You said what?

When I was in Catholic school some seventy years ago, our teacher would occasionally have to be out of the room for a while.  We did not have substitutes.  Rather the nuns would send one of the eighth-grade girls down to monitor while they were away.  Their instructions were to write the names of any pupils who misbehaved on the blackboard.  When the sister returned, the troublemaker would face the consequences.  

One afternoon, a girl named Diane was to watch over us first and second graders for an hour or so.  Diane was a nice responsible girl, but she happened to have a rather large nose.  Kids that age can be cruel and I was no exception.  I whispered a comment about Diane’s appearance to one of my friends who giggled out loud.  Now, my observation was not intended to be shared with anyone else.  I certainly would not have made my remark to Diane.

A short time later, the principal stopped in to check on our behavior.  Debbie, our class tattletale, stood up and in front of Diane said, “Richard said she has a nose like a banana.”  In my defense, that is not even close to what I said, not that my actual comment was any more flattering.  The principal made me come up in front of the class where she stared me down.  Through weepy eyes, I denied the accusation.  Sister looked me in the eye for a few seconds without saying a word.  Then she told me to go sit down, and told Debbie she needed to keep her mouth shut.  

I can look back on things I said to others during my early years that were hurtful, and deeply regret those words today.  Discretion comes with maturity, or at least it should.   Maturity means keeping all those immature thoughts to oneself.  They will still happen.  Our minds are constantly forming opinions.  As responsible adults, we should know when to speak up and when to be quiet.  Unfortunately, that is not always the case especially when it comes to social media. 

We base our opinions on facts that we believe to be true, or want to believe are true.  But we seldom have all the facts, and when we don’t, we fill the gaps with assumptions that may or may not be factual.  Keeping that in mind, we must acknowledge that our opinions may need adjustment from time to time, and would be wise to keep most of them to ourselves.  The anonymity of the internet has made voicing opinions a preoccupation for many, especially those lacking the wisdom to be quiet.  

Before the internet and social media, people generally had to take responsibility for their own words.  Anonymous letters were tossed in the waste basket.  Newspapers would not print unsigned letters on the editorial page.  Occasionally names would be withheld, but the publisher still required a signature.  Messages from those hiding their identity were generally disregarded with the possible exception of ransom notes.  

Today, anyone can create a username and say anything they want to the whole world. They call it free speech, but it should come with accountability.  Hiding one’s identity to avoid backlash from unpopular comments is cowardly.  The advent of artificial intelligence further complicates the matter.  Much social media commentary today does not have a human author to take responsibility.  

Seems to me that people should be required to stand behind any comments they make publicly.  Just as editorial boards once required signatures before publishing a letter, people who post on internet public forums should be named.  Any posting generated by artificial intelligence should be labelled as such with the instigator identifiable.  Postings that are monetized should be designated as such.  Say what you want, but show your face. 

Some Mass Confusion

When new converts come into the church, I always encourage them to get involved.  It seems that people who are active in the parish are more likely to stay connected.  But that got me to wondering how many would remain good Catholics if there was no social interaction at all.  What if you came to Mass every Sunday and everyone ignored you?  What if you were the only one present besides the priest?  Would you still come to Mass?  If the only thing keeping us coming to Mass is our horizontal relationships, are we coming for the wrong reasons?

Most of the excuses people use to avoid attending Mass are indefensible.  Sunday Mass attendance should not take a backseat to anything.  We should be there to worship God and receive Jesus in the Eucharist.  Nothing else should matter.  Bad homilies, lousy music, even bad liturgy should not keep us away.  Maybe one might want to find a different parish, but as long as we have access to a valid Eucharist, nothing else should get in our way. 

A friend from our parish told me of a woman who was received into the Catholic Church at another parish last Easter.  Since then, she has changed parishes twice because she feels other parishioners were unfriendly toward her at the first parish, and rude to her at the second.  This coming weekend, she is planning to attend our parish on a trial basis.  I know nothing of her background before becoming Catholic, but I wonder if she was accustomed to non-denominational communities where social interaction is the norm.  

