The old eagle soared today.  I had voluntarily reduced my driving, so the family no longer trusted me to take Loretta to her surgery appointments, but this morning my son Fred didn’t make it, so I was elected.  I came through with flying colors.  The only hitch was that with Covid 19 rampant, it’s hard to find a bathroom for an old man.

An old man still can figure out the political situation in this country.  I admit, President Trump has a semi-liability in his mouth (he does keep the country apprised of things the media omit) but I have only seen one other man so vilified publicly, and he died 2,000 years ago.  I have an old codger’s hunch that the NY Times will be retributed next November for their never-Trump stance.

Of course, there’s nobody like old friends, but I have some new friends for whom I thank the Creator.  Did anyone ever see the full variety of his people?  First of all there’s Steve, an elderly cashier at the local supermarket. I think they asked him to trim his beard, because the kids would wonder, “What am I getting for Christmas?”  He lives alone in a nearby development, and I was able to help him out twice, for he relies on public transportation.

Then there’s Ernestine, a most cheerful local widow, whom I meet when we both take our morning walk.  She comes originally from Levittown, where I taught, and knew me as a student, though she never had me as a teacher.  She is like a favorite student, because I never felt so successful as when she got my best seller, The Last Torpedo.  I don’t know if she ever read it, but hey, someone gave it to her.

And isn’t that the way of life?  We live in a most fortunate country, despite Covid 19, and work out our salvation among people who already have their heavenly passport.

That’s something we all wonder about.  Take the case of the young elementary school student who wins several of the school’s oratorical contests.  As he speaks to his grammar school audience, his mind forms the unarticulated prayer that someday he’ll be able to speak like this to adults.

Years later, he becomes a lector in his parish church and speaks to whole congregations about prayer and Scripture.  His prayer was answered, perhaps not in an astonishing way, but in a way that fits into his life style.

So, if in the future, I say I’ll keep you in my prayers, know that there will be an effect, and it’s not just a sentence I say to put you at peace or ease.  If the prayer is for a relative or friend, they, too, will have a result.  They may not notice it, but who can notice a thought.  You have to wait for its effect.

Of all the Creator has made, including such marvels as the pink and golden smoky nebulae against the black backdrop of the emptiness of space, none is more interesting and joyful than the human being.  I think of Peter, the deli manager in the supermarket I frequent.  He recognized me to say hello though I was dressed in a black Covid 19 mask and a low beach sombrero that I never wear in the supermarket.  We always joke at his counter, and the meeting was a joyful coincidence.

Then there’s Alice, who spends long conversations with my wife.  Alice never says good-bye without reminiscing about her departed brother.  He died eight years ago.  She mentions him frequently to my wife, who never speaks of her two dead sons, lost in the prime manhood of their young, beautiful lives.  That’s people.

You can’t get bored with people among whom you interact every day.  Do thank the Giver of these gifts, and ask for the wonderment of a child to appreciate them all.

On Demand.  Google, Optimum

Review by Frederick Von Burg, Sr.

If you can’t understand why the Messiah chose to be born in a stable, you won’t understand this movie, based on fact.  Why should the Mother of the Son of God appear to three shepherd children in the remote hills of Portugal at the height of World War I (1917)?  The protagonists of this movie are Lucy, the ten-year-old shepherdess, her mother and father, and Jacinta and Francisco, the young accomplices who were taken by the 1918 influenza pandemic.  I call them accomplices, because the mayor of the Marxist government that put Lucy in jail for causing a public disturbance, felt the kids committed a crime.

The climax of the movie is the well-documented (in newspaper accounts) Miracle of the Sun.  The director did a manly job of trying to measure up to witnesses’ descriptions, but they left out the colors of the spectrum.  The mayor’s wife and the mother of Lucy do excellent portrayals of femininity’s most moving moments, the pathos of drama.