The Demented Way to Heaven

Time flies when you're residing in the land of dementia. I haven't posted since December. I can't believe that.

I have news to report on the dissertation end. Back in February I actually wrote up a draft of a proposal. I felt as though I turned a corner and was actually entering the Piled High and Deep world eager and ready. But, hold on, don't get too excited. Real life reared it's ugly head. I got a phone call the beginning of March telling me Mom was "on her way to Heaven". So up to Boston I flew. We took her off all her meds. We were told to prepare for death. Mom had stopped eating and drinking. But in Mom's usual dramatic diva-like way (and in God's I-know-better-than-you-mere-mortals way) Mom came back to life off the meds. I always knew Mom was over medicated. Now, God decided to back me up. That's why I like Him. :) Now if only other mere mortals (especially the ones who wear white coats and scrubs) would get out of His way and let Him to do some work, we might be able to get Mom's meds figured out.

And recently they put Mom in a new chair that she can get herself out of and she fell twice in 24 hours and ended up in the hospital last week. On the way to the hospital the ambulance got in an accident and they had to call an ambulance for the guy who hit them and then call an ambulance to switch over to. I can't make this stuff up, folks.

Anyway, they discovered Mom had no fractures (thank God) and that she had another UTI, which by the way, I told everyone she had for two weeks but no one seemed to hear me. I think I should just start calling myself Dr. MAM and not even bother waiting for the final PhD degree. I bet if I told everyone I was Dr. MAM people would listen better.

Mom came home from the hospital this past Monday. She had 4 real good days, one horrible day, one great day, and a pretty good day today. Mom likes to spit out her meds, which I cannot blame her for. In the hospital she gets an Iv, so no spitting. Where she lives they crush it up into ice cream or applesauce. The crusher they use is horrible. It doesn't crush the dreaded chemicals into dust. Who likes to taste and try to swallow chunks? Not me! I have watched Mom try to take those dang meds and it is not pleasant. Makes me think she's not getting her correct dose, which is why I have a feeling we are not through with this UTI, which by the way the doctor said was a very unusual bacteria. LOL. Of course it is. And they put Mom back in the chair she can get out of. So, I know, it is only a matter of time before she falls again. I just about give up. And the Hippa rules, etc, make it impossible to truly protect someone like Mom. A secure belt for her own safety is considered a restraint. So instead we just risk having her fall and fracture herself, and possibly need surgery, which would mean more anesthesia, which is how we ended up here in the first place. Whatever. Other than that, Mom is in one of the best places an old person can be in. What a nightmare it must be if you are in a bad place. Ugh. Mom has some great people around her. So for that I'm grateful. Some kindhearted CNA's, nurses, and volunteers paint her nails, put her makeup on, dress her the way she likes to dress, and keep her entertained.

I'm so drained. I cried all day Friday and could not sleep Friday night. I worry sick over Mom falling out of this new chair. It's just crazy. What good is this chair if she hurts herself? Makes no sense to me. This whole past year, no matter what happened, I could deal with it. I hardly ever cried. But this chair freaks me out. It already has proven (twice) it's an accident waiting to happen. Oh, well. Hope Mom's guardian angel isn't old and feeble like she is. Because he or she needs lots of energy to keep up with Mom.


Hmmm, maybe I'll get back to the proposal I started in February. Maybe I wont.

Mom's a trooper. UTI's make her lose her mind. I said to her on the phone before she went to the hospital, "You're having a hard day, aren't you?" Mom said, "Yes, yes, yes, Oh God, oh God, oh God! But it's ok , dear. I'm learning to be courageous." Then yesterday on the phone I said, "Sometimes I cry because I know how hard this is for you. I worry" She said,"Oh, sweetheart, I don't want you to suffer because of me ... although it does give me a good feeling. But I really don't want you to suffer even though it does make me happy." LOL

I went to a healing service today to pray for Mom and myself. I'm either going to have a nervous breakdown or an ulcer by the time my trip to dementia world ends. The man who prayed over me told me that his mother went through the same thing. Practically identical stories--his mother came back to life after being taken off meds--one UTI after another--hell of a time getting meds figured out. While we were praying for Mom, my brother, one of the nuns, and a volunteer took my mother outside for the passing Memorial Day Parade. Mom was all excited and happy and talking to EVERYONE. LOL Mom always was a social butterfly. Mom turned 87 this past Thursday. No one thought she would live to see another birthday. Last year at the parade, she stood proudly and saluted perfectly the way an ex-Marine should as the Marines passed by. The Marines saw her and stopped to salute her. Today she couldn't stand but I'm sure she sat TALL in that awful new chair and saluted with pride. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Semper Fi, Mom!


For now, I shall leave you with some pics of my trip to see Mom in March. You can see the remarkable difference in her from day 1 to day 7. Moral of this story is don't over medicate your elders.

2010/2011 Whatever

Well, it's New Year's Eve, and I'm in bed sick as a dog. I woke up yesterday with a bad cold or something. Some horrible germ is spreading through my body. Whatever. It seems to be the perfect way to end my horrible year.


I see I have not posted since August. My mother declining has drained me of all the creative energy I usually have. I have not done a thing on my dissertation except to just think about how I haven't done anything. The last couple of years have been full of loss that has sent me into some sort of limboish state. It seems to be one loss after another. And working too many part-time jobs for hardly any money is killing me. I just can't seem to find one job that pays enough, so I keep ending up with too many part-time jobs that pay little, and leave me with no time to work on anything else. I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm so behind in my tuition payments this semester that I'm seriously beginning to wonder if God's plan is for me to drop out of school. I just don't know. And God doesn't seem to be giving me an answer.

I wish my mother lived closer to me, but that is not an option. I've got find a way to not think about (and worry about her) so much. Living with dementia is like living with a cancer or some such chronic disease. Each day a little piece is missing from both of you, and neither of you have any idea if tomorrow will come. You try to squeeze whatever and as much as you can into short phone conversations, and then you think about what was said in those conversations all day--every word and every voice inflection. You also start to question your own mortality and your own purpose. Heck, you question every single thing you ever believed in and still do believe in and whether what you believe in is really what you believe and if it ever was. You also realize who your kindred spirits are. As my grandmother use to say, you can count your real friends on one hand.

This has been one heck of a rotten year. Oh, hell, I'm going to just say it--it has been one heck of a rotten three years. And I feel as though 2011 will be the year I lose my mother, so I don't see it getting much better. I lost my mother's dear friend, Josephine, Thanksgiving week. She was 90. I loved that woman. She was such an inspiration. This is the beginning time of many unwelcomed changes.

I don't know much of anything anymore. But what I do know is that life is hard.

Aging: However you fight it, you still end up dead.

Well, it's been over a month since my last blog. And it sure has been one heck of a long seven weeks. I feel like 5 years has passed.

