#don'tstarepaparazzi

I don't know those people in the photo, but a week ago, when I took the photo, that was the about the fifth time that they had passed Sophie and me and stared, openly, at her. You can't see their children, either, all of whom openly stared with nary a remonstrance (how's that for a phrase) from their parents. I finally lifted my phone and snapped them, deciding that I would perhaps start a new hashtag. The #don'tstarepaparazzi.

Call me bitter or call me dark humored. I don't care.

Yesterday, as I struggled to push Sophie's wheelchair up over the curb -- remember, we don't have curb cuts on our street because the city of Los Angeles is taking its sweet time and only doing so in certain neighborhoods -- I felt beleaguered about feeling beleaguered. These are the times when the perpetuity of this caregiving job sort of overtakes the glory and honor of it all.

Call me bitter or call me dark humored. I don't care.

I pushed Sophie up the small hill that leads to the pathway that leads to our front door and stopped to rest for a moment. I was chatting with a friend from up the street. Multiple minivans were parked in front of my house, the vehicle of choice for the many Orthodox Jewish families that live in our area. They have lots of children because there is some kind of edict in the Old Testament that demands for them to multiply. I have no trouble with the Old Testament and have no trouble with the Orthodox other than a faint discomfort with the oppression of the females, but that could be the subject of another post where I could perhaps rope in my feelings about the current Pope of the Catholic Church who people love to lionize but who might actually be just another chip off the old Catholic block.

Anywho.

A neighbor was having a birthday party around the corner, hence the minivans. As I stood there, bitter and dark-humored, resting from care-giving in perpetuity, a woman who looked to be about twenty-five with a baby on her hip, pushing a stroller with another baby inside,  and three little children trailing her, walked right past us. The three little children trailing her stared at Sophie. One child stopped and swiveled her head, Exorcist-style and stared. Her sister scurried to catch up with her mother, her head turned owl-like, her eyes bugged out. The mother turned to call her trailing children to her minivan while I simultaneously reassured the children Hi, there! It's okay to say hello! Her name is Sophie! No one said anything, not even the mother. Sure, she might have been exhausted having just hauled her five children to a birthday party with the rest of the day ahead of her. She might have sensed that I was a Bitter and Dark Humored Caregiver in Perpetuity. She and her three hundred children scurried into their minivan, the automatic door swung shut and they were off, leaving me to my bitter thoughts.

I might have thrown back my head and howled the laugh of the maniac. Yeah! I might have cried, Keep that ridiculous wig on, covering your shameful sexuality! And you, little girl, keep staring! One day, if you choose to stay in the faith to which you've been born, you'll be stared at, too! If your mother keeps having babies, you'll be bound to have a sibling that will have something worthy of staring! I might have grabbed my phone and taken a picture, labeled it #don'tstarepaparazzi.

Instead, I pushed Sophie up the path to the front door and went inside.

Call me bitter or call me dark humored. I don't care.

Musings on the supposedly "revolutionary" Pope Francis

In lieu of anything else, let's talk about the Pope and his recent admonition to couples that they should "raise children and not pets." 

Better yet, let's not, unless you're a devout Catholic who can come up with some sort of explanation for that bullshit.

Bless his heart.

Would that he spoke about the legacy of the Catholic Church in Ireland, where the bones of more than 796 children were found buried in a septic tank, discarded there by the nuns and workers of a former orphanage and home for unwed mothers.

Let's talk about the legacy of sexual shaming and the oppression of women that continues to this day in the doctrine of the Catholic Church.

Again, if you're reading this as a devout Catholic, please enlighten us on what to think.

The above photo, found on the internets, was accompanied by a weird article about an experiment done on a group of the faithful. Those Catholics who "believed" felt no pain when subjected to electric shocks as long as they were gazing at Mary. I couldn't help but wonder if they don't feel the pain, either, of those women and girls forced to give up their babies because they were not married -- or those children, who were often shamed and subject to abuse because they were deemed bastards, abused, malnourished and then, when dead, thrown into an open grave like so much trash.

It's been a while since I've done this on the old blog, but writing here makes my blood boil a little less.

3.14

Does infinity mean the same thing as endless? Am I alone in wondering why there is endless talk of the new pope's humility because he rides the bus? The hopeful believe in small steps forward, but if the small step goes on endlessly, do things change? The notion of being point one four Catholic, into infinity, endless.

The white smoke over the Vatican

I can only hope, for the sake of my parents, who loved the church so much, that a miracle of divine grace alters the writing on the wall. If not, the Catholic Church will suffer the fate it deserves.

John Patrick Shanley 

This is really the most kick-ass opinion piece I've read on the resignation of Pope Benedict. Read it here.

If you love, love the moon

William Blake

I'm not sure how to absorb all the news these days or even attempt to. As I scrolled through it this morning, I couldn't help but lightly press my finger on the touch screen to read more of Pope Benedict's resignation plans. There's something so glamorous about something happening only once in 800 years. The first pope to resign was Marcellinus in 304. He was deposed after complying with a Roman emperor's order to offer sacrifice to pagan gods. Benedict IX sold his papacy in 1045 and resigned. Celestine V was evidently overwhelmed by the job and resigned after five months in 1294, and Gregory XII stepped down in 1415 to help end a church schism. My finger traced the tiny screen of my phone, scrolling down and I wondered idly (with irony) whether yesterday's news of Los Angeles Cardinal Mahoney's diverted cemetery funds was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back for the spiritual leader of a billion of the planet's people. I imagined a courier running on the cobblestones of the Vatican, down the ornate hallways, through the room where man's finger touches God's and into the Pope's private quarters with the news. Maybe he just couldn't take it anymore.

Why are there so many phrases that use camels to impart wisdom? It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God, is a Biblical phrase. Trust in God but tie your camel tight is a Persian proverb, and my favorite might be the Egyptian If you love, love the moon. If you steal, steal a camel. 

I lifted my finger from the screen and closed my eyes. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.

I was raised a Roman Catholic,

via flickrhivemind

but every year that goes by, every day perhaps, I grow further and further away from those roots. Today I read that the Pope of the Catholic Church, Pope Benedict XVI, has declared to nearly 180 diplomats from various countries that pride of place goes to the family, based on the marriage of a man and a woman, and then this is not a simple social convention, but rather the fundamental cell of every society. Consequently, policies which undermine the family threaten human dignity and the future of  humanity itself. As you might guess, this was the Pope's statement against gay marriage.

Gay marriage is a threat to humanity itself, he said.

I want to type that again for all of us Catholics, perhaps in a bigger type.

Gay marriage is a threat to humanity itself.

Here's my question -- and this is directed at those of you who still call yourself Catholic -- how do you not struggle being a part of a Church whose leader makes statements like these, a Church whose official dogma condemns a significant number of people to a position other than human? I have heard all the explanations of reveling in the beautiful traditions of the Catholic faith, of the spirituality that lies at the core, of the profound communities that center around the faith. I recognize and respect those explanations but really, really wonder if that's enough. I don't think it is enough. Of course, if you truly believe that homosexuality sets a person apart from the rest of humanity and that the very existence of the homosexual is a threat to humanity itself, then I understand but don't necessarily respect your position as Catholic. You clearly don't need to answer my question. 

But if you struggle with this or have reached a place of peace and acceptance about this, please let me know.

I am no longer a Roman Catholic, and I struggle to understand how anyone who believes in the sanctity of humanity, in love, in the primacy of the divine in all of us would remain one.

Emblems of outdated institutions?

Can someone out there write the perfect caption for this perfect photo?