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!. :)