I should think that independent churches where people choose to attend because they like the preacher or the services would have more camaraderie among members.  It makes sense because they attend there because of similar interests and beliefs.  They are more likely to see the same faces each week and would be quick to notice any new faces coming for the first time.

Catholic churches are different.  Catholics can go to any Catholic church on Sunday and receive the same Eucharist, hear the same readings, and see some unfamiliar faces.  We think nothing of it because travelers or visitors commonly stop in for Mass.  Before Mass, we are focused on the Real Presence of Jesus in the tabernacle and preparing ourselves in prayer.  One might enter the pew a few feet away from a parishioner friend and not even acknowledge that person.  There should be no conversation that would distract others who might be praying.  It is typically a quiet time that non-Catholics might mistake for being ignored or rudely treated.  

OCIA leaders should address these differences for those who may be accustomed to a more social experience so they understand what to expect upon entering a Catholic church for the first time.  They also need to realize they are encountering the real presence of Jesus in the tabernacle when they enter, and that He should have their undivided attention. 

Too often we see Catholics drift away from the Church.  Maybe they miss one weekend when on vacation or when a conflict arises.  They start by skipping occasionally at first, and then more frequently.  They think they are doing just fine without going to Mass and eventually stop going altogether.  This is what happens when people lose their focus on the Real Presence of Jesus when they enter the church.  They become indifferent.  Once a person walks away, it makes it even harder to go back.  

When I was going to Catholic school eons ago, the nuns told us it was a mortal sin to miss Mass on Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation.  They said if we skip Mass to go fishing and get killed in an accident on the way home, we would go to hell.  Were the nuns just trying to scare us?  Not necessarily.  If we die in a state of unforgiven willful mortal sin, we have severed our relationship with God and our salvation is jeopardized.  Today we seem to be reluctant to make such a blunt statement.  Would God really send us to hell for skipping Mass one Sunday?  God doesn’t send us to hell; we send ourselves there by our disobedience.  Yes, we can go to hell for committing a mortal sin.

The caveat here is the three conditions that must be present for a sin to be mortal.  It must be grave matter, we must know it is grave matter, and we must do it deliberately.  Does everyone who blows off Sunday Mass realize they are committing a mortal sin?  They should.  If not, whose fault is it?  Is it their own fault for not taking Church teaching seriously, or is it the fault of those who were responsible for their faith formation?  Did all my Catholic school classmates heed the nuns warning?  No.  Many of them drifted away later in life.  Will they end up in hell?  God will ultimately decide their culpability. 

Soul searching

A few Sundays ago, our Society of Saint Vincent DePaul conference held our annual pork chop dinner fundraiser.  It has become a popular event in our town and is well attended.  We season the meat and grill the chops ourselves in the church parking lot.  I am usually in charge of baking potatoes and running the drive-thru pick up area. 

Just before our 11 AM Mass, a car pulled up and parked by the drive-thru which is behind the church in the alley.  A young couple with a baby got out, said it was their first time here, and asked how to get into the church.  It happened at one of our busier moments, but I welcomed them and directed them to the front of the church.  

I watched for them when Mass was over, hoping to exchange pleasantries.  The pork chop line was busy but I started to walk toward them as they were putting the baby in the car seat.  Before I could approach, they hastily got into the car without making eye contact and drove off.  

Later that evening, our priest called me and said he met a couple with a baby for our OCIA class.  They expressed interest in becoming Catholic.  He was surprised to learn I had already encountered them briefly that morning.  He told me he gave them a parish registration form, told them to fill it out, and bring it back the following Sunday.  He did not get their names or contact information. 

Now three weeks later, they have yet to return.  As the OCIA leader, I would have contacted them if I knew who they were.  The form our priest handed them was not for the OCIA class.  The form is for new parishioners.  It asks for information about what sacraments have been received, what name to appear on offering envelopes, and what organizations they may be interested in joining.  If the couple had never attended a Catholic mass before, they may have been overwhelmed.

