My letter to the Knights of Columbus, to be printed in this weekend's newsletter:

The last time I wrote you, things seemed so much different.

Our country concluded a long, divisive election season by essentially keeping the same people in we’d complained did nothing the last four years. Michelle and I were but weeks away from a trip to Rome we anticipated and saved for for three years. Beautiful children at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut anticipated Christmas with their families.

We concluded 2012 seeming to count only on two constants we long joke about with resignation: death and taxes. We wonder who will pay more than discover the joke’s on us. We look toward heroes of our shared pop culture past (Whitney Houston, Dick Clark, Davy Jones, Andy Griffith, et al) trying to remember when they - and we - were young.

Any death takes part of your innocence with it. Twenty-six deaths that demonic December morning in Newtown tore more than those loving, beautiful children from their families and people who loved them. They reset everything we treasure, put a nation’s entire set of priorities in perspective. It is one thing to discuss an ever-growing national debt our children will never live to pay. It’s another to realize children paid with their lives for our violent, vengeful culture, our treatment of mentally ill, our fear of overbearing government and yes, our irresponsible handling of guns. It has to do with how little human life is valued next to ego, status, revenge.

Trace the slippery slope back to the January day 40 years ago when abortion on demand became legal and with it, a pro-life movement galvanized over two generations. It’s victories are recognized: a January Time magazine story notes four states have but one abortion clinic in operation and overall more than 1,000 such centers have closed nationwide. The same article mentions 41% of the population consider themselves pro-choice.

Approaches can change even as pro-lifers work together. Nearly 600,000 people, many your brother Knights and their families, converged on Washington for its March for Life. But are they confronted with bloody images of aborted children to remind them abortion is murder and its practicers criminals? Or are they empowered with ultrasounds, heartbeats and images to see the potential a young, scared woman holds inside her for her future?

Al Kresta, national Catholic radio host (if a rather humorless one), debated this issue with National Catholic Register blogger Simcha Fisher (who opposed these images as scary to children and accusatory to post-abortive mothers) and pro-life pioneer Dr. Monica Miller, with the stridency and militancy you expect from people on opposite sides of a timeline (but not opposite sides of an issue.) But even as Dr. Miller correctly states these pictures show these children did not die in vain, she failed to understand a new generation would not be scared or grossed out into saying yes to life. It’s the difference between being anti-abortion and pro-life, the difference between needing to fight an injustice and making the philosophy behind it work in every area of your life.

Count our Order with those standing for what life can be, and in a positive way. We gave out Precious feet pins after Masses January 20, the actual date Roe v Wade was handed down. We raised money at our Paul Bunyan breakfast to award some to a church group of stay at home moms. That on top of Diane Hanson twice visiting our church to update us on what Immokalee Pregnancy Center is doing to save babies and women’s lives.

Rocker Lenny Kravitz starred in “The Hunger Games” a thought-provoking, disturbing yet wildly popular film about teens hunting each other in a post-apocolyptic America. Seeing the horror of Sandy Hook he asked, “Would you give up your rights to guns to have those children back?” The tragedy is we are not given the chance to answer. We can only protect what we still have and fight abortion where we still can, with prayer and service. It’s only then you can help see no one dies unloved, umourned, or unnoticed from their conception to their natural death.

It was a busy January and early February. We’ll recap it and plan for two of our signature events - the Lenten fish fries and essay contest - at our next meeting. See you there.

STANDALONE PLAYER/RESTRICTED TUNES-#2 (playlist)

Stephen Stills - Stephen Stills (Full Album)

Full Albums (playlist)

The Jeff Beck Group - Beck-Ola (1969) Full Album

Have to appreciate the kind words so many left me when I left a remembrance of my dad here a couple of days ago. It had been years since I blogged here as I leave so much of what I do online through Facebook. But I will revive this blog as a means to get some of the letters out I send our Knights through our monthly newsletter and the occasional interesting piece as I see it. I will share more...

Congratulations Gary!

Has there ever been a better time to be a Catholic?

Yeah, I wonder how you say something like that, especially after the last few months. Msgr. William J. Lynn and my former high school bandmate Rev. Jim Brennan fight for their freedom in Philadelphia court, remnants of a priest pedophile scandal Catholics long wished behind them. Daily headlines tell of protests over the Obama administration's health and human services mandate (including ones this week in Naples and Sarasota), over rights of homosexuals to marry (and redefine Christ's definition of that sacrament),  to apparently place nuns (and, by extension, women) under their procedural thumbs and make them just change their ways. Not to mention Sister Margaret Farley's "Just Love," a six year old book criticized by the Catholic Church for contradicting its teaching on human sexuality, only to top the salacious "50 Shades of Gray" series of Amazon.com.

