Time to Remember the Month of September

A couple of days ago I looked at the list of my posts on this blog, and I was amazed to see that I haven't posted anything since September 2. So it's about time for an update.

My sister-in-law came for a visit, beginning on Wednesday, September 3. My brother met her at the airport and drove her out here. As it happened, Donald Teeters, a fairly well-known conductor in this area, had recently died, and his funeral was that evening. He had taught her conducting when she was at New England Conservatory, and had visited her school and was a guest in her home one time when he visited Japan. So she wanted to go to the funeral. I brought her to the subway and helped her figure out how to get to her destination. One of her classmates, who lives in eastern Massachusetts, played the organ at the funeral, and gave her a ride home. I still hadn't had my dinner when she got back, so I  shared with her. The gala welcoming dinner of steak was postponed, as was the plan, to Thursday evening.

On Friday, she wanted to visit her organ teacher from the conservatory. The teacher now lives in an assisted living facility about a 50 minute drive from here. I was tied up when she needed to go, so my brother drove her there. About 2 ½ hours later, I went to bring her back. I took a route back home through an area which has very little traffic — country roads through the woods. But along the way there was an ice cream stand, and we each had some, which was refreshing, since the day was hot. That evening it was time for the gala farewell dinner — boiled lobster, steamed mussels, corn on the cob, sponge cake with fruit and whipped cream.

On Saturday morning I brought her to South Station in Boston so she could take the express train to New York where she spent several days visiting my nephew. He and his girlfriend have moved in together, and one feature of the visit was my sister meeting the girlfriend's mother. I understand they got along well. In the olden days, the next step would be for the kids to get married. I hope they will, but nobody's said anything about. Somebody's got to transmit those Naturgesetz family genes to the next generation.


The next big event was my "annual" check-up with my primary care physician on the 11th. He couldn't find anything wrong, except for a bit of ringworm near my right nipple — Gold Bond powder should eventually clear it up. He conducts the exam very conversationally, and of course, I like the chance to be naked with someone pleasant like him. I don't remember other doctors checking for testicular cancer, but he does, and I was surprised at how gently he felt my testicles on both visits — my previous doctor retired and this was my second time with this doctor.


My last Race Committee assignment was on Saturday the 13th. It was a fairly windy day with choppy seas. We had a problem with the mechanical winch which hauls up the anchor. Fortunately, we discovered it early in the day, and by the time we needed to haul up the anchor, the boy who drives the boat and shoots the signal cannons had figured out how to get it working.


The following Thursday, the concert season began for me with the opening night of the Boston Symphony, followed on Friday with a concert by the Boston Artists Ensemble at Salem's historic Hamilton Hall. If you follow the link and then go to "Community" and then to "Lectures" you can read about a series that my mother used to attend for many years. I'm happy to know that they still serve bouillon.


I was invited to dinner with friends on Saturday and then there were two events on Sunday afternoon. First was the funeral of a long-time sailor and member of the yacht club — also an avid and accomplished skier. After the service, the family had a reception at the yacht club. Coincidentally, when I was at the Hamilton Hall website just now, the widow was in the picture at the top of the "Community" page. She's the one on the right. Before that reception was over, I had to go to the other end of the club building to join an "Octoberfest" for the race Committee. Many years ago, I used to bring German Oktoberfest beer and German style cold cuts out to the Race Committee boat for the last event, which fell within Oktoberfest in the old country. Circumstances changed, and it didn't work anymore, but people kept asking for me to revive it. Finally this year, club management put on an event ashore, with advice from me as to what it should include (roast chicken, bratwurst, weisswurst, sauerkraut, potato salad, and Oktoberfest beer from Munich). So it was actually more like the real thing than what I could do on a boat.


The rest of the month was fairly routine. There is a thirty year old guy I've known for a dozen or more years. Last winter he was hospitalized for depression, and now he's moved back to his parents' home. I know he's interested in music, so I thought it might be helpful for him too get out to some of the concerts I go to, so I've given him a list of everything I have planned over the season (basically through April) and said if there are any he'd like to go to, just let me know. We'll see if anything ever comes of it. He mentioned, when I gave him the list, that he especially likes baroque music, which is largely lacking in the concerts I attend. I'll have to keep alert for possibilities from Boston Baroque and the Boston Early Music Festival.

A Funeral with Some Nostalgia

 Today I went back to the monastery where I spent a couple of years as a young man. (There are three other posts with the label "monastery" which say a bit more about it, in addition to the one I've linked.) The occasion was the funeral of one of the monks, Brother Edward, who had entered the monastery about three years before I got there, and graduated from the college about one year befor I arrived. So he was nearly a contemporary. He and I were never particularly friendly — I didn't even really like him very much. But he taught me and other newbies how to make a "profound bow," which was to be done  toward the altar when arriving in the chapel. He demonstrated: legs straight, palms of his hands touching his kneecaps, back straight and nearly parallel to the floor, and weight forward (center of gravity over the feet).

