A Lenten Prayer

I was baptized Catholic. I was raised Catholic. I was educated in Catholic schools for sixteen years. I still practice my religion. I am a Catholic. If this offends you, the choice is yours to proceed further.

One of my favorite practices during Lent is a prayer ceremony called The Way of the Cross. Every Catholic church has a set of fifteen scenes on the wall. They are spaced to form a circular journey around the perimeter of the church.

As a kid in a Catholic parochial school, we made the journey every Friday afternoon during Lent after class let out at three.  We assembled in church with our class, and waited for the priest to come accompanied by three altar servers. All of them were dressed in black cassocks and a white surplus. One of the boys carried a pole with a cross at the end.  The other two servers carried a candle stick with a flaming candle. The priest followed.

Usually the service began with the group assembled in the sanctuary at the foot of the altar. The priest read the opening prayer with a response from the congregation. Then the procession began to the first station. As they walked slowly to the first station of the cross, we sang a sorrowful hymn written expressly for this rite. ‘The object was to reflect on Jesus’ journey from his trial, up Calgary to be crucified, and ultimately his resurrection. 

 I clipped the prayer below from a Catholic website. My memory is not that good to be able to recall them here. The paintings are by a  Tucson artist. The originals moved me to tears, my pictures don’t have the same effect.

Pray with me. . .

1. Jesus Condemned

Pilate brought Jesus outside and said to the people, “Look at your king!”

At this they shouted, “Away with him! Crucify him!”

Then Pilate handed Jesus over to be crucified.

“Behold your king,” says Pilate.
“Away with him,” the people shout.
And they sent you to your death.
Lord Jesus, Word made flesh,
Light for our dark world,
God come to save us,
may we never send you away.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

2. Jesus carries his cross

Jesus was led away,
and carrying the Cross by himself,
went out to what is called
the Place of the Skull, Golgotha.

You were led to Calvary, Lord,
carrying the cross by yourself.
Yet was the cross only yours,
or was it also mine you bore?
By your holy cross, O Jesus,
make me strong and able
to take up the cross I must bear.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

3. Jesus falls for the first time

Jesus emptied himself,
and took the form of a slave,
being born in the likeness of men.
He humbled himself,
to death and a Cross.

How strange to see you fall
as anyone does who cannot go on.
And yet you rise again
to take the few steps more you can.
By your first fall, O Jesus,
give your risen grace
to those who fall and cannot rise.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

4. Jesus meets his mother

Simeon said to Mary his mother: “This child is destined to be the downfall and the rise of many in Israel, a sign that will be opposed. And you yourself shall be pierced with a sword, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be laid bare.”

O Mother of my Savior,
you stand beside your Son.
With love beyond all telling,
you share his grief as one.
How shall I know your sorrow,
your tears beyond compare?
Deep in my heart stand watching,
and call my memory there.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

5. Simon Helps Carry the Cross

A man named Simon of Cyrene, was coming in from the fields, and they pressed him into service to carry the Cross.

Simon, coming in from the fields,
was pressed to carry your cross.
Did he come to know you, Lord,
walking by your side?
By your meeting with the Cyrenean,
may we find you in the stranger,
and in the needy we meet.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

6. Veronica wipes Jesus’ face

He who welcomes you welcomes me; and he who welcomes me, welcomes him who sent me. And I promise that whoever gives a cup of cold water will not want for a reward.

A woman named Veronica
kindly washed your face with a towel.
Such a simple thing!
A towel, a cup of water, a loving word.
By your meeting with Veronica, Lord,
help us value such small things,
so great when given in your name.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

 

7. Jesus falls the second time

But I am a worm and no man; the scorn of all, despised by the people. All who see me scoff at me.

Can God fall, a mighty God,
whose hands uphold all that is?
By your second fall, O Lord,
remember how weak we are,
remember our helplessness,
remember our human frailty,
and come to our assistance.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

8. Jesus meets the women

A great crowd of people followed him, including women who beat their breasts and lamented over him.

Women wept as you passed
and you said, “Weep not for me
but for your children.”
Keep the grace of this meeting
alive in our hearts, Lord.
Keep us concerned
for humanity’s children.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

9. Jesus falls the third time

I am like water poured out; all my bones are racked. You have brought me down to the dust of death.

