Still Polly

When I was a student at Purdue, about 150 years ago, I can remember walking across campus in the cold. The closer I got to the engineering building, the windier and colder it seemed to get. I had to lean into it at a 45-degree angle just to keep from being tossed around like an empty grocery sack. Shivering, I often wished that someone (preferably a cute boy) would pull up in a warm car and drop me off at the student union. Of course, it never happened. But it was my fairy tale, complete with handsome knight and his trusty Charger. I am a closet romantic. I blame the fairy tales I grew up with, along with all the romance movies I used to watch. I learned a kind of physics from these stories—the ones we make fun of—boy meets girl, boy woos girl, things threaten, they overcome, then “happily ever after.” There was a large portion of my 30s when I threw all this out the window and tried hard to adopt a hard-boiled attitude. None of that is real, I said. But I still dreamed about it. The o...

Tomorrow we will be making our annual Christmas pilgrimage. It is a solemn and important tradition that Bob and I both cherish. It brings so much warmth and joy to our hearts during this dark and cold time of year. Yep. We’re goin’ to Coney Island. I meant every word about it being an important tradition and it truly does bring us both joy. There is nothing quite like an authentic coney from the original Coney Island. Now, this tradition, like some you might have, requires some sacrifice. We’re not the only ones who love to visit this shrine. So we will have to stand outside in line along with all the other pilgrims. Every year, Bob actually spends time planning for our departure, calculating the optimum time to arrive, accounting for the time it will take to find street parking, and factoring in the distance on the walk to 131 W. Main Street. Every year it varies just slightly, but in the end, this planning pays off and we find ourselves ensconced on two (very uncomfortable) stools at...

 “And, Paul was not very well-liked,” Father Bill said, matter of factly. I had to chuckle. He was right. Father’s homily was on our second reading, Philippians 4 verses 4-7. He spoke on the Apostle Paul’s words, “Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice!” Father Bill reminded us that Paul wasn’t just making the suggestion that we rejoice, but really “demanding” for us to do it. Yesterday was Gaudete Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent. It’s funny because that’s usually when I wake up and realize there is basically only one week of Advent left, and dangit if I haven’t missed the whole thing. So I was paying “extra” attention this time. The command to rejoice in Philippians was coming from a guy who was imprisoned multiple times, beaten a bunch, shipwrecked, and was pretty much in danger of death at any moment. So, no, he wasn’t very well-liked. But Paul had something to teach us about the nature of rejoicing, and this was what Father Bill was focused on. In his homi...

Another Scrooge movie? Really? Well, I’ve watched about five of them already, what’s one more? And so I hit “play.” It is, after all, what I do. I watch movies and lots of them. And there is no shortage of Christmas-themed movies to stream this time of year. So there, I did it, I started watching YET another movie based on A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. I love Dickens’s original book, even if it’s not everyone’s favorite. But the funny thing is we seem to be really stuck on this particular story because we just can’t seem to stop making adaptations of it. Animations, comedies, dramas, even sitcoms, you name it. It’s all been done. (But why, Muppets? Why?) Anyway, there I was, watching Alastair Sim in the 1951 movie simply titled Scrooge . The movie begins with a solemn yet evocative setup that introduces the character of Ebenezer Scrooge in a somber, dreary atmosphere. And, surprise! Scrooge is a miserly and solitary figure, carrying a metaphorical chill wherever he goes. This...

I’ll start by saying that it was my birthday. It was not a “big” one but at my age, every birthday feels big in its own way. Plus, these days birthdays come with a fair dose of: how has my life shaped up to date? (Introspective much?) I had decided to go to Confession that morning. It had been a while, and some new things had cropped up that I needed to talk about. So, after a sweet but brief happy birthday moment with Bob, including opening a wonderful and slightly extravagant gift, I got ready and headed into town (wearing the lovely cashmere sweater I received…I couldn’t resist). There were only a few people in line so it went fast, and I was face to face with a young priest I had a few times before. I went down my list and we stopped on one particularly thorny issue I was facing, and he gave me some wonderful pastoral counsel on it, along with my penance and absolution. I left feeling grateful for God’s mercy and love, trusting that God would direct my decision as Father said he wo...

