What Cannot Be

Greetings fellow sojourners. We hope you enjoy!

A special "Happy Birthday" to our sister, Heather!
Happy Dec. 14th to you!

What Cannot Be

Once upon a time here in the leather store, a bedraggled-looking individual began a spiel, mostly about his own heroic bikerish accomplishments.

Now, we don't care about a little B.S. -- we hear it all the time, and it's like water off a duck's back. On occasion, we dish it out as well.

But when the tales reach Paul Bunyan or Pecos Bill proportions, Laura and I glance at each other and our eyebrows raise a little in mutual understanding: This guy is a gump.

"I rode my Harley 72 from San Diego on up to Nome in one week during winter in 1977."

Bells go off all over the place. They are special bells that sing "Horsepucky, horsepucky," loud and clear.

Well this one particular fella had a vest, and from the back of this vest several different embroidered patches had obviously been removed.

What this guy wanted was for us to sew this huge "Harley Owners Group" patch over the stitchholes from previous patches.

Usually, we do this kind of job instantly -- for several reasons. One, it means we get paid immediately. Two, it saves us the work of a return trip by some bozo. Third, customers seem to appreciate the instant gratification.

So we went right to work sewing on the huge Harley Eagle contraption.

It took maybe ten minutes. Meanwhile, our Gump regaled us with tales of his biker adventures.

"Yah, I rode from here to the Sturgis Rally in two hours flat." And, "Yah, I rode from Wendover Nevada to Denver in a snowstorm. Only took me five hours."

O.K. I'm indulgent. I summon up my considerable patience.The guy is going to leave $10 with me. And Laura and I are both real quick with vest patches, so we can afford to endure a certain level of blarney for a certain length of time.

"Yah. I used to be a Hells Angel. But I moved outta San Francisco, so I quit the club."

You know what? I've been close enough to know. Laura was done sewing on the patch, so I said, "The only former Hells Angels are dead Hells Angels."

Busted the guy. I had to. I mean, come on. Here he is getting a HOG patch sewn on.

(For the uninitiated, The Harley Owners Group was established in 1983 by the Motor Company. It was -- and is -- the company's lame attempt to combat the ''image'' portrayed by biker gangs. Other than riding a Honda, HOG is the farthest a biker can get from the real thing.)

It Cannot Be

Nope. Can't be a former Hells Angel. Another one like this is "Former Catholic."

You don't risk being murdered for leaving the church. People choose to leave all the time. But I just can't fathom how a person could do this -- especially knowing what I know now.

See, here's how it is. Those of us who are "in communion" with the church are receiving the genuine Body and Blood of Jesus Christ during the eucharistic ritual.

Rail at me if you will, but I came to believe this a long time ago. Vehemently. Firmly. Irretrievably.

Here's how it goes. The priest, who is celebrating "in persona Christe," (in the person of Christ) consecrates the bread and wine during Holy Mass.

By a process we know as "transubstantiation,'' the Holy Spirit works through the priest and the earthly products become the holy substances we consume at communion. That is to say, the Real Presence of Christ is there in the bread and wine.

So if a person actually holds that belief, if he leaves the church or falls from grace in some way, if he fails to confess his sins and fails to ask for forgiveness, if he fails to be repentant . . . he risks separation from God -- Hell, in other words.

Get my drift? Upon accepting membership, a person takes a vow, makes a promise, to uphold these things. A person agrees that the body and blood of Christ are real in the form of the bread and wine consumed.

We had a friend whose wife died. He remained a widower for some years. By and by, he met a nice woman, a widow. They fell in love.

Not only did he marry her. But he also abandoned his Catholic faith and joined up with some protestant mega-church in Loveland -- as his new wife wished him to do.

Now I don't know. I am not St. Peter and I have no position at all as Judge and Jury. I know that one of the best things God does, and likes to do, is to forgive us, so our friend could be forgiven -- if he thinks to ask.

But would I do what our friend did? Uh-uh. Not on yer tintype, Barney. For myself, leaving the Church would be hard on the soul -- fatally hard. I want to go to heaven. I might not go to heaven. But I sure as hell wouldn't thumb my nose at my own promises, at the covenants provided for me.

I'm a former poet, a former Episcopalian, a former Methodist, a former newspaperman, a former baker, a former cigarette smoker, a former carouser, a former hell-raiser . . . but I will never be a former Catholic.

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My brother Richard sure seems to be racking up his twenty minutes of fame. And deservedly so!

We've mentioned before that Dick was the central figure in the campaign to establish a Boys and Girls Club in Brighton.

The club is up and going.

Dick has been honored as "Man of the Year" by Brighton, and he and Mary were recently feted in the Festival of Lights Parade. Dick was the grand marshal.

Here are some of the things said about Dick as he retired from the Brighton City Council:

Dick McLean, elected as Hodge's successor as mayor pro-tem: “Beneath that gray hair is a lot of knowledge and wisdom that he is willing to share with everybody. He has been a mentor and I certainly appreciate it.”

Councilwoman Wilma Rose: “I appreciate his experience and knowledge about the city and the history of our city.”

Councilor Daryl Meyers said he appreciated Hodge’s sense of humor and, “What you have done will continue to make an impression and help in building our community.”

Aw shucks. My little brother. He's taken quite literally what our parents tried to teach us about contributing to the common good. He has taken that teaching and elevated it to a yet higher level.

It's my personal hope that Dick can take a little time off now, enjoy his "antique bus" hobby, and relax. Before he starts something else. . .

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Word of the week: Poultice. Originally the plural of the Latin puls, pultis, pap. A hot soft moist mass, as of flour, mustard, applied to a sore or inflamed part of the body.

Alternative word of the week: Nepotism. From the Latin, naturally. Nepos, nepotis, "Grandson, Nephew." Favoritism shown to relatives, especially in appointment to desirable positions.

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Next week's word: Panache

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Gripes? Complaints? Whines? or Comments? Adoration? Puppy love? Feel free to express yourself in the comments.