But notable Catholic media personalities can speak out, no? Well, no: Father Thomas Williams, CBS-TV commentator and the most public face of the beleaguered Legion of Christ order, was removed from ministry overconfirmation he fathered a child. Even the month's good news, the release of the all-star, swashbuckling religious adventure "For Greater Glory," was tempered with odd reviews negatively emphasizing the film's Catholic slant (never mind Catholics made it, starred in it, and portrayed those who died in the Cristeros fighting with the Mexican government.) Do we have to hand New York Times Catholic bashers Maureen Dowd and Frank Rich more targets?

And yes, this is a great time to be Catholic and fly against popular culture, to repeat G.K. Chesterton:: "I am quite ready to respect another man's faith; but it is too much to ask I respect his doubt, his wordly hesitations and fictions, his political bargain and make-believe." It's a great time to stand outside time, praise a Church of sacraments and not simply social service; support priests, sisters and bishops not just for what they do every day but what they preach with and without words.

This is what is meant by "first principles" the bishops speak of and of which Chesterton again said, " “The act of defending any of the cardinal virtues has today all the exhilaration of a vice." If you arm yourself with knowledge and faith (not with arrogance), you can protect the Church intellectually the way so many martyrs did with their lives and futures- in Mexico and worldwide, even to Margeaux Graham, the young lady who recently gave up American Legion camp honors so not to miss Mass (even though they condescending told her, "God will understand." Your life may not be threatened (but heck, may come to that someday at this rate). But it could be your friendships, your career progress, veneer of hipness, longing to be in what CS Lewis called "the inner ring...(where) we four or five all huddled around this stove -- are the people who know." (Look up or read his entire essay,"The Inner Ring." It could stand for how an Order based on charity and fraternity should and should not be run.

 That said, I'm glad to pass good news on that should have happened long ago.

Gary Hubert has long been about the Knights and our Order It was a matter of time before he took a leadership role. He has served nearly every position including a term and a half as Grand Knight. He brought Ron Bill and I to fourth degree (and is still trying to get me into color guard)! It extends beyond meetings he attends and fund and spirit-raising events he participates in. Gary lives and breathes what the Knights stand for: patriotism for our military (he is a Desert Storm veteran), fraternity of working with a close group of men dedicated to common purpose, with the women they love supporting their work.

I got Gary's call Thursday night and knew he was not his laid-back self. He was excited, having received word of the promotion to district deputy from John Fazackererley,  aide to state secretary Christopher Kernan. Most telling in John's email was Gary's getting the post after being "highly recommended to us for the position by other DD’s in the area." This no doubt included fine men who've served in this role: Richard Cain,  Ed Smith, Ray Sucik instantly come to mind.  Little things we do get noticed.

Gary will be Deputy for a new district of four parish councils including ours, St. Columkille, All Saints, and Blessed Pope John. He has a tall order if you read the handbook and Reference guide Gary no doubt memorized:

" The district deputy is the representative of the supreme knight and the state deputy and is responsible for the supervision, growth, expansion, general care and well-being of the councils assigned to his district. (Section 62, “Charter, Constitution and Laws of the Order”). He is the key to the success of the Order. His responsibilities include ensuring that his councils follow the Order’s laws and rules, promoting effective membership recruitment and retention programs, identifying and developing new council locations, assisting councils in conducting relevant service programs, and monitoring the general financial and social health of the councils in his district."

In other words, you must love it to keep it, maintain it, and grow it. Gary has, and will.

I am grateful for so many people who responded to my remembrances of my dad. It's been nearly six years since I blogged actively but I will make more of an effort to be here...especially with some of the pieces I write for my Knights newsletter and other worthwhile things worth mentioning. It's just that Facebook has allowed me to make shorter, funnier remarks more people have responded to.  I'm just glad the blogs are still here to remind me, even now, how different my life is from 10 years ago.

I walked along Fort Myers Beach with Michelle and the children late Saturday afternoon at sunset. It was a trip I'd taken with and without a girlfriend, or kids, almost every other Sunday night in the four years I'd been divorced.

I had my cell phone in my pants pocket and stumbled for it as it rang. I missed the call, but caught the number with PA area code and called back. It was Franny, my dad's 85-year-old girlfriend, asking me to convince my dad to stay with her and be safe while my sister and her boyfriend were at the New Jersey casinos.

I spoke to him, telling him about the cool beach breeze and what the children had been doing and my ex, soon to remarry. The children each spoke to him also, shouting in the phone above the waves and seagulls and kids shouting. I spoke to him too, telling him I loved him and he should stay with Franny. Finally he ended the call first as he always did, saying, "All right Anthony, I'll let you go." We said our goodbyes and hung up.

I have to thank Franny, and the Lord Himself, for those few moments on that beach in what had been an ordinary Saturday afternoon. It would be the final time I'd speak with my dad, who passed away last night after two major heart attacks in an afternoon. He died two weeks short of Father's Day (as my mom died a week before Mother's Day, 15 years before.) He also died two months short of his 80th birthday, the final member of his family (parents, two brothers, one sister) to pass on.