I just have one thing to say--aging sure does stink.

A brave friend of mine posted on her blog how she is not too happy with the aging process. And I have to agree with her. I hate that society, especially Western culture, puts so much superficial value on appearance. No matter how hard we try to convince ourselves that we will age gracefully and not morph into vain women who think too much about their looks, we still do morph into that. One day you wake up and realize you have turned into a pathetic woman who is mourning her youth. I admit it. I am pathetically watching my cuteness fade away. And I hate every second of it fading away and I hate even more every second that I waste on mourning its demise. I am PATHETIC.

But there's nothing I can do about it. I have no money, no insurance. Therefore, I should count my blessings that even if I was tempted to undergo some dreadful plastic surgery or face a needle full of poisonous Botox, I can't. So back fat, wrinkles, thick mid section, and hormonal acne it is for me. Bring it on. At least I can dye my white hair. Maybe I should just dye my whole body. Tie dye would work. (Is that the correct way to spell tie dye?) Now that would be making a statement, wouldn't it? Or, maybe, I could just move to a part of the world where a woman has to cover up. You know, I think those women are on to something. The older we women get we actually envy that. This is a well kept secret. Come on, you aging women know I'm speaking truth.

Hmmmm, or maybe I should just join a convent or become a hermit--is a female called a hermitress? I envy the lives of nuns and hermits. Actually, the contemplative hermit existence appeals to me. I love being alone. And I love conversing with God. And I think there must be such freedom in never thinking about what you are going to wear or what makeup will cover your wrinkles or what lipstick will not creep into the lines that are creating road maps to heaven or hell around your mouth. But what an act of submission to God that would be. To be seen without makeup. I don't think I have done that since I was 16. And I have not been sans nail polish since the fourth grade. Yes, a hermitress life for me would be best. Spare the world.

What's really depressing is that I actually fooled myself into thinking that because I have never had children, always work out, for the most part eat healthily, and hardly ever drink alcohol that this would not happen to me. HAH!!!!! What a lie, It's all a lie.

It's like that health fanatic runner who dropped dead jogging in his forties. And look at George Burns. He smoked cigars and drank every day and lived to a ripe old age. You just never know. When God decides your number's up, it's up. Ugly or beautiful. We all end up dead.

You know what? It just isn't worth the energy to think this much about myself. And I'm probably cheating God by wasting so much of my energy.

So let's talk about what I did in June. At the end of June I saw Mother Teresa's relics. They are touring the USA and Canada. Now there was "real" woman. Most of society would think she was nothing if they were basing their feelings on the superficial and on how modern culture defines beauty.

I sometimes go over to the hospice that the Mother Teresa nuns operate here. It's a hospice for men with aids. And each nun there is truly beautiful. They each own one pair of sandals, two habits, and belongings that fit into one paper bag. They spend 24/7 helping the worst of the worst. The poorest of the poor. And they live the same way themselves. No air conditioning for them.

Every time I'm in their presence I feel nothing but joy. And the men that live with the sisters truly love them. The ones that are well enough help the sisters with chores. They jump at the the opportunity. These men that once were homeless have such a deep respect for these women. That's because sincere suffering knows true beauty. Here are some pics from the relic showings--

Mother Teresa's sandals. Look at how worn out they are. She wore these for many years. Think of all the countries these sandals walked and all the people she helped while wearing these sandals.

This a street person who I used to know. He doesn't even recognize me anymore. My mother used to know his mother. When his mother was alive he lived with her and she took care of him. Since she died he spends most of his time on the streets in a wheelchair. One of the nuns decided to take him inside the church and show him the relics. He came alive. He was beaming--the first time in years I have seen him smile. When he was looking at Mother Teresa's rosary and crucifix he became transfixed. It was as though he was having a private conversation with her. It seemed like time stopped in the Basilica.

Me at the hospice. Mother Teresa's rosary and crucifix. She received the crucifix when she was 20. These were both with her when she died. The two stands are holding a piece of her hair and a drop of her blood. Not a very good pic of me. But since I was hanging with Mother Teresa nun's I shall consider it a lesson in humility to post a bad pic. Ha ha.

And I ended up in the newspaper--http://articles.baltimoresun.com/2010-06-30/news/bs-md-ci-mother-teresa-20100629_1_relics-baltimore-basilica-rosary

Something beautiful happened when I was at the hospice. The relics were being displayed in the hospice's tiny chapel. I decided to stay a while and pray. All of a sudden the men who live in the house came in and sat down. I asked one of nuns what they were doing. She told me, "The men say the rosary everyday. They are going to pray it now." 10 men live in the house. 9 black men and one white man. Various ages and various stages of sickness. In order to live at the house they have to have no where else to live. And they can't be drinking or using. The praying is voluntary. To see these men who have had, shall we say, colorful pasts humble themselves is inspiring. Each man said a decade of the rosary out loud in his own style, rhythm and cadence. One guy even rapped it. Ha. I loved his rapping. It was so great. I bet God looks forward to this rosary recitation everyday. It must put a huge smile on His face. It was the most sincere praying I've ever heard--straight from the heart. Of course, the oldest and sickest man sat next to me--practically on top of me. He kept dozing off. In between dozes he would perk up and shout, "Jesus! Hell! Jesus!" I thought he was going to fall asleep on my shoulder. I sort of was propping him up. When the praying was over, I patted his knee. He opened his eyes and managed a little smile and nodded his head. Hmmm...life. The journey goes on.

Tonight on a phone conversation, I said to my 86 year old mother, "Mom, I guess we're all on a journey. And the purpose is to make it to heaven. There doesn't seem to be any other purpose or explanation." She said, "What do you mean guessing? No guessing about it. Dear, that's all we have. I just can't imagine not knowing this." My mother has had a horrible time lately. Eight weeks ago she broke her hip. She had the beginning signs of dementia before the hip fracture. And now the anesthesia from her surgery has advanced it. She's not the same and she knows it. And she had the added complication of a UTI that landed her back in the hospital. She almost died the night they put her back in the hospital. She is now back home where she lives with the Little Sisters of the Poor. She is happier there but very frustrated that she is having a hard time remembering certain things and not being able to move around freely. She can't get through the night without waking up and crying out for help.

Even though this has been hard on both Mom and me, especially since I live far from her, there have been some heart felt and humorous conversations and words spoken that will always stay with me. But it's late now, and I must go to bed. I need to get a good night's sleep in order to continue my journey.

More on Mom later ...

Something Called Acedia and Goodbye My Howard. (And the heck with proofreading.)

Oh, oh, oh. What to write, what to write, what to write.

