Answered Prayers

The NCAA semifinal between Gonzaga and UCLA was one for the books.  It was the first time there was an overtime in a semifinal since about 1977.  In the beginning, Gonzaga was always about two points behind.  I said, “Lord, is this any way to treat a Catholic school?”  The game continued.  During the overtime, Gonzaga led by several points.

Then UCLA tied it up with about five seconds left to play.  One of the Gonzaga players (I don’t know his name) took the ball to midcourt and shot.  The ball went in the basket and the game was over.

Can you just hear me, a month from now, “My prayers never get answered.”  Isn’t that the way of us mortals?

The Preparation

We got up early Holy Saturday morning, for my wife was determined that Paula, my daughter-in-law, wouldn’t have to cook this Covid 19 Easter.  Yesterday she’d ordered food from Phil’s, the local Italian restaurant, and sandwiches from The Village Hero to supplement that.  You can believe it, she was tired when we delivered the goods at 10:30 a.m.  My wife’s eighty-two.

My granddaughter got bracelet construction toys and an Easter basket as we met outside their house, taking due precaution during the pandemic, and had a nice chat in the freezing temperature.  It wasn’t a bad prelude to Easter, when you consider that many are without food and drink during these calamitous times.  It is not enough to pray for them.

But prayer is part of it.  It takes me a little over half an hour to say a rosary, that prayer I say after reading about the apparitions at Fatima, Portugal.

Good Will

I found out my hacker was from Nigeria, using a female name, Melissa Dobbs (I can’t believe someone that nasty is a woman).  The fellow who helped me fix my email asked me to pray for him when I offered to pay (He works for Yahoo!).    There are some terrifically honest people in this world.

I think Western Civilization has made its wonderful progress because of people like that.  Everybody progresses when you work with those people.  My wife and I passed a stop-light beggar on the way to East New York.  It was difficult to give him something because our light had just turned green, so she dropped a green bill in the roadway.  He got it.

Some people make out that way, since there are always those with the generosity of God.  You’ve surely heard about a waitress or waiter who gets the two-thousand dollar tip.  May you get a gift like that!

Easter to Come

It was a case of déjà vu, going for my second Covid 19 shot, and the pharmacist had the syringe filled to 1 ml. (instead of .5 ml.) but who knows, this was the second shot.  With millions of shots and all kinds of givers, it’s a wonder there weren’t more mistakes.  Most of them were probably undetectable.

My fate, or providence, has been in the hands of God since time unremembered, and has come out all right.  I am going to prepare for Easter now, and as my son laughingly suggested, I can now hide my own Easter eggs, because I won’t remember where I hid them (not quite that bad yet).

We can enjoy with little fear of harm in Western Civilization.  The Supreme Judaic lamb has been sacrificed, never again to die, and I write this with peace and joy.  Happy Easter.

Occam’s Razor

My son and I were discussing possible solutions to a problem, when he mentioned Occam’s Razor, a medieval Franciscan friar’s solution.  The “law” states that given several solutions to a problem, the right one is usually the simplest.  Einstein had a predilection for such answers.

I was given my first Covid 19 shot by a pharmacist.  I didn’t feel a thing.  Now the question is: did he actually give me the shot or did he save the vial for someone else?

The simplest answer is that he has a soft touch in administering shots, and like some people, I didn’t feel it.  The needle ran a happy course through the muscle.  That would be the simplest answer.  Am I right, or scammed?  What is the Christian answer to this problem?  I’m going for the second shot tomorrow.