Like water poured out,
your strength is gone.
You fall as if to the dust of death.
By your third fall, O Lord,
give us courage before our trials
and patience to go on.
Help us in our need.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

10. Jesus is stripped

They stripped off his clothes
and began to mock him saying:
“All hail, king of the Jews!”

They divided your garments
and cast lots for your clothes.
Stripped of all dignity,
you had nothing of your own.
By your despoilment, O Lord,
clothe us in your mercy
which is rich beyond words.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

11. Jesus is nailed to the cross

After carrying his Cross, Jesus came to the Place of the Skull (in Hebrew, Golgotha). There they crucified him and two others with him.

Nailed to the cross,
you know how many feel
who, bound by circumstance,
year by year get nowhere.
By your riven hands and feet, Lord,
help those fixed to a cross
by long illness or misfortune.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

12. Jesus dies

Jesus said, “I thirst!” and they gave him wine.

“It is finished”!” he cried, and gave up his spirit.

Once the prophet said:
“Who can believe our report?”
God’s Servant, crushed in sorrow,
pierced for our offenses!
Shall we not stand watching, Lord,
mourning the sins you bear,
rejoicing in the pardon you bestow?

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

13. Jesus is taken down from the cross

When the soldiers came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. But one of the soldiers thrust a lance into his side, and blood and water flowed out.

Resting in your mother’s arms
when taken from the cross,
you died trusting a Father’s care,
faithful unto death.
By your holy death, O Lord,
give us an unfailing trust in God,
commend us to your Father’s hands.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

14. Jesus is buried

Joseph of Arimethea asked Pilate for the body of Jesus, and wrapped it in perfumed oils. Then he buried Jesus in a tomb close at hand.

You were buried in a garden tomb,
like a seed fallen into the ground,
waiting to rise again.
Lord, help us rise again
after dying with you.
May all who have fallen asleep
rise again.

Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be

Christ rises

On the third day he rose again.

Suddenly, without warning,
Jesus stood before them and said, “Peace!
Do not be afraid!
Go and carry the news to the others
that they are to go to Galilee
where they will see me.” Matthew 28

PIMA AIR MUSEUM

     Several times, I drove past a place I have wanted to see. Time was always my enemy, and another time it was the weather. This year, Peggy and I had the perfect day, and the timing was right.  We were driving from Bisbee to Tucson on Interstate-Ten when an information sign cited the Pima Air and Space Museum.  Without thinking or asking her if she was interested, I pulled the Death Star Avalon off the I-10 at exit 267. The rest was easy. We followed the signs to the museum entrance.

     I was not attracted to a building filled with old airplanes as much as I was to taking a tour of the United States Air Force’s surplus storage facility at Davis -Monthan Air Base. The airbase is immediately adjacent to the museum.  We parked and spoke to a volunteer who was directing people to various attractions. He told us that tour tickets of the airbase were available inside the museum.  The next tour was an hour and a half away, so we bought entrance into the museum, and the airbase.

     The first plane we saw after passing the gate into the museum hall was a full-scale replica of the Wright Flier hanging overhead. The plane impressed me as being much larger than I had imagined. I have seen ultra-light planes that are smaller. I always envisioned something a bit larger than a hang glider.

     The first room was loaded with older planes hanging from the ceiling and more parked on the floor. Many of these were from the thirties, and I had never seen them in real-life, only pictures. I gawked and took pictures.

     We passed into the next room and I almost fainted. There in front of me stood a SR 71 Blackbird. Until a few years ago, when it was retired from service, this plane was the most confidential in the fleet.  The history of the plane is now leaking out in anecdotal accounts on the internet.  After the Russians shot down Gary Powers in the original U-2 spy plane, the US needed another way to see what our enemies were doing. This plane was the answer. It flew higher, and faster, than any plane on earth.  No one tells what top speed it is capable of, but the stories mention 2500 mph. The stories also mention pilots who out ran missiles fired to destroy them.

     In the same room with the SR 71, there were a couple of WWII seaplanes. I remember these from newsreels about the war that I saw in the movies as a kid. Again, I was amazed at the size of these things.

     It was time to leave for the tour. We still had not seen the airfield outside loaded with B52’s, C5A’s and every kind of big plane ever used by the Military. That will be a reason for returning.

     Because we were entering a military base, the tour leader called our names and matched our picture ID to the names on his list. There were about forty people on this tour. The bus was air-conditioned and comfortable. Our tour guide introduced himself as a retired Air Force Major who flew an F105 during Viet Nam. His used the call name “Cappy.”

