Troubling thoughts...

This is one of those times when I fear I am not what my faith demands I should be.

Here's why:

They're having trouble finding a cemetery to take the body of the older Boston Marathon Bomber.  I refuse to learn how to spell his name because I don't think it should be remembered...

But, to deny him a burial seems... like we're failing somehow.

I don't understand it, this feeling.

He was evil.  I have no doubt about that.

He deserves to be forgotten.  I have no doubt about that.

But...

To deny him a proper burial?

That I am having doubts with.

A part of me believes he should be put into the ground and forgotten.  Maybe taken out to sea.  I mean, if it was good enough for bin Laden...

But to deny him something...

I'm conflicted

My faith declares I forgive.

I will never forget and I hope we, as a nation, never forget.

Forgiving is a different story.

Basic human compassion, something we do not dare lose because if we do, we become like them seems to tell us we need to put this man to rest and let God take it from there.

And the eagle will fly...

Enough.

Enough shock and horror.

Enough crying.

Enough grief.

I am tired of it.

I am tired of my country being hit again and again.

I am tired of hearing how we can't jump to conclusions, how we can't judge, how we have to turn the other bloody cheek.

It's freaking enough.

Let's start with that crazy bastard in North Korea.

Then on to Tehran.

Enough of letting the madmen think they can rule us all by fear and intimidation.

It is time for the eagle to soar and the sleeping dragon to wake the hell up and roar!

On this anniversary of Lexington and Concord...

Two explosions.

Opposites sides of the street.

Seconds apart.

We were attacked.  Again.

I've never been to Boston, though it is on my short list of places I wish to visit.

I know the city, though.  How can one not, given it's importance in this nation's history?

I also know it, more intimately, because of a writer by the name of Robert B. Parker.  I've read about it as seen through the eyes of Spenser and Susan and Hawk...

I can't believe this has happened.  Again.  I don't want to believe it.

But...  I do.


We are reminded, yet again, that we are at war.

Evil people wish us ill and want us dead

It will take far more than a president standing up and declaring evil is on the run.

We have  not defeated it; we will never defeat it...

But...

Neither will we be defeated.  We will not be broken.  We will still be standing when the smoke clears, when the tears have been shed, when the grieving has passed.

God Bless Boston...

Habemus Papam

I am not Catholic but Lutheran.  If not for Martin Luther, who knows where my beliefs would've been rooted...

My father was Catholic, my mother Lutheran.  That seems to be the way it goes, doesn't it?  The mother often seems to be the one who decides such things.

The point of this post is not for me to wax philosophical.  It is to comment on the historic events of the day.

Habemus Papam:  We have a pope.

Jorge Mario Bergoglio, born in Buenos Aires, one of the five children of Italian immigrants, his father was a railway worker, his mother a housewife.

The first words I heard to describe him were "humble" and a "man of the people".  

Those aren't bad words, are they?

As I watched the white smoke boil from that silly little chimney, I found myself practically moved to tears.

Again, I am not Catholic, yet I have been strongly moved by these events.  The tradition, the rituals, the whatever you want to call it, has always fascinated me.

Today, however, wasn't about that.

It was, for me, about faith.  

St. Peter's Square was packed despite the fact that it was a cold and rainy evening in Rome.  When the smoke was white, the joy was palpable.  They cheered, they chanted, they sang, all with great joy.

What I noticed about the crowd were the number of young faces present, faces filled with joy, hope, and, dare I say it, faith.

I needed this day.

I needed the reminder that faith is not outdated.  It is not dead.  It was there, burning brightly in St. Peter's Square.

I pray for the new pontiff's health.  I pray for his humility and his faith.  May they carry him through the troubled waters ahead.

A Ghost Story?

I work on a university campus which began its life as a military fort, Fort Brady.

Some of the buildings date back to the 1880's.

There are times when I can feel the history of the place...

But Monday, things took  turn for the . . . something.

One of the RA's who lives in Brady Hall fell and hit his head Sunday night.  He does not remember the rest of the night, including a trip to the hospital some time after midnight.

What he does remember is this:

At approximately 2130, he was sitting in the lobby when he noticed two older men entered the building.   They were walking side by side, talking, and appeared to be checking the building out.

After a short time, the older of the two men left the building but second man went downstairs.  The RA followed him and watched him enter a store room which was locked.  When he went in right after, the man was gone.

When he went back upstairs, he saw the older man, who had gone outside, coming up from the basement at the opposite end of the building where he was joined by the man who had gone downstairs into the store room.  The RA then asked the men for identification and was given the names Phil Sheridan and George Hoyt.  When the RA started to ask them questions, however, Sheridan cut him off and said their boss was waiting.  He also said things would be okay.  He then told Hoyt 'this will work' and then said 'the commander is in need of our services'.  Both men then wished the RA a good evening and they left the building.

On Monday morning, the RA, who also works as one of our student auxiliary officers, came in to our office, clearly agitatedr.  He asked me if I knew anyone working on campus by the names of Sheridan or Hoyt and he told me about the encounter he'd had Sunday night.  He also told me about his fall and the fact he didn't remember anything from the night before except his encounter.  I checked and confirmed we don't have any employees with either name.

The RA had to go to class.  I then contacted his supervisor, who explained more about what had happened the night before, including the fact that he had taken the RA to the hospital and that the RA had a concussion.  He chalked up the encounter with the two men as a 'delusion' brought on by the concussion.

I was willing to chalk it up as the same until the RA came back in and practically demanded I google the names.  He was determined to figure out who the men were and why they had keys to his building.

I had been bugged by the feeling I knew the name Phil Sheridan all morning, and when I googled it, I realized why.

Philip Henry Sheridan (1831 - 1888) was a union general during the Civil War.  He was also the general who selected to location of Fort Brady when it was moved from by the St. Mary's River to where the university is now.

There is a street near the school named after him.

When I googled George Hoyt, however, I didn't get anything concrete.  The RA said I should add the letters QM to the front of his name because that was the way it was on his ID...

I asked him if he knew what QM stood for.  He had no idea so I said it stands for Quartermaster.  He had no idea what that meant.

When I googled QM George Hoyt, I came up with a direct link to a Wikipedia entry on...

Fort Brady.

Hoyt was the Assistant Quartermaster who platted the grounds of 'old' Fort Brady in 1894.

It gave me the chills.

The RA described the men as being dressed in uniforms, with long coats; one was in black with brass buttons.  When I showed him a photo of General Sheridan, he got really quiet and then said  "He was older."

I don't know what to think.

Well, I do.  There are three explanations for what happened.

One, he's playing the best prank on me I've ever had played.
Two, it was nothing but a delusion brought on by the concussion.
Three...

Three, this young man had an encounter with General Phil Sheridan and QM George Hoyt.

I know which I believe.

How about you?