Write with Me, Learn with Me!

All right, kiddies! I threatened some time ago that I would be posting my writing assignments from the two courses I'm taking right now on here every so often. Today is that magickal day!! *And the crowd goes wiiiiiild!*

No, seriously, folks...I'd really like to hear some feedback about this short story I had to write for one class. It hasn't been graded and returned by the teacher yet, but I'm hoping for some constructive criticism from my friends, or any complete stranger that happens to read it. *wink* So here goes...

EXTRA-ORDIANRY

Tean-year-old Marcus Samuel Simon is what some would call an extraordinarily ordianry little boy. With mousy brown hair and nondescript brown eyes, freckles across his cheeks, he walks home from school with rounded shoulders, his hands crammed into the pockets of his blue jeans. The toes of his red and white sneakers leave wakes in the dirt as he drags his feet. Shades of his classmates taunt him during his trudge down the dirt road leading home.

"Marcuth Thamuel Thimon," the shades mock.

A new year at a new school because his dad has a new job at a new refinery. Marcus had anticipated the ridicule; this was the fourth school in as many years.

He sighs as he takes in the faded lime green pull-behind camper; his home since his mom abandoned them. His dad, Stephen Simon, did what he could but work was hard to find with refineries closing all across the U.S.

Twenty-two minutes and eleven seconds to go...

A piece of cardboard that neither keeps out the rain nor the cold is duct-taped over the busted window (the window where his "bedroom" is) at the front of the camper. Two rusted lawn chairs stand guard outside the dented front door.

Marcus strides across the outdoor carpeting that constitutes their "lawn". He retrieves the key tucked inside his shirt. The key is on a necklace comprised of two of his dad's old bootlaces.

Nineteen minutes and six seconds to go...

He slides the key into the lock and twists. Pushing his way into the dim interior, Marcus reaches for the kerosene lantern to his right. The lantern hangs on a rusted nail his father has driven; the book of matches for the lantern is in a brown glass ashtray. The ashtray is from the local (as in three states and two schools ago) bowling alley. It is balanced on the backside of the bench seat that joins its mate and small Formica table making up their "living/dining room".

Lighting the lantern, Marcus closes the door and hangs his key on the hook. Climbing the two stairs that bring him into the center of his home, he sets the lantern on the table. From his position, he can touch the table, the hot plate, and the bathroom door all at once if so inclined.

Marcus is not inclined.

Fourteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds to go...

Looking at the table, he sees his dad left him a note.Dear, son. chance for overtime. Eat your dinner, do your homework, and wash your face before bed. Here's a dollar; get something sweet from Chuck's. Love, Dad.

Chuck's is the convenience store down the road from their trailer park. Marcus moves the four quarters used to hold down the corners of the note and sighs. A dollar might get him gum if the old man who works there takes pity and doesn't charge tax. Marcus deposits the quarters back into the change jar sitting beside the hot plate. He stirs the jar, making it look like he spent the coins - not that his dad would check.

Stephen Simon works from three each afternoon until three in the morning, six days a week. Overtime meant an additional four hours; he would be ready to drive the hour and a half home about the time Marcus would be getting ready for school. The boy would be in class when his dad got home. Stephen Simon would be too tired to check his change jar to see if Marcus spent the money or put it back like always.

Marcus opens the door on the miniature refrigerator. The refrigerator shares the same counter as the hot plate and makes up their "kitchen". Removing the package of bologna and a juice box, he closes the door. The bread is in the cupboard above him. Within five minutes, his dinner is made; five minutes later, his dinner is eaten and his mess cleaned.

Five minutes and eighteen seconds to go...

There is no homework for the night; it's the first day. Marcus heads to the bathroom.

The bathroom consists of a small commode, a child-sized shower, and a sink the size of a sand bucket. Marcus removes the washcloth from teh edge of the sink and wets it. He scrubs at his face, turning the skin pink, and wrings the water from the cloth. Placing it back on the edge of the sink, he exits the bathroom. To his right, beyond a moth-eaten curtain, in his dad's "bedroom". His dad's room houses a bed and a small two-drawer cardboard dresser. The dresser has decorative pink and purple flowers; his dad found it on the side of the road.

