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Archive for October, 2007

Ain’t It Grand?

Maclin Horton

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Halloween Scare

I just received an invitation to a "small-group faith-sharing experience."

Maclin Horton

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An Extraordinary Logic: Wild Strawberries

Maclin Horton

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There’s a post and discussion at the Crunchy Con blog about the virtues, or otherwise, of trying to remain near your roots in the U.S.A. Most people who read this blog would probably consider that ground to have been pretty well plowed, but I found it interesting anyway, particularly the comments. One reader who grew up in a really wealthy area mentions the high school friend who was "annoyed that all he got upon successfully finishing rehab was a 924, not a 911." (I believe those are Porsche model numbers, in case they don’t mean anything to you.) I don’t know if "it takes all kinds" was really meant to cover cases like that.

Note that you have to click the "read all comments" button to read them from the beginning–initially only the most recent four or five are listed.

Maclin Horton

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Complaining of the People (A Metapolitical Comment)

Maclin Horton

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An Overheard Conversation

I am driving. My children, Joey and Maria, who are 7 and 4, are in the back seat. They are talking about Luke, a neighbor boy who has had no religious training to speak of, and whom they are instructing in the truths of the Faith.

Joey: I told Luke that the best thing about living in this world is that though you can’t see God or the angels, you can feel them.

Maria (matter of factly): I see angels.

Joey: Well, I did see those two angels the other day; they looked like flickering lights.

Maria: I see angels whenever I think about them.

Daniel Nichols

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Cart and Horse and Caritas

Maclin Horton

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I received the news today: Kent Hodges, who had written several articles
for Caelum et Terra, has died. He was 51.

Later
the details came. He was twelve miles into a marathon race near Gallup,
New Mexico, where he lived, when he suddenly collapsed, apparently
stricken by a massive heart attack. Attempts at CPR were unsuccessful.

His mother and his son Elijah, who must be around 11 or 12, were waiting for him at the finish line.

I
met Kent only once, in 1994, after we had long exchanged letters and
phone calls, when I spent a week with him in Gallup, after leaving a
monastery I had been visiting in southern Colorado.

One
gets a sense of a person from his writings, but often meeting him is a
rude awakening. Think of the pale weakling who is transformed into
blustering polemicist when he sits at the typewriter.

Kent’s
writing was nothing if not witty and full of life. I am happy to report
that meeting him was no disappointment: Kent in the flesh, like Kent in
print, was funny, charming, and a lover of life.

We
did not stay in touch much as the years passed, and most of my news of
him came from mutual friends, though we had exchanged a few emails in
the last year or so.

An untimely death always
leaves us shaken. In Kent’s case, though, there is great comfort to be
taken by the testimony of his friends: long devout, for the last
several months he had received the Eucharist and recited the rosary
daily. He was reading St John of the Cross. And best of all, he had
received the sacrament of reconciliation the night before his death.

Please
pray for Kent, as well as for his family and friends, reeling from this
shock. Pray especially for Elijah, losing his father while yet a boy.

Eternal Memory, Oh Lord.

Eternal rest.

Daniel Nichols

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Goodbye to Politics and Culture Wars

Maclin Horton

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