history

just `17 and you know what I mean

“’17 is often a tough year,” the Village Egghead reminded Althea.

“Why?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Well,” he continued. “1517 was that nasty Protestant Revolution. In 1717 the Masons were founded. In 1917 Russia had its October Revolution and Wilson got us mixed up with World War I.”

“I tell you,” continued he. “God somehow does things funny. 1789 was Robespierre’s French Revolution. In 1989 Reagan got Mr Gorbachev to ‘tear down that wall’. That was the one good thing on the list.”

“We can’t live to see it.” he reminded her. “but 2117 and 2189 promise to be quite a couple of doozies, my young lady friend.

This week’s photo prompt is from Sandra Crook. Rochelle Wisoff~Fields leads us in Friday Fictioneers.

canonize pope pius xii

O’Brien was talking happily about the canonization prospects of Pius XII, and Rabinowitz, as always, begged to differ.

“Haven’t you read Rolf Hochhuth’s “The Deputy”? He blurted out.

That’s as big a load of garbage as Maria Monk’s novel in the nineteenth century.” his friend reminded him.

“Pius saved no fewer than 860,000 Jews. He ghost wrote Pius XI’s “Mit Brennender Sorge”.

“Chief Rabbi Israel Zolli changed his name to Eugenio and his family converted.”

“Read Sister Margherita Marchione instead of that fanatical poison and you’ll see my point, old bean. Facts and figures are better than ideology.”

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff~Fields both for supplying this week’s photograph and for being our weekly Friday Fictioneers fearless leader.

undeniable and inexplicable order

Today is the ninety ninth anniversary of the birth of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, thirty fifth President of the United States.  His younger brother and attorney general, Robert Francis Kennedy, was fatally shot on June 5, 1968.  J.F.K. was assassinated on November 22, 1963, two days after R.F.K.’s thirty eighth birthday.  

Over the past very many years I have always noticed that death has no respect for special occasions.  People often die on, or close, to times like Christmas, Easter, and other milestones.  My mother died exactly a week after my fifty fourth birthday. neral was on my father’s eightieth birthday.

So many things are like that. Between William Henry Harrison in 1840 and John F. Kennedy in 1963, each president elected at a twenty year interval died, either naturally or by assassination, while an incumbent.  This has been attributed to the curse of Tippecanoe, dating back to Harrison’s  questionable tactics in the Treaty of Fort Wayne with the Indians.

Another example of inexplicable coincidences can be found in the 1917 Our Lady of Fatima apparitions and events that are relevant to them. In 1517 the world was afflicted with the Protestant Revolution,  the first of many evil milestones. In 1689 Luis XIV refused Jesus’ request to consecrate France to the Sacred Heart.  During 1717 the Masons were founded. 1789  was the beginning of the French Revolution.  The Russian Revolution occurred in 1917, and the Berlin Wall came down in 1989. There are so many other supposedly coincidental dates that are crucial to the circumstances surrounding Fatima. I’ve only skimmed the surface.  These, and many other dates and milestones, fit a most undeniable pattern that cannot possibly be overlooked.

This kind of order, visible only in retrospect, has to be reckoned with. I have no idea of exactly what’s going on but it has always made me so insatiably curious.

daily post~:orderly

no order..haiku

a place for everything

orderly

ladies, form an orderly queue

orderly

famous birthday boy

Unfortunately for young George, Sister Rose Eugene caught him sulking in St. Gabriel’s library, during an especially nasty day.

“Young man,” she confronted him. “Today is Karol Josef Wojtyla’s birthday.” Do you know who he was?”

“Huh?” he blurted out.

She explained, “Karol’s mother died when he was eight years old. His father and brother both were dead by the time he was twenty one. Because of World War II he was forced to go to school secretly for fear of the Nazis.”

“Your bad breaks shouldn’t discourage you,” she reminded him. “Nothing stopped St.John Paul II.”

This week’s photo prompt was supplied by J Hardy Carroll. Rochelle Wisoff~Fields guides us weekly as our Fairy Blogmother.

Give Ireland Back to the Irish

Instead of attending the parade this year, the Deasy’s decided to take a leisurely boat ride on St. Patrick’s Day.

“While we’re here,” Tom reminded Eileen, “I can catch up on all my reading.”

“Remember it’s the centenary of the Easter Rising,” she noted.

“Starting on Easter Monday that year,” she stated, “Over the course of six days, the Irish Volunteers, the Irish Citizen Army, and Cumann na mBan, spent six days fighting to establish the Irish Republic.”