 Late last week, I saw on the college website that he had died, and I decided to go to his funeral. It was a cloudy wet day, with drizzle and occasional showers as I drove there, and steady rain as I drove home. I went into the Abbey church and prayed for a couple of minutes by his coffin and then at the tabernacle. After that I chatted very briefly with a couple of the monks whom I knew from my time there, then strolled around the college campus until it was time for the funeral Mass.

 It was in most respects an ordinary funeral Mass. But there were two bishops there, one a retired bishop who is one of the monks, and the other a bishop who just happened to be there on retreat. Toward the end of his homily, the Abbot gave a quote from St. John Henry Newman, which he said several of the monks had suggested as appropriate for Brother Edward. "To the monk heaven was next door; he formed no plans, he had no cares; {427} the ravens of his father Benedict were ever at his side. He 'went forth' in his youth 'to his work and to his labour' until the evening of life; if he lived a day longer, he did a day's work more; whether he lived many days or few, he laboured on to the end of them. He had no wish to see further in advance of his journey than where he was to make his next stage. He ploughed and sowed, he prayed, he meditated, he studied, he wrote, he taught, and then he died and went to heaven."

 After the Mass, the monks walked ahead of the hearse the hundred yards or so to the cemetery and the rest of us followed behind. There were a couple of college students who had been cantors (leading the singing) during the Mass. They were wearing white shirts and had no coats or umbrellas. They explained that they had not been told completely what was involved (but they had no duties at the cemetery, so they didn't really have to go with us.) I was close to them during the procession, and when we arrived at the cemetery and were standing still, I was able to cover one of them with my umbrella.

 After the committal service, we were all invited to the monastery dining room for lunch — which was the typical catered sandwiches, chicken noodle soup, macaroni salad, etc. One of the monks whom I had known during my time there pretty much insisted that I sit with him, which was okay, and I told him about my career with the IRS and about my current activities (Race Committee, concert- & playgoing, helping in my parish). I also managed to speak briefly with a half dozen or so of those whom I had known when I was there and to become slightly acquainted with a couple who have recently joined and are still in "formation" (training).

 The Abbot — who entered the monastery just after I left, but whom I had known as one of the college students who were thinking of joining — was one of the monks I saw before the Mass, and he urged me to come back and visit the monastery some time. When I saw him again briefly during lunch he repeated the urging. One of the other monks I know, Father William, also made the same suggestion. I've occasionally thought that it would be good to go back occasionally; but as I explained to both of them, I rarely deviate from my routine existence unless somebody or something provides a specific occasion for doing something special. But the abbot gave me his e-mail address, and I think I'll actually follow through and make time for a visit within the next six months or so.

 Nostalgia has arrived.

BTW, as evocative as the quote from Cardinal Newman is, it leaves out one element which is very important — the one highlighted in the earlier post which I linked above — namely love. The monk does all he does as the member of a community of brothers. Perhaps in Newman's day, as in Father Christopher's early years, that aspect of community living, fraternal charity, had been lost sight of.

Sorrow — Update

My friend (I'll call him "Zack") arrived from upstate New York late Friday afternoon and after a brief tour of my hometown we headed in to Boston and had dinner at the restaurant Scollay Square where Seth the waiter had worked. We had a nice dinner, and he enjoyed the restaurant. We then went to a nearby theater to catch a showing of the movie "50/50" which he had seen and wanted to share with me. Unfortunately, it was sold out. So we went back home and watched the ball game on TV for a while. I dozed off. He went to bed, and I did so as well.

When I got up in the morning, I followed my usual routine and didn't bother putting anything on until it was time to leave the house to go to Mass. I figured Zack wouldn't mind, since he had spoken approvingly of being naked. I didn't directly ask how he felt about it, and he didn't volunteer that he had any problem with it. I hope he was okay with it. Before leaving for Mass, I made a pot of coffee for him.

At Mass, there is a short part called the Prayer of the Faithful, and at the church I went to, they invite the congregation to mention things to pray for, so I said, "For the repose of the soul of [the young man] let us pray to the Lord," and all responded, as usual, "Lord hear our prayer."

The funeral home was about a 45 minute drive from my home, and since Zack was not going to come back with me, we decided that I would lead him there. Visiting hours were from 11:00 to 1:00 with a memorial service at 1:00. Zack thought that 11:30 would be a good time to leave, and we actually headed out at about 11:25; but with delays we didn't arrive until about 12:30.