Marcus turns and makes his way to his own bedroom. He extinguishes the light as he passes. His room is past the living/dining room and kitchen. Marcus's dad had hung him a sheet too; the sheet is 'Strawberry Shortcake' but Marcus doesn't mind. He bats the sheet aside and climbs into his bed, kicking his sneakers off as he pulls himself up.

Two minutes and three seconds to go...

Marcus draws the curtain shut, closing himself in. His room is made up wholly of his twin-size bed and the small storage space beneath it. Marcus reaches down and opens the door to the space. He pulls out a battered shoebox, clearly one of his dad's, and settles it in his lap. He sits Indian-style on his mattress. The boy caresses the boy, sliding his hands along the top of the cardboard, before he removes the lid. Light engulfs Marcus and he closes his unremarkable brown eyes.

Seven seconds to go...

Marcus opens his eyes to the adoring faces tilted upwards at him from inside. Salutations of greeting drift to him in melodious harmony.

"Hail Marcuth Thamuel Thimon! Hail King Marcuth, the Creator!" the people cheer.

Marcus's face splits in a dazzling grin. You see, ten-year-old Marcus Samuel Simon is what would ordinarily call an extraordinary little boy.

The End.

Allright, now I've put myself out there; laid my soul bare, so to speak, and I want you to tell me if you think it's pretty or not. *lol* Truly, I would like some feedback on what you think about my little diddy, how I can improve it, etc.

Well since I'm at work, I probably should be getting back to doing what they pay me for. *smile* Even if I'd rather be doing this...Chat atcha again in the future!!

B.B. Walter

Play Ball!!

“Take me out to the ball game; take me out to the crowd…Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks; I don’t care if I ever come back….!!”

All right, boys and girls, you know what time of year it is….Opening Day of Baseball Season on April 6, 2009! Of course, I (like anyone sane *smile*) will be rooting for the Chicago Cubbies, and that is the theme of my blog today – Baseball and the Cubs.

Since I love this sport (and particularly this team), I’m going to include some baseball facts and then follow up with the 2009 Active Cubs Roster – complete with height, weight, and birthday!!


Fact #1 – Did you know?...Baltimore Orioles shortstop Cal Ripken, Jr. didn't miss a game in 16 years. He played in 2,632 consecutive games from April 30, 1982 to Sept. 19, 1998.

Fact #2 – Did you know?...Pitcher Nolan Ryan played 27 seasons in major league baseball and struck out more batters in his career than any other pitcher.

Fact #3 – Did you know?...Baseball stars from the National League and the American League played the first All-Star Game in 1933. The National League has won 40 of the 73 games. The game ended in a tie twice. In 1961 rain in Boston prevented extra innings and the game ended in a 1-1 tie. And in 2002, the game went 11 innings with the score knotted at seven before it was finally called off due to a lack of pitchers.


Ok, and here is the active line up for the Chicago Cubs for 2009:

2009 Active Cubs Roster Active Roster Pitchers B/T Ht Wt DOB 84 Neal Cotts L/L 6-1 200 03/25/80 46 Ryan Dempster R/R 6-2 215 05/03/77 57 Chad Gaudin R/R 5-10 190 03/24/83 63 Kevin Gregg R/R 6-6 240 06/20/78 37 Angel Guzman R/R 6-3 200 12/14/81 40 Rich Harden L/R 6-1 195 11/30/81 47 Aaron Heilman R/R 6-5 225 11/12/78 30 Ted Lilly L/L 6-1 190 01/04/76 49 Carlos Marmol R/R 6-2 180 10/14/82 45 Sean Marshall L/L 6-7 220 08/30/82 54 David Patton R/R 6-3 205 05/18/84 29 Jeff Samardzija R/R 6-5 220 01/23/85 51 Luis Vizcaino R/R 5-11 210 08/06/74 38 Carlos Zambrano S/R 6-5 255 06/01/81 Catchers B/T Ht Wt DOB 55 Koyie Hill S/R 6-0 190 03/09/79 18 Geovany Soto R/R 6-1 225 01/20/83 Infielders B/T Ht Wt DOB 17 Mike Fontenot L/R 5-8 170 06/09/80 6 Micah Hoffpauir L/L 6-3 215 03/01/80 25 Derrek Lee R/R 6-5 245 09/06/75 7 Aaron Miles S/R 5-8 180 12/15/76 16 Aramis Ramirez R/R 6-1 215 06/25/78 2 Ryan Theriot R/R 5-11 175 12/07/79 Outfielders B/T Ht Wt DOB 21 Milton Bradley S/R 6-0 225 04/15/78 1 Kosuke Fukudome L/R 6-0 185 04/26/77 4 Joey Gathright L/R 5-10 185 04/27/81 9 Reed Johnson R/R 5-10 180 12/08/76 12 Alfonso Soriano R/R 6-1 180 01/07/76

