WE CAN CHANGE DIRECTIONS –IF WE SO CHOOSE

Words leaping off the keyboard: mesmerized

by Delta Blues.

Lyrics filled with the gutteral stories of struggle,

Survival and life’s tensions:

Timeless, ageless, wrapped in a culture of plantation

Experiences : understood by some, appreciated by all.

A musical collage of life’s stories.

A palette of sounds for life’s seekers…whomever you may be.

The search for individual peace and calm is

universal across time, space, and geography. The Blues

provide a reflective voice when the noise of life is

a cacophony of directionless sound.

The  trek becomes more urgent as the

hour hands on the West Minister clock inexorably

travels its 360 degree journey each and every day.

Days pass, years accumulate.  The grim reaper awaits.

Scythe in hand: Eyes at the ready.

An individual journey whose map into the future is

guided by our own inner GPS … going where?

Twists and turns are as buffet offerings slapped on a platter?

No, options are deeply rooted in our choices of yesterday,

of yesteryear.  The fabric of our choices are sewn together

as in a handmade Amish stocking carpet:  each decision adding to

the fabric’s strength, color, and size.  To undo any of the intricate

panels is to disrupt the quilt’s essence – and thus tear our

past asunder .

Our inner psyche becomes unrecognizable.

The nimble fingers of the skilled artisan attaches one stocking to

another – using artistic magic to create their own masterpiece.

Each stitch an individual choice: decision.

And so it is as we wend our way through life’s  daily opportunities:

 We are responsible for each step we take: decision we choose.

Like the maestro composing the blues: the seamstress creating

a masterpiece..  our decisions are influenced by those who have

gone before.

The quiet interludes we choose to have : or ignore with our God

follow the West Minister time piece as we evolve into our full being.

Like the clock, we can rewind, reset, and recalibrate who we are and

what we believe … when and if we choose to do so.

 Amish artistry

THE THIRD DIMENSION – PART II

Nike walking shoes carry the urban trekker from prairie grass

Into the edges of the emerging woodlot.

The unusual combination of hardwoods, evergreens and palms

again amazes and confuses him..  as does so much of mystical nature.

In his last walk the diamond shaped sun spots danced off the

leaves of tiny red maple trees.  The light was an usual combination

of yellow and peach.

This third dimensional presence remained  in place: he walks ahead.

Stomach churning in anticipation,  beads of newly created sweat on his brow,

 he slowly inches forward, one cautious step at a time.

Quiet: dark:  local birds in residence are talking with each other.

The woodlot seems to be  a world unto its self.

The light briefly appears from the north.  Not east or west? The north?

Has the earth deviated from its axis?  Wrens  swirl about disoriented, confused.

Some flying into the trunks of trees and then dropping to the forest floor.

Yet our traveler is entirely at peace.  A calmness envelopes him.

His  stomach is quiet.  Beads of sweat dry and disappear. Worries

exit from his psyche.

What is this power that effects birds and animals but not our human friend?

Are we indeed one with nature?  What if that is no longer true?

Mind stretching – this questions a basic tenant.

What if there are multiple creators?  What if our ecosystems are both interdependent

and independent?  What if humans are not the superior beings on earth?

The questions give him pause. Peering  into the mirror of creation is good for the soul.

The light follows then leads our intrepid hiker.  Where will it lead?

Is there another strange ecosystem broaching the swamp we are approaching?

Is this a voluntary walk? An act of free will?

We search for a known frame of reference  – is the light real – or a creation of our imagination?

A dream facing us when we are awake? An illusion?

The temptation to explain away the phenomena as imaginary,

Illusionary, or the product of derangement  overcome our determination to block

out all thought and conjecture.

When we quantitatively  evaluate forces of creation which are outside our established

tradition, beliefs and cultures we are forced to examine ourselves in a new

light.  Some times illusionary.  Some times with trepidation.

Thoughts, ideas, concepts cling to our psyche forever.  They

are part of our eternal being.  Be courageous, take the risk, permit

the light in the forest to lead you to the heretofore  unknown world

of the third dimension. God is watching you.

A walk in the third dimension

IS THE DEATH OF A LOVED ONE AN OCCASSION FOR CELEBRATION OR GRIEF?

What a question – our immediate reaction is grief.

Lights turned off, windows shuttered, doors closed

The once vibrant house of life is quiet and vacant.

