At the hospital today to get my share of chemicals. I was talking to one of my nurses about voting days past and it was kind of fun trying to remember the details. Thought that I would continue the thread here at Caminoheads.

It would be November in Buffalo, New York and you went with your parents to vote, a kind of a Ralphy pilgrimage. You walked because each neighborhood had a place. It was cold and dark but not quite snowy yet. But maybe you didn’t have your new Sears and Roebuck winter coat yet so staying warm was a little dicey in the coat that you had outgrown.

The city had these little wooden structures all painted green that they would deliver to all the neighborhoods maybe a week before the big day. I could guess and say they were something like 10 by 16 feet in plan. Not a lot of room in there for more than one family at a time.

So there must have been a table for check in although I don’t remember that as there were other things more important. The white painted interior of the building was lit with a couple of light bulbs which was such a contrast to the darkness outside.
In the corner was a potbelly stove burning coal which was pretty exciting. But the main event was actually going into the voting machine. Yea you sort of entered it and there was this lever that swung and caused the heavy curtain to close behind you for the privacy required. Of course, only the adults voted and we would just peek in as they entered and exited. All very mysterious for us short people.

My parents never ever talked politics at home and people in general out and around did a good job avoiding it too. Our neighborhood was probably 90% Democrats I would guess, blue collar guys for the most part. My Mother probably voted on the Democratic side most often reflecting the neighborhood while my
Dad was more involved with the Republican side of the ballot having more country influence. But again they never talked about it and it didn’t seem like it ever caused a problem between them. You just voted and then walked home and set the table and ate meat and potatoes like always.

I remember registering to vote when I was eighteen and choosing Independent to describe myself, seemed like a balanced thing to do. Yup, and those were the days of 15 cent hamburgers but that is another story for another day.

Thanks, love, Felipé.

Is that phrase still in use? I think it came out of the aeronautical world where test pilots would fly a little faster or fly a little higher or in some way go beyond previous ideas of the capability of their aircraft. Then the phrase got out in the general public and it got applied to all sorts of things and situations and we all used it. But that was ages ago I suppose.

In yesterday’s blogpost I was getting at that idea. It seems the thing to do now, for me, to take what I’ve been given and expand it pushing it’s boundaries outward. If I can’t escape from this confinement in the box of having cancer I can certainly beat against it’s walls stretching them to create more space to maneuver.

Is that my new way to look at myself and a new way for me to operate, this test pilot guy? I guess I took Felipé the bomb disposal technician guy to it’s conclusion by successfully disarmed my own personal cancer bomb where it is no longer a spiritual bother for me. Well done Felipé! I guess I should celebrate that now that I realize it.

A new era has arrived. I’m liking this. Thank you my God for keeping me around to live into this new challenge. I’d better clip these tags off of my flight suit so I don’t quite look like such a new guy. There, that’s better.

There, that’s better loves, Felipé.

St. Paul wasn’t always a saint. At his early worst he helped out in the stoning of Steven considered the Church’s first martyr. Steven after his death was seen as St Steven. But back to Paul or actually Saul who met the risen Christ while on the road to Damascus. Life changing that was and Saul’s name was changed to Paul to commerate the event, Anyway the upshot is that Paul turned out to be the chief carrier of the Christian banner to the Greek world and thus to us.

But this was not easy on him personally. One he had a physical ailment that plagued him. And he was continuously running from and hiding from the critics. He suffered beatings and imprisonment finally being beheaded in Rome for causing so many waves in the empire.

All this hardship makes a brighter point all the more bright though. And what has been inspiring me is the tale of him being in prison somewhere and being chained to a series of guards, his time there being closely supervised. And Paul never missing an opportunity even in there he was converting these guards left and right. He could probably do it in his sleep but still. They definitely had “a tiger by the tail it is plain to see”, as the old song goes. Who has who?

We are so used to hearing, “He or she has cancer”, “I have cancer”, “What if I get cancer?”, “Living with cancer”, “Dealing with cancer” or “My cancer”. Those are all the same in that they start with we are the ones that HAVE cancer. What if all of a sudden we said screw that, what if cancer HAS us. It obviously doesn’t know who it is dealing with here anymore. Who has who? That is where we should head toward and get to!
Can you see it?

Monday loves, Felipé.

The trail is beautiful now. The air is a little chilly but the ground is dry. Note that the afternoon walks are a half hour earlier now on our winter schedule.

Monday 0900-1000
Tuesday 1530-1630
Thursday 0900-1000
Sunday 1530-1630

Thursday Nov 29 there is no walk. Thanks, Felipé.

Here are some Caminoheads sporting their red hats from the Mazama Store in Mazama, Washington. Steve-O our NW Bureau Chief gave me that original red hat way back when and that is the one I wore on the Camino in 2014. He started this whole hat thing.

Being out on the cutting edge of fashion does have it’s dangers though as I will relate. My Rebecca and I had landed in Indianapolis and after collecting our luggage we were out on the curb waiting for our ride. Some idiot that just got off our same plane from Seattle got mouthy with me thinking that he discovered a local with a Trump hat. I ignored him and he finally got bored and went away. So be careful out there.

So, I’ll get back to watching Norte Dame football. Love you guys, Felipé.

“Wow, a big Snickers!”, My Rebecca’s reaction on seeing my lout from last evening’s Mass. Father David gave out big Snickers bars after the service to everyone. He practically got trampled there in the foyer.

My Rebecca was referring to the day when there was only one size of the candy bar. Having a smaller one or different smaller ones now really confuses things. Back in the old days things were easier in some ways.

Along with the bar in a little plastic bag was some other goodies: two cards and a little note from Father David. He is so great, like the uncle you wish you would have had ready to take you to the zoo or some other get away. The two cards were one a saints card for Saint Oscar Romero and the other a icon of Mary the Undoer of Knots.

Saint Oscar was recently canonized and I don’t know the details on the why. But the undoer of knots is a very interesting idea
to me coming from a Protestant slant as I do. I totally get the idea of it. Being that with help our life could be a lot simpler, freeing us of certain burdens. Nice.

Here this morning I want to copy and paste a comment by Pilgrim Farmer John on my Connections post a few days ago that I thought was particularly good and it spoke to what I was trying to get at:

“Hola Felipe Amigo!

You have to know you “connected” with all my Farmer buttons on this post. We both know the farm we live on is part of our being. In the last 3 or 4 weeks I have harvested all our corn and soybean crop. Then I started the process over again with planting some rye covercrops. Fertilizer for next year too, and then working it in where the soybeans will grow next year. Connections galore, and seasons and plantings and harvests.

Semper Fi,
PFJ” (Caminoheads’ Heartland Bureau Chief)

And that is so Heartland right there. And that’s our couple of things. Later loves, Felipe.

w the camino

We have a neighbor that is actively dying. Got that term from My Rebecca’s Threshold Choir. They sing soft songs for people that are actively dying. Anyway, as this goes on next door I pray. Sometimes praying seems a feeble gesture and sometimes it seems a mighty mustard seed capable of who knows what.

Interesting that we are here with this situation on November 1st the Day of the Dead this year. This holy day isn’t something that I grew up with so it all seems a little weird to my sensibilities but maybe this convergence is going to educate me. No coincidences strikes once again.

I told My Rebecca that I wanted to die in the Elk Hotel, our expedition tent. I don’t know how practical that is really but hey it’s my occasion right? Going out like a Civil War General seems appropriate conversing with my Captains about battles won and lost passing on the grit.

Ah, walking in a moment. Good morning to say rosaries. Alperfect once again loves, Felipe.