Out for a few days.

Out of touch and not blogging for a few days.  Here's a few quick hits.

Bishop in charge of liturgy in Toronto wants parishes to pick from just four Mass settings of the new missal.  This wouldn't be a problem, if any of the choices were either singable by congregations, or any good.

Pray for the soul of the Ontario police officer who died in the line of duty this morning.

Should I ever win the lottery, I will buy one of these cars.

And one of these guns.

On the other hand, probably not.  These are cool things, but in the end, they are just things.  I don't even own a gun, though, if I did, this would be a cool one to own.  But that's the thing.  The temptation to blow a ton of money on stuff like this is probably one of the reasons why I am better off poor. 

The Pope now tweets.  The wired in faithful can now get their daily dose of vitamin BXVI.

Feel free to vote in my poll.

Happy Canada to the Canadians.  Happy Fourth to the Yanks.  True fact:  During the Klondike Gold Rush, thousands of Americans flooded into the Yukon.  When it came to celebrating our national holidays, the 1st and 4th of July, rather than coming into conflict over the holidays, they turned it into a four day blow out, in which every one took part.

Query: Homeschooling

Younger wants to be homeschooled. And as I have 2 BA's and Bear is ABD to his PhD, we are, according to the requisites, educated enough to homeschool. My question: Since I know my limits, I would only want to homeschool until Grade 8 or so, so how do the kids apply to high school and how do they get to take the standardized tests necessary throughout elementary school?

The curriculum, I can get from the Ministry Website, and there are different support groups, but this is the make it or break it question.

Any ontario homeschoolers who can answer, please do.

How to be a Good Parent

As extrapolated from the Examination of Conscience for a Good Confession: The Fourth Commandment: Honour thy mother and thy father. (Handbook of Prayers; Socias, Rev. James; Midwest Theological Forum; Woodridge, Illinois, 2007, pp. 325-326)

NB: When I say ME: I mean US: IE, Bear and I

FOR PARENTS (OR WHAT I EXPECT FROM MYSELF TOWARDS MY CHILDREN: If I am to be honoured by my children I should be honourable)

1. Have I neglected to teach my children their prayers, send them to church, or give them a Christian education?

Extrapolation:
I should teach them their prayers, make sure they say their prayers, take them to church or if I am unable, make sure they go anyway, and teach them what it means to be a Christian.

2. Have I given them a bad example

Extrapolation

I should be a positive role model. I should lead by example and most of all I should do what I say they should do.

3. Have I neglected to watch over my children, to monitor their companions, the books they red, the movies and TV shows they watch.

Extrapolation:
I should guide my children, and if necessary censure their entertainment, if that entertainment is not conducive to a Christian life. The content of their entertainment should not include: Anti-Catholic Teaching, the occult, lack of respect for their own and others sexualities to name a few. Guide them that reality is not a fairy tale. And real life is not like it is in books or in the movies.

4 Have I failed to see to it that my child made his First Confession and First Communion.

Extrapolation
To ensure that at the appropriate age they are prepared and are of the required age and maturity to confess their sins, and understand that the host they ingest is indeed the real presence of Christ, body and blood. If I believe that my child is not ready to receive Communion, then I should wait until the required maturity is attained. It is as much of a sin to have your child take communion when immature and while not understanding what s/he is doing as it is to keep them from communion if s/he is ready.


5. Have I failed to see to it that my children have received the sacrament of Confirmation?

Extrapolation

I must ensure that my child is fully mature enough and fully prepared to make her Baptismal vows of her own accord. That she understands the catechism of the Holy Roman Catholic Church. If I think there is any reason why she is not ready to be confirmed, IE, be sealed with the Holy Spirit, I should then prevent her from being confirmed until s/he is of the requisite maturity.

FOR CHILDREN (WHAT I EXPECT OF MY CHILDREN TOWARDS ME: How my children are meant to honour me.)

1. Was I disobedient towards my parents?

Extrapolation:
My children should obey me.

2. Did I neglect to help my parents when my help was needed?

Extrapolation:
My children should help me, if I ask, and sometimes without asking if they see I need help.

3. Did I treat my parents with little affection or respect?

Extrapolation:
My children should treat me with affection, and if they "hate" me that day, then they must still treat me with respect. ( They can think whatever they like, but they must treat me with respect)

4. Did I react proudly when I was corrected by my parents?

Extrapolation
My children my accept our corrections with humility. By the same extent, my corrections should be done with mercy, fairness, and patience. Keeping in mind I will be correcting them over the same misbehaviour again tomorrow.

5. Did I have a disordered desire for independence?
My children have a right to ask for more freedoms and liberties, but freedoms and liberties are not rights, but privileges my children have to earn, by showing me their level of maturity. Freedom at too young an age is disordered. Freedom, liberty, Privilege and license are similar but not exactly the same. Further, in order for my children to negotiate greater independence, they must demonstrate greater ability to take responsibility for that greater independence.

6. Did I do my chores?

Extrapolation:
Children should have chores, and pull their weight in house and for the family, each according to their age, maturity, and abilities.