 

At that terminal moment when flowers  from the casket’s

Lid are passed to relatives, the  moment which defines

The end of our relationship with the loved one begins.

 

References to life after death, eternity, rapture have been

Repeated in the funeral service and at the gravesite.

Scripture, eulogies, holy water, all used to invoke the

celebration of life eternal.

We grow up with aspirations of heaven for ourselves and

Our loved ones.

 

Why then the conflict?

Why the tears, the bowed heads, the collapsing legs?

Shouldn’t we be celebrating?

At the gravesite there is a palpable sense of the deceased looking

down upon us with a visage of calm., contentment, even a smile.

Proud of those gathered below to say their final goodbyes.

Mourners dressed in black bow towards the dark hole in the

ground.. fear and dread .. grasping the hands of those next

How could this be happening to our loved one?

Why are we un happy that the departed has gone to a better place?

The grief, agony, pain, is about US. We are having difficulty absorbing

the loss .  A void, emptiness, regret, self recrimination.  Pain for

what we did or did not say or do reside deep in our psyches.

 

An interesting dichotomy isn’t it??

At the moment of greatest  joy when our loved one is received in heaven

we struggle to  say good bye: to assuage our souls: to express our thanks.

 

Why should life be so complicated?  Only by turning over our most raw

 emotional needs to the Lord can we move on.. and prepare our own way to

 Heaven.

 

THE VALUE OF DOING NOTHING

Space, emptiness, a void,

The endless expanse of something or nothing

A universe which grows with each new interstellar discovery

Astronomers and the Hubble add new dimensions to our

Understanding of planets millions of light years distant.

Man’s historical search to understand the world of nothingness

Continues unabated.

 

There is a joyful  symmetry to be explored, relished and celebrated.

Precise measurement and quantification are discussed.

Philosophers, mathematicians, astronomers, seers of all cultures

Burn incense, meditate in solitude, develop Cray computers.

All searching for that nebulously defined Something.

Are we searching for other planets?

Or attempting to grasp the universal meaning of “nothingness”?

 

As cycle of nothingness and everything begins at the moment of conception

And meanders universally through the life cycle for everyone – everywhere.

Human nature’s seed of purpose germinates in us always.

Determined that we have a purpose, mission and goal : Defined and quantified.

Yet the simplest of human actions, the most easily recognizable action

May be the human need for nothingness. The need to watch the clouds

Emerge and disappear, to hear the unending roar of the surf: to emulate

The playful chatter of the birds in the swamps.

Nothingness ..

the speed of going forward from day to day at 0 g forces.

Enables  us to look around, enjoy nature’s wonderments: to create music, art,

to help the less fortunate.

 

This nothingness- inner peace is given to us and celebrated  when we pass on at the end

of life.

Do nothing – let our minds wander, expand, and contribute to the world in

– we only travel this road one time.

RETIREMENT QUESTION – WHO AM I?

Our recent blog about Inner Peace and retirement created reactions –

feedback,stimulating conversation, and food for thought.  With the permission

of a friend who reuested anonymity I’d like to reflect on his observations.

A long time friend, author, and outwardly transparent friend  in Canada

shared…my reason, the sole rationale for retirement is “ So I can find out

who I am”.

 

  WOW!!

 

He concludes that  he is emotionally drained with the seemingly endless

and boring trivia  of the daily grind;, and most of all… complying with society’s

continuing expectations.   Not his innermost  expectations, but those of 

society.

Fortunate to be successful  in many arenas  financial, professional, artistic , he

nevertheless feels that life has  been  primarily a reaction to  circumstances

beyond his control.

 He rides the waves  of  identifying ,seizing, and profiting from  business

opportunities. The ability to  comprehend the complexities of   financial

spreadsheets and negotiating contracts  is renown in the business community.

 A shining  example of servant  leadership, employees respect

and applaud his character.  They believe  he provides security for them now

and  the indefinite future .

 Religion – oh  yes, he laughingly admits to passively attending  church

regularly- a societal obligation., a place to make and maintain contacts and

keep the family happy.

 Meanwhile, he has never taken   time to pause, to reflect, to take charge of his

own life.  A dedicated family man, social volunteer, and entrepreneur , life

speeds by at a mind numbing  hectic pace.

One recent winter morning, sipping hot coffee and looking out over the snow

covered great plains  that are visible from his palatial hillside estate near

Calgary, Canada, a cold realization caused  shuttering to the core.