That initial contact with anyone considering the Catholic faith is so important, whether it be in person or in a phone call.  This is especially true if they are walking into a Catholic church for the first time not knowing what to expect.  If their only experience has been at some non-denominational community, they are encountering something quite different.  They may feel that they are being ignored.  They see people kneeling, standing, and responding in unison.  My fear is that this couple may have been intimidated and frightened off.  

As Catholics, we are accustomed to seeing strangers at Mass.  Catholics can attend Mass anyplace they happen to be.  We also tend to focus on the Eucharistic presence in church more than the people around us.  We remain quiet as to not disturb others who are praying.  Unfamiliar faces may get a nod or a wave.  Ideally. we should have greeters equipped to direct new inquirers if they appear at the door.

I have exhausted all my ideas in trying to locate the couple.  I am giving it to the Holy Spirit hoping that he can lead them back to us.  In the meantime, we need to do better, from our pastor on down, to make sure we are a welcoming parish.  Who knows how many souls could be lost because we missed one opportunity to share our faith?

Feeling Foolish

I don’t pretend to understand modern technology.  Today for the first time, I had to sign in at my doctor’s office on a computer terminal rather than speaking to the receptionist.  I figured out how to enter my name and birthday.  Then up popped a series of yes or no questions.  One asked if I had “multiple births?”.  I’ve been asked if I was born again, but I don’t think that is what they were asking.  I just checked no.   

I had a similar experience a couple of weeks ago when I attempted to order a pizza at a gas station convenience store.  Another older woman walked in the same time I did and we both stood by the pizza counter expecting the server to take our order.  After standing there for about five minutes looking like a couple of idiots, the guy at the cash register asked if we were waiting for an order.  The woman said no. We want to place an order.  He pointed us to a little screen where we could enter an order, despite the fact that the pizza lady behind the counter could have much easier listened to us tell her what we wanted on our pizzas instead of us fumbling with the touch screen.

The other customer, who I had never met before, helped me enter my order and then I helped her enter hers.  The options offered on the menu did not provide exactly what I wanted, but I got something close.  Having been humiliated enough, we both went outside to our cars to wait for the pizzas to be done.  I never saw her again after that, but when I went back in to collect my pizza, they gave me mine and hers too.  The pizza lady was surprised that we did not know each other.  Anyway, we got it sorted out and I left with my pizza sort of like I wanted.  

It seems to be that we are relying on computers much more than necessary or desirable.  Especially concerning to me is artificial intelligence.  I have heard fears expressed about AI taking over in ways that are troubling although I do not fully understand all the implications.  I always thought computers could never be smarter than the person who programs them.  But I am becoming very aware of information fabricated by artificial means that is completely fictional.

So many stories that show up on Facebook or Youtube appearing to be factual are not.  We often hear the expression “fake news” where a writer purposely distorts the facts for political gain, but I suspect many postings in social media are now generated by computers via algorithms sourced from no individual human mind.  As these capabilities grow and improve over time, how long before we can no longer discern truth from fiction?  I am already skeptical of much I see on the internet.  Stories that seem ordinarily plausible may or may not be based in actuality.  Even photos are concocted.  With uncertainty comes distrust and that isn’t healthy when misplaced.  Our society, especially young people, are often confused and led astray.  Where are we headed?

I see well-meaning friends sharing articles that I know are not true.  Often the accompanying text is obviously constructed in a tone that seems incompatible with the subject manner.  The author does not speak like a human and probably isn’t.  The language sounds embellished.  A pattern I have noticed lately is postings about celebrities or famous athletes donating huge amounts of money to certain causes or recent tragedies.  Trying to corroborate many of these stories is impossible.  I can only imagine the reason these messages are generated.  There must be a monetary benefit in collecting hits.  I can block clickbait sites that post manufactured stories, but detecting them is becoming more difficult.  It now takes more than common sense to avoid gullibility. 

The internet is a wonderful tool, but it is being muddied by people (and now machines) that misuse it.  I would not want to go back to the days when my World Book Encyclopedia was my go-to source for information, but at least I could be fairly certain that some teenaged hacker sitting in his bedroom didn’t insert a fabricated paragraph.  I want to cite sources I know I can trust and verify.   And just so you know, I am not a robot.

