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...