A question hung in the air  : Who am I?

Sixty six years old.  Respected and indeed beloved by many

in his community.. blessed with a  unique capacity to be a “listener”, provide

an empathetic ear, to understand what people are really saying, to sense the

 needs and commend others for their gifts and achievements.  Yet he recoiled

 at the sudden realization of an  unanswerable question now shouting irascibly

 in his inner each morning:

Who am I?

 Accruing more “stuff”, owning a Mcmansion, political power, community

visibility, loyalty to his shareholders, none of these now seem  important

in the ever encroaching  sunset years.

 Legacy –  so important in the recent past –now an empty shell  alone on the

 beach of a distant shore –orphaned  without a reflective  answer to  Who am I?

 

Turning out the corporate lights, engaging in an introspective life, loosening

the shackles of whatever inhibited him, my dear friend is taking the time,

making it his retirement quest to answer the question Who am I?

 Judith Rolfs has written  “Breathless: over 100 Minute Meditations For

Connecting Your Heart with God’s , or How Prayer Poetry Speaks

the Language of Angels (Kindle Edition):

 With her permission, I’d like to share the following:

                                                                Mysterious Life

                                                                Mysterious Life

                                                                How long shall it be?

                                                                For some it seems too lengthy.

                                                                   For some too short.

                                                  I’m glad You’re in charge, Lord of defining length

                                                                And giving occasional extensions.

                                                               Like the fifteen years

                                                                Faithful Hezekiah received.

                                                           Or cutting some lives short

                                                                Like haughty Herod.

                                                                Lord. How many years

                                                                Have you determined for me?

                                                                I promise not to rush their use,

                                                                But see each day as moments to be lived,

                                                                Embracing my challenges and pleasures

                                                                As I live fully this mysterious life

                                                                For as many years as You’ve designated

                                                                My body shall experience earthly life.

                                                                Psalm 92:13-15

 We will continue this discussion about retirement .  Your comments  and

experiences are as always, welcomed and cherished.

Mary .. did you know?

There are misty eye songs … and then there are misty eye songs.

The Church of the Visitation   is one of

Those “gotcha” places.  More than a stop on a Holy Land tour:

A  holy place.  One where tourists enter the church  and are

 Suddenly Quieted, reflected, impacted by this place .

 Something unexplainable transpired here. 

One of those “peek” moments in human history.

A building with a surreal presence, the fog of God embraces each

visitor.  Did Mary stay here for 3 months during her pregnancy?

Which brings us to the song “ Mary .. did you know”?

In a pleading, almost begging voice, Martha Wingate sang this song

at Midnight Mass at St Andrews Church in Delavan, WI about

a decade ago.  A magical presentation that sucked the life out

of a congregation.  Mesmerizing,  indescribable. Magical

her voice was inspired by the Great I AM.

The phrase “ Great I AM. was powerful then.. became jaw

dropping as time passed.

One of those moments we catalog in our memory. Always.

It’s that time of the year.  The haunting words echo,

Invading the childhood memories of Christmas.  Pushing aside

the compulsion  to log on to the Internet for Cyber Monday.

The memory tape downloads. The Great I AM  is back.

Haunting, yes. Because life changing words have meaning.

Haunting, because there are words and notes and song pictures

which grow in meaning as we age.  Words which gain substance

and act as carriers of truth when we take time to reflect.

 The Great  I Am nudges and pushes us to reflect.

Mary Did you Know?  is a multidimensional song.  Words behind words.

Meanings beyond the superficial, the simplistic  the immediate.

“ Did you know…. When you kissed your little Baby you kissed the face

Of God?  (wow).

The concluding phrase in this hymn is

                “ Did you know that your Baby Boy is heaven’s perfect Lamb?

                 The sleeping Child you’re holding is the Great, I am.

Mary is the universal mother.  A mother holds, cuddles, nurtures  her child

with the same love, tenderness, affection  as did Mary.  Each mother  knows her

new born baby is the living image of God.. The Great I Am.

To mothers everywhere … Merry Christmas.

 

The words to the song Mary. did you Know?

( Lyrics written by Mark Lowry and Buddy Greene)
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has come to make you new?
This Child that you delivered will soon deliver you.

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will calm the storm with His hand?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has walked where angels trod?
When you kiss your little Baby you kissed the face of God?