Sow and tell

Our town’s annual festival was this past weekend.  It takes place on the streets by our parish and we take the opportunity to offer tours of our church.  People love to see our beautiful stained-glass windows that were commissioned by the G.C. Riordan company in 1911.  For us, it is a chance to also share our faith with people who would not normally enter a Catholic Church.  We explain the Biblical events depicted in the windows, give short biographies of the statued Saints, and talk about the tenets of the Catholic faith, especially the Eucharist.

I was one of the tour guides.  Most of the people I took through the church were not Catholic.  Several told me they had never been in a Catholic church before.  Others said they had ancestors or relatives who were Catholic or raised Catholic which I assumed meant they no longer practiced the faith.  For some, I was able to engage them in conversation about their spiritual life.  My hope was to plant seeds that might bear fruit someday.  

One woman who came alone spoke of being Catholic but not attending Mass.  She said she could not believe a just God would send someone to hell for missing Mass on Sunday.  She was a spiritual person who prayed and felt confident that God loved her.  She seemed comfortable talking to me and I sensed that maybe she was looking for affirmation that she was in God’s good graces.  I wanted to respond to her in such a way that might cause her to realize she was missing something important without discouraging her or driving her away.  When these opportunities arise, I usually end up kicking myself later for not coming up with the right words to make a positive impression.  I told her I could tell she loved God and God loves her, but she is missing the Eucharist when she does not go to Mass.  

Thinking to myself the three things necessary for a sin to be mortal, I told her missing Mass might not be mortal for her salvation if her conscience truly tells her otherwise, but I suspected her conscience might be bothering her since she brought up the topic.  I wish I had placed more emphasis on the importance of forming our consciences properly.  I did tell her that missing Mass on Sunday would be a mortal sin for me because that is what I believe.  She said she appreciated me being open minded.  I don’t think I am very opened minded, but okay.  

Making an impact is difficult when you have just met a person for the first time, will likely never see them again, and only have a few minutes to interact.  As we parted, I told her to go home and read John, chapter six.  I thought maybe the Bread of Life discourse would open her eyes.  She said she would, and I believe she will.

Habemus Papam

Thursday was going to be a busy one.  Got up early to chauffeur my wife to the hospital for a routine medical procedure. Drove an hour each way through thunderstorms hoping to get home in time to take an early lunch.  I needed to get an early start on some afternoon errands to get back for a two o’clock commitment to move donated furniture from a house to our Saint Vincent DePaul storage building.  Everything was going according to plan.  We got home from the hospital earlier than expected and even had time to turn on the television before going out for lunch.

As we were about the leave for lunch, a news bulletin popped up.  White smoke was scene at the Sistine Chapel.  A new Pope has been selected.   Bells were ringing, crowds of people at the Vatican were cheering and it was all being covered on live television.  I have been alive for the selection of five popes, but I have never had the opportunity to watch the announcement on live tv.  The anticipation was exciting, but some of my errands had to be done today and before my two o'clock appointment.  My wife and I anxiously awaited the appearance of the new Pope, at the same time watching the clock.  

We waited as long as we could and then my wife said we have to go.  I found a radio station that was covering the conclave so we could listen in the car.  As no announcement seemed eminent, they went on to other topics.  We decided to stop for lunch at a nearby restaurant.  My wife laid her cell phone on the table while we waited for our food.  Suddenly, she gasped!  It’s an American from Chicago!  My eyes widened.  All I could think of was CUPICH?  No.  She showed me her phone.  Robert Prevost.  I had never heard of him.  Pope Leo XIV.

At sixty-nine years old, Pope Leo is younger than I am.  Chances are I may never get to watch a new pope introduced for the first time live, and that’s okay.  Now we will be subjected to all of the speculation about what kind of Pope he will be.  He will be praised and criticized depending on perspective of the commentator.  Let us trust in the Holy Spirit and allow Pope Leo to lead us as God sees fit.  