Do I try to mother my children according to these guidelines: yes
Do I always succeed? NO

Am I the best mother in the world: No as is attested by my children at least once every day:
"You are the worst mother in the history of motherhood"

Am I the worst mother in the world: No as is attested by my children at least once every day:
"Mom, you are the best."

IT'S HALLOWE'EN

Elder's the vampiress
Younger's Queen Anne Boleyn
Puff's the seamtress
Bear's the Haberdasher

Not sure who is more frightening.

Now if only I could kind a Vet from whom to purchase a few poppies.

I.D.(TEN) T.

That's the kind of problem most users, like me, have with their computers according to some computer experts.

A candle will be lit for the intentions of whoever first figures out what kind of computer problem an "I.D. (TEN) T." is.

From Puff: On the Mean Streets, Some Kindness

On the way home today, riding the TTC bus I witnessed traffic on a five lane street come to a standstill while a Mamma Canada Goose lead her three goslings with Papa Goose bringing up the rear across the road. It was absolutely beautiful. Everyone while rushing to get home stopping and giving this safe passage. Even when they reached the other side, the last lane waited while papa Goose helped a gosling hop the curb (When the gosling first tried, he flipped backward and fell into the road again. So Papa nudged him back up and stoop guard while the little one tried again.) All of a sudden getting home so quickly didn't seem so important any more. The cars waited patiently until all were off the road.

The sad thing is, that if traffic had been stopped because of an accident which had resulted in a human fatality, how many would have been as sympathetic?

Quick hits

File this one under "mysterious ways": At Mass at the Cathedral of Christ the King last Saturday, the priest during his homily mentioned how that very afternoon, just as he was leaving confessions, a man approached him and asked what confession was about. As they spoke the man revealed that he had once gone to a Catholic school, but had left it all behind. He also said his daughter wasn't baptised, and asked the priest what he should do about that. The priest answered as best he could, and asked us all to pray for the man. The man was there in the first place because his daughter saw the Cathedral as they drove by, and she thought it was a castle, and wanted to go in and see if there was a dragon inside. The man came close, and saw that the lights were on and the door was open (it was the time for confessions, after all) and he took his daughter inside. Strange are the ways that bring us back to a church.

The irony of the above story is that there is a place called "Dundurn Castle" about half a klick up the hill from the Cathedral. The building is more in the style of an Italian villa than a castle, but "Dundurn Italianate Villa" just doesn't have the same ring to it as "Dundurn Castle."

I took my mom and her friend on the long awaited trip and visited three Toronto Churches today: St Clare's, St Patrick's and St Paul's. I checked twice to make sure Mom had her glasses with her this time, and everybody enjoyed themselves. Everything went surprisingly smoothly. We had meant to see St Michael's as well, plus a few others, but there just wasn't time. Mom's friend didn't speak much throughout the trip, but what she said showed she enjoyed herself. St St Paul's, mother asked her if she had seen enough, and she replied: "Oh, I could stay here forever." At the end of the trip she said: "I think I'll just go home now and think of all the beautiful things I saw today."

At St. Clare's we ran into the parish priest, who was doing a little straightening up. "Giving the grand tour, Bear?" he called out. "Make sure you show them the relics." He and I began talking about a few things, preserving history and such, and he mentioned how he thought it was good that although changes had been made to St Clare, most everything had been moved, rather than removed, and therefore most of it could be put back. He was grateful, for instance, that at least part of the original altar had been saved, which makes me think he thinks it a pity the rest had not been saved. He also mentioned that it was too bad something else was taken away: the communion rail. "My first church in Montreal had it," he said. "It's too bad the one here is gone." I had to blink at this. Very few priests I have spoken to miss the rail. I agreed with him, and I mentioned the case of St Paul's, where the communion rail had been made of marble. "Why would they do that?" I wondered rather vehemently.

"Don't be too hard on them," he replied. "Had I been around at the time, I probably would have done the same thing." Now, there are a dozen quips that could be fired off in response to this, but what he said has something to it, and should not be dismissed out of hand. I found my respect for him growing a little, and I held back on any off hand replies.

I asked my wife if she wanted me to take her mother on any tours of the city's churches. Puff just looked at me for a moment before she said: "Bear, mother was born and raised in Italy. A hundred and fifty year old church really won't impress her all that much."

Mom thanked me for taking her out both Saturday and today, but she's starting work on me again. She wants to go to the Toronto Cathedral, for one. She mentioned Martyr's Shrine in passing. She has also been dropping hints about a return to Hamilton Cathedral. "I'm so glad you took me," she said. "I've wanted to go back for so long. It's just too bad I forgot my glasses and I couldn't see anything, and that was probably the last chance I'll ever get to see it. Sigh."

Now you may ask: why does she do this? I have often wondered this myself, and I believe I now have the answer: She does this because it works.

Here and There

I rented a car today, and I went to pick up mother and give her an early Mother's Day treat. (Tomorrow Puff & the kids and I are going to her mother's.) I started by taking her to Christ the King Cathedral in Hamilton for Mass. It is really a lovely place, and I've put it on my list of favourite churches. It has a little interesting past. It was nearly destroyed in a fire some years ago, but the damage has been repaired. The stained glass windows are beautiful. The light from the setting sun hit the windows perfectly and they sparkled like jewels.