Mary did you know.. Ooo Ooo Ooo

The blind will see.
The deaf will hear.
The dead will live again.
The lame will leap.
The dumb will speak
The praises of The Lamb.

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy is heaven’s perfect Lamb?
The sleeping Child you’re holding is the Great, I Am

Mary .. did you know?

There are misty eye songs … and then there are misty eye songs.

The Church of the Visitation   is one of

Those “gotcha” places.  More than a stop on a Bible Land tour:

A  holy place.  One where tourists enter the church  and are

 Suddenly Quieted, reflected, impacted by this place .

 Something unexplainable transpired here. 

One of those “peek” moments in human history.

A building with a surreal presence, the fog of God embraces each

visitor.  Did Mary stay here for 3 months during her pregnancy?

 

Which brings us to the song “ Mary .. did you know”?

In a pleading, almost begging voice, Martha Wingate sang this song

at Midnight Mass at St Andrews Church in Delavan, WI about

a decade ago.  A magical presentation that sucked the life out

of a congregation.  Mesmerizing,  indescribable. Magical

her voice was inspired by the Great I AM.

The phrase “ Great I AM. was powerful then.. became jaw

dropping as time passed.

One of those moments we catalog in our memory. Always.

It’s that time of the year.  The haunting words echo,

Invading the childhood memories of Christmas.  Pushing aside

the compulsion  to log on to the Internet for Cyber Monday.

 

The memory tape downloads. The Great I AM  is back.

Haunting, yes. Because life changing words have meaning.

Haunting, because there are words and notes and song pictures

which grow in meaning as we age.  Words which gain substance

and act as carriers of truth when we take time to reflect.

 

 The Great  I Am nudges and pushes us to reflect.

Mary Did you Know?  is a multidimensional song.  Words behind words.

Meanings beyond the superficial, the simplistic  the immediate.

“ Did you know…. When you kissed your little Baby you kissed the face

Of God?  (wow).

The concluding phrase in this hymn is

                “ Did you know that your Baby Boy is heaven’s perfect Lamb?

                 The sleeping Child you’re holding is the Great, I am.

Mary is the universal mother.  A mother holds, cuddles, nurtures  her child

with the same love, tenderness, affection  as did Mary.  Each mother  knows her

new born baby is the living image of God.. The Great I Am.

 

 

 

To mothers everywhere … Merry Christmas.

 

The words to the song Mary. did you Know?

( Lyrics written by Mark Lowry and Buddy Greene)
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has come to make you new?
This Child that you delivered will soon deliver you.

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will calm the storm with His hand?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has walked where angels trod?
When you kiss your little Baby you kissed the face of God?

Mary did you know.. Ooo Ooo Ooo

The blind will see.
The deaf will hear.
The dead will live again.
The lame will leap.
The dumb will speak
The praises of The Lamb.

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy is heaven’s perfect Lamb?
The sleeping Child you’re holding is the Great, I Am

 

WHAT WOULD YOU DIE FOR?

The ultimate sacrifice

Throughout history, there are gruesome, somber examples of individuals who

Have made the ultimate sacrifice.  They have given their lives for their

country,their beliefs, their family.

You know the list: Jesus Christ, Mahatma Ghandi, Joan of Arc, Martin Luther

King Jr.Etc. etc . etc. Our military personnel recently in Iraq and Afghanistan.

There are those lesser known, but celebrated fire fighters and police

who vainly tried to rescue others in the World Trade Towers terrorist attacks.

We hear of those who die trying to rescue others in Lake Michigan.

Then there is the quiet sacrifice.  Those who give up their lives in a silent

manner.

Who forsake their careers, livelihoods, and sometimes family  to be with loved

ones slowly passing away from ALS or dementia.

As we reflect on the question “ What would you die for”, the immediate

response falls into two broad categories :  1/ those of the reactive type – giving

our life in the military: pulling someone from a burning car,  putting our lives

 at risk to rescue a drowning child:  In many cases we have

the compulsive inner voice which thrusts us into harms way.  Some recoil,

back off, are afraid for one reason or another: and do not act. 

Having been mocked, and spat upon on Thanksgiving Day in a foreign land

because we are Americans, I remember the adrenalin combined with the fear

and anger at the hate filled crowd as we entered PietersKierk in Leiden, The

Netherlands.  The patriotism, the need to defend friends .. would I have given

my life?  Not forced to make the ultimate decision, I wonder what action would

I have taken if the chaos had continued? Would I have fought or ran?

