July 11, 1999

A day does not begin well when you're supposed to bring someone to O'Hare at 5:50 a.m. but, instead, that is the exact moment at which your eyes pop open. I set a land speed record for shaving and dressing before Dom politely knocked and off we went. I'd even signed off this wonderful web very early last night (10:24) to prepare for this morning's early clock...might have been wiser to stay on all night.

Jay led the Mass later in the morning for the three of us. Once upon a time a three-person mass would have given me the willies. Just too personal...what if I forget the words? Yet, what it lacks in the safety of numbers it gains in its simple human scale. There's little room for elaborate ritual or pompous preaching...just the quiet, potentially profound basics of the Word and the Eucharist. In this humble setting the Mass becomes meaningful again...not some distant public show. I begin to see the luxury of this while most Catholic folks are off to the parish services for better of worse. One of the most memorable little Masses occured about three years ago when Emmett and I inaugurated the unfurnished chapel at our new place in Joliet. We dragged in a couple of dining room chairs and used an end-table for the altar. Our prayer was a masterpiece of ordinary human informality as we sought and found God's presence in a strange new place.

Meanwhile, back in the stormy world, I'm getting kind of bothered by some of the sibs who don't seem to realize they've got a mother that loves them and would like to see them from time to time. I'm no saint when it comes to regular visits...but this party later in the month was supposed to be something. I also know that everyone has their own very good reasons...but, still... And yet, even if nobody shows I think I will still love them all, even and especially the ones I never write to, speak to, or hear from. You know who you are.

Nature Report. Birds seen on the jog this evening: robins, a couple crows, a big herd of sparrows, a goofy skinny finch-like thing with a dusty red head. What are these big trees with mimosa-like leaves? What are those circular plots of dirt among the spacey trees? They'd be great for a big mess of nasturtiums.

The Great Bookcase Crisis is nearly resolved. More on that later.