So, now that you know a little bit more about me (and the ONLY! team that matters *smile*), I bet you can live your life a little fuller, huh? *LOL* Nah, just joshing…Let’s just…

PLAY BALL!!

B.B. Walter

Frustration

Hello, world; me again! Just popping in to talk about a little thing that gets me big time - Frustration.

I guess I'm just frustrated right now because I'm wanting to go so many different directions right now, and I'm stuck in the loop of "Almost there! Almost there! Hold on a little longer now!"

You know, it's just a matter of being in a job that is starting to wear on my nerves, but I can't leave (and probably should just be grateful I have a job anyway) because there isn't anything open right now that is as good or captures my attention; my schooling is progressing nicely but sooooo slowly; and my writing has hit a bit of a road block - well, really it's stalled a bit on the tracks - even while I attempt mouth-to-mouth to revive it.

Aw man, I sound like such a bummer this evening! But it's not just all that, my plans are just taking too long to come to fruition, ya know!! Argh! As to work, you know, I'm looking just not finding yet (yet being the operative word); school, well, only so much can be crammed into my head at a time, and I just have to worry about my impatience outdoing my better judgement; and my writing? -hum, my writing- have several plans in progress on how to jumpstart that front again. It's just that it all takes time, you know, and my instant gratification is showing...I want it all - now! *LOL*

Well, that's my little rant this evening - my frustration with it all. *smile* I know I'm on all the right roads, barrelling along faster than most people while still obeying all the proper road conditions to get to my destination safely, but it doesn't make me less impatient or less frustrated.

I guess I just need to step back and take that all important deep breath and relax. Things will come to fruition in their own time; or, as my great grandmother used to say, "You can't rush the fruit ripening; if you do, you only get bitter fruit and unhappiness in the end." Wise old women should be listened to, I suppose, in the end; if we all did that more often, I think the world would be a friendlier, albeit slower paced, but more satisfaying place.

Let me know, how do you pace yourself? What keeps you from throwing up your hands and screaming to the horizon, "Oh, come on already!" Really, I want to know. *smile*

{CR: Still on A&D by Dan Brown, and absolutely loving it, and started I'll Be Seeing You by Mary Higgins Clark, also excellent so far; Just Finished (JF for future reference) Silent Night by Mary Higgins Clark, a great book, and Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury (was for class, but still loved reading it); TBRN: New Moon by Stephanie Myers, To Serve and Submit by ?}

Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest

If you all recall, I had entered the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest last month. This contest was for a publishing contract with Penguin; not ot mention some serious bragging rights since the entry format was against everyone who wanted to enter in the U.K., Canada, Australia, and the U.S. Against these staggering odds I was hoping that my creative genuis was good enough to advance to the second round; however, it seems, my creative genuis did not mesh with the reviewers' ideas.

I'll freely admit that I'm a little down about it; however, my life has taught me that one door closing opens another somewhere. My open door is now is that I know early enough in the year to start marketing this new novel to agents/publishers.

Of course, I don't doubt that there are better authors out there amongst the countries allowed entry; however, I'm good too. If you want to check it out for yourself, go to www.bbwalter.com and click on my other works page, the story I entered was 'A Touch of Darkness'; there's an excerpt. Please let me know what you think.

Well, that's it for me today. Since I'm in a bind for time, I'm not going to include my usual "Reading" section. I'll try to get it on here next entry.

