Married Couples have Similar Health Problems

 A recent study found that married couples often suffer from similar health and medical problems. Well, if that’s true, then I’d better tell my wife that she needs to find out if her prostate is enlarged.

Researchers from Tohoku University concluded that married couples have similar health troubles after they studied nearly 54,000 couples in Japan and over 28,000 couples in the Netherlands. The Netherlands? I can see why Tohoku Univ. researchers studied people in Japan. But having the only other participants be from the Netherlands seems kind of random. Why the Netherlands rather than some other country like France or Kenya or Minnesota? Or, here’s a weird thought, why not many different places?

Maybe they only had enough funding to do research in one foreign country, but they wanted people to think it was three different nations. “Oh yes, we did extensive research in the Netherlands, and in Holland, and in that country where they speak Dutch.”

Or maybe some professor at Tohoku Univ. has an uncle in Amsterdam he hadn’t seen in years, and he wanted to let the school pay his air fare. Anyway, I think it’s safe to say if you study approximately 82,000 married couples from the Land of the Rising Sun plus the Land of the Sprouting Tulips, you will have a large enough sample to draw clear conclusions.

The authors of the study acknowledged, “When it comes to marriage, the adage ‘birds of a feather flock together’ is relatively true,” even though a different old expression is often cited regarding romance: “Opposites attract.” For most marriages, it’s common for people with similar traits to be attracted to each other. Although in certain regions of the U.S., the practice of marrying your cousin or your sister is probably taking this concept a bit too far.

The research project concluded that married couples display a high degree of similarity when it comes to body shape, blood pressure, and the diseases they develop. This makes sense. For example, two fair-skinned people get married and then later in life they both are diagnosed with skin cancer. That’s not surprising. Or if two people who marry each other are both — um, how can I phrase this nicely? — “pleasingly plump,” then it’s possible they will have similar medical problems later in life, such as diabetes, heart disease, or having their images appear on a web page titled “Stunning photos of Walmart shoppers.”

However, the researchers from Tohoku emphasized that genetic similarities are not the main reason married couples often have similar health problems. Instead, the study discovered married folks more often share lifestyle choices, such as smoking, drinking, over-eating, and shopping at Walmart while wearing yoga pants four sizes too small. 

So, you might have a married couple from quite different gene pools, let’s just say for example, from Japan and the Netherlands. (Hmm, maybe those particular countries were selected because two senior researchers just happen to be Mr. and Mrs. Hans and Yoko van der Berg.) These two people from opposite sides of the globe could end up having the same health issues because for many decades of matrimony they smoked the same cigars, drank the same vodka, and dined at Kentucky Fried Chicken every night. (Not sure where they did their shopping, but based on the hypothetical lifestyle I just envisioned for these two, it sounds like they’ve probably already appeared on one of those “Walmart shoppers” websites.)

I was going to conclude with another smart-aleck comment like I did in the first paragraph. But it just didn’t seem appropriate to make fun of serious health problems. See? I’m coming down with the same affliction my wife has: politeness. I hope there’s a cure.

We Are Spiritual Beings Temporarily Inside Physical Bodies

French priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, who lived in the first half of the 20th century, was quoted as saying, “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.”

If we stop and think about what our faith teaches, de Chardin’s statement is obvious. The Church teaches that at the moment of our conception, God infused our physical being with an eternal, supernatural soul. Once our bodies die and see corruption (don’t forget what they repeatedly say on Ash Wednesday: “Remember Man that you are dust and to dust you shall return”), our supernatural souls will live on forever, either in the joyful presence of God or in a despairing separation from Him. 

So, if our souls are going to exist for far longer than a billion times a trillion years, while our bodies are going to live for 60, 80, or if we’re really lucky, 100 years, then it’s pretty obvious which is more important, our spirits or our flesh. When you compare an infinity of centuries to one century at best, our spirits win in a landslide. It’s not even close.

With this in mind, how do most people, including many professing Christians, live their lives nowadays? Well, if you’ve been paying attention, you know that we live as if our natural, physical existence was all there is. OK, maybe some folks pause to get in touch with their spiritual side for an hour on Sunday mornings. (Or if you’re like me and your mind tends to wander, 20 minutes tops.)

For those of us who claim to believe in God and profess that the core doctrines of the Church are true, why do we spend so much of our time and energy focused on fleeting, natural things, and all but ignore our soul, our spirit, and the eternal world?

