It finally dawned on me — I’m entirely through his cycle of the months, and into the regional essays, and the glaring difference between Leopold and Wendell Berry hits me: Leopold keeps talking about his farm, but he never gets around to actually farming. Hunting, yes, but so far not a word about actual farming. It’s puzzling. Maybe it’ll become clearer in the rest of the book …
Leopold is nearly as quotable as Chesterton. Here’s a sample:
There are two great spiritual dangers in not owning a farm. One is the danger of supposing that breakfast comes from the grocery, and the other that heat comes from the furnace.
Interesting fracas in St. Blog’s regarding Rod Dreher’s editorial “The Pope Let Us Down.” (online this Sunday) Short answer: I’m with Dreher — while I deeply respect His Holiness, I am utterly baffled (and yes, scandalized) at his seeming inaction in this crisis. Maybe His Holiness knows what he’s doing with this approach, but given how untrustworthy the American bishops have shown themselves to be, it’s hard to trust the Bishop of Rome on this, good as he is.
Wow, get crunched at work and then take a vacation, and the blogging goes out the window … so, just a few quick notes and updates:
Dale, don’t worry. Heather’s not just the brains, she’s the looks, too. Good thing you can cook. 🙂 Oh, and you can’t use “Rachel Anne” as a name, we’ve already used it for our little princess.
Hip hip hooray!! My old math teacher kicks butt in the Republican primary, which given how GOP Hillsdale and Branch counties are, pretty much assures him a seat in the legislature this fall. Congratulations, Mr. Caswell!
When did the goal of education change from “developing good citizens” to “create cogs for the machine of business”?
Indeed. Roy, I hope to get back to your thoughts on this.
“The purpose of Compulsory Education is to deprive the common people of their commonsense. “
— G. K. Chesterton
"By the Babe Unborn"
by G.K. Chesterton
If trees were tall and grasses short,
As in some crazy tale,
If here and there a sea were blue
Beyond the breaking pale,
If a fixed fire hung in the air
To warm me one day through,
If deep green hair grew on great hills,
I know what I should do.
In dark I lie; dreaming that there
Are great eyes cold or kind,
And twisted streets and silent doors,
And living men behind.
Let storm clouds come: better an hour,
And leave to weep and fight,
Than all the ages I have ruled
The empires of the night.
I think that if they gave me leave
Within the world to stand,
I would be good through all the day
I spent in fairyland.
They should not hear a word from me
Of selfishness or scorn,
If only I could find the door,
If only I were born.
A First-Hand Report on the Granholm / OLGC Debacle
Victor Lams has a first-hand report with photographs of Our Lady of Good Council in Plymouth, Michigan (a few miles from my own church), along with photographs of the church as seen from the vantage point of the protestors. Plus, a copy of this week’s bulletin and of a letter allegedly handed out by Ms. Granholm’s husband after Mass.
I especially liked his description of the OLGC neighborhood:
OLGC … is the Catholic Church in town where all the upper-middle-class and upper-class whitebread folks go. These are the folks who live in the subdivisions which surround the Church. And you know what type of subdivisions I mean, too: the ones which have popped up like mushrooms over the last 5-10 years; the ones with the $400,000-$700,000 homes which look like they were designed when Frank Lloyd Wright and Michelangelo got in a fight over who could have the last toke from the waterpipe: conflicting architectural styles clashing all about and all built as cheaply as possible by contractors out to make a quick buck off some dumb rich folks. Anyway, you can see how such ofay types would be offended by any sort of contraversy, much less those which offend their “it’s so closed minded to believe that your personal opinion is true,” sensibilities.
Anyway, all those mean, nasty protesters Fr. Doc’s been telling you about? Well, before the 10am Mass this morning there were about 9 or 10 folks standing on the sidewalk by the Church’s two parking-lot entrances. Two folks had the more graphic signs but the majority of the signs were just words: “To be Catholic is to be Pro-Life,” etc. One guy had a picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe and another had a picture of Jesus praying in the garden. That was it. No magaphones, no chanting, just folks milling about with signs about 150-yards from the entrance to the Church.
It is to weep. Pray for the upcoming election in Michigan.
“Let all the babies be born. Then let us drown those we do not like.”
— G. K. Chesterton