Thanks!! ~BB Walter

Write with Me; Learn with Me - Assignment 1

Ok, I'm pretty sure I mentioned before that I'm taking some writing courses. I also think I mentioned that I'm going to include a "Learn with Me" portion here on my blog. And if I didn't....that's what I'm going to do. Here is one of the first assignments we had to do in my writing class through my local college. This was an in-class assignment of an essay we had to read. So here is the essay I wrote about that essay. I'd really like some feedback from my friends, followers, and odd-ball strangers wandering into my blog. Criticisms, pointers, likes, would be greatly appreciated. Now onto the essay...

“Shame” by Dick Gregory
Found In the Depths of the Soul

“Shame” by political activist, comedian, and writer, Dick Gregory, plunges its reader into the deepest, most forgotten recesses of the human soul. Shadows, previously unrealized and non-existent, creep into the life of a young black boy, his own life, early in childhood and taint his existence for years to follow. In “Shame”, Dick Gregory is able to beautifully relate to every individual on a personal level how shame affects every person at some point in their lives through vivid story introduction, a momentum building narrative rich in detail, and real details that resound with the reader now matter how they grew up or what walks of life they come from.
Gregory beautifully begins his essay by setting up the premise of the piece, immediately immersing the reader in the first-person and making them relate to the character in the story, himself. The first lesson, the moral and point of the essay, is immediately brought to the front but is done so in such a way through exact details of his life before he realized what shame was that you are left wonder “What happened that was so important that this little boy’s whole life would be changed so drastically?”
A small step back, an introspective approach, ties the reader and the writer/Richard together when he clearly points out the similarities between himself and every person by offering a common denominator. He then follows it beautifully with what would have happened had normally events occurred. This draws a connection between the reader and writer again because maybe, for the reader at least, things went the way things should have gone. The correlation, however, allows the reader to consider, “Well, what if…?”
Of course, some readers, such as this one, would not know what is was like growing up black during the in the late 1930’ and early 1940’s, and Gregory seamlessly ties in examples of life for him growing up with his narration as he propels the story along. Quick, simple dialogue, tied together with narration and his thought process at that age, opens up more to the reader as they continue, shining light on the story and the moral given in both the topic and the introduction. The dialogue further goes to show how shame occurred in his life, where the actual emotion stemmed from. But what is probably most stunning is how he sums his entire essay to date into five beautiful lines delivered within seconds of each other: ‘ “We all know you don’t have a Daddy.” ‘, ‘Helene Tucker turned around, her eyes full of tears. She felt sorry for me.’ and then, ‘I walked out of school that day, and for a long time I didn’t go back very often. There was shame there.’
Gregory goes one step further in driving home the message to his story by furthering out the details of what life was like before he experienced shame for the first time and how those same details of life became the epitome of that shame from then on. And he draws the reader back around after giving more detail about his life following the shame with reiterating the same dialogue that became the source of his shame for many years to come by stating simply, ‘Yeah, the whole world heard the teacher that day, we all know you don’t have a Daddy.’
“Shame” is beautiful written. Short and poignant, it touches deep into the depths of the human soul no matter their race, life station, or experiences because it points out that on some level we all have shared this same experience with Dick Gregory.

So, lemme know what you think. This was an outstanding essay, by the way, and I highly recommend you Google it if you get a chance. Mr. Gregory is an exceptional writer.

[CR - Still "Angels & Demons" by Dan Brown; I'm further into this now and really enjoying it! Also CR "Silent night" by Mary Higgins Clark - Just started this book and not sure how I feel about it yet, but I love a good mystery most of the time, and she's reported to be one of the best. TBRN: Think I have Mercedes Lackey's "Burning Brightly" (Something new I'll add on here is the reviews I'm doing for other authors, so here goes.) BIR (Books I'm Reviewing): "Watchdog" by S.R. Roberts, and "Love at 1,000 Feet" by Kellie Martins - These reviews will be posted on my website, www.bbwalter.com , to read if the author wishes them posted.]