Well, that’s an easy one. It’s because focusing on the natural world is the path of least resistance. As our science teachers taught us many years ago, all of Nature seeks the path of least resistance. This is fine when you’re applying the laws of physics to, say, an exhaust fan or a water pump (as I do regularly in my HVAC engineering sales job). But following the path of least resistance is a poor way to develop a strong spiritual life.

What exactly do I mean by the path of least resistance? First, let’s consider what life was like in a bygone era, for example, the 18th century. People woke up, went to work, came home, had dinner, and then during the time between dinner and bed, there were a few hours to light a candle and sit and talk. Or sit and read. Or sit and pray. It was quiet and there was plenty of time to ponder deep things, such as Why did God make me? What is my purpose in life? Where am I going?

Nowadays, we are surrounded by distractions: TVs, smartphones, iPads, computers, playlists, earbuds, websites, social media, video games, etc. It is rarely quiet and we never ponder anymore.

(Full disclosure: as I type this essay, I’m on the couch with my laptop, and the TV on the wall is showing an NFL game. The iPad on the coffee table has a baseball game. Next to me on the couch are my computer mouse, the TV remote, my iPhone, and the case that holds my earbuds. I am lamenting the loss of solitude and ponder-time, while sitting here up to my ear holes in noisy distractions. So yeah, most of the time the main point of these essays is to encourage myself.)

The path of least resistance allows a slew of electronic distractions to dominate our waking hours. We don’t have time to ponder, we don’t have time to pray, we don’t have time to listen to God’s quiet voice trying to speak to our souls. The path of least resistance causes us to be “spiritual beings having a human experience” who promptly lock our spirits in a vault and throw away the key. 

We really need to stop drifting along on the path of least resistance. (And by “we” I mean “me.”) We need to do the difficult thing and turn off the electronic gizmos once in a while and learn how to ponder. After all, if we really are spiritual beings dwelling temporarily inside earthly bodies, our spirits need to grow and mature. I mean, who wants to arrive at the gates of Heaven with a spirit that flunked out of Kindergarten? 

Going Bonkers on I-84

 I was driving on Interstate-84 the other day, as I’ve been doing almost every day for most of the past three decades, and I experienced something that’s been happening more and more frequently. I was cruising along on my way to work. The highway was kind of crowded with cars and trucks, but everyone was moving at a good clip. (“A good clip” is defined as 10 to 20 MPH above the posted speed limit. If someone decides to drive AT the speed limit, that’s called a major slowdown.)

As I was driving along, I approached some construction work. Yes, I know you’re shocked. “Construction work? On I-84? That never happens!”

Actually, if you consider the entire length of I-84 in our state, from the New York border in Danbury to the Massachusetts border in the town of Union, there has never been a time when there was NOT construction work taking place. This is true even going all the way back to when the highway was first built in the early 1600s by the Mashantucket Pequot tribe. (I bet they regret not installing tolls right from the beginning.)

Anyway, I was driving along, and when I got to the construction zone, big orange signs indicated the speed limit was reduced to 50 MPH. I glanced down at my speedometer and saw that I was doing 65 MPH, as was every other car and truck around me. (By the way, I’m hoping this printed confession in the newspaper will not prompt the State Police to mail me a speeding ticket. If they do, then they need to give one to each of the other 2,000 drivers who also were ignoring the big orange signs that morning.)

Right after glancing down at my speedometer, I noticed in my rearview mirror that a car had pulled up and now was about two feet away from me, and I could see the driver was gnashing his teeth in frustration. So, here’s the situation: I’m driving through a construction zone, doing 15 MPH faster than the speed limit, and a guy on my tail is absolutely livid that I’m driving too SLOW!

This exact scenario has happened to me multiple times in recent weeks. I don’t remember it happening very often before the Covid pandemic. It seems the pandemic has caused a sizable percentage of our population, as mental health professionals would phrase it, to go bonkers.
 
I mean, drivers have always been harried and hurried and distracted on our interstate highways, going all the way back to when Elon Musk and Henry Ford invented the automobile. But nowadays it seems drivers are way more angry and aggressive. Also, I’ve noticed that most of the guys who pull up on my tail, angry that I’m going only 15 MHP over the speed limit, are driving BMWs, Audis, and Lexuses (or is the plural “Lexi”?).