Zack knew many of the people there, and they greeted him warmly. The young man who died had muscular dystrophy; but, as many of those who spoke pointed out, he had always maintained a positive attitude, without complaining. Instead he did what he wanted to do, finding ways to get around his disability. Zack spoke of his five years as the personal care attendant for the young man and of the love in action which his mother had always shown. The mother and son were atheists, but I think of the words in the Bible: God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God and God in them.

The lesson that we were left with is to pay attention to what you can do, rather than what you can't, and to enjoy what you can do and to do what you want. To me this doesn't mean to give in to every whim, but to realize what is important, what is worthwhile, and what is good, and to take advantage of opportunities to do those things, rather than to pursue things which ultimately aren't worth doing. He realized that his time was limited, and he seems to have decided to make the most of it. But for those of us who do not have a debilitating disease like his, it is still a fact that our time is limited, no matter how long it may be, so we too should be spending it wisely, living in the love of our families and friends and pursuing our abilities and talents.

It is a time of sorrow for many at the loss of one they loved from their lives. They will always carry his memory in their hearts. As a Christian, I hold the hope that they will meet him again with joy when their lives on this earth are completed.

Sorrow

Since my retreat last spring, I've been trying to do "spiritual reading" more regularly. Recently, I started a book by Henri J. M. Nouwen titled Can You Drink the Cup? Currently I'm in the part he calls "The Cup of Sorrow," and yesterday I read the following passage.

"… I have become deeply aware of my own sorrow-filled heart. There was a time when I said: 'Next year I will finally have it together,' or 'When I grow more mature these moments of inner darkness will go,' or 'Age will diminish my emotional needs.' But now I know that my sorrows are mine and will not leave me. In fact I know they are very old and very deep sorrows, and that no amount of positive thinking or optimism will make them less. The adolescent struggle to find someone to love me is still there; unfulfilled needs for affirmation as a young adult remain alive in me. The deaths of my mother and many family members and friends during my later years cause me continual grief. Beyond all that, I experience deep sorrow that I have not become who I wanted to be, and that the God to whom I have prayed so much has not given me what I have most desired."

He was born in 1932 and wrote this book in 1996, which was also the year of his death. Had struggled with depression and with same sex attraction, although he apparently managed to remain celibate, which, as a priest, he had vowed to do.


A more immediate sorrow is the death of an acquaintance of mine. The friend I've blogged about before (and see further links) worked — before he moved away — as personal care attendant for a handicapped young man, and they were also good friends. Several weeks after my friend left, the other man's handicap-equipped van rolled into a group at his company picnic, and one man died. This young man died last weekend at the age of 32. I had met him once, very briefly, and found him very pleasant. The news story in today's paper has quotes from a couple of his high school teachers saying how well liked he was as a student. It is sad when someone dies so young, and in this case the sadness is compounded by the fact that his last two months were overshadowed by the tragic accident at the picnic.

My friend will be returning to the area for the memorial service on Saturday. He'll stay overnight at my house Friday night, and we'll go to the funeral home together. Then he'll head home. It will be nice to see him again, but the death of his good friend is a real sorrow for him, so it won't be quite the same as if the visit were simply a holiday.

An Evening with the Habsburgs (on Video)

At dinner with my brother last evening, we were trying to remember what the band played for the recessional at our high school graduations. I suggested Mendelssohn's "War March of the Priests" from Athalia. He didn't think that was it, so after dinner I found a version on YouTube and played it. He still didn't think it was played when he graduated.

One link led to another. Eventually, however, I arrived at the recent funeral of Archduke Otto von Habsburg, who was born in 1912 and was crown prince when his father, Blessed Emperor Karl, abdicated in 1918 and the empire was abolished. Fascinated, I watched videos from Archduke Otto's funeral — the funeral Mass, the funeral procession, and the arrival at the burial crypt's locked doors. To get there, I had watched videos about Otto's mother, Empress Zita (who lived from 1892 to 1989), about her wedding to Karl, about Otto's son George at a Hungarian festival in Toronto (with footage of him speaking in English and also in Hungarian), and of Otto himself speaking in English about religion, politics, and language study (among other things, he found that Bismarck referred fairly frequently to God in his speeches, whereas current Christian Democratic politicians almost never do). If you go to any of the videos I'll link, you can eventually find all of these and much more.

