Blessing for You on the Feast of the Holy Family

This morning Deacon Pat Murphy joined Father Gallagher at Sacred Heart Catholic Church for the Feast of the Holy Family.

His homily was a gem. As a youngster Deacon Pat, helped make the case to keep the Mission Church of the Sacred Heart founded by French Chicagoans in 1904 open for good. Pat Murphy went all the way to Vatican to plead for the continued mission of this jewel on the south side.

It was wonderful to hear Pat Murphy's homily that centered on the dreams of St. Joseph which caused that good man to marry his Virgin Fiance who was bearing Redeemer of Man's Sins. He was also awakened to take his family in flight to Egypt and spare the Christ Child from Herod's slaughter. His next dream called them back to Israel and the final dream leads Joseph and his family to take up residence in the town of Nazareth.

Pat Murphy noted that the gospels never quote Joseph and that Joseph was a man of action - Deeds not Words; Facta Non Verba - the motto of Leo High School by the way.

I am a man of words. My deeds are all too often reactions to situations and feelings rooted in my childish sense of my self. I have an arrogance that is too steeped in in that sense of self. Better women and men are like St. Joseph - they do and act for others with an immediacy that requires no careful planning,parsing or cutting of corners.

All around me in the pews of Sacred Heart Church were St. Josephs: widows, firemen, cops, skilled tradesmen, unemployed fathers, people of action - like St. Joseph.

I pray on this Feast of the Family to shed myself of childish and selfish pride. I also pray that my limited skills with tools will be graced with some small talent today so I can fix the drive on my snow-blower - plow the white stuff for my neighbors. That might be a good start for this sinner.



Merry Christmas and Feast of the Holy Family - We are all so blessed!

Happy Fathers Day - St. Joseph, Si Blitzstein and Dad - Bless Us.

“a righteous man, yet unwilling to expose her to shame” (Matthew 1:19).

"He was chosen by the eternal Father as the trustworthy guardian and protector of his greatest treasures, namely, his divine Son and Mary, Joseph’s wife. He carried out this vocation with complete fidelity until at last God called him, saying: ‘Good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of your Lord’” (St. Bernardine of Siena).

Just as the saying goes that behind every great man there is a great woman, the inspiration behind the celebration of a Father's Day is owed at least partly to its slightly earlier counterpart, Mother's Day. Mother's Day was just beginning to gather widespread attention in the United States in 1909, when Sonora Louise Smart Dodd, of Spokane, Washington, heard a sermon on the merits of setting aside a day to honor one's mother. It gave her the idea to petition for a day to honor fathers, and in particular, her own father, William Jackson Smart, who had raised her and her five siblings by himself, after her mother died in childbirth.

With support from the Spokane Ministerial Association and the YMCA, her efforts paid off, and on June 19, 1910, the first Father's Day was celebrated in Spokane. The rose was selected as the official Father's Day flower, and some suggest that people wear a white rose to honor a father who is deceased, and a red one for a father who is living. In 1972, Richard Nixon signed a presidential proclamation declaring the third Sunday of June as Father's Day.

http://fathers-day.123holiday.net/


I have three wonderful children - Nora, Conor and Clare. Their Mother and my Bride, Mary, is in Heaven. She watches the cartoon playing 24/7 which is my care for those three great kids. Homer Simpson looks like Lord Chesterfield next to my ministrations as Hickey Pater Familias.

Jesus! Rag, rag, rag and the occasional Rage. That's this weak Sister, Bubba.

I do what I can, or attempt to make myself believe that all that I do for them comes not from a misstep, a lazy half-measure, or out of my personal vanity.

They deserve a great Father. They have one in God the Father and a reasonable facsimile here on earth.

Fathers are important, I guess. There are commercials telling us about Father's Rights from lawyers in Cowboy Hats; Celebration Sales for Hardware, Steaks, Golf Shirts and Old Country Buffets.

A wonderful boss that I had back when I worked one of my many jobs to meet tuition at Loyola was Simon Bitzstein.

Si Blitzstein hired legions of Catholic Youth to sell Van Huesen Shirts, Levis, quality suits, sport coats, and accessories at Mr. Lee's in the Evergreen Plaza*. One Fathers Day while fitting a guy home from the Navy for a suit, Si was asked what he was doing for Father's Day. He said, "This. This is what Fathers do."

