what better selection

Don't know which to pick...
f

another what I won't miss

from whence I came.

As a teenager I once visited a friend's house. I asked where the bathroom was. She told me and as I walked down the hall I accidentally opened the door to her father's study. It was filled with Nazi memorabilia. I immediately left the house. But this sign remains.

craziness

But amidst the move and sale, Caryl enjoys a large pizza

another day in Walter Mitty's city

From the Hartford Courant 7/6/10:

Police: Priest Used Parish Money For Hotels, Male Escorts

Waterbury Police arrested Rev. Kevin J. Gray, 64, and charged him with first degree larceny. The well-known Roman Catholic priest allegedly embezzled $1.3 million from the Sacred Heart/Sagrado Corazon parish over a seven-year period. Police said he used church funds to pay for hotels, restaurant meals, clothing and male escorts. (WATERBURY POLICE / July 6, 2010)

By JENNA CARLESSO, jcarlesso@courant.com

11:09 a.m. EDT, July 6, 2010

WATERBURY — —

Police have arrested a well-known Roman Catholic priest in connection with the theft of $1.3 million from the Sacred Heart/Sagrado Corazon parish over a seven-year period.

Rev. Kevin J. Gray, 64, was charged today with first-degree larceny. Police said he used church funds to pay for hotels, restaurant meals, clothing and male escorts. Gray turned himself in to authorities this morning and is scheduled to be arraigned in Waterbury Superior Court today.

Gray was placed on medical leave by Hartford Archbishop Henry J. Mansell on April 15. The priest had told people in the community he was gravely ill.

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Gray was described as a popular priest in Waterbury, having served in the city for 26 years, first at St. Margaret's and St. Cecilia's churches before arriving at Sacred Heart/Sagrado Corazon.

"We are deeply saddened by the events which have recently had such a profound effect on Sacred Heart/Sagrado Corazon parish," Rev. John P. Gatzak, director of communications for the Hartford Archdiocese, said in a statement today.

"At the financial level, the Archdiocese continues to work with the parish to improve its financial controls and to address issues arising from the situation, such as insurance coverage and outstanding indebtedness. At the spiritual level, we continue to pray for healing and consolation for the parish family as it moves forward and for guidance and reconciliation for Father Gray as he encounters the legal proceedings that await him," Gatzak said.

The archdiocese said it referred the matter to police on May 21 after it uncovered unauthorized payments of church funds during a routine review.

The alleged theft began in January 2003, but it only came to light during a recent review, Gatzak has said. The money was taken from parish savings accounts as well as funds earmarked for payment of debts, including insurance payments and the cathedraticum, an annual assessment paid by parishes to the archdiocese, he said.

The church requires each parish to have a parish financial council to work with the pastor on fiscal matters, but Sacred Heart/Sagrado Corazon did not have such a panel, Gatzak said. Pastors are also required to issue annual financial reports to the archdiocese, but Gray did not comply, the archdiocese spokesman said. Both of those things helped trigger the financial review, which is done on a rotating basis at parishes throughout the archdiocese.

bury water

On my sidewalk

Ben Davis: Union Made, Plenty Tough

I've always loved this sign in the Mission. An inspiration for the month

Moolaadé from Ousman Sembené

The Everglades part 2

The Everglades

Jerry took me to the Everglades. We drove down a highway surrounded by strip malls that eventually gave way to a large canal on one side of the road, obviously draining the water away from its natural direction. Then it was grass all around (save the stupid canal).
We stopped at a place to go for an airboat ride. As we waited our turn to board, we looked down and saw this lovely 6 - 7 feet reptile. His hind legs were as large as my thigh. We were then instructed to go over a metal bridge and board at platform 1. On our way, following a split rail fence we looked down and not 2 feet from us was a 3 footer facing us. No protection, nothing. It didn't feel safe although we made it to the boat in fine condition.

The trip across the sawgrass was superb, hummocks dotting the horizon around us. We drove out about 20 minutes and then returned to watch a man in a cage pet six gators as they approached him with their mouths fully extended and hissing. One had ripped his pants earlier. Afterward we were given the opportunity to hold one. Walking back to the parking lot we detoured and ended up on a narrow path with water on either side of us, with no protection. It felt like we were in a Carl Hiaasen novel.