My last post was April 25th. And here we are at June 25th. For someone who supposedly has a gift for writing, I sure have not been prolific in any way, shape, or form for over two years--actually almost three years. Totally depressing. I think I have written only two or three poems in three years. That's sad. I must admit that I have never recovered from my PhD coursework. And this is starting to really worry me. Something happened to me and I don't know what. It's like some part of my brain has shut down. Not to mention my memory seems shot too. I keep waiting for myself to get back to the "normal" I was before coursework hell, but I have finally realized that there is no normal for me to go back to. It is lost forever. Bye bye "normal" Mary Alice. Yes, she must be put to rest. She must have a proper send off. I have to slay this demon and watch it descend to the underworld. The funeral will be at 9am this Monday.

The best writing teacher in my masters writing program told me when I told him that I wanted to go on for my PhD, "What? Why? You're a real writer. You should be writing. They will suck all the creativity right out of ya'! Don't let 'em kill ya'! They will destroy you!" He was a crusty 83 year-old man who was always a professional writer and never really a teacher. I'm beginning to think he was right. Wisdom sometimes disguises itself in the form of crusty old men. I'm dead. I'm just doing it walking.

I'm reading a book that might shed some light on my lack of creativity and energy. It's called Acedia and Me, A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life by Kathleen Norris. I'm only on page 68, so I still have a lot to learn from this book. But the concept of acedia is interesting. And I do think I have a touch of it. A restlessness that for as long as I can remember has always been inside me. Like there is something else out there. Like I'm just not in the right place. Like things that don't bore other people bore me. Like I'm waiting for my real life to begin. Like who the hell am I? Like why even as a two year old when I would look up at clouds I knew someone stole me and placed me far away down here where I don't like it?

Now, from what I'm reading so far, I don't have this acedia affliction nearly as deeply as Norris has it, but I definitely can relate to the idea. I think acedia afflicts creative people. I probably inherited this tendancy from my tortured artist father and my frustrated wannabe drama queen mother. And like quite a few of the artists/poets/writers that Norris talks about, my father also committed suicide. These tortured souls experience darkness of the soul and of the creative spirt. But they themselves do not understand that this is actually normal for many people. So many of them drink or self medicate in self destructive ways. And they fool themselves into thinking they have to be this way in order to create. But don't anybody out there worry, I'm not that tortured. Don't start calling me asking me If I'm about to do something drastic. Once during a prolific period I shared my poems with friends. At the time I tended to write angst poetry. It's my favorite way to write. Next thing I knew I was getting phone calls, "Are you alright?" "Are things Ok? My husband and I are worried about you." "Do you need anything?" "Are you depressed?" I responded with laughter, "I'm fine. I'm the happiest depressed person around." Geez. One thing I have never been accused of is being depressed. But it's normal to feel the feelings folks. It's when you run away from them and hide that you get really lost. People who put on a happy face 24/7, even when it's just them and the night, just have to be on really good meds.

Norris says that today most people call this feeling depression, but acedia really isn't clinical depression. It's more like spiritual sloth or being unable to care. Does anyone even know what sloth is today? I grew up with a mother who liked that word and actually used it. I don't even know if you could find a kid today who has ever heard of it. Anyway, Norris examines how monks going back to the fouth century discussed acedia. They called it the noon day demon. Praying and working would be going along just great and then bang--around noon time to early afternoon--nothing except soul weariness. They were unable to function much. They couldn't even pray. hmmm...

Anyway, the last few years have been difficult for many reasons. And that is how I feel. I feel soul weary. I'm drained.

Oh well, what are you going to do?

On another note, in past blog postings I have written a lot about my homeless buddy, Howard. I don't think I'll be writing much about him anymore. He has gone missing and I am missing him terribly. For years he has been making me feel extra beats of happiness when I turned the corner to find him waving at me with his big floppy hands from way down the end of the street. I have asked everyone about him. The last he was seen he was shaking terribly and no one has seen him since. I often wanted to take a picture of him but I felt that might be intruding on his privacy. Now I wish I had hid in corner and snapped a pic of him. He probably would not have even minded. When I was away at school for that one long year, I missed Howard. I was so happy to see him again on his corner. Now the corner is so lonely. Just about everyday on my way to Mass I expect to see him as I take a left turn, but no Howard. Ugh. I just hope if he died he went quickly and if he did not die that he is being taken well care of.


There's a line in this song that always makes me think of Howard.

If you haven't got a dollar, not a penny to your name, someone's gonna miss you when you gone.





And here is one of the few poems I have written in years. July of 2008. Geez. I don;t even remember writing it, and after reading the content, maybe I really do suffer from acedia.

The Watered Seed

Maybe you’re just breezing by
A fleeting moment of release
A brush against my soul’s skin
A taste of sweet abandonment

Will you linger a while?
Long enough to break the skin
And root a firmly planted spirit
Grow up in me a worthy soul

A soul with strong branches
And bendable leaves
Foliage that never withers
A pasture that’s always green

My soul needs a bit more tilling
It requires complete cultivation
Unburying old fears, dirt free
So much hope in a tiny seed

How much more can you give?
How many more breaths do you have?
To breathe long life into this soul
To make it bloom as it ought to

Many masters bring false freedoms
Followers crossing barren fields
Seedlings birthing nothing tough
Trees with no roots to take hold

Where do their paths lead?
Do you breathe on them there?
Do they brush your breeze away?
Do they ever rest in your sunshine?

My freedom is in the yielding
The way a seed submits
To its planter’s understanding
Counting on his springs of faith

Drinking from your well of life
Will make this seed crawl
On its knees, out of the dirt
and back to the dirt, on its knees


Mary Alice Moore July 8, 2008

Dissertation Hibernation

Well, I have not posted since the end of January. I can't believe how fast time has gone by. I wish I could tell you that my lack of posting was due to being buried in PhD research and writing, but it hasn't, and I can't lie. I have not been a very good dissertator. My spirit is willing, but my brain, heart and body just won't cooperate. Too many jobs and life's problems have made me want to spend what little free time I have escaping into the world of past seasons of 24 and movies on instant Netflix. I didn't start watching 24 until Season 6. A friend of mine told me how I could get all the past seasons at the library. Oh, what fun!!!! 24 is the only show I watch. So I am not even going to feel guilty. Too bad this is 24's last season. UGH.

I'm happy to report that I did read two dissertations by other PhDers. Reading them made me feel so much better about the whole dissertation. I realized it is not that big of a deal. I just need to get started. Once I get the proposal written and accepted I can then start the process. I fear the proposal more than the actual dissertation. I feel clueless as how to do the proposal. I know that once I get going I'll be ok. It's just that the getting going doesn't want to be got. Hmmmm....

What else has happened over the last few months. I had a birthday! Yep, March 29.




