The Father Cals

From the June/July 2014 Print Edition

Or here’s a story. One time when I was an altar boy A missionary priest arrived at our parish to conduct A retreat. He was sort of famous and even us cynics Among the altar corps were interested. Competition Arose as to who would be his go-to server; we drew Straws for it and someone joked . . . . Continue Reading »

Te Absolvo

From the May 2014 Print Edition

Of course we remember everything that ever happened to us.Sure we do. We can easily make a concerted effort to forget,And successfully forget from Levels One through Eight, butYou remember, somehow—at the cellular or molecular levelPerhaps, where shame and embarrassment are in cold . . . . Continue Reading »

1945

From the February 2014 Print Edition

Here is my dad in Manila. He is twenty-three years old.He is a master sergeant. His task is to read photographsAnd maps and charts and interviews with local plantersAnd residents in areas which the armies of the AllianceWish to liberate from the armies of the empire of . . . . Continue Reading »

My First Ordination

From the November 2013 Print Edition

My first date with the sweet, wild woman who eventually married me was as follows: We drove two hundred miles from Boston, at speeds exceeding the speed limit, because as usual we started late, and also because someone forgot her dress, which entailed retrieving it again at shocking rates of speed, . . . . Continue Reading »

The Wood Duck

From the October 2013 Print Edition

One time I was driving very slowly with my oldest living brother Through an arboretum he loves, where there are ponds and foxes And owls and kingfishers, and all sorts of other holy amazements, And I asked him what was up with his wicked cancers, how much Pain was he in and what were his chances . . . . Continue Reading »

Confirmation Day

From the June/July 2013 Print Edition

The day I was granted the Sacrament of Confirmation and was admitted with full rights and privileges to the Church Eternal got off to a slow start, because the bishop was late. There had been a rain delay at the Mets game, but His Excellency couldn’t just leave the stadium, because the Mets were . . . . Continue Reading »

The Flimflam Theater

From the Aug/Sept 2012 Print Edition

When I was a boy I had a friend named Dennis McCann Who was totally and utterly and maniacally in love with Surfing. He talked about nothing else and he said he did Nothing else on the weekends and he had ten surfboards Of various sizes in his garage, most of them scuffed and Worn and sandy and all . . . . Continue Reading »