Cross State House Blessing

Anyone who has run across my Favorite Panamanian understands she is a serious Catholic. I once made the mistake of calling her a fanatic Catholic. I repeat that was a mistake. A big one. She does take her faith very seriously, maybe because she’s been married to such a serious sinner in yours truly for almost forty years. I know my immortal soul has benefited from her intercession on my behalf more than I will ever know. With the health challenges I’ve faced over the past year, her Catholicism kicked into high drive as she constantly prayed I would emerge unscathed. I use this in way of explanation for the big event yesterday at the house – the parish priests came over for lunch.

My wife goes to church four times a week and had befriended one of the young priests, a native of Columbia. He was pining for some Latino food and that engendered the lunch invite. I was apprised of this immensely important Tuesday social event on Monday. I already had a Tuesday trip to one of the properties I supervise on the other side of the state. When I told her that, I got what I call – “The Look”. I told her I would figure out a way to be back in time before she could launch into a fiery elocution on my priorities in life. I rarely see my Favorite Panamanian nervous but she was on pins and needles preparing for this lunch so my absence during the final prep was a true blessing (for me).

I set out early in the morning for Greenfield and was making great time, completely on schedule for my visit and a hasty return home. I dutifully followed the GPS which ran me into a bridge that was closed with no explanation of how to detour around it. I set off on the road following the river figuring I would take the next bridge across the river and the GPS would then direct me. After five miles I ran into that next bridge, also closed. The GPS was of no help whatsoever as it kept trying to direct me back to the first closed bridge. I put my old infantryman land navigation skills to work as I took a series of roads that were generally leading in the direction I wanted to go. This effort was “aided” by the GPS which keep harping at me to turn in the opposite direction. Infantry skills eventually won out and I arrived at the location but my planned schedule was in shambles with the half hour I had spent reconnoitering the Western Massachusetts back roads.

I think there was some divine intervention involved; either looking out for the priests’ lunch or my health if I failed to make it back in time. That intervention came in the form of a cancellation of one of the planned meetings I had on the agenda. I was able to get the work done and get back on the road with a glimmer of hope that I would arrive back home in time. I’m not saying all speed limits were scrupulously observed but I pulled into the driveway with no parish car in evidence. I thought I would be treated as a conquering hero for living up to my promise of arriving in time but alas, that was not to be. My Favorite Panamanian, in way of greeting, asked why I had not answered her text. She sent the text while I was in the midst of my cross-state dash and I certainly wasn’t going to consult my phone while driving (see earlier comments on speed limits). She had texted me to stop by the grocery store and pick up some cool whip needed for chocolate pie. She was deaf to my protestations about driving and texting. I found myself back on the road to secure the needed dessert topping and I still beat the priests back to the house.

My Normal View of Parish Priest

Despite my predictive feelings, I truly enjoyed lunch with the two priests. It was a little jarring to be sitting across the table from guys I heretofore had only seen garbed in serious priestly vestments. They both turned out to be jokesters away from the altar and really good company. My wife’s lunch was fabulous and well received. It turns out the senior parish priest has a real soft spot for lentils which is right in my wife’s wheelhouse. My Favorite Son, on the way home from one of his construction projects, stopped by to drop off my resupply of BBs which had to be shipped to his house (squirrels beware – I’ve been topped off). His timing was impeccable since it coincided with the serving of the pie, his favorite dessert. We ended the lunch with the priests blessing the house, saying prayers and sprinkling holy water throughout. My wife was beaming. They didn’t get down to the Man Cave which probably makes sense, given my viewing habits and language used during sporting events.

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RECURRING CHARACTERS                                           

BR3 – granddaughter #3, BRS - Blog Reader the Sequel - second granddaughter; FBR - First Blog Reader - first granddaughter, ABFA – Amazing Best Family Athlete = my daughter in law; Wingman – my son in law; Keene Friends 1 & 2 – friends since high school from my home town of Keene, NH; Soxfather - my brother in law; Great Aunt - my elder sister; Cantankerous Friend – friend since grade school who likes to argue about everything, poses as radical leftist to attract women; Kindergarten Friend – friend since kindergarten whom I reunited with after many years; Pittsburgh College Roommate – high school friend, also a “Minor Celebrity” in Pittsburgh; Deckzilla – our backyard deck which grew to monstrous dimensions once my wife got involved in planning; Maine and Virginia Musqueteras – two close friends of my wife – her US sisters, my wife is the 3^rd musquetera (musketeer); Riggins - also known as the Grandpuppy, son's dog; PanaGals – female relatives /friends of my wife from Panama; Panamanian/Latin Mafia – inevitable group of Latino friends my wife accumulates wherever we have lived & their spouses; Neighborhood Mafioso - wife's close friend and Panamanian mafia member, Favorite Panamanian - the wife (of course); First Friday – celebrations to mark the First Friday of the Week; Curbside Girls – close friends of my daughter acquired during her single days in Brooklyn