That is me at the Cheesecake Factory. My neighbor and good friend Susanne takes me there every year for my bday. :)

My homeless buddy Howard also had a birthday in March. I know this because one day he called me over to him. He was very excited. I said, "Are you talking to me?" He said, "Yeah, TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY!!!!!" I said, "Noooooooooo, really? How old are you?" He said, "60". I said,"Get out of here, Howard. You look younger!" He smiled. And then he gave me a little hug and kiss on my cheek. That was the first time a dirty homeless guy ever hugged and kissed me. It was a sweet moment. :)

Another sweet thing happened. Jenna, one of my best friend's daughter, and I spent a whole day wandering around DC. This was so special because the last time I saw Jenna in person she was 11. Now she is 19. She is such a great girl and has always had such a pleasant personality. I could travel the world with her in happiness and contentment. I love my Jenna.

My beautful Jenna. We had such a good time. She is almost finished her first year at University of VA in Richmond. I hope she visits me more often!!!!!!! She's always been my favorite "kid"!!!!!

Something else monumental happened. I got my first bread maker. WooooHOOOOOOO!!!!! You have no idea how excited this purchase makes me. I know. I'm so easy to please. Just give me a 45 dollar bread maker and I'm happy. This is a recent purchase--two weeks ago. And look at how many recipes I found today--http://allrecipes.com/Search/Recipes.aspx?WithTerm=bread%20maker%20recipes I have always wanted a bread maker. My best friend has been telling me to get one for 10 years. Walmart finally had a sale. :)

Is it supposed to make that sound???

YUM!!!!!!
What songs are on my mind? I usually post a song. Let's see if i can go find on my favorite U2 song. Hot dang!!! I found it. Bono--ahhhhhh ....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xDy-QI78mLI

I've seen U2 live a few times. AHHHHHHHHHHH--wonderful.

Well, that's about all I have to say tonight.

Peace out,

MAM :)

There's Always McDonalds, Hope & The Fiddler.

Ohhhhhhhhh, well, here I am again--another Sunday night--another week gone by.

Since the last time I posted I was informed that I lost one of my teaching jobs. That's life in the academic jungle where humans sometimes act like crafty foxes. No advance notice. One week a job, the next week your job is given to someone else. Another department took over my department's classes and I got thrown into the jungle without a machete, which is probably a good thing because I could have done a good job swinging that machete. Yep, that's the way the jobs tumble and the pages rip. I have to say I was upset when I found out and was sort of in a funk for a few days. But my homeless buddy Howard put it all in perspective.

Howard was in his usual spot outside church. He saw me coming down the street and started waving me over to him. He said, "There was a funeral here this morning!" Howard tends to get excited whenever there's a funeral. Howard mumbles, which is probably due to his lack of teeth. I said, "What did you say?" He said, "There was a funeral. I wonder who it was. Do you know?" I said, "No. I didn't know her. But yesterday they said her name. I think her first name was Anna." Howard said, "I hope it wasn't the lady in the gray car. I help her. She can never find parking. So I help her find a spot. I hope it wasn't her." I said, "Howard, you help everyone." Howard smiled and then said, "How ya' doin'?" I said, "Not too good today, Howard. I lost one of my jobs." Howard said, "Ohhhh noooo!" I said, "Yeah, I hope I find another one soon. I have no money." Howard ever so sympathetically said, "Don't worry, baby. You'll find somethin'. I know you will." I said, "I hope so. If you're a praying man, Howard, pray for me." He smiled and said, "Ok. But don't worry. There's always McDonalds!" I looked way up at big Howard and said, "Howard, if I end up at McDonalds, you're going to get a lot of food!" Howard smiled and chuckled. I smiled and chuckled too as I walked into church. I love Howard. He never fails to make my day.

After Mass, Howard was still standing watch on his corner. I walked over to him and said,"Here Howard. This is mine, but I want you to have it." I handed Howard my rosary. He took it, smiled and simply said, "Thank you." I said, "Keep it in your pocket. Keep it with you always." He smiled and said, "OK." I looked way up at him and mischievously said, "Oh, and Howard, make sure it's not in a pocket with a hole in it." Howard smiled and laughed. Oh, life would be so boring without Howard. You know, Howard has a really interesting life. He knows everything that goes on in a whole city block. He has all types of friends. And he knows how not to worry. Howard is freer than a lot of folks I know. Thanks to Howard, my new daily mantra is There's always McDonalds! McDonalds and Hope. You can't live without them.

As my week continued my job woes lessened. It looks like I will still be teaching my night class,which starts in a few weeks. But I won't believe it until I'm standing in front of my students. I also applied for an online teaching position and another job. So maybe, just maybe, I'll have something secure lined up soon.

Moving on to the reading front. I started these two books the last couple of days: The Music of Creation by John Michael Talbot and The Monks of Tibhirine, Faith, Love, and Terror in Algeria by John W. Kiser, The monks book is fascinating. I reluctantly put it down. Here is a review that is from Goodreads.com:

Few Americans heard about it, but the story gripped Europe (and especially France) during the summer of 1996: The mysterious kidnapping and murder of seven Trappist monks living in the Algerian village of Tibhirine at their monastery of Notre-Dame de l'Atlas. John W. Kiser III tells their story, or at least what parts of it can be known; much of what happened to them remains unclear, including the motives of their captors. Parts of The Monks of Tibhirine are grim, but this is an unavoidable fact of the case. The monks' bodies, for instance, never have been found--except for their heads. Kiser describes the scene: "The monks' desiccated faces, hollow eye sockets, and exposed teeth made them look like mummies." (Apparently they had been buried, then disinterred.) Readers looking for a nonfiction thriller won't find it on these pages, however. Much of the book is a history of monks living in Algeria, and much of the rest chronicles the good relationships the seven doomed monks shared with their Muslim neighbors. Their devotion to both their faith and their neighbors is inspiring; the way they died is abhorrent. --John Miller

Those who know me well know I love classic movies. Yesterday TCM had a great line up--Fiddler on the Roof, National Velvet, and Wuthering Heights. I wanted to watch all three,
but I'm just not one for sitting all day in front of the TV. But I had to watch Fiddler. Fiddler on the Roof was one of the first movies I ever saw in a theater. My mother took me. It was a special occasion. We rarely went to the movies. My family didn't have extra money to waste on movies. Oh! How my mother and I loved that movie. I have not seen Fiddler in years, so when I watched it yesterday it was like seeing it through new eyes. It's the perfect movie. Great acting, great music, great scenery, great directing. Just perfect. Every human emotion is explored during the movie. Creativity at its best. Here's a video of Topol in the If I were a Rich Man scene. Topol is a genius. He was born to play this role.