When something like this happens to me, I usually do one of two things: I either speed up so the guy can go faster and be less angry, or I shift to a different lane so he can blow by me (and flash the “We’re number one!” hand gesture at me in the process).

But since I’m now officially a geezer, I think I’ll do something different when this situation occurs. From now on, when another driver pulls up on my tail, angry that I’m going only 65 in a 50 zone, I’m going to slow down to a little less than the speed limit. I’m sure that’ll teach him to relax.

However, before I do that, I probably should have my car windows replaced with bullet-proof glass. Like I said, there’s a lot of “bonkers” going around these days.

Why Is God So Subtle?

If you’re like me, you may occasionally wonder why God is so subtle. After all, we can’t see God, hear God, or feel Him with our sense of touch. And of course, those are the primary ways we gather information about, and interact with, our environment. Because of this, our friends who don’t believe in God often mock us and claim we worship an imaginary guy in the sky.

Don’t you sometimes wish God would take the mystery out of it and suddenly appear in all His supernatural glory, and declare in a booming voice for all to hear, “I am the eternal Creator! Why do you doubt me?!”

Yeah, that certainly would be cool. Those of us who go to church on a regular basis finally would be able to say, “See? Told ya God is real!”

But would that really be so cool? If God did suddenly appear in some kind of blazing, miraculous apparition that filled the skies with flashing lights and a resounding voice, how many non-believers would accept it? I suspect many would say it was some kind of freak weather event. (“See? Climate change is getting worse and worse!”) Others might accuse the military of unleashing a new weapon system that was developed in secrecy. (“See? I knew the Pentagon was up to no good!”)

So, many non-believers still may refuse to believe in God, even if He plainly revealed Himself to the world in a manner we could perceive with our sight, hearing, and sense of touch.
 
But let’s say God did reveal Himself to everyone in such a way that all doubt was removed. Let’s say everyone, even the most avowed atheist, was so overwhelmed by the blazing manifestation of God that there was no choice but to accept the fact that He is real. That would be great, wouldn’t it? No more doubters. No more unbelievers. Every single person on planet earth would know for certain that God is real. Great!

But would it really be so great? What is the one thing missing from this scenario? The one thing missing is faith. If God revealed Himself to everyone in such spectacular and obvious fashion that all doubt was removed, then our acceptance of His existence would be like accepting that the sun rises in the east each morning. There would be no faith or trust or relationship involved. It simply would be a known fact.

The main reason God created us is to be in a loving relationship with Him. But for love to be genuine, there has to be the freedom to choose to love someone or to walk away. If we’re forced to embrace someone against our will, it’s not love at all.

If God’s existence was so obvious that no one could doubt it, would people have loving relationships with Him? I don’t think so. Many would consider their relationship with God in the same way a slave relates to the master, or as a Marine recruit relates to the drill sergeant, or as a loading dock employee relates to the company CEO. In other words, the relationship would be based on the coercive difference in power, and a lot of folks surely would come to resent God.

That’s why God has to be subtle. He is real, and He is our Creator, but He doesn’t show off about it. He wants us to trust in what is unseen and to hope that it is true — the exact biblical definition of faith. 

Only when we have the freedom to say “no” to God will our “yes” to Him be the basis for a loving relationship. But if you’re like me, you have to admit that once in a while you’d love to see a blazing, miraculous apparition fill the skies, just to freak out some unbelieving friends.

Is Christmas Cancelled This Year?

You’ve probably heard the news by now that Christmas is cancelled this year. Well, it’s not exactly cancelled, but the economic supply chain disruptions have left a lot of store shelves so bare that it’s going to be very difficult for consumers to do the usual amount of holiday shopping this year. 

A recent guest editorial in the Wall Street Journal, written by a Mr. K. Kringle, mentioned my mom by name. The essay advised that the Jane Dunn Technique is our only hope this year. My mom’s shopping technique, developed with lots of scientific research, consists of buying one or two Christmas gifts every time she goes near a store throughout the entire year. Then she puts the gifts in various closets in the house. When the holiday season arrives, she wraps the gifts she can find, but typically loses track of about half of them, tucked behind clothing and shoe boxes in the closets. 