I will miss Dad the rest of my life and owe so much to him for shaping who I am as a man and as a father. It all seems distant for me, missing him here in SW FL and looking at past pictures recent as this Thanksgiving. Michelle met him that magical weekend for the first time (and he told my sister, "She's good for him," nothing I didn't already know.) The children lost a grandfather and will miss our outings when I'd bring them to see him in August, taking care of stray cats drinking coffee, and smoking cigarettes on his back porch.

I can't begin to describe here how much he meant to me, especially the last 15 years of his life after my mother passed on. Franny and my sister Gerladine deserve and need my prayers, for they took care of him those years and saw he went where he needed to, was fed and kept comfortable in his home. My dad didn't die lonely, and they are to thank for that.

Tomorrow I fly to Philadelphia and begin the long, painful process of viewing and funeral and luncheon, plus estate and the dreaded red tape. The hardest part will be walking into our home, the one I spent half my life in, looking for him lying in his bedroom or coming out of the hallway, and not seeing him. May God bless my dad and everyone who loved him.

Thinking 'Bout New Orleans

Having some rare hours free on a Sunday afternoon, I caught a quick gym workout when I heard Ray Nagin had been re-elected mayor of New Orleans. The same Ray Nagin dressed as a would-be Willie Wonka on tee shirts throughout NOLA's French quarter, starring in "Nagin and the Chocolate City."
Absolutely amazing.

All this after my beloved and I returned two weeks ago from the second weekend of NO's Jazz and Heritage Festival, which this year was as much an act of defiance as celebration for the city's music and culture. The big names showed up: Keith Urban gave a rollicking set for what seemed to be a sea of teenagers and young adults, walking through the festival crowd as he sang "You'll Think of Me" and "Days Gone By." He closed the song by quoting with lines from Bruce Springsteen's "The Rising," continuing a theme the Boss himself established with his stunning Jazz Fest appearance the week before.

Jimmy Buffett, one of the most reliable concert attractions ever, graced the stage Saturday afternoon amidst reports of storms heading to New Orleans. The storms broke in two and went around the city, just as Jimmy said he was promised by two nuns he'd seen that morning in the Quarter. He then sang "City of New Orleans," partly to salute the city and for closure after performing the song during his legendary performance at Chicago's Wriglet Field. He worked from there through his classics, mixing New Orleans references in like Chef Paul's spice in songs like "I Will Work for Gumbo," "Come Monday," "Brown Eyed Girl," and a jamming version of Jerry Garcia's "Deal." And yes, the crowd yelled for salt during "Margaritaville," and finned to the left and to the right.

Paul Simon was the key national attraction for Sunday, with warm versions of early Simon & Garfunkel and solo hits ("Slip Slidin' Away," "Me and Julio," a rollicking "Cecilia." He also invited local heroes Irma Thomas, Allen Touissant, and Buckwheat Zydeco to play with him on "Bridge Over Troubled Water," and "Graceland." His fine set had even more impact when it was announced festival closer Fats Domino would not be able to play due to ill health.

The city's vibrant local music scene was also well represented. The Dirty Dozen Brass Band mixed classic New Orleans drumline with R&B and hip hop as they worked through "Feets Don't Fail Me Now," AWB's "Pick Up The Pieces," and the stalwart "When The Saints Go Marching In." Marcia Ball revved it up in the blues tent, delivering a powerhouse version of Randy Newman's "Louisiana 1927" surrounded by Jerry Lee Lewis-style boogie woogie piano. Only Little Feat's set fell flat, with the exception of Buffett helping out on "Dixie Chicken."

It seemed the town, still trying to rebuild, put its best face on for its visitors. People smiled when we biked by washed out neighborhoods asking how we were enjoying the Fest. The food was as delicious as ever, not only at tourist stalwarts like Emeril's and the Court of Two Sisters but along stands at the festival itself. All this even as the piles of trash and abandoned cars remind you again of the punishment New Orleans suffered (shocking even to someone like yours truly who endured Hurricane Charlie in 2004 and Wilma in 2005, with another hurricane season set to arrive in two weeks.

We made many friends, and shared music reviews with them as we met for morning coffee or an evening glass of wine. We heard a lot of great music, not only on the Jazz Fest stages but a superb gospel show Saturday night featuring the legendary Five Blind Boys of Alabama. We enjoyed delicious food (and even saw the celebrity chef, Emeril, bam it through.) And we biked everywhere we needed to go in between to burn it all off. In the end, Michelle and I now know what it means to miss New Orleans and are thinking about where to go next and how soon we can come back. She said it best: "They move when the music plays. They're my kind of people."