Thanks all for now, folks!
B.B. Walter

St. Patrick's Day

Being of Irish decent, I've always been proud of celebrating St. Patrick's Day...perhaps even with a little too much zeal! ;) But, despite my lineasge, I've never actually known the reason behind the celebration until recently when I stumbled upon a great website called Irish Culture and Customs, found at www.irishcultureandcustoms.com .

This site is fantastic! And I wanted to include on here a great article that was on their site. Below is the article about the true reason behind why we celebrate this saint that most only know "drove the snakes out of Ireland". However, I have to emphasize that this site also contains so many more fascinating tidbits about Irish culture that you should definitely check out. So, without further adieu, here is the article about Why We Celebrate St. Patrick's Day.

"I, Patrick, the sinner..."
by Bridget Haggerty

The high veneration in which the Irish hold St. Patrick is evidenced by the common salutation, "May God, Mary, and Patrick bless you." His name occurs widely in prayers and blessings throughout Ireland and it is said that he promises prosperity to those who seek his intercession on his feast day, which marks the end of winter.

Crops could not be safely planted, nor animals put out in the fields, before the fear of winter frost had passed. The appearance in one's garden of snowdrops, daffodils and crocus were fickle forecasters of better weather, as often as not popping up too soon, only to be covered by a late snow, or shriveled up by a sudden blast of frost. Indeed, such was the importance of getting the planting date correct, that the Celts had markers, to remind them when it was safe to plant, and later on, the early Christian Irish adopted these days as Saint's days, for St Brigid (Feb 1) and St Patrick (March 17). Thus the proverb went: "Every second day is good, from my day forward" says Brigid. "Every day is good from my day forward" says Patrick.

All well and good. But who was this man who legend says drove the snakes out of Ireland and used a shamrock to convert the heathens?

The Annals of the Kingdom of Ireland by the Four Masters state that by the year 438 Christianity had made such progress, the laws were changed to agree with the Gospel. In just 6 years, a 60 year old man was able to so change the country that even the laws were amended. He had no printing press, no finances, few helpers and Ireland had no Roman roads on which to travel.

Recorded history and mystical legend are cavalierly intertwined when it comes to St. Patrick. Some historians say he was born in Banwen, Wales. Others say it was Kilpatrick, near Dumbarton, in Scotland . As with many of the facts about his life, no-one is exactly sure where.

Even the date of his birth is disputed, although many historians place it about 385 A.D. Most of what is known comes from the saint's Confessions, a slim volume which he wrote before he died in the late 400s.

In Patrick's youth, the Roman Empire was in decline; without Roman protection, Britain was vulnerable to attack by marauding Irish pirates whose homeland had never been conquered or absorbed by Rome.

After one such raid, Patrick became one of the thousands captured and returned to Ireland as slaves; this was a devastating shock for one who had enjoyed a life of relative comfort as the son of a well-compensated church official.

Not only was he torn from home and family, but he also was taken to a land that, while not very distant, had to have seemed incredibly alien and frightening.

Roman expansion into Britain had brought law and order, advanced culture and infrastructure, and eventually, Christianity. Ireland, on the other hand, remained a harsh, difficult place where warring kings ruled violent small kingdoms and pagan priests performed human sacrifice.

Patrick was purchased by a Druid. Members of this mystical Celtic religion practiced magic, oversaw rituals and served as judges in the top echelons of ancient Irish society.

Once indifferent to the Christian teachings of his family, Patrick's attitude changed radically during his six-year captivity. As a shepherd in his master's lonely, misty fields, he writes of having only two constant companions - hunger and nakedness. In this isolated and degrading situation, Patrick wrote of his spiritual transformation: "The love of God - grew in me more and more, - in a single day, I have said as many as a hundred prayers, and in the night, nearly the same - I prayed in the woods and on the mountain, even before dawn. I felt no hurt from the snow or ice or rain."

Patrick dreamed of escape. He tells us that he stole away one night and hiked 200 miles to the nearest port, where he found a ship that was soon to embark. But, because he was a penniless slave, the captain refused him passage. Patrick then prayed for several hours in a nearby wood; he returned to the ship, and miraculously the captain relented and gave him a place on the ship, possibly as a sailor.

History does not record precisely where the ship landed, but it was most likely along the coast of France, then known as Gaul. Details about how Patrick finally reached his family in Britain are also very sketchy. But, he did make it home and was haunted by his experiences in Ireland.