Then every April or May, while searching for a spring jacket, she’ll uncover a treasure trove of Christmas presents, which become birthday or anniversary gifts, or even a Christmas present for the next year, or sometimes the next decade. (One year my nephew, who was a college sophomore at the time, received some really nice Fisher-Price toys. He played with them all day long.)

The Jane Dunn Technique means you always have at least 180 percent more gifts in your house than you’ll ever need for a single holiday season, even if distant relatives suddenly show up unannounced on December 24th. 

However, the author of the WSJ opinion column noted that the only way at this point to employ the JDT is if you were lucky enough to have received as a Christmas gift last year a fully functioning time machine. This will allow you to go back in time to a moment long before Covid sent shock waves through the economy, and stock up on toys and electronics and all the other items that people are NOT going to find under the tree this year. A footnote to the column mentioned that the author, Mr. Kringle, is an executive in the shipping and distribution industry, so he knows what he’s talking about.

Speaking of my mom, the way economists are describing the upcoming Christmas shopping season, this year might be a nostalgic return to the Depression Era Christmases she remembers from her childhood. She swears that back then the greatest gift a child could find in his or her stocking was an orange. Yeah, an orange. I guess it was difficult in those days to ship citrus fruit from Florida to New Haven without it getting mushy and moldy, so an orange was a real treat. Also, back then coal in your stocking was not a punishment for being on the naughty list. It was another unexpected treat, which meant you could heat the house for another day. 

So, here we are, heading into the 2021 holiday season, and all the fun gifts people want are stuck on container ships anchored off the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach. When I was at Stop and Shop the other day, they seemed to have plenty of oranges in stock. Maybe that’s where we should do our Christmas shopping this year.

Another really radical thing we could do this year is not obsess about material goods for a change and instead give our loved ones the gift of our time and attention. Don’t look at me with such a stunned expression. You know what I mean: spend some time with people and talk to them face to face, with no cell phones allowed. It would be very special. Then give them an orange. 

Confession Gets It Off Your Chest

I never thought I’d need sunblock to go to Confession. But that’s what happens if Confession takes place in the middle of the third base grandstand at New Britain Stadium on a sunny Saturday at the end of September.

The Connecticut Catholic Men’s Conference was a rousing success this year. The camaraderie of 500 guys spending the day together was great. The four keynote speakers were dynamic. The concluding Mass celebrated by Archbishop Leonard Blair in front  of the pitcher’s mound was wonderful.

However, the best feature of the Conference, by far, was seeing at least 15 priests scattered throughout the grandstand hearing confessions. There was a steady line of dozens and dozens of men patiently waiting for a spot to open up. By the time the Conference was done, well over half of the 500 men present received the supernatural grace of this powerful Sacrament. 

It was a beautiful sight, and I also saw a couple of men walk away from the makeshift confessionals with tears of gratitude and relief in their eyes. There probably were more men like this, but I couldn’t see them clearly because of the tears of gratitude and relief in my eyes.

When it was my turn for Confession, the first sin I confessed was: “I spent the past 20 months using the pandemic as a poor excuse for avoiding Confession.” And if you’re waiting for me to list all the other sins I confessed, don’t hold your breath. That’s between God and me.

When I say my Confession was between God and me, you might reply, “But wait a minute. What about the priest? He heard your sins, so he’s involved, too.”

Well, that is true in one sense. But during the Sacrament of Confession, the priest is acting in persona christi, which is Latin for “In the person of Christ.” The priest, by virtue of his ordination, is the conduit through which the graces of God flow. 

Some people insist that an ordained priest and a formal ritual are not necessary to confess sins. A person can sincerely pray to God, express remorse for sinful thoughts and deeds, and ask for forgiveness. There’s no doubt God is so loving and compassionate that He hears these prayers and responds.

But the Church, in her wisdom, teaches that the Sacrament of Confession (also known as Reconciliation) is the optimal way to be forgiven, not for God’s sake or the priest’s sake, but for OUR sake.

You see, when we speak our failings and faults out loud to another person, rather than silently in our minds during private prayer, we really get it off our chest. There is no doubt in our mind whether God heard us or forgave us. When the priest audibly offers the prayer of absolution, we hear it; we know it’s true; and we know we’ve been forgiven. There is no doubt that God, working through His priest, has forgiven us.

That’s why there were tears of gratitude and relief in the eyes of so many men at the Conference. We knew God heard us and we knew we were forgiven. It’s a joyous feeling to have that weight finally lifted off your shoulders.

