, one as a toddler, one as a young boy on a tricycle, and so on, up to the ninth photo, me as a buck-toothed 5th grader wearing what seemed to be an odd version of Capri pants. Actually, I had a growth spurt that year, but our family rule was: no new pants until the “back to school” sales at the end of August. So, I had to go an entire summer wearing “high-water pants” and getting sunburned shins.

Compare that to my four-year-old grandson, known as the “Rhode Island Wonder Boy™.” In the 48 months since his birth, there have been approximately 97,000 photos taken of him, along with over 1800 hours of video. I’m pretty sure in four short years he’s had his picture taken more often than the Beatles did from 1959 through 1970.

Every person the “RIWB™” knows — my daughter and son-in-law, each of his four grandparents, various aunts, uncles, neighbors, etc. — own smartphones with cameras. And these smartphones have multi-gigabyte storage capacities, so it is possible to record every moment of this young boy’s existence. We don’t do that, of course. Instead, we just record every OTHER moment of his existence.

This is not to say that each of those 97,000 photos and every minute of those 1800 hours of video have ever been viewed by anyone. We are all in the habit of taking zillions of pictures of the boy, but never actually doing anything with them once they’re stored on our phones. I suppose our plan is to have archeologists a thousand years from now unearth one of our phones and conclude that a particular young boy must’ve been crowned monarch of the nation, which required all of his court jesters to chronicle every move during his imperial reign.

Well, that’s not exactly correct. Some of those photos do see the light of day. The younger folks involved in this whole process — that is, those who weren’t around during the “black-and-white photos are the only option” days – are familiar with exotic wizardry such as Instagram and Snapchat. So, some images of the “RIWB™” are posted on these online platforms for others to view. But over 99% of the recorded images remain as unseen piles of zeros and ones in the memory chips of various smartphones.

Compare technology throughout the ages. George Washington never was photographed. It hadn’t been invented yet. Ol’ George had his portrait painted half a dozen times, and that was about it. Unless you were famous or wealthy, your image was never recorded for future generations. 

Then photography came into existence. If you were fortunate, maybe you’d be able to save up and have your picture taken — but only once in your entire life. If your eye twitched the moment the button was pressed, or if you were having a bad hair day, tough luck. That one image is how your descendants knew you for multiple generations.

So nowadays, billions of people worldwide, including a youngster in the Ocean State, are having their pictures taken more frequently than Marilyn Monroe ever did. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I have no idea. All I know is when a cute little boy says, “Papa, let’s go outside and play,” I grab my Red Sox hat and my phone, to make sure I record the delightful moments I’m about to have. Maybe someday when I’m in a nursing home, those images will be the one thing that makes me smile.

Is the Doctrine of the Eucharist a Recent Invention?

In 2021, the U.S. Catholic bishops announced a 3-year Eucharistic Revival campaign. The first two years focused on promoting the Eucharist at the local parish level. Now, during the final year, there will be a National Eucharistic Congress, which will be held in Indianapolis on July 17 through 21.

With the Eucharistic Congress coming up soon, this is a good time to discuss the Eucharist, which the Catechism of the Catholic Church calls “the source and summit of the Christian life.”

First, let’s take a look at the origins of the Eucharist, the Church doctrine that claims the bread and wine at Mass are transformed in the body and blood, soul and divinity of Jesus Christ.

There is a popular Bible tract that discusses the Catholic doctrine of the Eucharist. By the way, Bible tracts are small booklets, sometimes with comic book illustrations, that present religious teachings. Fundamentalist Christians distribute Bible tracts by the millions. 

In this popular tract about the Eucharist, an unnamed pope during the Middle Ages is shown hatching a scheme to keep people in fear of the Church. With the aid of a trusted adviser, whose comic book image looks suspiciously like Satan, this pope announces out of the clear blue sky a brand new doctrine: he and all ordained priests now have the magical powers to transform bread into the body of Jesus Christ. All people must bow down and worship this bread, a practice which the tract calls blatant idolatry.

Furthermore, all people are required to eat this magical “bread of life,” or else they will NOT go to Heaven. And finally, if people disobey or in any way question anything said or done by priests, then the priests will withhold the magical bread, which means the disobedient persons are destined to spend eternity in Hell.

The Bible tract alleges this diabolical scheme was implemented during Medieval times, hundreds and hundreds of years after Jesus walked the earth. Therefore, the Catholic Church’s claim that the bread and wine truly become the body and blood of Christ is not only unbiblical, but it is also based on purely selfish and power-hungry motives.

The comic book tract concludes by urging readers to flee from the non-Christian, Satan-inspired, demon-possessed Roman Catholic Church.

