Sweet The Wood, Sweet The Sign

Charles' latest article for our diocesan newspaper, The Southeast Alaska Catholic, is so good, I thought I would share it with you!  Enjoy!

Remembering

Happy Birthday Dear Mary, Happy Birthday To You

Today, September 8, is the Feast of the Nativity of Mary, and our parish's feast day.  Our parish name is the Cathedral of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, which means that I have to write very small when I write out that weekly collection check.

We always have a celebration at the parish on (or close to) her birthday.  This year, because it  falls on a Saturday, we will have special readings and emphasis on Sunday, as will every other parish that has this patronal feast.

Until I moved to Juneau, this feast day didn't mean that much to me.  The Annunciation: of course!  Christmas: absolutely.  But the birth of Mary?  Not so much.

But the conception and birth of Mary are very important in our faith story.

Joachim and Anna, Mary's parents (and Jesus' grandma and grandpa!) were surprised by the late in life pregnancy and delighted by the birth of a little daughter.

They watched her grow into a toddler, a preschooler (maybe they didn't have preschools in Nazareth) a school aged child, a tween, and a teenager.  They watched with pride as she was betrothed to a nice carpenter and then were no doubt worried when she became pregnant while still unmarried.  They worried as they saw her off on a journey to participate in the census - wondering if her child would be born along the way.  They were frantic when Mary, her husband Joseph and their grandson had to flee to Egypt.  

This was probably not the life they had imagined for their daughter.  I would imagine that Joachim and Anna had probably already died before Jesus began his public ministry, suffered his Passion, and rose again.  I'll bet that when He returned to heaven, he had some explaining to do to grandma and grandpa...

But to get back to the subject, today, we celebrate Mary's birth.  Conceived and born without sin, so to be a worthy vessel to carry the Son of God, she is Mary: The Mother of God, Mary: The God-Bearer, The Theotokos, and the Mother of us all.

Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us, who have recourse to you!

Oil, That Is...Black Gold. Texas (I Mean, Alaska) Tea

I live in Alaska - one of the richest oil producing states in the Union.

We heat with oil in our house.

Every time the oil company (Taku Oil Sales), fills our tank, it costs between $800 - $1000.

So, we make monthly payments to Taku Oil Sales, because we can't afford to drop that much money at one time.

The problem is, the Taku Oil Sales won't deliver oil if you are carrying a balance.  I understand they have to pay for the oil they sell, and pay their employees, etc.  I understand all that.

However, we are out of oil.

If we lived in Florida or Southern California or Arizona, this wouldn't necessarily be a problem.  But, like I said, we live in Alaska.

The days are getting cooler.  The nights are getting colder.  The leaves are falling from the trees.

We are bundling up during the day and making fires in the woodstove at night.

I called the oil company to tell them we are out of oil.  They said to pony up the rest of our balance (almost $1500), or they won't fill our tank.

So, while our plan was to pay down our credit cards to eventually be debt free (ha!), I now have to cobble together enough to pay the %*&@ bill with the cards so they will come and fill our tank, which will incur another charge of almost $1000.

I hate stressing about money.  We will get our Permanent Fund Dividends in October (we plan to do major car repairs with that money), and also royalties from Charles' book (yay!), but the oil company can't wait for payment until October, and we can't wait until October for oil.

Grr.

Black Gold, indeed.

Alaska Oil Pipeline

A Slightly Crazy, But Maybe Good, Idea

Flotsam

 The other day, at the parish picnic, I was talking to a friend who was bemoaning the fact that she was so far behind in her housework that she was afraid she would never catch up.  I said that I have a bunch of things I want to get done as well, but I can't seem to motivate myself to do them.

Then I said: "Wouldn't it be great if we could form a group that would commit to spending a few hours every couple of weeks to help each other with these kinds of things?"