Day 2 thoughts:         (edit)

Will having a Pope from Chicago make him seem a little more human and therefore somewhat less authoritative to us Americans?  Within a couple hours of his introduction, we learned he is a White Sox fan, plays Wordle, and likes cars.  He seems just like one of us, but is that a good thing?  Yes, he is human, but he isn’t just like one of us.  He is the Pope, the Vicar of Christ, the Supreme Pontiff, the Bishop of Rome, the Holy Father, the Successor of Saint Peter.  I am wondering if American Catholics will view him differently than any previous Pope when it comes to respecting his authority.

I just saw a very awkward moment on television when one of his brothers returned a call to the Pope in the presence of local news media with cameras rolling.  The Pope answered and went silent when his brother told him he was being recorded live.  It is obvious that his own family has been caught off guard by all of the attention. 

For whom the bell trolls

An ill wind blew on Laetare Sunday!  Our little town was struck by severe storms that caused some damage to our parish rectory and grounds.  A section of shingles took flight along with some siding from one of the dormers.  A large spruce tree in the parking lot was uprooted.  The church itself sustained no damage other than a gutter downspout that was blown off.  Power was knocked out but that caused no harm at the time because all Sunday Masses were over by then.  The big problem occurred some nine hours later when the power came back on!

It was nearly midnight when electricity was restored to part of the town where the church is located.  For some strange reason that only God can explain, the church bell started to ring.  A power surge?  Lightning?  Who knows?  All we know is that the bell rang, and rang, and rang.  Normally a problem like this would be easily remedied.  Our pastor would hear the bell ringing just a short distance from his rectory bedroom window.  But he does not stay in the rectory on Sunday nights.  Monday is his “day off” and he spends Sunday nights at a house he owns about thirty minutes away.  

The only people close enough to hear the bell ringing were some very angry neighbors who were trying to sleep.  Some of them called the police.  Our little town had one police officer on duty that night.  He attempted to rouse someone at the church, but there was no one there.  He actually gained access to the church by pulling on the front door which someone had failed to lock properly.  Wandering into the basement, he found a breaker panel, but none of them powered the bell.  He started to climb the bell tower but decided that was above his pay grade.  In the meantime, the bell continued to peal.  

In desperation, he awakened the owner of the mortuary that was located behind the church to see whether he knew who to contact.  He gave him my phone number.  Normally, I would be the person to handle any problem with the bell at the church as I am probably most familiar with its inner workings.  But, I managed to sleep through three phone calls.  We still had no power at our house and my phone had not been charging as it normally would overnight.  I later learned that I also slept through the police officer banging on our front door.   

Eventually, the police officer along with the mortician went to the home of another parishioner and were able to wake her and her husband.  Imagine being awakened at three o’clock in the morning to find a police officer and mortician at your front door.  This would put a scare into any normal human being.  In this particular case, the woman had a similar experience years ago when her youngest son was killed in a car accident.  I can only imagine what went through her mind.  She did get them into the church where the breaker panel for the bell was located and they were able to silence the bell.

I still do not know how exactly long the bell rang during the night.  Estimates range from three to seven hours depending on which nasty Facebook comment one reads.  I woke up about 5 AM to find the missed calls and voice messages on my phone.  I immediately got up and went to the church, but the bell had stopped by then, so I would suppose it rang for some three or four hours.  In a later conversation with the poor police officer, he said the county dispatcher received fifteen calls, including three complaints to 911.  

The police have requested that we supply them with a list of keyholders in the unlikely case this ever happens again.  This may be the only time the bell has gone rogue during the night in its 115 year history.  Nevertheless, we have given a list of phone numbers to the sheriff’s office, something we probably should have done years ago.  There could be other emergencies at the church where access was needed. 

We believe that God can bring good from even the worst circumstances.  On this particular Lenten night, some people laid awake thinking about the Catholic Church who otherwise might have just fallen asleep.  Perhaps their thoughts were not the kind that typically inspire converts, but sometimes the Holy Spirit works in mysterious ways. 