To each their own, they say. As if every opinion and preference is equally valid and always accepted. But let’s be real: there are certain things where that rule doesn’t apply. Sure, I’m entitled to my opinion… except when it comes to South Park, ginger beer, or whatever else people just cannot fathom not loving. It’s like there's an unspoken rule that says some preferences aren’t actually up for debate. A long time ago (probably when they were first invented), I tried barbecue potato chips. And I simply did not like them. I didn’t gag or spit them out. I just didn’t care if I ever had another one in my life. This was my introduction to the world of: if everyone loves it, you must love it too—or else. “Gasp! You don’t like barbecue potato chips? Wow, they are so delicious! I’ve never met a single person on Earth who doesn’t like them. You are just wrong not to like them. I don’t get you. Now, go find another table, because all the barbecue chip lovers sit here.” Okay, maybe it w...

  I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: It's really hard to have Advent right before Christmas. Couldn't Advent be some other time when you're not on a black diamond slope careening toward December 25th? It’s a joke but not a joke. Most years, I find it hard to balance the penitential and prayerful season of Advent with the shopping, planning, and general chaos that comes with this time of year. It has a tendency to turn my season of hope into a season of hustle. The point of Advent is not lost on me: it is a season of preparation and anticipation, in which we are waiting in joyful hope for the coming of Christ at Christmas. We are called to focus on the meaning of the Incarnation, the Word made flesh who dwelt among us. But while we are trying to zero in on our Advent journey, we are tormented by the siren song of the seven salad recipes we pinned and which one we are taking to the family carry-in which is happening in less than a week. As they say, writing is cheaper th...

I am not bragging here, but we have hosted Thanksgiving for the better part of twenty-five years. This means this particular family tradition is old enough to both drink and drive and it has done both. Now that I’m staring down the barrel of this year’s turkey day, I thought I’d share some tips and tricks I’ve used over the years that may—or let’s be real, probably won’t—save your sanity. Tip 1: If you stress about how fancy or planned out you think everything needs to be, you will spend all your time worrying about it and that’s no fun for anybody. Our family Thanksgiving is essentially a big carry-in, where the family brings side dishes, desserts, snacks, and appetizers. We provide the turkeys (usually plural), mashed potatoes, gravy, and a couple of extra sides just in case. We also provide napkins, paper plates, plasticware (yes, girl, we fancy), and some of the drinks. Long ago we were more deliberate about who was going to bring what, now we just say: “Bring what you always bring...

  “Are you taking your vitamins with chopsticks now?” Bob seemed slightly concerned. “Yes, I am,” I told him. “What happened to the tweezers?” “They didn’t really work. Chopsticks are much better.” “Oh, I was starting to worry.” Once after Mass at “second church” at our favorite little joint, I pulled my little pill thingy out of my bag to take my morning supplements with breakfast and noticed my fingers were all yellow. I was baffled. I just wiped them off and went on with the rest of my day, forgetting all about it. Until a while later I was putting on a white top and saw some bright yellow stains all around where I would naturally grab to yank the top down. What the heck? Turmeric. My turmeric supplement was the culprit. I went on Amazon and read the reviews of this highly recommended brand and sure enough, many people posted to be careful when taking them because they stained clothes, counters, and basically anything else they came into contact with. They had no solutions or ha...