Convinced that God had summoned him to return to the pagan land of his captivity, Patrick trained for the priesthood. Some historians believe that he did so in France under the tutelage of St. Germain. Others say he trained in Rome. Regardless, he was assigned as a missionary to Ireland.

A few others had preceded him but with little success. Patrick's immediate predecessor, in fact, was said to have been martyred. Territorial kings and intransigent Druids proved powerful barriers to Christianity, then synonymous with Roman domination as the church and its popes filled the void left by departing emperors.

Patrick faced very real danger but had an advantage. Having lived among the Irish for six years, he was familiar with their ways. That and a persuasive personality were vital to his eventual success.

Though Ireland is smaller than the state of Maine, it had many kings,each ruling tiny kingdoms called tuatha. Above them were kings of the five provinces, in turn subject to the high king seated at Tara, then the capital. Patrick knew he had to appeal to the fiercely independent minor monarchs in order to spread his message safely. Greasing their royal palms helped.

"I spent money for your sake in order that they might let me enter," he addresses his superiors, recounting his mission in Confessions. "I made presents to the kings, not to mention the price I paid to their sons who escorted me."

Underscoring the need for such royal protection, Patrick frequently referred to the dangers he faced in Ireland. Sometimes, the patronage of a king wasn't enough to keep him safe.

At one point, he tells of being attacked, bound, robbed and threatened with death, all while under "protection." But because the kings constantly battled with each other, it was important to court all of them.

Having friends in high places helped Patrick's mission in other ways. Although he made few converts among kings who offered him safe passage, their fortunes being too closely related to maintaining the old order, his message often attracted other members of the royal families with less to lose, including younger brothers with little hope of inheritance from their fathers.

As Ludwig Bieler, the mid-century church historian, noted, when the highest echelon of society adopted the new faith, the people often followed.

But royal favor doesn't begin to explain Patrick's transforming effect on the people. History cannot always interpret such intangibles. There is little contemporary documentation of Patrick's mission by chariot throughout Ireland, converting thousands and establishing churches.

Later hagiographers -- people who write about saints -- give vivid yet ultimately unreliable details about Patrick's conversions and wondrous acts. His most famous "miracle," driving the snakes out of Ireland, certainly is legend - geologists say the island broke off the European continent before snakes could evolve there. The story most likely is intended to be emblematic of how he purged paganism.

But Patrick's dynamism was so great that myths abounded. "He must have been a terrifically charismatic figure," says Robert Mahony, an associate professor of English at Catholic University and former director of the Center for Irish Studies there. "And such people inspire legends."

One legend that is not widely known is Les Fleurs de St-Patrice which says that Patrick was sent to preach the Gospel in the area of Bréhémont-sur-Loire. He went fishing one day and had a tremendous catch. The local fishermen were upset and forced him to flee. He reached a shelter on the north bank where he slept under a blackthorn bush. When he awoke the bush was covered with flowers. It was Christmas day and from that time on, the bush flowered every Christmas until it was destroyed in World War I. The phenomenon was seen and verified by various observers, including official organizations. Today, St. Patrick is the patron of the fishermen on the Loire and, according to a modern French scholar, the patron of almost every other occupation in the area.

Thomas Cahill, author of How the Irish Saved Civilization, believes that part of Patrick's appeal lay in his message. In a 1996 CNN interview, Cahill noted that "the Christianity that Patrick planted in Ireland was really of a unique kind, in the sense that he left behind all of those dark, sad mediations on human sinfulness that were favorites of the fathers of the Church, and instead he concentrated on the goodness of creation.

"The Irish were already very mystical. They believed that the world was a magical place, and he built on that rather than on this human sinfulness theme, and, as a result, early Irish Christianity was extremely celebratory of the world, of the earth, of matter, of human experience, of the human body. It gets off the ground very quickly in this kind of dance of happiness and joy which is very unlike the sound of earlier Christianity."

