Lysistrata's Daughter

This is how the Padre served his first funeral as a priest:  About a month after he was ordained, we got a call from some very close friends of ours with sad news: they had had a still born baby at five and half months gestation. They wanted to know if the Padre could come and bury the child at the Orthodox convent in Ventura county. We both went, driving through the beautiful farmland around Fillmore and Castaic. It was a perfect Southern California day: the sun made all the hills glow green, but it wasn't too hot. Our friends were outside at the monastery, talking with the nuns. I felt a bit awkward. What do you say to people when they've suffered that kind of loss? I said nothing, hoping that hugs could communicate when words failed. I noticed that the father was holding a small box in his arm when I walked up, but I wasn't sure what it was. He set it down to go get something out of the car, and I realized it was a miniature coffin. When he returned, he tu...

I continue to be bewildered at the proliferation of flat screen TVs at all sorts of public places.  Also, the need to tune each set to a different channel.  Further, why there is on each channel an ever increasingly tawdry show:  court shows, daytime talk shows, and celebrity tabloid shows.  Finally, why people would go on the shows and put their strange personal problems on display for strangers' voyeuristic pleasure. My only hope, especially for the talk shows that insist on airing complicated paternity problems, is that the 'guests' are really paid actors. My other hope is that family oriented burger joints and the YMCA will soon cease to feel the need for all the dang TVs because I'm tired of having to concoct believable fictions to answer the pint size inquisitor as to "Why are all those people fighting/shouting/wearing hot pink talons for nails?"