CONFIRMATION SLAP

Photo by eduardo199o9 on Pexels.com

There was one day each year our Catholic parish could expect the Bishop to visit. Every year the children in the fourth grade, age 10 or so, made their Confirmation of Faith. We studied the tenets of our faith so we would understand more fully what it would mean to be confirmed. This was critical because  the one thing that sank in was the idea that we would not only promise to live our faith, fully and with integrity; we would pledge to be willing to die for our faith, as many of the Catholic saints had done over the centuries. In fact, we chose a name for ourselves of a saint who inspired us to live our faith as fully as they. I chose Bernadette, a young girl unable to be shaken from her spiritual experiences, despite opposition even from church leaders. She was open to the unexpected, unexplainable mysteries of her faith; courageous and persistent, resilient and humble. She could face down any opposition to live her faith experience.

We had learned through study and life experience that others opposed our beliefs, and especially, our assumed authority to represent Jesus Christ’s teaching . We saw our priests, and even ourselves, as part of the line of succession from Peter the Apostle. A lot of wrongdoing and audacity occurred in between Peter’s time and mine. We were taught to acknowledge errors, correct them and move on. A daily examination of conscience and frequent confession kept us on track.

As a very short child, I led the procession into church. The Bishop asked us a few questions ascertaining that we understood what we were about to promise. I was the first to be confirmed, kneeling at the altar rail, shaking like a leaf, praying for courage. The Bishop spoke the words reminding me that my faith required a willingness to die for Christ. I responded that I would. The Bishop then struck my cheek with a blow so hard those in the back pews could hear the slap, my head snapping to the side. The Bishop looked horrified. I could feel the sting of his hand. I was reminded alright! 

After the service ended, we processed from our pews to the rear of the church, the Bishop and altar servers before us. The Bishop waited for me at the door and joined my parents and family as we stood on the church steps. His handprint was still visible on my cheek. He humbly apologized to me and to my parents. Since I was the first child he had underestimated the strength of his blow, and was mortified. I had never expected to see a mortified bishop. It made my heart open to him as human being, no longer an authority figure. Those moments of my confirmation remain with me, 67 years later, as if they happened yesterday. Over the years I had need of the lessons learned that day.

I learned that faith is not a mind-game, nor a mere consideration. It is a calling to act with integrity, love and compassion. It requires the willingness to suffer for others; to learn them, see them, hear them even when I had to “suffer through” them. I suffered through those I did not like nor respect, as well as those I respected and loved. I learned that those in authority held no power over me unless I gave it to them. I could have withheld respect and forgiveness to a bishop who hit me so hard it hurt. I chose to forgive him and accept his unintended harm. However, I never shirk from showing those in authority the harm they do. It is probably one reason I became a lawyer. I experienced justice that day. Too many in our America do not. It is those we must be willing to die for. Our faith requires it.

I listened to two Catholics, Senator Bernie Moreno from my state of Ohio and Vice-President J.D. Vance defend and protect the President Trump’s unlawful war, threats of genocide, and destructive blasphemy the past few days. They were confirmed. Do they not recall their vow to defend and protect our faith and our church as they attack our Pope? Do they not understand integrity and morality? What did they promise as they affirmed their Catholicism when confirmed? I am not truly surprised because they also seem to have forgotten their vow to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States and Ohio, and the laws of both when they sworn into office as senators and then, Vance, as Vice-President. 

These are not men of conviction willing to suffer for their faith. They are not humble. They lack integrity. They lie. They attack when they should defend… not just the Pope but human beings in Gaza, Iran, Minneapolis, and every city and hamlet in America. They attack instead of defend our people of color, LGBQT and transgender citizens, our women and children, our elderly and disabled, our working poor, our refugees and immigrants. They would suppress votes of students, women, the working poor, the elderly and disabled and brazenly support the provisions in the SAVE act suppressing our votes. All the while they pretend to protect us and our vote. They stay silent while our military is used to perform war crimes, and while our country’s leaders threaten to annihilate others in violation of the Geneva Convention and human rights.