The Object of my Affection

We met on-line. He intrigues me. He beguiles me. I took the photograph on Jupiter Beach. I enjoy his company and each day we speak, I love more what I hear and see. His name is Jerry and he wants to move.

Glofuze

It's coming...

My mother had SAD. Yes she could be sad and with SAD (Seasonal Affected Disorder) she was sadder. Autumn was very difficult with her as the sun gave off less of its rays and Vitamin D. She was very sensitive. When we spoke over the phone while I lived in California, her conversations would take a turn around August 15. "It's coming," she'd begin. It meant that she could feel winter's cold light advancing on her soul. When I returned to Connecticut I felt the effects of wan light as well. It wasn't as severe as her's but enough to warrant me purchasing a "happy light" and downing copious amounts of fish oil. No wonder those in the Arctic enjoy raw whale blubber. It is not available in this part of New England and my mother's dread is what I think of when I hear those 2 words.

For me dread occurs with fireworks. I dislike loud noises and when I was young my dog would panic at thunder. My father would ignore my requests for consideration of my dog. He loved explosives and would acquire some form of loud firework during this season and throw them into an empty 55 gallon drum to increase the sound, giggling and laughing with the more brusque and unfeeling male friends around him, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. He wouldn't even wait for me to grab the dog before he'd gleefully toss a cherry bomb into the drum. She, the dog would run away in panic and I would walk or drive around to find her to take her away from the dreaded noise. This is what comes to my mind when I think of this season, and probably will for perpetuity. Thank you Joe, it's coming...

making food

My friend Helena gave me a recipe for faster healing. I made a big pot of it for my friend who is recovering from surgery.

Feeling Rushed

Feeling rushed with all I have to do, but continue on...

self portrait in samovar of eiffel tower

Jupiter Beach

I went to Florida for the weekend, in the heat and humidity. The beach was wonderful. It was in Jupiter, my planet.

What I won't miss

Starting tomorrow (and actually since last Thursday) I'll be sporadically blogging, since I need to move by the 15th of July

Woodtick, Connecticut

My first school was called Frisbie Elementary and it was on Woodtick Road in Woodtick. Caryl once said she found the name disturbing and it was at that point I realised its significance. This is also the location of the funeral parlor (Woodtick Memorial) that prepared Steve, my mother, my father and my sister after their non-tick-related deaths. The area is no longer a village, rather an extension of development from Waterbury down the road, and Wolcott's zoning free-for-all. This sign is obviously not from Wolcott, but it extracted the memories from my brain. Lyme Disease is named for the town in Connecticut the disease was first discovered.

Stop, listen, go

Again two days pass and no entries. My head is in cookielandia and I need to stop and ponder at least once a day. A moment before I left my doctor's office to look at the sky.

The Chicken Dance or The White Clam?

To whomever Steve and I announced our wedding plans the inevitable question would be,"Are you going to have a chicken dance?" What came to mind was as a child I saw our neighbor, Mrs. Norton and my father cut the heads off the chickens we raised and as the blood spurted out from their headless necks they danced in their last spasms of life. No, this was not a forced dance of a bird. I'd ask what was a Chicken Dance, and each time the person would place their hands in their arm pits and start flapping their arms, explaining it was like the Electric Glide and the Macorina. I'm not sure which image was more troubling. I was stunned the first time watching an adult in my house display such movement, speechless each time afterward.

I had not heard of a Chicken Dance and once again I felt I had fallen from a crack in the universe, perhaps a black hole and had landed in a place where everyone around me assumed I was from the same clan, yet I knew not what that culture was. Perhaps I had just missed out when I lived in California. I asked my friends there. No one had heard of it. But as I queried about, I received more information about what constitutes a chicken dance and I received numerous youtube videos demonstrating the phenomenon.

No, we did not have a chicken dance nor did we have a Chicken Dance at our wedding.

But recently I went to a pizzeria in Litchfield and found this item on the menu. It brought back all the memories of my lost cultural experiences.