So, it was a great day, and the best part was the supernatural grace of forgiveness conferred through the Sacrament of Confession. And even though all the men present that day know this particular fact, I’m going to say it here anyway: Confession is available every weekend at your local parish, not just once a year at the Men’s Conference. Keep that in mind if you realize the weight of sin is dragging you down. Don’t delay until next year (or in my case, 20 long months). Go to Confession soon!

One other interesting thing happened at the Conference. I ran into Archbishop Blair just as he was arriving to say Mass. We chatted briefly, and then he saw my baseball hat, which I alway wear when at a ballpark, and he asked what the red “B” stood for. Now, I know the archbishop grew up in the Midwest and is a Detroit Tigers fan. But he’s been in New England long enough now that he should know these things. I said to him, in a somewhat shocked voice, “It stands for the Boston Red Sox, of course.”

No doubt the archbishop has a very busy and important job. But if you are located exactly halfway between New York and Boston, smack dab in the middle of the hottest rivalry in sports, there are certain things you just have to know. I’m pretty sure the Archbishop needs to go to Confession about that one. 

This Grandpa Is Out of Control

I slowly stand up in the middle of a crowded church basement. After clearing my throat, I say, “My name is Bill. And I’m a grandpa-holic.” Everyone in the room replies in unison, “Hi Bill.”

And so begins another meeting of the 12-step support group Grandparents Anonymous. 

I’m still a little shocked that I am here with all these other senior citizens struggling with compulsive behavior. For at least 30 years, I was the person who rolled his eyes whenever someone engaged in silly “grandparent antics.”

I remember the time my friend Dave, right in the middle of a Christmas party, got down on his hands and knees and started making funny faces with his 1-year-old grandson. “Aw, Dave,” I said. “That’s embarrassing. Plus, at your age, you’re gonna need help getting back up.” He completely ignored me and continued playing with the baby.

Then there was the time at a company picnic when a co-worker named Betty began acting foolishly. And she hadn’t even started drinking yet. When Betty’s son arrived at the picnic with a 3-month-old baby girl, Betty, usually a no-nonsense professional at the office, suddenly made weird cooing noises and began pinching the little girl’s cheek. I nonchalantly moved closer to Betty and whispered, “Betty, what are you doing? You’re acting ridiculous.” Just like Dave, she completely ignored me and continued cooing and pinching and saying over and over again in a high-pitched voice, “Isn’t my little granddaughter so precious?!”

In addition to those episodes when people very close to me temporarily lost their minds, there have been countless occasions when other acquaintances pulled out envelopes filled with snapshots, or more recently, their smartphones and began showing me photographs of their grandchildren. Being the polite person that I am, I usually forced a smile, nodded my head, and said, “Um, yeah, very cute.” But in the back of my mind I always thought, “C’mon, man. Babies are babies. They all look the same.”

So, for many years I was a no-nonsense rational human being. And then it happened. I became a grandfather and suddenly I was the one out of control. I pull out my phone and show photographs to anyone and everyone, at any time and every time. Even when someone gets fed up and says, “Bill, I’m not in the mood right now,” I reply, “Oh sure, I understand. But you gotta see this picture. He’s wearing the baseball hat I bought him. Isn’t he the cutest thing?!”

So, here I am, standing timidly in the basement of a church and describing my struggles. The folks in the crowd are listening attentively to my embarrassing personal stories. They nod periodically, empathizing with my difficulties. After about five minutes, I conclude and start to sit down. A lady nearby says, “That was terrific, Bill. Thanks for sharing. By the way, how is your grandson doing these days?”

Suddenly, I jump back up, filled with excitement. “Oh, he’s doing great! Let me show you!” I yell while reaching into my back pocket for my iPhone. “Here, look at this picture. Isn’t he so cute?!” 

In a matter of seconds, five dozen senior citizens leap to their feet (or what passes for leaping at our age), and start waving their phones frantically. A loud roar explodes in the room, as everyone talks loudly, excitedly, and simultaneously. “Look at little Johnny!” “This was Suzy at her birthday party last month!” “Here we are at a baseball game!” “These are the twins, who just turned four!”

Once again, a Grandparents Anonymous meeting concludes the way they always do, in total chaos. We all know that we’re behaving foolishly, and not a single one of us cares.