Here's an interview with Topol. He has played this role on the stage more than 2500 times. Wow. I have seen the film many times, but the never the stage production. I so wish I could see it, but I can't afford to go to any stage productions anytime soon. But I shall not fret over it because There's Always McDonalds!. :)

Books, Secrets, Respites, Suffering, and Grace

Well, it's January 24th, and I just finished reading my second book this month. I think it's safe to say I'm off and running. The book I literally just finished I wrote about in a previous blog.Annie's Ghosts: A Journey Into a Family Secret by Steve Luxenberg

I give it four stars. A couple of months ago,I met the author when he came to speak at the library where I was teaching an ESL class. His book is about a family secret his mother kept. After his mother died, the author found out that his mother had a sister that none of the children in the family knew about. The book's topic falls into the area my dissertation will explore--that of using writing as a healing mechanism. Here's a link to an excerpt from Annie's Ghost.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/style/longterm/books/chap1/anniesghost.htm

For anyone who has been part of family who has kept secrets (haven't we all?) this book is worth the read. Also, anyone who has a family member with mental illness and/or mental retardation will find the book insightful.

On a lighter note, my one and only favorite TV show premiered this past week. 24

Oh 24! How do I love thee? You are the only show I watch. In 2007 I discovered you. You rescued me from PhD coursework hell once a week. I trust you will also get me through the dissertation process. Your season premiere did not let me down. I feel energized. Save me from my dissertating misery. Give me a reason to go on each week. :)



On a more serious note, the whole Haiti crisis has me contemplating life. There's so much suffering in this world. So many people in well developed countries overlook the role suffering truly plays in life. When we have material things easily at our reach, and grow up in a culture that expects everything instantaneously, we forget, or choose not to notice, that the majority of people live in third world countries where poverty is a daily struggle.

I consider myself fortunate in that I have traveled to parts of this suffering world. I have seen horrible poverty upclose in places such as Mexico, Colombia, and Bosnia.

In Mexico I drove past cardboard shacks on my way to an idylic beach resort. I remember seeing little children playing outside these shacks. I wondered what happens to these shacks when it rains?

In Colombia I saw street children who were most likely addicted to glue standing on corners ready to reach into car windows to steal gold chains off of clean and shiny necks. And in a small Colombian shady airport I saw heroin addicts and prostitutes roaming the airport and in the airport bathroom there was a ghostly looking person lying on the floor. To this day, I'm still not sure if that person was dead or alive. What was really frightening was there was no one for me to go to for help. No one wnated to be involved. All I could do was pray for that person and get back to the plane. I have seen addicts on the streets in the US but something was much darker about these Colombian addicts. I also grew up in a home with a father who was an alcoholic and brothers who were addicted to drugs. I think the difference is that in this country you feel a little more hope where in poverty class driven societies that hope seems less available. Many third world countries are based on two classes--the wealthy and the poor. There's no middle class. So the poor and the addicted seem to stand less of a chance. There is not a lot of access to recvoery programs.

In Bosnia, I gave out food refugees. I'll never forget the faces of those people and the way they praised God as we came into their world for a short time. One thing I have noticed is that the biggest smiles I have received have come from the "smallest" people I have met. Small in the eyes of those who don't understand.

Mother Teresa used to say the worst poverty she saw was in the west which is surpsising since the Western world is wealthy. Here is an excerpt from an interview Mother Teresa gave:

"You, in the West, have millions of people who suffer such terrible loneliness and emptiness. They feel unloved and unwanted. These people are not hungry in the physical sense, but they are in another way. They know they need something more than money, yet they don't know what it is.

“What they are missing, really, is a living relationship with God.”

Mother Teresa cited the case of a woman who died alone in her home in Australia. Her body lay for weeks before being found. The cats were actually eating her flesh when the body was discovered. “To me, any country which allows a thing like that to happen is the poorest. And people who allow that are committing pure murder. “Our poor people would never allow it.”

And the teeming millions of the poor of the Third World have a lesson to teach us in the affluent West, Mother Teresa declared.

“They can teach us contentment,” she said, her leathery face gently smiling. “That is something you don't have much of in the West.

“I'll give you an example of what happened to me recently. I went out with my sisters in Calcutta to seek out the sick and dying.

“We picked up about 40 people that day. One woman, covered in a dirty cloth, was very ill and I could see it. So I just held her thin hand and tried to comfort her. She smiled weakly at me and said, ‘Thank you.’ Then she died. “She was more concerned to give to me than to receive from me. I put myself in her place and I thought what I would have done. I am sure I would have said, ‘I am dying, I am hungry, call a doctor, call a Father, call somebody.’ “But what she did was so beautiful. I have never seen a smile like that. It was just perfect. It was just a heavenly gift. That woman was more concerned with me than I was with her.”

Mother Teresa, who had a wonderful way of making you feel you were the most important person in the world when you were talking to her, told me of another incident.

“I gave another poor woman living on the streets a bowl of rice,” she said. “The woman was obviously starving and she looked in wonder as I handed it to her. “She told me, ‘It is so long since I have eaten.’

“About one hour later, she died. But she did not say, ‘Why hasn't God given me food to eat,’ and ‘why has my life been so bad?’

“The torture of hunger and pain just finished her, but she didn't blame anybody for it. This is the greatness of our poor people.”

Mother Teresa added: “We owe a great debt of gratitude to those who are suffering so beautifully. They teach us so much.” http://www.assistnews.net/Stories/2009/s09100027.htm

Lately I have been thinking about a friend of mine who died a few years ago. Out of respect for privacy I will not mention her name. She was a model and married into a family that made billions from Austrian crystal. As long as I knew my friend she was miserable. She was anorexic, addicted to prescription drugs, and an alcoholic. All the billions, the clothes, the cosmetic surgeries, two lovely little girls,and parents and a family who loved her could not make her happy. She drove her porsche SUV off of a mountain top and three weeks later her husband put a bullet through his head. No amount of fame or money can heal the two daughters left behind whose relatives on the father's side are fighting over inheritance rights. What chance do those two little girls have? Every time my friend came to town she wanted me to go out with her. Over her way too many Kalhua's she would say, "You have nothing. How come you're happy?" Hmmm.

I'll never forget the date she died--Dec. 21st. I was away at school at IUP. I had distanced myself a bit from her because she had become too difficult to deal with and was always high. I found myself thinking about her. I told myself that when the semester ended I would email her. That day I said some prayers for her. On Christmas day I was getting ready to email her when I found an email from her sister to me. It told of the details of my friend's death and that she died on Dec. 21st,the day it entered my mind to contact her and the day I felt the need to pray for her. I hope those prayers somehow comforted her when she was dying. She had a big heart and was just a girl who got in way over head living the fast life of a model.




Ignore typos. It's way past my bedtime and I'm tired.

Peace,
MAM :)

Yep. Yep. Yep. And Priceless Memories

Yep. Yep. Yep.



And I'm not even getting a stipend.



Yep. Yep. Yep.



This calls for drastic measures--

Ahh, I'm in such a funk and wondering why I'm even bothering trying to do my dissertation. It looks like I might have to keep my night-time teaching job afterall. I have no idea how I will make it financially without it unless something gives soon on another job. On the other hand, if I keep three jobs I will not have time to do my dissertation. And the thought of starting up another semester with such a hectic schedule is making me hyperventilate and break out in sweats. This is not good.