Parish, the thought

Our Bishop has ordered all pastors in the diocese to select three “key leaders” from each parish who, along with the pastor, will meet to discuss the current ministerial landscape and explore future strategies for an effective Catholic presence in the area.  This effort is prompted by the challenge we are facing to maintain and staff parishes in our diocese.  As the Bishop points out, numerous priests are going to be retiring in the next few years with a shortage of seminarians to take their place.  Many churches are old and difficult to maintain with reduced revenues and increasing costs.  

He recognizes the need to be proactive and develop a plan to meet these challenges.  Furthermore, I think he wants to get the parishioners involved in making recommendations because many parishes are going to be faced with difficult decisions, reduction in staffing and possible closings. It’s a reality we are facing.  Having parishioners involved in the process helps them accept tough outcomes rather than feeling like they were blindsided.

According to our pastor, prior bishops in our diocese kept parishes open as long as they were financially viable, but this may no longer be an option.  Many pastors now serve more than one parish.  At some point, priests may become so sparse that Sunday Mass might not be available in some churches.  Even financially stable parishes may find themselves facing closure. 

I counted sixty-three Catholic Churches in our diocese spread over four counties.  Our county is the smallest of the four with only four churches and one mission.  Presently, there are three priests serving in the county.  Two of them are beyond retirement age.  I would hope we could support at least two priests in the county for the foreseeable future.  That would still present a challenge in keeping all five sites afloat.  The mission is near the county line and could possibly be staffed part time from the adjacent county.  One parish already shares a pastor with our parish.  One of the other parishes is small and would need to share a pastor if it stays open.  All of this is conjecture at this point.  

The diocese ordained two priests last year and has two more who will be ordained this year.  They are far outnumbered by the priests who will be retiring soon.  The last priest to come from our parish is long retired.  Our sister parish has one young man in the seminary now.  He will be ordained in about three years.  I completely understand why our Bishop is preparing us for some painful decisions coming in the not too distant future.   Please keep praying for vocations.

Precept 5

The fifth precept (“You shall help to provide for the needs of the Church”) means that the faithful are obliged to assist with the material needs of the Church, each according to his own ability. (CCC 2042-2043)

At the beginning of each new year, our parishioners are given boxes of printed envelopes to use for their weekly offerings.  I assume most parishes do this.  Ours have our names printed on each envelope with the date of the Sunday or Holy Day of Obligation.  It seems a good way to remind everyone to contribute each week. 

When I was a youngster in Catholic grade school, we children also got envelopes.  Sadly, we don’t do this anymore.  What better way to teach them responsibility than to require a small part of their allowance to go to God each week?  At the end of the year, the church would publish the names of all parishioners, including the children, and list each one’s total contribution.  We don’t do that anymore either!  I guess it was a good way to shame people into giving more generously!

Being involved in OCIA, I always look to see whether those we brought into the Church last Easter were given envelopes this year.  I make sure they get registered as new parishioners and I want them to feel like they are an integral part of the parish.  For whatever reason, none of them received a box of envelopes this year.  I blame the secretary for that oversight.  At least, they won’t get the idea we just want their money!

Keeping a parish afloat is expensive, especially small parishes like ours.  Utilities alone take a huge chunk of the budget.  Century-old buildings with high ceilings and virtually no insulation are difficult to heat and cool.  Staffing, maintenance, repairs and insurance costs add up quickly.  

The church bell stopped working a week ago.  Having worked on the bell myself in the past, our pastor asked me to call the bell company to see whether our maintenance contract was still current.  Unfortunately, it was not.  To have them come out would cost $655 plus $150/hour labor.  I had a pretty good idea what was wrong.  A motor control relay fails every few years.  I changed it once before, but I do not like to climb the tower anymore at my age.  Nevertheless, I ordered the part, recruited a helper and made the repair.  Probably saved the parish about a thousand dollars.  

In small parishes like ours, people often come forward to help when needed, whether it be financially or in-kind services.  Our parish priest rarely if ever talks about money from the pulpit.  That is a good thing really.  The Holy Spirit seems to take care of us as the need arises.  As far as I know, we are doing okay.  We live within our means.  If it is unaffordable, we just do without.  It is one way we learn to sacrifice.