If you have any understanding of German, I recommend taking a look at the following:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slcJRqox1gI&feature=related
the first reading of the Mass, read by Otto's oldest son, Archduke Karl

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EGymFYWJ1BE&feature=BFa&list=ULaPnmYOUHh8w&lf=mfu_in_order
the second reading, read by Karl's 14-year-old son, Archduke Ferdinand Zvonomir,
both of which give some of the context for

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTE2dQ-vibQ&feature=BFa&list=ULaPnmYOUHh8w&lf=mfu_in_order
the homily by Cardinal Christoph von Schönborn, which I earnestly invite all German speakers to listen to, even if you skip all the rest, since I think, as far as I understand it, it presents an excellent summary of Otto's significance; then followed

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EGymFYWJ1BE&feature=BFa&list=ULZtBDVdZgs20&lf=mfu_in_order
intercessions by Otto's children.

After the Mass there was the funeral procession to the Capuchin Crypt. I leave it to you to follow links to videos of the procession if you're interested, but here's the scene at the door.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slcJRqox1gI&feature=related
When Otto is announced by his inherited titles, entry is refused; when he is announced by a listing of his life's works, entry is refused; when he is announced as a sinner, entry is granted.


If you don't know any German, these musical selections will give some idea of the scene in the cathedral.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0A21D7zp1Vk&feature=related
the beginning procession, with the appropriate music from Michael Haydn's Requiem

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tXVt5ScQSqA&feature=related
a fairly common hymn of praise to God

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5V98E3e9eA&feature=related
the imperial hymn, (and I consider it a sign of maturity on the part of the Austrian Republic that this does not seem to have been especially controversial) and

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jm_d5F7QLxM&feature=related
a hymn invoking the intercession of Mary, traditionally sung at the end of the final prayers of the day, as well as at funerals — it asks, among other things that when our life is over she would show us her son Jesus.

There are many other links for Bl. Emperor Karl, Empress Zita, Archduke Otto and their ancestors and descendants.

I found it a fascinating couple of hours, and I've enjoyed reverently revisiting it as I prepared this post. Happy exploring.

Back

I drove to Prince Edward Island for the funeral of the last of my mother's cousins. Martin died as a teenager, Walter died a year ago, and Mary, who had been the one who kept in touch with Mom, died a week ago at the age of 85. She and her husband had no children, but Walter had ten, of whom nine are still alive and six still live on the Island. (They are my second cousins.) Cousin Ed and his wife were in Turkey with their baby, and their daughter Olivia was in Toronto. That left 19 year old Noah and 16(?) year old Gabe, baching it. Cousin Marian was looking in on them when she e-mailed me about the funeral. When I said I'd be there if I could, Noah said, "Joe can stay with us." So that's what I did.

I left late on Monday, spent the night in Augusta, Maine, and arrived in Charlottetown in time for the evening part of the wake on Tuesday. The funeral was Wednesday morning. There was a family gathering afterwards at Noah and Gabe's home. Then in the evening I had dinner at a nice restaurant with Noah and Gabe. Thursday I visited Walter's widow and Mary's widower and left for home. After spending the night in Bangor, Maine, I got home about 2:00 p.m. on Friday.

Of course, there is now a ton of stuff that I could have handled if I had stayed home — not least my income taxes, for which we have an extension to May 11 because of flooding in this area in early April. So although I'm back and catching up on the blogs, I'll probably be posting and commenting less than usual for several more days.

Back Again and Busy

I'm just in from Colorado, where my brother and I went for a funeral. Our cousin's husband's mother died about a month before her 101st birthday would have happened. She had 11 children, six of whom predeceased her. My brother and I flew out to Denver yesterday afternoon, drove a rental car to Pueblo, and then went to the funeral in Avondale this morning. We had to leave at noon to catch our 4:00 flight back to Boston. I wish we had been able to be there longer and spend some time visiting with the family, but they were very happy that we made the effort to be there.

It may seem extravagant, but five years ago, when my mother died, we told this cousin on a Sunday evening. They and their youngest son got in their car and drove from just East of Pueblo the my home near Boston in time to arrive during the wake on Tuesday evening. (I don't think they could have afforded plane tickets.) That was over 2000 miles and 33 hours of driving. If they took 8 hours to sleep along the way, they'd have had to leave at about 2 a.m. on Monday. Each hour later leaving is an hour less to rest.

And now, I've got a cousin from PEI due to arrive Tuesday evening, and I've got to tidy up the mess before she gets here (in addition to my routine activities). So again, you may not see much of me for a while. But I'll post and comment when I have time to stop and draw a breath.

Walter White: RIP

Walter was my mother's first cousin. Until a couple of years ago he lived on the property his great-grandfather had acquired when he emigrated from Ireland to Prince Edward Island in the early 1840's. Walter was born October 9, 1921. Recently he was living in a seniors' lodge in Charlottetown, and he died Monday of pneumonia, having suffered a stroke in mid March.