And watching Haiti suffer from the devastation of the earthquake is making me feel like why the hell should this even matter. I could be dead tomorrow. Those poor people. I wish I had a job that took me to places that need help. l filled out a form with MercyShips to volunteer in Haiti sometime over the next two years. They have a category for writers and teachers. Chances are I will not even be able to go. My bad back will probably disqualify me. But I often have this desire to just chuck all this *&^$ and go live among the poor and make a difference in this world.

Now, if I could get a full-time job teaching my ESL students doing the same thing I do now I could be satisfied. However, adjuncting is not enough to live on and there's no security. But I do love it. If I didn't have a dissertation to worry about, working three jobs would be no problem. Dang this dissertating!

On another note, I have a little update on my homeless buddy Howard. Not only did he get a new bright and shiny red winter parka but he also got another coat. I saw my friend at church--you know--the one I asked to help Howard out at Christmas time. I said, "Did you have something to do with Howard's new red coat?" He said, "No, I gave him a green one! I don't know where mine went." I said, "I bet the green one is under the red one. Howard is looking pretty bulked up." We laughed. Then a few days later it was warmer out, and I stopped to talk to Howard. He had his red coat unzipped and sure enough there was the green jacket under the red coat. LOL. :) Good for Howard.

I had a "meeting" with another homeless person this past week. A lady was standing in the foyer of the church. I was taking one of the poinsettas that the church was getting rid of. This lady was watching me. She quietly came over to me and shyly said, "I'm staying at the House of Ruth and I missed lunch. Can you help me?" Hmmm. The House of Ruth is for homeless and abused women. Now, I grew up in the city and am not naive when it comes to "street" people. I know when one is sincere and when one is conning me. I make it a rule to never give money. The good thing is I never carry cash so I'm not lying when I say I have no money. :) This lady was different than most I see. I smiled at her and wished her luck and gave her some pointers on who to get help from. She nicely thanked me. I went back to picking out which poinsetta I wanted. I heard the lady come back my way. She said, "Excuse me. I want you to have this. I'm not catholic." I turned around and she handed me a rosary. She was holding a pocket bible in her other hand. She said she didn't know what the rosary was but knew it was for catholics. I said, "Oh, no, you keep it. I want you to keep it." I slipped it back in her pocket. She said, "But I'm not Catholic." I said, "That doesn't matter. You can be any religion. Keep it with you at all times. It'll help you." She took the rosary out if it's pouch. It was made of beautiful red crystal. She said, "Is it okay if I wear it as my cross?" Normally, you do'nt wear a rosary around your neck but I said, "Of course you can." She smiled a huge smile. I thought, Jesus's mother must be smiling too. I know I was. This lady warmed my heart. At the bottom of the church steps we parted ways. She yelled after me, "Thank you. God bless you. You have a good day." She has been in mind ever since.

Here's a couple of pics from when i went to Bosnia ten years ago. We gave out food to refugees on Thanksgiving day.

A Room Without Books is Like a Body Without a Soul

Hooray, I've started 2010 out properly. I started and finished a book and it is only January 10. After working so many dang jobs this past year, I didn't think I'd ever get my reading brain in focus. This is the same way I felt after I finished my PhD coursework. After that draining experience, it took me a whole year to unwind before I even wanted to pick up a book. So the fact that I picked up on reading so quickly after this past semester of working too many jobs and being totally burnt out is something to write home about or shall I say blog about. This past year, I started out with two jobs, then went to three, and then in September added a fourth. Come Christmas I was exhausted and had no energy to jingle any bells.

Last year I joined a group on Goodreads.com called the 75 Book Challenge. I was well on my way to completing the challenge when I picked up my fourth job. That addition cut short any further additions I might have made to the 75 challenge group. Below is my log from Goodreads telling what books I read in 2009. Now that I'll be working two jobs in 2010, and will be on reserve on my third job, and am determined to start my dissertation, I should have no problem completing Goodreads 2010 75 Book Challenge! HA!

MAM's 2009 Book Log

1. Mother Teresa's Secret Fire: The Encounter that Changed Her Life and How It Can Transform Your Own 5 stars

2.Edith Stein: A Biography/the Untold Story of the Philosopher and Mystic Who Lost Her Life in the Death Camps of Auschwitz Herbstrith, Waltraud 4 stars

3.Moments of Grace: Inspiring Stories from Well-Known Catholics Kresta, Al 3 stars

4. Matt Talbot and His Times Purcell, Mary 3 stars

5. Green Dolphin Street Goudge, Elizabeth 4 stars

6. Barabbas Lagerkvist, Pär 4 stars

7. 1984 George Orwell 4 stars
Well, this was not what I expected. But I liked it. I didn't love it. Not sure what I would have made of it if I read it in high school like so many others did/do. I have to saya the rats freaked me out. I hate rats. I probably would have caved in too.

8.Something Beautiful for God (Paperback)
by Malcolm Muggeridge 5 stars
I've always wanted to read this and found it for 87 cents. It's is a gem of a little book.

9.Francis of Assisi: The Man Who Found Perfect Joy
by Michael De LA Bedoyere 3 stars.I like Saint Francis but this was not the greatest book written about him.

10. The Courage to Create
by Rollo May 4 stars. Very good philosophial look at creativity.

Something Beautiful for God (Paperback) Muggeridge, Malcolm 5 stars

Malcolm Muggeridge's thoughts on knowing Mother Teresa and a transcript of his interview.

Description: No woman alive today has inspired so many with her simplicity of faith and compassion so all-encompassing. As she daily embraces the "least of the least" in her arms, Mother Theresa challenges the whole world to greater acts of service and understanding in the name of love.

First published in 1971, this classic work introduced Mother Theresa to the Western World. As timely now as it was then, Something Beautiful for God interprets her life through the eyes of a modern-day skeptic who became literally transformed within her presence, describing her as "a light which could never be extinguised."

12. Dolores Clairborne by Stephen King 4 stars. I am torn between 3 and 4 stars. Considering Dolores is a hoot and I now feel like I know her, I give it 4. :) I needed my King fix (it's been too long). I have been satisfied.