The attack on a Catholic Pope is just part of the plan to replace loving faith and care for others preached by Jesus Christ on his Sermon on the Mount with power and control over others fed by greed and arrogance. It was easy to abuse the weakest among us. Now, they openly abuse a powerful church leader preaching Jesus Christ’s teachings. Of course, Trump posted an AI construction of himself as Jesus Christ. Of course Vance and Moreno, and other republicans think it is meaningless, a joke.  The explanation is as great a lie. It has meaning. It is meant to promote abuse and control at the expense of others. These men were not slapped hard enough when they were confirmed as Catholics. They are not willing to suffer any political nor financial loss to help others. As a Catholic, I hold them accountable and ask them to recall their vows; to their church and to the American people.

Leave a comment

Filed under COMMENTARY, FAMILY STORIES, POLITICS

HIDDEN SPRING

Photo by Marcio Konno on Pexels.com

What do the Earth and her creatures know

which we do not know?

Are our hopes too high, too soon

even as the green grass grows

and trees unfurl leaves 

that shelter all from heat and sun?

The squirrels still seldom leave their nests.

The rabbits yet burrow beneath the shed.

The disquiet of too quiet daybreak

without birdsong warbling to wake

all the creatures eager to begin

days of freedom without and within.

Why do the creatures continue to hide

in shelters away from prying eyes?

Where are the bees 

as the flowers bud and bloom?

Why such a quiet garden devoid of all sound?

Is it too soon to expect, Earth’s creatures

and I, our freedom to rebound?

Or, should we find our peace

by staying underground?

In the silence, I walk carrying dreams

instead of shutting them down in dawn’s light.

Dreams cannot stay hidden by night

after the sun reappears in the sky.

Earth and its creatures may stay hidden;

but not my dreams of Spring. Not I, not I.

I move through the garden, 

my eyes searching wide

for other creatures, unwilling to hide.

Leave a comment

Filed under POETRY

AT NOT AI

Photo by Google DeepMind on Pexels.com

Artificial intelligence is askew.

It mispronounces names when I try to make a phone call.

I Then must make the same error to chat-up a friend,

or order a pizza or a ride.

It misspells words as I write. No text, no essay, no poem

is safe from un-related words and ideas.

Every few moments I must review or a single word

shifts all those which follow until I forget

where my thoughts were headed,

or as AI just told me my thoughts were “ceded.”

AI has ceded my thoughts to its own.

This is artificial thought- AT; not intelligent at all.

Ads pop-up to block the knowledge I would glean

from newspapers journalling the news.

Scrolling down only un-leashes new ads to view.

To reach family, friends or businesses by phone

I must mispronounce and match AI errors to get through.

AI is training me. I am not training it; or as it states

I am “trailing” it. I trail behind my own ideas and actions

to allow AI to proceed to guide me I know not where.

I soon become unaware of my own brain.

My own thoughts become lost and I, unaware.

I am betrayed in ways I cannot accept.

We underestimate the power of our minds

to override the fault lines of our brains.

AI is not artificial intelligence.

It is artificial thought.

It is a thinking process like a brain.

It is artificial thought or AT.

Like all thoughts within our brain,

our mind knows thoughts must be constrained.

Our minds modulate and regulate our thoughts.

Propriety is the hallmark of sound thought,

the peacemaker and moderator 

of any civilized society.

We must correct the nomenclature of AI

and call it AT in order to keep it in its rightful place,

under our control, protecting our community.

Leave a comment

Filed under COMMENTARY, POETRY

A NEW DAY IS COMING

Photo by Irina Iriser on Pexels.com

Morning must wait awhile

for the sun to cross the stile.

We wait in darkness,

shadows their starkest;

unable to see our way,

knowing the sun will rise,

always, on a new day.

But, I am awake for hours;

no years, no decades now.

I have pushed away darkened skies,

I have struggled to plant seeds

in hardened soil stomped on

by supremacist feet of clay.

I have listened to hateful words

until my soul shouts and sways.