“This is a lot more interesting and a lot less stressful than a parade,” he replied. “Let’s do it again every year.”

Each week we write a hundred word story for Friday Fictioneers where Rochelle Wisoff~Fields is in charge. This week Rochelle has also supplied our photo prompt.

some points to ponder

moon-and-sky1

“I’ve been reading about Franciscan Saint Maximilian Kolbe, who was murdered in the Holocaust at Auschwitz in ’41,” murmured George, “And Carmelite Blessed Titus Brandsma, who was killed at Dachau in ’42.”

“Go on,” wondered Paul.

“There are several parallels between that era and ours” George explained. “The primacy of the state, racial unrest-now known as reverse discrimination.”

“Both worlds also share a fascination with physical fitness and dissemination of propaganda through the media.”

“Hitler, the specific individual, came and went, my friend. Satan, who put him here, now needs something new.”

Both shrugged helplessly.

toora loora loora

rachel-bjerke

Of all our relatives, Uncle Jimmy has always been the most obsessed with our Irish ethnic background. This St. Patrick’s Day he explained to us all about how our patron saint chased the snakes-pagans and Druids-out of Ireland.

“Eventually,” he said, “we were confronted with those other snakes, the English and Protestants.”

Not surprisingly, he gave each of us kids a biography of Eamon de Valera and one of Michael Collins.

He’s like an Irish version of Michael Constantine in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”.

the travails of a daily blogger

Over the course of the past full year, I’ve been able to post virtually daily to my blog. It’s only been for about the past week, since I got a case of pinkeye and bronchitis, that I’ve been cheating a little. During  the time I spent writing daily posts on WordPress, I learned that it’s hard for a blogger, no matter how frequently he posts, to build up a significant following. I also found out that a wide variety of people online can be counted on to be just as outspoken about their ideas, however eccentric and controversial they may be, as the people I’ve met in person.  Blogging regularly has given me an insight into how many different points of view there are about religion, politics, history, pop culture and anything else that can possibly be referred to. It’s so difficult to come up with fresh new ideas each day to write about. A daily blog gives me a significant chance to hone my writing skills and to remain as articulate and as well informed as possible about things.  There’s a major danger, though, with all the amateur opinions available, of missing out on a chance to get a legitimate understanding of things. The news media, of course, always tend to distort things anyway. Although blogging can be quite an exceptionally interesting experience it also leads to the risk of predictability. I try to avoid platitudes, repetition and other bad habits. It pays to be articulate.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/winning-streak/

http://unbolt.wordpress.com/2014/10/05/a-doll/

http://tombalistreri.wordpress.com/2014/11/30/one-day-lost/

http://oh3za.com/2014/11/30/winning-streak/

http://trablogger.wordpress.com/2014/11/30/canon-love/

http://parkinkspot.wordpress.com/2014/11/30/happy-one-month/

http://somnivision.com/2014/11/30/photography-wrap-up/

i am coffee. i own you

I am coffee, a most unrelentingly potent and seductive elixir. I have been one of mankind’s greatest possessions since at least the fourteenth century. Pope Clement VIII, sometime during either the late sixteenth or early seventeenth century, encouraged Catholics to start drinking me. Some people don’t particularly enjoy me but most people find me quite enticing. I can be drunk plain, black and unsweetened, or with milk, sugar, as well as a wide variety of other flavorings. People often enjoy me with alcoholic beverages too.  I often have a large amount of caffeine in me so many people tend to have drastic problems when they drink me. My smell is exceptionally intoxicating. I fit in equally well at all kinds of occasions, ranging from the casual to the formal, happy and sad, work and play. I’m sort of an introduction to adulthood for most people. You don’t usually see very many children or teenagers imbibing me. Some countries, such as England, prefer tea, but the people who enjoy me simply can’t get enough of me. They literally start each and every single morning of their lives with me, as if my presence is somehow unavoidably mandatory. Some people can’t handle me well. I’ve been known to give them problems ranging from headaches to insomnia. Often, though, they’re quite willing to make the sacrifice in order to enjoy me. I’m like any drug, or addictive compulsive behavior. If someone neglects to watch his step with me I can take complete control, akin to a Faustian bargain, of his life. In a way you could even say I’m sort of like a liquid Satan. I’m found everywhere. I can’t be avoided. I give all kinds of short-term enjoyment, and promise even more. There’s an inevitable catch though. I can’t be trusted.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/return-address/

http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/11/07/existence-of-existence/

http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/11/01/was-is-something-i-said/