     Cappy took us through the gates and down a special avenue cleared for tour buses. The scene that unfolded amazed me. The estimated value of the surplus aircraft in storage here is thirty billion dollars. There are row after row of airplanes of every type; attack, fighter, radar, bombers, transports, etc. They go on for miles. All of them are neatly parked, and packaged for long- term storage.  Many of the planes are reserved for future deployment. They cannibalize another bunch for parts to keep the current fleet operational.  The facility also acts as a parts depot for planes from foreign countries. I heard a statistic that for every dollar of cost spent to operate this facility the Air Force gets ten dollars in return. That is not bad for a government operation. Maybe the Air Force should run the Post Office.

     Major Cappy told stories about every plane we passed. His knowledge of the aircraft was credible. The tour lasted an hour, but felt like fifteen minutes. I want to go back and see the remainder of the museum soon.

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I Like Street Rods Better Than Hot Rods

 After I win the Mega Millions lottery, I am going to buy a new car. It won’t be an Obama-de-ville, but rather a custom built street rod. I will begin with an older U.S.built car from the 1934 through 1959 period.  I will have it designed and built to my specs. It will be as stylish as anything from today’s car makers. The reliability will rival cars from Japan. The design will include all the modern technology that makes a 2010 car what it is: Electronic ignition, fuel injection, four wheel power disc brakes, automatic transmission with overdrive, power steering, and more. The cabin amenities will include air conditioning, power windows, keyless ignition, heated leather power seats,and more. In other words, it will be a 2010 car with a slightly used and reconditioned body.

Today’s street rods are an offshoot of the  hot rods that are made for speed, and drag racing.  Street rods are  totally drivable.  I am amazed at the design ingenuity of hot rodders that build their own cars. I recently met a man who has customized a 1939 Buick (shown below). He’s been building, and re-designing car for twenty years.  

Why does it take so long? Well, one reason is money. The builders usually have a day job with limited money to spend. A second reason is time. Most of these guys are family men and spend time on their cars after family and work obligations are met. Some of them run body shops, so they can work on their cars when business is slow.

The hobby of custom hot rod building is a huge business in America. There are many organizations dedicated to supporting  the builders. The  National Hot Rod Association, Good Guys, National Street Rod Association are a few of them. One of my most popular weblogs is  I Prefer Hot Rods With Fenders. This simple report keeps my BLOG alive with viewers.  Hopefully this post will be enjoyed as well. I photographed the cars in this collection at the Tinley Park, Illinois Cruise Night on a Friday in August, 2009.

All of these cars were saved from the junk yard. They all look pretty and go like hell! ENJOY.

After this post, I may even buy a lottery ticket.

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Like My Drunken Uncle Mike

 

     This will sound like I am trying to make my friends and readers feel bad, but yesterday it was cloudy, and cool (fifty-nine degrees) in the desert. The skies threatened rain, blocked the warmth of the sun, and promoted depression. To offset the mood, Peggy and I went to the show. Why waste a cloudy day? There are seven movies on our “to see,” list. We have seen three of them already. It was my turn to pick, and I chose to see Crazy Heart, with Jeff Bridges. I was not disappointed. The drama was there. The actors were the characters. The story, although fiction, was so real it seemed to be a true story.

     I would have liked more country music but it would have detracted. The film left me thirsting for more.  I heard undertones of Waylon Jennings in some places, and Willie Nelson in others.  Jeff Bridges actually sang some of the songs and did a credible job. He sounded like a broken down fifty-seven year old country western singer. It was exactly his part in the film.

     The main character Bad Blake is an alcoholic. Bridges plays the part so well, that it evoked the memory of my alcoholic Uncle Mike; except that my Uncle was a stupid drunk. He became a complete ass when drunk out of his mind. Bridges’ character was semi-functional, and only partly stupid. Jeff Bridges was very accurate in his portrayal. We drove home with me telling Peggy stories about Uncle Mike’s toots.

     White haired seniors filled Arrowhead 18-Theater to capacity for the 2:20 p.m. showing.  At the end, everyone remained. The movie ended, but we wanted to see more. We wanted the story to continue. Bad Blake is a character that deserves another chapter, and the writer Scott Cooper could easily write a sequel that would be just as compelling as the first.