Always, always, I wait for the sky

to lighten on a new day.

I listen for the first notes

of morning-birds’ first songs

carried on morning-breath’s first breezes

stirred by sun’s rising heat

overturning the cold of night;

up-ending threatening nightmares

and tossing them away.

Soon, soon, I promise you.

There will come a new day.

1 Comment

Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

MARCH 28, 2026

Photo by Charles Criscuolo on Pexels.com

The place where I write may have to change.

A soft couch for a hard chair I must exchange.

Age hardens the bone more than the sight.

Age does not dull the urge to set things right.

Except…

Age questions all sense of reality.

It doubts what right seems to be.

Age moves faster the longer it goes.

It upsets the cart full of all we know.

Age unsettles from head to toe.

We see higher up and deeper below.

Age quickens and shakes our stability.

It makes us question who we will be

in an uncertain future coming so fast

we wonder how much longer we shall last.

Age keeps reminding us we cannot fall;

not our selves, nor our country, no one at all.

So we march for a future, a future unclear and unsure.

Bravely, because we have done this many times before.

Are we wisely foolish, or foolishly wise ?

The fact we don’t know is no surprise.

So, I get up off the soft couch, and drop the pen.

Time to go march, one by one step, together again.

Leave a comment

Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

LIBRARIES SAVE US

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

I learned to read before anyone knew it, even myself. It seems I always could. My mother read to me every day until my younger brother was born when I was four. Then, I read to myself  the books Mom had read to me. When my brother was old enough to sit up in the stroller we walked to the public library every day. Mom read to my brother as I pulled books off the shelf and read to myself. 

That year my grandfather went to Italy in a ship called the Andrea Doria. We were in New York visiting Mom’s family at the time so we all went to the pier, borded and toured the ship then waved them off as the ship pulled out of port. I remember every detail of that beautiful ship. 

Every morning while Mom was busy I would lie on the living room carpet and lay the Advocate, our local newspaper, out on the floor and read it from front page to last. There was a front page article one morning describing the sinking of the Andrea Doria on its return trip from Italy. I excitedly ran to Mom to tell her Grandpa’s ship sunk on the way home. She asked me how I knew and I replied that I had read it in the newspaper. “Show me,” she said. So, I read the article to her. She asked me to keep reading. After, she asked me when I learned to read. I told her that I did not know when. I know now it was when Mom read to me. She taught me phonics as she read, and helped me sound out words I saw in print.

After that, we continued our daily visits to the library. While Mom read to the baby, I read book after book. I was allowed to take home 4 books on a child’s card, and took home 4 each day. I read them at home and returned them the next day. This went on for years. By the time I was in the fourth grade I had read every book in the children’s section. The Children’s Librarian agreed her records showed that to be so. She sent me to the Adult Librarian to get an adult card so I could begin reading in that section of the library.

The Adult Librarian informed me that I could not get an adult card until I was in high school…five more years to wait to read! I was so disappointed until the Children’s Librarian escorted me back and explained I needed an adult card since I had read all she could offer me. I got my adult card. 

I proceeded to read section by section: biography, autobiography, biology, American and Ohio history, World history and geography, politics, philosophy, fiction in all genres. Every day after school I returned the book I had checked out the day before and took out more to read after doing chores and finishing my school homework. 

I still read a book a day, but almost solely for pleasure. My internet reading is dedicated to current events and politics. One can only handle so much these days of corruption and authoritarian greed. I thank Mom for teaching me to read, to lose myself in the printed world where goodwill toward others overcomes self-interest, and love drives out hate. I need that. I need to believe it is possible. 

Mother’s and Fathers, read to your children. You give them a greater gift than you can ever know. It costs nothing. Public libraries still exist; although, they are under attack. Writers still write truth to uplift souls and encourage an appreciation for facts; although, they too are under attack.

We need to support writers, poets, actors, comedians, artists of all genres. We need to support our public libraries. Keep reading. Keep believing. Our libraries may save us all.