#13 Finished March 27, Crossbearer: A Memoir of Faith (Hardcover)
by Joe Eszterhas 4 stars

"I found this book extremely entertaining and read it in three days. Joe still is on his journey and I think still has things to learn about his faith (don't we all)regarding dogma, etc. Also, he struggles with reeling in his ego. If he ever ventures ...more I found this book extremely entertaining and read it in three days. Joe still is on his journey and I think still has things to learn about his faith (don't we all)regarding dogma, etc. Also, he struggles with reeling in his ego. If he ever ventures on to Goodreads and reads this, this is not an insult.;) I think the ego comes from years of beating down and being beat up by Hollywood, not to mention the childhood he had. I spent some time in Hollywood and I frequently thank God I left. I couldn't take its superficiality. However, Joe's heart seems much bigger than his ego and he humble's himself, alot. He admits to flunking Christian test number 1, 2, 3, 4 etc, etc. etc, etc. It seems by the end of the book his ego has become smaller. He is starting to pass the tests that come his way. You can't help but grow very fond of him, and what a life he has had. There were times I was busting out laughing and then filling up with tears. I wish Joe peace and luck. And that he continues to grow in his faith. If he was my neighbor, I'd look forward to chatting as we passed each other on walks around the neighborhood."

#14 Called Out of Darkness: A Spiritual Confession Rice, Anne 3 stars I was dissapointed in this. Very tedious read.

#15 Death on a Friday Afternoon: Meditations on the Last Words of Jesus from the Cross Neuhaus, Richard John 5 stars

#16 The Life of Faustina Kowalska: The Authorized Biography (Paperback) Michalenko, Sister Sophia 4 stars A good introduction to St. Faustina.

#17 Jacob Have I Loved Paterson, Katherine childrens, fiction 3 stars

#18 The World According to Mister Rogers Rogers, Fred 4 stars cute and makes you feel good

#19 Slaughterhouse-Five Kurt Vonnegut

Ok, I finally read this. I am reading my way through the classics I never read. I enjoyed it. It has a lot of memorable lines/quips. However, if I had read it in high school, I wouldn't have cared much for it. It is interesting how as I forge through classics 30 years or so after most have read them, I find myself questioning--highschoolers are reading this??????????????? Much would have been lost on me back then. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm ... in the words of Vonnegut, "So it goes."

#20 Prince Caspian (The Chronicles of Narnia)
by C.S. Lewis 5 stars

#21 Thura's Diary by Thura al-Windawi 4 stars A diary froma 19 year old girl during the Irag War. This was very good.

#22 The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis 5 stars This was a hoot.

#23 The Silver Chair (The Chronicles of Narnia)
by C.S. Lewis 5 stars
I am emjoying this series immensely.

#24 Twilight (Twilight, #1) by Stephenie Meyer This book is so dumb.

#25 The Horse and His Boy C. S. Lewis

#26 Prayer Primer : Igniting a Fire Within by Thomas Dubay 5 stars. Great for seekers at any stage of the search

#27 The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Hmmm ... I did not know what to expect when I took this book out of the library. I am trying to read classics I have never read, especially kids books. At first, I was getting distracted reading this, but then something kicked in and I was hooked. This book is deep and philosphical for a kid's book. Quite a few adults probably would not pick up on the profound metaphors. I found myself smiling at the author's whimsy and satirical humor. He does a good job of bringing heavy concepts to a level that a child can understand while maintaining a healthy respect for a child's ability to grasp supernatural theory. No baby talk here. I love his concept those who know where they are going -- Children always know they are going. -- That's so true. It's the adults who get lost. I also love his rose philosophy-- the rose was not unigue until the prince made it his friend. And then the fox's lesson of "taming" was pretty crafty.;) All in all, I was torn between 4 and 5 stars. I decided to give it 5 since I was moved to review it. I hardly ever spend the time reviewing books. So 5 stars it is. :)

# 28 The Chosen Chaim Potok 5 stars Wow! I enjoyed every word in this book. GREAT writing. Potok held me captive from the first to last sentence. The character development is excellent. I love the tender relationship between Reuven and his father, and the tense relationship between Danny and his father is palpable. The friendship between Reuven and Danny is well explored. Also, the Jewish history is so interesting. The characters will stay in my mind forever.

Here are two passages I marked:

Reuven's tired father talking to Reuven

"Human beings do not live forever, Reuven. We live less than the time it takes to blink an eye, if we measure our lives against eternity. So it may be asked what value is there to a human life. There is so much pain in the world. What does it mean to have to suffer so much if our lives are nothing more than the blink of an eye?" He paused again, his eyes misty now, then went on. "I learned a long time ago, Reuven, that a blink of an eye in itself is nothing. But the man who lives that span, he is something. He can fill that tiny span with meaning, meaning is not automatically given to life. It is hard work to fill one's life with meaning. That I do not think you understand yet. A life filled with meaning is worthy of rest. I want to be worthy of rest when I am no longer here. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Danny to Reuven:

"You can listen to silence, Reuven. I've begun to realize that you can listen to silence and learn from it. It has a quality and a dimension all its own. It talks to me sometimes. I feel myself alive in it. It talks. And I can hear it."

The words came out in a soft singsong. He sounded exactly like his father.

"You don't understand that. do you? He asked.

"No"

He nodded. "I didn't think you would."

"What do you mean, it talks to you?"

"You have to want to listen to it, and then you can hear it. It has a strange, beautiful texture. It doesn't always talk. Sometimes--somtimes it cries, and you can hear the pain of the world in it. It hurts to listen to it then. But you have to."

#29 Survival in Auschwitz Primo Levi 4 stars I was walking through my library and this book caught my eye. I was surprised I had not heard of it before. It is amazing that people survived this horrid time. Gives proof to the innate knowledge that life is sacred.

Here are passages I marked:

All took leave from life in the manner which most suited them. Some praying, some deliberately drunk, others lustfully intoxicated for the last time. But the mothers stayed up to prepare the food for the journey with tender care, and washed their children and packed the luggage; and at dawn the barbed wire was full of children's washing hung out in the wind to dry. Nor did they forget the diapers, the toys, the cushions and the hundred other small things which mothers remember and which children always need. Would you not do the same? If you and your child were going to be killed tomorrow, would you not give him to eat today?

Sooner or later in life everyone discovers that perfect happiness is unrealizable, but there are few who pause to consider the antithesis: that perfect unhappiness is equally unattainable.

We are slaves, deprived of every right, exposed to every insult, condemned to certain death, but we still possess one power, and we must defend it with all our strength for it is the last--the power to refuse consent. So we must certainly wash our faces without soap in dirty water and dry ourselves on our jackets. We must polish our shoes, not because the regulation states it, but for dignity and propriety. We must walk erect, without dragging our feet, not in homage to Prussian discipline but to remain alive, not to begin to die.

30 The Last Battle C. S. Lewis. 5 stars. I finally read all the Narnia books. My mother has been trying to get me to read these books for 35 years. LOL Mom will be proud.

#31 Ten Prayers God Always Answers Anthony DeStefano 4 stars This was good. It is different from the spiritual books I usually read. I tend to read the mystics whose message you need to ponder deeply. This book is simple and not laden down with over-your-head theological concepts. Each chapter relates to a different life circumstance and the author lays out a prayer that relates. What makes this book unique is that the prayers come from a perspective that the general and/or overwhelmed mind tends to overlook.