How would we react?  Only being forced  into a situation can provide the

answer.

However, when asked the same question if a family member is in danger, being

 threatened, or in a perilous life situation – most of us would automatically put

ourselves at risk.  Many of us have always said we will protect our wives and c

hildren at all cost.  We would die so they survive.

 2/ the life changing type – Moving to another state or country: giving up our

 careers and lifestyles to be with an aging parent or sick child.  These decisions

have multiple permutations. 

Impact many people.  Or giving up opportunities to relocate because we feel 

close ties to relatives and community and therefore sacrifice our careers,

financial gain, personal satisfaction. Giving up a better

life for our families.

 Change what we have wanted and strived for all our lives?  Would we, in effect,

give up our lives for others?

What if the children who needed us were step children, or adoptees and we

had to make a choice between helping them and our natural children?

How do we perceive those missionaries and Doctors without Borders who give

years of their lives to help others in some of the most barren and dangerous

places on the planet?  They have made a decision to “die for others”.  Could we

 do that?

The question “ What would you die for” becomes more complex than the

obvious putting ourselves in harms way (although not excluded by a

millimeter). 

Would you die for your faith, your family, your country, a neighbor, the

needy, the poor?

CARING FOR OUR FLOCK

A faint bell ringing in the distance. Faint and repetitive.

One scans the rocky, sparse, rolling knolls of Jordan

Keepers of hundreds of years of history

Dedicated to the  throne of the Hashemites for generations.

What is this sound in the midst of the fog and aloneness

of suburban Amman?

The hillside reveals  a lone shepherd, his dog, and a herd of sheep.

Second generation walking stick, shoulders bowed, proud gait in his step.

Walking to distant pastures for grazing. Skillfully avoiding scattered stones and

craggy hillsides.

The well bred brown and white colored dog running and yelping, a canine with

 a purpose.

As is the herdsman… a man on a mission.

No iphone, or SUV, or modern technical contrivances.

A shepherd for all seasons?  A man, dog and herd with obvious personal

relationships.

The  aura of their chemistry is visible to the most casual observer.

Miles away along the Jordan1an  hillsides are the camps of thousands

of political refugees..some living there for generations.

Where a bare existence is eeked out.. bare essentials .

Where  are the shepherds?

There is yesterday’s picture in the NY Times of a group

of  Non Occupy homeless – huddled, cold, some mentally ill.

A parking area in Illinois ..behind a restaurant ..

the repulsive sight of two  families

living in their cars. Homes for employees.

Not illegals.. not lazy people.  Luck has dealt them

A lousy hand.

 Winter is coming.

Who/where  are the shepherds?

Then there is the movement to move Black Friday to…

as the priest put it –Christmas shopping begins July 4th.

A rush to buy “essentials” – ya gotta be kiddin.

Who are the moral shepherds?

Have you thought about the depth of your personal

relationship with your herd?  The time you spend?

Quality time without quantity is a myth of rationalization.

The Jordanian shepherd has minimal personal belongings: His

life is one of subsistence.  Yet he gives his flock  the one gift we all have.

TIME.

Shepherds, caretakers, parents, we all hear about work/life balance.

Time is not a commodity.. it is a gift. 

A gift which we control.  Not our employers, or spouses or society.

Others can attempt to take time away from us for their own purposes

We can choose to waste time for our personal career advancement or

enjoyment, or physical growth. 

Time management is about choices.  If your employer has time demands

that impinge on your life’s value system – you have choices to make.

If a spouse demands that you spend your time doing.. whatever.. you have

choices to make.

If you choose not to be a shepherd to your flock (translated those in need)

This is a decision you make.

When we choose to clothe, feed, and welcome the least among us – we are

making a choice to use our time wisely.

Do we care for our flock with the same attentiveness and time commitment as

the Jordanian herdsman?

 The faint bell that reverberates as  ever so gently when we choose to help

others is the voice of angels giving thanks.

Giving Time to His Flock

THE SAD DEMISE OF PENN STATE – A SCANDAL FOR THE AGES

Ten years old and life can be an uphill struggle in the mountains of central

Pennsylvania.

Wearing tattered clothing, sneakers with holes in the soles.