There is no reliable account of St. Patrick's work in Ireland. Legends include how he described the mystery of the Trinity to Laoghaire, high king of Ireland, by referring to the shamrock, and that he singlehandedly--an impossible task--converted Ireland. Nevertheless, Saint Patrick established the Church throughout Ireland on lasting foundations: he travelled throughout the country preaching, teaching, building churches, opening schools and monasteries, converting chiefs and bards, and everywhere supporting his preaching with miracles.

His writings show what solid doctrine he must have taught his listeners. His "Confessio" (his autobiography, perhaps written as an apology against his detractors), the "Lorica" (or "Breastplate"), and the "Letter to the Soldiers of Coroticus," protesting British slave trading and the slaughter of a group of Irish Christians by Coroticus's raiding Christian Welshmen, are the first surely identified literature of the British or Celtic Church.

What stands out in his writings is Patrick's sense of being called by God to the work he had undertaken, and his determination and modesty in carrying it out: "I, Patrick, a sinner, am the most ignorant and of least account among the faithful, despised by many. . . . I owe it to God's grace that so many people should through me be born again to him."

St. Patrick died at Saul (Sabhall) on March 17 493. Saint Tassach administered the last rites and his remains were wrapped in a shroud woven by Saint Brigid. The bishops, clergy and the faithful from all over Ireland crowded around his remains to pay due honor to the Father of their Faith. Some of the ancient Lives record that for several days the light of heaven shone around his bier. His remains were interred at the chieftan's fort two miles from Saul. Centuries later, the cathedral of Down was built where St. Patrick was buried.

There is another old legend that promises that on the last day, though Christ will judge all the other nations, it will be St. Patrick sitting in judgment on the Irish. In an interview, when Thomas Cahill was asked whether that spelled good news or bad news for the Irish, Cahill didn't hesitate. "That's great news for the Irish!" Resources: The Irish Heritage Newsletter and several web sites including The Catholic Messenger

And that is the conclusion of my "nifty tidbit" for today. I can definitely state that I am more educated now than I was ten minutes ago from reading this well written article.

So, to finalize: [Still Reading: Angels and Demons by Dan Brown, and started Cat in a Neon Nightmare by (still can't remember). I'm a pretty good way into A&D and have to say I'm really liking it so far; as for CIANN, I think this series has to be read from the beginning to really be understood, so I'm going to traipse on back to the bookstore to find the first book and start from there.]

Til Next Time!! ~B.B. Walter

Remebering A Friend

Today, I'm remembering a friend I lost last year. Paul was young, too young to lose to a heart attack, and just shy of his birthday when we lost him on March 4, 2008. He was one of those eternally grouchy people; but it was a grouchy that was good-natured and even welcomed most of the time by those who knew him because...well, that was Paul! *smile*

Paul was a very intellegent man with an odd collection of random, probably useless, knowledge. But that knowledge was also one of the reasons he was so well-loved by me and many who knew him. He could randomly come up with a strange bit of fluff to ellaborate on the subject at hand, or some small morsel that indirectly related to the game you were playing or the topic we were discussing. And his great ability to argue a topic from the opposite side of his beliefs was awe-inspiring at times.

I'd call Paul a gamer, but it's too simple a term. He was a free-spirit who enjoyed the "nerdy" aspect of socialization, but he was quick to talk to or help a stranger. Paul's only problem he had with the world was stupidity. Or, rather, the people who refused to be educated beyond their own narrow scope of reality. They drove him wild, but he also thrived on them as well as a constant fuel for his ire. I also think that he needed those people or else his anger might spill out onto everyone else who he only found "mildly" annoying...and those few could be mighty at times! *lol*

But despite his sometimes surly nature, Paul was also a giant teddy bear of a man (size not withstanding) with a soft spot for kids and a sympathetic ear (though sometimes harsh tongue since he tended to be blunt...uh, very blunt) for friends and family. But he was a loving, dutiful son, a good samaritan, and a man with a sense of humor.

Today, I want to remember my friend Paul for his life, his humor, and his kindness; not for the loss we suffered when he passed, but for what he brought to so many of us who knew him. Today, I want to remember, be mournful I will miss out on more of Paul in my life, but, most importantly, remember how he enriched all of our lives, those who knew and cared for him.

We miss you, Paul; we celebrate you, Paul.