Like every morning, I had pulled up the daily readings for my prayer time. It was Monday of the thirty-third week in ordinary time. Since we’re nearing the end of the Catholic year (Advent starts December 1), it was not a surprise to see a reading from Revelation, “Realize how far you have fallen. Repent, and do the works you did at first.“ Noted. The Psalm was a familiar one, with a similar message, “For the LORD watches over the way of the just, but the way of the wicked vanishes.” Check. Then, there was the Gospel. Luke 18:35-43 tells the story of the healing of a blind beggar. In Luke he’s not named, but in Mark he’s known as Bartimaeus. Anyway, Jesus and a crowd were going by the blind man, and when he heard it was Jesus he started shouting out: Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me! They told him to shut up but he kept hollering louder for Jesus to have pity on him. “Then Jesus stopped…” and asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” I’ve had this reading many times, and I al...

  When was the last time I bought something online without reading all the 1- and 3-star reviews? When was the last time I didn’t watch a video review of a movie or TV show to either confirm what I thought about it, or to “tell me” what to think about it? When was the last time I followed a recipe as written before reading the comments to see other people’s hacks or modifications? When was the last time I formed an opinion about a current event without first checking at least three articles or the commentary of someone I “trust”? Am I losing the ability to think critically? Once recently, Bob caught me giving him my “review” of a breakfast sandwich I had ordered at our favorite after-Mass joint (Incidentally, we call this “second Church” because we’re usually surrounded by our fellow parishioners after 7:30 Mass). I was a little surprised and laughed it off at the time, but I have been thinking that he had a point. We live in a funny time where we are influenced, but we’re also in...

  “I didn’t want another dog.” This was my theme song for the first several months after bringing home Stein Eriksen, the dog. First of all, yes. His name is Stein Eriksen. First name: Stein. Last name: Eriksen. He is named after Stein Eriksen the human, a Norwegian Olympic skier known for winning gold and silver at the 1952 Oslo Olympics. Because of his innovative and graceful skiing techniques, he is known as the “father of freestyle skiing,” and his influence extended into his career as a sought-after ski instructor. He worked at various U.S. ski resorts, including Michigan’s Boyne Mountain—one of our favorite places on planet Earth. So this was what inspired us to name our Bernese Mountain Dog puppy after Eriksen, adding a personal touch to Stein’s name that ties back to our years of vacations at Boyne Mountain. But, you see, I did not want another dog. Riley (just a first name but he did have a middle name: Joseph) was an Australian Shepherd and he was, is, and always will be ...

 “Ooh, doors!” I said, excited about the upgrade. Bob had to agree. “Yeah, better than curtains, huh?” We both had to admit that having an actual door felt like a small but significant victory over the typical thin cotton barrier between me and everyone else here for their own rounds of prodding and poking. Today it was my turn—I was in for a colonoscopy. Nobody wants to talk about this test, even though it is common. Often prescribed for people over 45 as a screening for colorectal cancer, it’s still “the procedure that must not be named” because it’s just too embarrassing to talk about. What’s worse than talking about the test itself is the prep for it. The instructions that came to me from the doctor’s office ( physical paper printouts if you can believe that, complete with highlights, notes, and underlines) just told me what to buy (Dulcolax, Miralax, and Gatorade), and when to take what: 3 pm, 6 pm, and 11 pm. What the sheets did not say was what happens in between those time...

  “How can you watch the same movies over and over?” he asked me. There was a short quippy answer to this question in that moment, “Because I like them.” But the truth was much deeper than that. People do not understand my movie obsession. Just recently, a friend asked me if I sit down on the couch for 2 hours at a time to watch a movie. Being more of a 30-minute TV show person, that possibility seemed odd to her. Well, sometimes I do, especially if it’s a movie I haven’t seen that I would like to give my full attention to. But generally, I don’t. It can sometimes take me a few days to watch a movie—in short, 10-15 minute segments. Or, if it’s one I have seen many times I just put it on in the background so I can listen to the dialogue and catch snippets as I walk by to fill up my coffee cup or put clothes in the dryer. It is not efficient. Before I go much further, I want to say that, like a lot of things I enjoy, I am not an expert. I’m probably not even what you’d call a “film b...