It would be like a chore co-op.  One person might need to paint a room, another might need to refinish her wood floors, and a third might just need to deep clean her house.  The group would meet at each other's houses, work for a few hours and then order pizza, break out the wine and celebrate their accomplishment.

My only problem would be revealing how disgustingly filthy my house really is, how scuffed the floors, how dingy the walls, how embarrassingly high the piles of flotsam and jetsam my family can produce.  But, if I could get a group of women to help me with my chores, I could be persuaded to get over this particular hurdle.  Not to mention how happy I would be to help other women with their house keeping jobs.  I always work better when I have someone working with me.  It would be like an old fashioned barn raising, or a quilting bee, only slightly different.

Am I crazy, or is this a good idea?

Jetsam

The View From The Rookery

"Sometimes I Sits and Thinks, And Sometimes I Just Sits"

                                                                 Satchel Paige

Today I got up early to pick Miguel up at the airport after his road trip from Prince Rupert, B.C. to Billings, Montana.  It is so good to have him home.

I ran errands later in the morning, first, to the gallery to restock our Christmas cards, and then to the pharmacy to pick up prescriptions.

Finally, I treated myself to some quiet time at the Rookery (my favorite coffee shop) for a few minutes to sit and read in my favorite spot by the window.

I found myself distracted by the tourists walking by.  We are over run with tourists this time of year - they come in on huge cruise ships that look like sky scrapers turned sideways, floating down the Gastineau Channel.  By this time of the summer, we are getting tired of dodging them as we attempt to drive down town.  But, they bring a lot of revenue to our little city, and I always remind myself that they are individuals, coming to Alaska for a trip of a lifetime.

The gallery was crowded the other day with visitors - from Germany, England, New Zealand, Australia, Taiwan, Japan, and from other parts of the United States.  Often they come in, look around and exclaim: "Ahh, real things!"  They are directed on the ships to shop at the stores owned  by the cruise companies, so when they stumble upon our gallery, they are delighted there there are no items made in China, no t-shirts, no kitsch, just beautiful artwork, photos, and jewelry made by local artists.

Anyway, back to my time at the Rookery today:  I was sitting in my window seat, watching the tourists stop outside the window and peer in (I felt kind of like a zoo animal).  Sometimes they would decide to come in, and I would be treated to their conversations (only if in English or Spanish).  They talked excitedly about what they had seen that day (the Mendenhall Glacier, bears, whales, the hatchery), and what they planned to do later (shop, go back to the ship and rest, hike, visit the museums), and I would smile to myself because they were so happy to be here.

I sometimes think, watching the tourists, that they spend thousands of dollars to come here and see these wonders, when I can see them all the time if I want to.

It definitely is a reminder of how lucky I am to live here, where the waterfalls cascade off the mountains so powerfully that we can stand in our front yard at night and listen to them from across the channel; where it isn't out of the ordinary to be sitting in a restaurant and see a black bear amble up the street after raiding a garbage can; where one can see 20 Bald Eagles at a time, sitting in a tree, checking out the pickings at the landfill; where, in one day, I can have a conversation (if I'm lucky) with people from five or six different countries who are so happy to visit where I live every day.

I only read a chapter of my book, but I was content.

The Portland Trip

As I mentioned earlier, I spent a week in Portland earlier this month.  I went down to attend my brother Marc's 60th birthday party, which was held at their Mt. Hood cabin.

I spent the night at Marc and Kerry's house in NE Portland before we headed up to Mt. Hood for the party.  Marc checked their bee hives to see if the bees had produced any honey.  No luck this year!

Marc proved that he is braver than I am when it comes to bees.



My sister Rita, my brother Phil and I enjoy the warm weather on the cabin's deck.  The Zig Zag river runs right by the cabin, so we were treated to the sound of water rushing by, and no bugs!



My nephew Mitch is a musician, and treated us to a great mini-concert.  Look how proud Marc is!



We had such a great time and ended the evening around the outdoor fireplace, swapping family stories and laughing.

It was a perfect day!