 

Oh Fudge!

Every Christmas my wife makes fudge to give away to friends and family.  Fudge is her specialty.  She has perfected a recipe that I got at my workplace some forty years ago.  For the uninitiated, the Fannie May Candy Company dates back to 1920 in Chicago.  In the 60’s and 70’s, their Buttercreams, Mint Meltaways, and Pixies were among the most popular confections available.  One of my co-workers claimed to have the recipe for Fannie May Fudge.  During a break in a class one day, he wrote out the recipe on a piece of notebook paper and made copies for anyone who wanted it.  

My wife still has that same copy in her recipe file.  Over the years, she has perfected the process.  The ingredients remain the same, but her technique has developed to insure the creaminess and appearance.  Some folks have their Christmas time specialties.  For my late mother-in-law, it was fruitcake.  My sister makes crockpot candy.  For my wife, it is fudge.  

The secret is in her preparation.  She has a routine that she follows to precision.  The mixture of different chocolates and other ingredients has to be heated to a certain temperature and stirred sufficiently to keep the fudge from becoming grainy.  She stirs and stirs and stirs some more.  When the time is right, she pours it into two pans and places it in our oven to cool.  The reason she puts it in the oven to cool is so the cat can’t get into it.  Now mind you, we haven’t had a cat for about fifteen years, but the fudge still solidifies in the safety of the oven to this day.

A recent hip-replacement surgery slowed her down a little this year.  While some previous years had her making some forty to fifty pounds, this Christmas she limited production to a few batches.  When beginning her first batch during Advent, she realized she didn’t have the oleo margarine she normally uses, so she substituted real butter.  The fudge turned out fine.  It was creamy, tasted great, but she was not happy with it.  The fudge had a dull appearance, not shiny the way she likes it to be.  I could not tell the difference.  It seemed fine to me, but it did not meet her standards.  

One might think using butter in a fudge recipe would be better than using margarine, but my wife claims that fudge made with the cheapest oleo is far superior than fudge made with real butter.  This superiority apparently exists in the appearance rather than the flavor, but as Pope Francis might say, who am I to judge.  In any case, it was off to the grocery store to get more chocolate and some Blue Bonnet margarine.  The Friday before Christmas, she was back in the kitchen to make a proper batch of Fannie May fudge.  

This time the fudge turned out perfectly so I am told.  It was cooling in the oven so I didn’t see it, but my wife was gloating all afternoon about its glossy appearance and perfect creaminess.  This batch would be divided, placed in small tins and given out as Christmas gifts to anyone who stopped by.  The rest we will take to my sister’s house on Christmas Eve.

By Friday evening I was hungry.  As old traditional Catholics, we do not eat meat on Friday, so our go-to Friday supper is frozen cheese pizza.  Our go-to brand of late has been Digiorno’s Rising Crust Four Cheese variety.  For whatever reason, our local grocery has been out of it for several weeks, so we are trying a few other brands.   On this particular day, I preheated the oven to 400 degrees per the instructions.  When it was time to put the pizza in, I opened the oven door to find my wife’s fudge bubbling like some kind of volcanic tar pit.  Neither of us had remembered the fudge was still in the oven.  I immediately thought of what Ralphie said in the Christmas Story movie when he accidentally scattered the lug nuts while helping the old man change the flat tire.  

My wife was ready to send the entire batch down the garbage disposal.  I told her to let it cool and maybe it would be alright.  We waited a couple of hours and I tried a piece.  It had crunchy gobs of burnt sugar that tasted like chocolate gravel.  We sent it down the garbage disposal.  

When we reach our mid-seventies, we can be forgetful.  Stuff happens and we just have to shake our heads and move on.  We made another unscheduled trip to the store, picked up more fudge ingredients and she made another batch.  It turned out fine.  Yes, she let it cool in the oven so our non-existent cat wouldn’t get it, and it made for a good story to tell our family on Christmas Eve.