Fortunately, few Protestant groups nowadays go to this extreme in presenting nasty anti-Catholic teachings. However, the Catholic doctrine of the Eucharist is a major stumbling block. The Catholic Church does indeed teach that mere bread and wine are transformed into the body and blood, soul and divinity, of Jesus Christ when an ordained priest says the prayer of consecration during Mass. Most Protestant groups, on the other hand, believe Communion is just a symbolic ritual, and the elements used, bread and wine (or grape juice), remain unchanged. When the worship service is over, any leftovers are tossed in the trash. Compare that to the Catholic practice of reverently putting any leftover hosts in the Tabernacle, typically located behind the altar in the church sanctuary.

To further complicate this issue, a sizable number of Catholics, including many ordained priests, do not believe the Church’s teaching about the Eucharist. They simply find it too fantastical that bread and wine can turn into the body and blood of Jesus.

If the Catholic belief is correct — that Jesus’ body and blood truly become present at Mass — then the Eucharist is the most powerful way for a person to be in union with the Son of God on this side of Heaven. It is “Emmanuel,” God with us, and therefore should be the central focus of the Christian life. But if the Protestant view is correct — that the bread and wine remain just bread and wine, and the whole ritual was meant by Jesus to be merely a symbolic gesture — then the Catholic Church, as the little comic book tract declares, is guilty of promoting the worst sin of all: idolatry, the worship of anything other than God.

Next week we will examine the claim that the Catholic doctrine of the Eucharist is not biblical. Are there any verses in Scripture that indicate whether or not the Catholic teaching about the “Real Presence” is true?

Stay tuned for next week’s episode.

Airport Baggage Handlers Give Gorillas a Bad Name

Someone recently took a cell phone video of an airport baggage handler, who was throwing bags of golf clubs onto the tarmac. The bags were coming down a conveyor belt, being off-loaded from the plane. The baggage handler pulled each golf bag off the conveyor, and tossed it about eight feet, where it crashed onto the pavement. From there, another employee picked up the bags and loaded them onto a wagon.

The golf clubs belonged to the East Tennessee State University men’s golf team. The team was traveling to an NCAA regional tournament. Naturally, the video of the less-than-delicate baggage handler’s behavior was posted to X (Twitter) with these words: “Nice of Delta to handle our clubs with such care…”

The video went viral, and the backlash was immediate. Delta Airlines issued an apology. They also asked the college for a second chance, which they labeled as a “mulligan.” (Clever idea from the marketing department — or maybe it should be called the damage control department.) 

Here is the official apology, from Delta spokesman Anthony Black: “We apologize to the ETSU Golf team and ask for a mulligan on how their equipment was handled. We’re in direct contact with the Bucs to ensure they have what they need to successfully compete in the NCAAs.”

No word on whether Delta officials are in direct contact with the baggage handler himself. I doubt it, since the union regulations probably allow him to have one or two or twelve “mulligans” before any disciplinary action can be taken.

Here are some random thoughts that went through my head as I read the news story and watched the viral video: 

• No matter how roughly those golf clubs were treated by that Delta baggage handler, it’s nothing compared to the way I’ve treated my golf clubs after a particularly poor round. The game of golf is so frustrating, it just makes you want to throw something in anger across the parking lot, usually whatever is nearby: your clubs, a garbage can, your playing partner, a Mini Cooper, etc.

• I’m surprised videos of airport baggage handlers go viral these days, since it happens so often now. I mean, who is even surprised? Ever since video cameras were added to cell phones, it seems baggage handlers are tossing suitcases around with greater gusto than they used to. It’s as if they’re showing off for people in the plane or at the boarding gate who are pointing their phones right at them. “Hey folks,” the baggage handlers seem to say, “Look at this!” And then they throw a suitcase with the technique and strength of an Olympic shot putter. Once the suitcase crashes to the asphalt, they turn and bow for the cameras, confident that their final throw will earn them at least a bronze medal. 
    
• Remember those old TV commercials for American Tourister luggage, which showed a gorilla throwing suitcases all around his cage and jumping on them? It was meant to be an exaggeration, but the way things are nowadays, it’s actually fairly accurate. (I recently read that those commercials were quite memorable, but most viewers didn’t catch the name of the suitcase manufacturer. A survey found that well over 50% thought it was Samsonite.)
  

• I always do my best to use only carry-on bags whenever I fly. Besides avoiding that annoying wait at the luggage carousel, it keeps my suitcases away from baggage handlers with anger management issues. If I’m going to be away for many days, I just wear all the clothes I need right onto the plane: four shirts, two pairs of pants, five pairs of underwear, etc. I just wish people would stop taking viral videos of me as I waddle down the aisle.