As a girl, my mother visited the family home on PEI several times and remembered it fondly. We often said we should visit some time, but never did. About three days before she died, a letter came from one of Walter's daughters, Marian, asking for any reminiscences my mother could supply. At that point Mom's memory was pretty much gone, but my brothers and I kept in touch with Marian, and through her reconnected with the family.

In August of 2005, my brothers, sister-in-law, nephew, and I visited Walter and his wife in their ten year old home across the street from the original family home where my mother would have stayed on her visits. Various of their ten children and some grandchildren were also there. I got to spend a night in the old house. At that time, Walter was still rising early each morning to work in his vegetable garden. I visited the family again in 2006 and 2007. By the summer of 2007, Walter had suffered a stroke and was living in the seniors' lodge, but he had planted tomatoes in a couple of available spots adjacent to the driveway.

He is survived by his wife of 63 years, nine of their ten children, numerous grandchildren, and his sister Mary.

I'll be flying to PEI on Wednesday to attend the funeral on Thursday. I'll be staying with Mary, who had exchanged Christmas cards with my mother for years, until Mom's dementia became too debilitating. I'll be back Friday evening.

So I won't be blogging during that time. I'll catch up with you when I get back.

Three Funerals and "Simon Boccanegra"

If I've been commenting on your blogs a bit less than usual, I've been a bit busier than usual. This week I've the events mentioned in the title, and there's even more than that.

The first funeral was yesterday morning. An acquaintance from when I was a teenager whom I've seen off and on over the ears. Couple of years older than me. Member of my church. All-around good guy. Fought cancer for ten years. Cancer finally won. Leaves a widow, three adult children, two brothers, several grandchildren.

Last evening I went to the wake  of the second guy about 30 miles away. Eight months older than me, very active in his parish. I've known him for about 16 years. Heart attack. Visiting hours were 4:00 to 8:00. I arrived at the funeral home just after 7:30. The line was out the door. I got to the family at about 9:15. I understand it had been like that from the beginning. I've never seen anything like it. He obviously touched a lot of people. He leaves his mother, wife, four adult children, and several grandchildren.  I got home a little after 10:00. The funeral was this morning, and it was also thronged.

Thursday at noon will be the funeral of the 85 year old brother of a 90 year old lady who used to talk my ear off on the train as we commuted to work in Boston. She is the aunt by marriage of someone who served with me in town government for a number of years, so she felt she knew me. The man finally succumbed to years of respiratory trouble. He was widowed, and leaves two sisters, three children and four or five grandchildren.

Thursday night I'll go in to Boston to hear a concert performance of Verdi's awesome opera, "Simon Boccanegra." (Lots of Verdi's operas are awesome.) And lucky you can hear it virtually live when the Saturday night performance is streamed over www.wcrb.com at 8:00 p.m. Eastern Time. If you miss it then, you can catch it 8 days later in a delayed rebroadcast/stream over www.wgbh.org on Sunday, February 8, at 2:00 p.m.

Here's an article about the opera from this past Sunday's Boston Globe.

http://www.boston.com/ae/music/articles/2009/01/25/the_psychology_of_power/

The opera has several powerful moments. Right at the beginning there is a great scene for the bass, as he sings of his grief over the death of his daughter and asks her, now in heaven, to pray for him.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UIQEMt0HlOU&feature=PlayList&p=1D7556FE93EC3D82&playnext=1&index=21

Then there is a beautiful scene for the soprano where the orchestra captures the feeling of the rippled sea. The soprano and baritone have a thrilling duet as they realize that she is his long-lost daughter. (Verdi's daughter had died, and he had a thing for father-daughter relationships.) And then there is the Council Chamber scene described in the article, with the noble music for the baritone.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFtKL7k9Xcw&NR=1

That's the end of the scene. The first to sing is Boccanegra, denouncing the strife and calling for peace and love. Also prominent are the irreconcilable Fiesco and Boccanegra's daughter Maria, still believed to be Amelia Grimaldi by all except father and daughter.

Here's the father-daughter recognition scene. The the excitement grows on his part as she describes her earliest memories. At 4:40 he asks if her earliest guardian was named Giovanna, and if the portrait that Giovanna said was her mother matched the one he has. Yes! She is his long-lost daughter, and the daughter of Fiesco's dead daughter. I get tears of joy at their reunion.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BVZQtLelns

Check out the videos, especially if you aren't familiar with opera. You just might find the music powerful.

If you'd like more previews, search YouTube for Boccanegra. And I'm sure you can find a good plot synopsis on Google.