He  puts  his head down to avoid the snickers of others when

 Leaving  the school bus… all the kids know about his  poverty….

His father killed in Iraq: mother struggling with a minimum wage job.

Two younger brothers and sisters  are all of preschool age.

Tim’s ( as we shall name him for this article ) peers  know you get a free school

lunch and use food stamps.

The trailer roof leaks , last spring the electric power was shut off .

Penn State Lion images are everywhere in this rural town,

at the grocery store, the dentist, the pharmacy.

Pennants, stickers, pom poms , sweat shirts. Everywhere.

 Stories about Joe Pa and  the national championships are legendary.

The smart, tough guys who went to Linebacker U are heroes for generations.

The local dentist, attorneys, business leaders –all Penn State Grads.

The Harrisburg Sunday Patriot, Lebanon Daily News, Channel 4  TV in

Lancaster carry news of recruiting triumphs throughout the year.

Would the local 5 star all state full back from Bishop McDevitt  in Harrisburg

matriculate to Penn State or defect to Pittsburgh or Alabama?   As much a news

Item as the gubernatorial election.

By age 7-8: young men can tell you the histories of Joe  Paterno,  Rip Engle and

 Jerry Sandusky.

Sandusky designed the defenses for the national championship teams. 

Respected, smart, a guy who had access to Penn State’s campus, and carried

blue and white in his veins.

Tim remembers being “recruited” to join Jerry’s the Second Mile Program –

billed as a program to help his self esteem and make him a better person. 

Tim never had a chance – he was a prime candidate for the claws of the

predator.Parents revered Jerry Sandusky –   especially those who wanted to

give more to their kids – but couldn’t. The “ Second Mile” program was a

blessing – Jerry was a role model leader of the program.

Imagine, spending time with a folk hero who helped propel Penn State to

national football prominence?

 Jerry liked the kids.. An eagle eye for athletic talent, he also had the

uncommon ability to identify the most vulnerable.. to spot the young boys who

had that extra need for attention.. The kind of oral sex and anal sex attention

foisted upon them  by the sick predators of this world.

 From summer camps to the private, glitzy, big time locker facilities at Happy

Valley is a short walk for the well  connected Sandusky. According to published

 reports, locker rooms where he was seen performing oral sex on pre teens.

Over a decade, he allegedly violated numerous young men, using his fame as a

former Penn State coach for access to young minds and bodies.. and violated

them in Penn State’s football facilities as well as elsewhere.

Others knew – he was reportedly  seen with a naked boy committing oral sex in

a shower room .  A grad student observed  the horrific scene and turned him

into Penn State authorities .. and nothing was done. No action was taken.

The terror continued and continued.  And the authorities  covered  up.

 One needs to understand the allegiance of Pennsylvania parents to the

University.  The high regard for its ethics and values.  From toddler age 

through senior years the University and its athletic programs are

nigh unto a religion.  Always a bit above the Ohio State tattoo scandal,

Wisconsin’s shoe scandal , the dismal education rates among SEC athletes. Penn

 State was the shining example of the way to run a class athletic program.  Get

into trouble in a local bar – Joe Pa would bench the player at

the least – or make sure the young man transferred to another school.

This scandal does  not involve players but a former coach and university icon.

 Rather this is a legal and moral morass brought upon innocent children by a

sick pedophile who was apparently  enabled to continue his horrific actions by

the head of the athletic department and chief of security.

Sweep it under the rug and the dirt will disappear! Avoid the truth – an axiom

that never succeeds. 

 The proud battle cry of  Nittany Lion  fans when visiting the  Badgers at Camp

Randall is “ WE ARE PENN STATE”.  A shrill combination of pride and

defiance.  

 No longer.  Not this year.

 As a Roman Catholic who has watched the priest pedophile scandal grow

exponentially because of a culture of denial and enablement , one fears for the

viability of the institution at Happy Valley .

Most of all – the innocence of many children is lost.. and the scars last a

lifetime..

 So to my faithful readers, I admit my anger, embarrassment, and shame on

behalf of the University. Having been one of those who lived and breathed PSU

football since an early age, I will be one of those fans at Camp Randall who will

sit quietly during  the November game in respect for those boys who

were ignored by Penn State University in their horrific days, weeks, and years

of greatest need.

 To say we are sorry is not enough.  To say “ WE ARE PENN STATE” is an

embarrassment.