Leave a comment

Filed under COMMENTARY, POLITICS

WIND

Photo by ali atyabi on Pexels.com

The wind can be both friend and foe.

Harnessing his power 

to make him my own

can never be, I know.

He may clear the air

of any disputes yet leave me

to struggle to breathe, 

inhaling what make me sneeze.

He cleans out the cobwebs,

the garden beds, and gutters.

He leaves me breathless

at his show of strength.

He is a lover like no other.

I stand stronger within his embrace.

My body feels lighter,

my countenance tighter,

my body lifted up off my feet.

Wind is my lover, sight unseen,

except for what he brings 

and takes from me.

I see his caress of every shrub and tree.

I yearn for his heavy touch on me.

I love the wind. 

I am sad to see him die low,

knowing he, too soon, will leave me.

I do not want wind to go.

Leave a comment

Filed under POETRY

DANCE LIKE YOU MEAN IT

Photo by Jessica Pope on Pexels.com

He has no spleen.

He has no fight.

A childhood chant,

If I remember that right.

Switchblades once ruled

where guns now alight.

Bullies without spleens,

those I remember alright.

Social media makes bullies

to our left and our right.

Social media fakes spleens

for those scared of others’ might.

We could make our peace

and not need a spleen.

We could face our fears

and let others draw near.

We could dance and sing

through winter and spring,

through summer and fall.

We need not fight at all.

We could simply share

all that we know and love,

all that we have to spare.

This is my chanted prayer.

Spineless, spleenless bullies

may take over the stage

and every airwave

with shouted outrage.

Turn them off. Tune them out.

Life is too short to listen to their shouts.

Life is too precious to waste and spin

into useless promises to win.

To win what? I ask of life.

What is worth such strife?

Much better friendship is sought

whether I like you or not.

Just turn up the music and dance.

Give life’s joys a chance.

Feed the hungry, house the poor

that we may all dance forevermore.

Seek connection with fearless affection.

Dance. Just Dance.

Now,

dance some more.

Leave a comment

Filed under POETRY

POWER OUTAGE

Photo by Denniz Futalan on Pexels.com

How lucky are we who have electricity

and solid roofs over our heads

while facing the fiercest storms.

When the cradle rocks and trees fall down

we worry a bit and put on a frown.

Yet, we know we only need to wait,

turn the lanterns up, so bright,

we power on batteries to light the night.

Workmen climb poles

amid cold winds grown bold

to make things right.

No billowing tents for us

with open fire to heat the cold

We simply open a book to read by flashlight.

I wonder why I was born 

in this time and in this space;

why I am blessed with American grace.

I wonder why others have not been so placed.

I do not wonder why they seek their way

through jungles, across rivers,

in deadening heat and torrential rain.

I do not wonder why they face such pain

to carry their children to a safer place.

I only wonder at their courage  to dare

while we so spoiled are unable to face

what we fear to be true.

Those who come on bare feet,

those not so blessed, deserve the same grace

as me, and as you.

Electric power outages can be fixed

by brave service workers and much ado.

Moral power outages are much harder to fix

and need a bigger, even braver, crew.

1 Comment

Filed under POETRY

OUR GIRL, SPRING

Photo by Laurence Prestage on Pexels.com

Everyone loves Spring.

I have a strongly-mixed feeling.

She is the kind of person I find

unaware that she can be unkind.

She is fickle as the winds blowing

from north and south and twisting

into storms of frozen heat and heated cold.

Spring laughs and dances so very bold

across garden landscapes and downed trees

she spreads dead tree buds on every breeze

to litter yards and and parking lots and streets,

with detritus that crunches beneath our feet.

Plants  struggle to figure her out.

Do we stay hidden inside or come out?

We are never sure what Spring is about.

Weatherman are never sure what to say

except that it is a weather-warning day.

I tolerate her insistent hold on all forums,

her indecisive lack of decorum,

her frozen demeanor and winsome smiles.

We wonder what is next, all the while.

Photo by Ralph W. lambrecht on Pexels.com

Leave a comment

Filed under POETRY