     Jeff Bridges, co-star Maggie Gyllenhaal, and the song The Weary Kind  have been nominated for Academy Awards.  All of them have my vote; they are that good.

Lyrics to The Weary Kind by Ryan Bingham

Your heart’s on the loose
You rolled them seven’s with nothing lose
And this ain’t no place for the weary kind

You called all your shots
Shooting 8 ball at the corner truck stop
Somehow this don’t feel like home anymore

And this ain’t no place for the weary kind
And this ain’t no place to lose your mind
And this ain’t no place to fall behind
Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try

Your body aches
Playing your guitar and sweating out the hate
The days and the nights all feel the same

Whiskey has been a thorn in your side
and it doesn’t forget
the highway that calls for your heart inside

And this ain’t no place for the weary kind
And this ain’t no place to lose your mind
And this ain’t no place to fall behind
Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try

Your lovers won’t kiss
It’s too damn far from your fingertips
You are the man that ruined her world

Your heart’s on the loose
You rolled them seven’s with nothing lose
And this ain’t no place for the weary kind

The Well

     My family lived in a big city, so spending time on Grampa Jim’s farm during the summer was fun.    His house did not have running water, so we didn’t take baths often. When we did take a bath, Mom had my older brother fill the big round washtub with water.  The tub was set-up on bricks to lift it off the ground.  Mom made sure the tub was right outside the back porch door. Brother pumped a bucket of water out of the well and carried it to the washtub.  He filled the tub, one bucket at a time. Next, Gramps lit a fire under it to get the water hot. Then the baths began.  One by one, we had a turn in the tub.  The last one had to bathe in the soapiest, dirtiest, coolest water.

     Because Gramps lived alone, he never had a problem with a water shortage. When the family came for the summer, we often ran the shallow well dry.  It was only twenty feet deep and thirty-six inches in diameter.  The soil on the farm was sand, and to keep the well hole from collapsing, Dad lined it with huge round tiles. Stacked one above the other they formed a huge tube that stuck out of the ground. Grampa Jim and Dad completed the well by building a wooden frame over the tiles.  Dad planked the frame to protect the well from critters. 

     One hot July day the well ran dry. Gramps decided that it was time to clean it out.  He claimed that sediment built up on the bottom was impeding the flow of water. On a good day, ten feet of water-filled the casing.  When the well slowed, the level dropped to two feet. Sometimes we pumped, and pumped, but nothing came up. We had to give the well a day of rest. The water came from a water table near the bottom.  As the heat of the summer dried the ground, the water level dropped and kept from filling the well.

     Grampa Jim got everything ready for cleaning on the following day: a ladder, bricks, a bucket, rope, and a scoop.  His plan was to use the ladder to get to the bottom. Once down, he would impede the flow of water by laying bricks on the bottom. Finally, he would dig out the muck. For that, he used the scoop and bucket.  We were to hoist out buckets of muck.

      Before we began, we took turns pumping out the little water that remained.  When it was as dry as we could get it, we pulled the cast iron pump and the pipe.  Next, we lowered the rickety homemade ladder into the casing.  It was nearly vertical in the hole with just enough room for a very tiny person to fit and creep down. Grandpa Jim climbed on the ladder and disappeared into the darkness.  We lowered a bucket of bricks, using the weathered clothes line.  The bucket reached the bottom

      As small as he was, Gramps had trouble bending down to place the bricks. He managed to get the few bricks in place, and asked that we lower some more.  We were lowering the load when the rope broke.  The bucket of bricks hit Gramps right square on the top of his head.  I thought for sure we killed him.  My heart jumped into my throat!  We heard a thud followed by the most guttural groan. There was a long silence followed by a litany of unknown Hungarian words.  What a relief it was to hear those words.

      Gramps stayed in the well for a long time waiting for the stars to stop. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, he slowly came up the ladder.  He had a deep gash in his head on top of an enormous goose egg.  Mom helped stop the bleeding, and cleaned the cut.  She chinked a piece of ice from the icebox to keep the swelling down.

     After a while, Gramps came back out, and fixed the old rope.  This time, however, he doubled and tripled the rope back on itself to make it stronger.  Eventually, the well got cleaned.

     I don’t think cleaning the well-got us more water, but it did make the water cleaner. Gramps held a glass full up to the sky.  If the water sparkled like crystal, he declared it was clean. If he saw black particles swirling around, it was dirty.  Regardless, we used it.