#32 The Prison Angel. Mary Jordan and Kevin Sullican 4 stars. Well, this was a pleasant surprise. This woman has had an incredible journey. Raised in an affluent Beverly Hills family,and well off herself, later in life she found herself searching for a deeper meaning to her existence. She had gone through two failed marriages and had seven kids. Her father had instilled in her an affinity for helping the poor. When she was 50 (and her kids were grown) she became a Catholic nun and moved into one of Mexico's worst(and nightmarish) prisons to help the inmates and their families. She had already been volunteering her services on a part time basis before deciding to make it her life's work, so she knew what she was getting into. She chose to live in a cell right along side the other inmates. She stepped in between guards and prisoners during riots. She ministered to the richest drug dealers and the poorest innocent inmates. She forgave and ministered to the worst murderers (some of whom murdered her friends) while at the same time comforting the victims families. She stood up to guards wehn they were brutally beating prisnoers. She would get down on her knees and beg them to stop and they usually did stop. She walked straight through bullets flying; the inmates and guards would drop their weapons upon seeing her. It was interesting reading what her children thought of her decision to live this life. You would expect they would not approve. But they felt this was who their mother was meant to be and that it made perfect sense. This is a story of how God can turn bad into good when you possess sincerity and a heart that only wants to put God before others and do His will and not your own.

Mother Antonia is still alive. And I believe is still living in the prison. I need to do a little more internet research to find out her whereabouts. She was asked to create an order of nuns so that her work will continue. Here is info from the nuns' website--

The Eudist Servants Of The Eleventh Hour is a new branch, a twig sprouting on the 400 year-old tree of the extended spiritual family of St. John Eudes, whose strong branches include the Congregation Of The Sisters Of Our Lady Of Charity, our Eudist sisters, and the Congregation Of Jesus And Mary, our Eudist priests. Both of these orders were founded by Saint John Eudes, close friend of Saint Vincent de Paul, in the early 17th century. The Eudist Servants Of The Eleventh Hour is an association of the faithful whose members are sisters who are mature women who love Jesus and want to follow Him by serving the poor and the needy. The Eleventh Hour refers to the scripture where Jesus calls the last, and signifies that the community is for older women, generally between the ages of forty five and sixty five. The reference to St. John Eudes is recognition that the community is part of the Eudist Congregation, and it is also in honor of St. John Eudes spirituality. In 2003 the Eudist Servants Of The Eleventh Hour community was formally accepted by Bishop Rafael Romo Munoz of Tijuana, Mexico.The community's mission is to minister to the poor and the needy, to bring to them the love of Jesus Christ. To accomplish this members must, in their hearts and in their lives, bear the pain of the poor, the imprisoned, the sick, the rejected, the forgotten and the abandoned children of God. Members of the community serve, with the permission of the local Bishop, in a variety of locations in Mexico and the United States, and perform a variety of services. Mother Antonia Brenner, the Servants founder and current superior of the community, serves by ministering to prisoners and guards at a prison in Tijuana, Mexico. Several other sisters work alongside her in Tijuana. Sister Kathleen serves her ministry in Baton Rouge and Lafayette, Louisiana as a prison chaplain. Still another Servant, Sister Lillian, serves in her home area of Texas, tending to the elderly in nursing homes.

The Servants operate a ministry center, Casa Campos de San Miguel, located just three blocks from the La Mesa penitentiary. The Casa is a refuge for women leaving prison and for women visiting incarcerated family in the nearby prison, and also for women and children who have come to Tijuana for treatment for cancer. The sisters also have a convent nearby, Corazon de Maria, which serves as the community headquarters and is also a residence for some of the sisters in Tijuana. Corazon de Maria is also used as the community’s house of formation. Still other sisters and associates live in the United States and commute daily to Tijuana to visit area hospitals and comfort patients and their families.

All of the sisters are self-supporting, both economically and with their own health care. Vows are taken for a one year period and then renewed annually, if mutually agreeable.

#33 Alice in Exile: A Novel by Piers Paul Read 3 stars

#34 The Rite The Making of a Modern Exorcist. Matt Baglio 4 stars Ooohhhh, this was really good. The only reason I didn't give it 5 stars is because it ended abruptly. It seemed to lack a conclsuion. Even so this book is an excellent reference. Along with being informative it leaves you not wanting to put it down.

35 Road to Survival David Snyder 5 stars Great little book about the author's work

David Snyder combines both writing and photography. He travels to countries around the world to document the work of Catholic Relief Services and its partners during emergencies like those recounted in this book and reports on development projects aimed at improving the lives of poeple in need. During his travels, David lives and works with Catholic Relief Services staff and partners whose daily efforts in areas of crisis, disaster, and poverty to assist those in need are the final link in a chain of assistance that begins with supporters in the United States.

Catholic Relief Services is the official international relief and development agency of the United States Catholic community. Their mission is to help the poor and vulnerable overseas without regard to race, belief, or nationality. They work in 99 countries around the world and touch the lives of 80 million people.

#36 Honeymoon in Tehran: Two Years of Love and Danger in Iran by Azadeh Moaveni 3 and a half stars. Interesting reading considering what is occurring in Iran now.

#37 The Stoning of Soraya M.: A True Story by Freidoune Shebjam 4 stars This started off slowly but really got rolling half way through. When it got rolling it was unstopable. The stoning scene was heartbreaking.

#38 Tales of Padre Pio: The friar of San Giovanni by John McCaffery 3 stars

#39 Midnight Express by Billy Hayes, William Hoffer 4 stars The book's ending is so much better than the ending in the movie

#40 The Old Man and the Sea Ernest Hemingway 5 stars Oh my gosh! What a great story. I can't believe I never read this. I was "hooked" from beginning to end. All I can say is--fishermen are brave. I feel so sad for the old man.

# 41 Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis 4 stars

#42 The Time Machine by H.G. Wells 3 statrs. Some people love this book, but I just coudn't manage to get into. I was sort of bored with it. Maybe it is just the mood I'm in.

#43 A Mercy by Toni Morrison 3 stars This was good but it just seemed as though it wandered, and I wanted the characters to be developed more.

#44 The Road by Cormac McCarthy 4 stars

#45 The Little Book of Mother Teresa by Sangeet Duchane 4 stars

#46 All Star: Teacher's Edition Bk. 3 (All-Star) by Linda Lee, Jean Bernard, Kristin D. Sherman, Stephen Sloan, Grace Tanaka, Shirley Velasco

#47All-Star - Book 3 (Intermediate) - Workbook (All-Star)

#48 All-Star - Book 2 (High Beginning) - Los Angeles Workbook

Here's to more good reading, less working, and postive dissertating thoughts!!!!!!!

I'll end tonight with a little song to get you in the reading spirit. :)



Peace, MAM :)