It's a Gothic structure, nicely built. It's hard to believe the place is only now celebrating its 75th anniversary. It is such an imposing edifice it appears as though it has always been there, as if the settlers hacking out the forest found a Cathedral amongst the trees.

The cost of building it in the 30's was huge- a million dollars. The bishop spared no expense; it was his stated intention to build "the finest church in Canada." It's walls are of imported cut limestone; the windows from Munich; the Stations of the Cross also from Europe, and carved out of Carrera marble. The bishop in charge was pilloried in the newspapers at the time: What was the bishop thinking, they demanded, building such a place in a time of crisis, while the city languished in the throes of the Depression? Could he not wait to build his Church? To which the Bishop replied: "In a more prosperous time we would pay a more prosperous price." He was correct. He took a fair run at building the finest church, although he was up against some stiff competition in the churches of Quebec and the East Coast.

While there I thought of my father, who grew up in the area and was among the first altar boys at the Cathedral. I could just imagine that little trouble maker serving under the great baldachino. He and the other altar boys used to shoot craps on the front steps until they were caught by the bishop. Not far from the Cathedral is the place where my father was born and grew up. His home was flattened, and a Tim Horton's now stands in its place. Nearby is the hill up Dundurn Street, leading to Dundurn Castle. The hill was a source of income of sorts for my father back in the late 20's and early 30's. The boys in the area discovered that the open back trucks travelling slowly up the hill could not stop for any reason, as their weak brakes could not stop the trucks from rolling backwards down the hill. So the boys would run along behind the trucks on the hill while one of their friends climbed onto the back, and began tossing goods down to the boys below. My father used to laugh as he told me those stories. At the same time, I knew if I ever did any of the stuff he did when he was young, he'd tan my hide.

We travelled around that area of the city a bit. We ate at Easterbrooks, or as I like to call it, the Restaurant Time Forgot. Near there are several cemeteries which hold the dead of our family. I finally found the grave of my grandmother, whom I never met in life. She was a good woman, a stern but loving woman. She was diagnosed with cancer in 1945. The doctor told her she needed an operation. She refused, as there was a chance she would not survive the operation. "I'll wait until my boy comes back from the war." Dad returned early from the war, as he had volunteered to train to fight the Japanese. He was shipped back from Europe just in time for the Japanese surrender, and was therefore one of the first to be demobilised. He went home in August. In September, his mother had the operation, and she died on the table. Dad always felt that he was somehow responsible for his mother's death, and it was a sore that would never heal, thinking that the mother he had disappointed so often may have died because she waited to see him one more time.

We also went to Hamilton cemetery, up on Burlington Heights, where two of my great grandparents are buried. My great grandfather was a comical man. he belonged to a sola scriptura group called the Plymouth Brethren. At some point he read the passage in bible Matthew 6:28-31: "And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?" And there he quit his job and never worked another day in his life. He dressed himself in fine clothes, waxed his beard to perfection, and went everywhere with a jeweled cane. He looked not a little like Colonel Saunders. Dad said: "He was the best dressed bum I ever met." His wife, who was loved and feared in equal measures by her grandsons, had to take on boarders and open a store to support him. They are buried together, and we also found their graves for the first time.

There's an interesting and important piece of nearly forgotten Canadian history in that cemetery as well. There's a length of oddly angled hill not far from the main entrance. It's the remains of a rampart of a British camp from the War of 1812-1814. It was here on the night of June 5-6 1813 that a young man named Billy Green, dirty and tired from a harrowing journey, came with some astonishing news: An American army of about 3500 men was a few miles away, camped for the night at Stoney Creek. Even more, he had brought the British the American password: Will-hen-har, for president William Henry Harrison. The British forces, lead by Colonel Harvey and numbering about 700, decided to risk everything on a surprise night attack. Billy lead them back and in the ensuing battle, called the Battle of Stoney Creek, the Americans were routed and driven back to Niagara. The battle was an important turning point in the war. It was the furthest the Americans ever pushed into Canada during the war, and had they not been stopped, the history of Canada would be entirely different, and quite possibly completely in the past tense.

Mom and the family enjoyed their day out. Mom was rather comical and unfortunate. In her excitement at the thought of going to the Cathedral she forgot her glasses, and therefore the Cathedral, a church she truly loves and has not seen in years, was little more than an indistinct blur to her. I expect she'll be dropping hints about wanting to go back soon.

Speaking of mother, the trip I promised to take her and a friend on is going to take place on Tuesday. I have booked the day off and rented a car. Contrary to expectations, she has kept the number of friends down to one. However, this does not completely allay my fears. She has taken to making statements along the lines of "Well, as long as you have the car we might as well..." I love my mother.

Lastly, the friend I have been trying to persuade to attend Mass will be going to Mass tomorrow. At least I think so. He said he would yesterday, but he never got back to me today. Fingers crossed and prayers ready.