"Hickey, he said, "You know when's Mothers Day?"

I said, "Last month."

Si rejoined, "Nine Months after Fathers Day. You got children? You work."

That was no joke. Do your job.

Fathers, no matter how strong, weak, smart, flawed, best-intended, or exemplary, are committed to a contact made with the women that they love and the subsequent gift from God that this contact requested.

It's work. We Catholics celebrated Fathers Day long before the thoughtful Methodist Miss Strong, and the subsequent Presidents declared a fitting tribute.

Fulfill the contract.

My Dad, was a three Campaign Marine veteran of the Pacific who worked three jobs. When my Mom was sick, the Old Man cooked,cleaned, washed, dried and folded clothes in between those jobs. Never a word about it.

Si Blitzstein fitted a sailor for a new suit.

St. Joseph raised the Son of God.

That's Fathers.

I pray to be half- the men they are - Fathers.




* Click my post title for the impending demolition of this landmark shopping center.

St. Joseph - How to Man -Up!

Yesterday was the South Side St. Paddy's Day Parade, but my thoughts were turned to St. Joseph*. Here's the deal - every year my cousin Willie opens up his bungalow over on Bell to about 200 people - mostly cousins and relatives and neighbors, but also Willie's endless parade of friends. Willie is one of the most genuine human beings and Christian gentleman to the steely backbone ( the anti-Hickey so to speak). Willie and Kerry and Bart, Maggie and Liam host a great Party that is often guested by the Great. President Barack Obama, Paul Vallas, Alderman Rugai,Tom Dart, Judge Tom Murphy, members of the Irish Government have all attended the Mass and Irish Breakfast with Willie before the Parade.

My role was to help cook bacon and Irish Bangers, but since the growth of this event exceeded the time and material needed to feed the folks, Willie has contracted the work out to Calabria. My job now is to help with the coffee. Nephew Bart and myself had to get the filled urns and pitchers and plastic vessels from Karim at Dunkin Donuts on 104th and Western.

I got to Willie's with the coffee and set things up, but then had to leave and get my car locked into the driveway at home. Anyone and everyone decides to make parking a personal entitlement. 'Park Here! Open Driveway! We won't have to walk a block or so - What's he going to do Tow Us? Flatten our Tires?' Well, it is a thought, Jasper. The Parade route on Western gets locked at 10 A.M. and it becomes impossible to cross Western Ave.

I got my car back home and started to walk the eight long and short blocks back to Willie's. A frantic woman had lost her little boy between 108th and 107th on Artesian. I asked her where and she said , 'I stopped to talk to a friend here on Artesian and turned around and he was gone! He's wearing a lime green T-shirt with dragons and Cubs hat- He's four years old - Oh, My God!.' Knowing the greatness of my neighbors, no little guy would go unnoticed and I tried to reassure her. I told her I would walk south on Artesian. It was still early and the thick crowds had yet to smother Western Ave. Down Artesian I went with a purpose and eyes wide open. Look, I am a gold-plated jerk about many things, but kids are not one of them - especially lost kids. I cut East on 109th and made my way back North on the west side of Western Ave, keeping an eye peeled for a solitary, crying four year old boy with a Lime Green Dragon t-shirt and a Cubs hat.

Nothing. I was getting as frantic as the poor Mom back on Artesian. I walked through the parking lot at County Fair and talked to two cops and they said no dice on the little guy. I crossed the parking lot to DiCola's and walked through that area and in back of the Quaker Meeting House. Nothing. I had lost Conor, Nora, and Clare for moments of pure anguish and self-loathing at museums, malls and marathons ( which I watch, but choose not to Run). There is nothing more horrific to a parent.

At 107th and Campbell I found the woman - girl really - talking to a tall bruiser who had a lime-green Buckeen with a CUBS hat perched on his shoulders. 'Thank you so much! This is my boy friend, Joe Petraikus and he chased Larry back to me.'

It turns out that Larry (4) went to pet a puppy and had ducked out of sight and followed the puppy and its owners west on 107th Street. The woman's boyfriend Joe the Loogan, a sobriquet I kept to myself by the way given the size and sinews of the lad, saw the wandering Larry and scooped him up.

It was too late to head back to Willie's and so I returned home to write an article for Chicago Daily Observer. I started thinking about Joe the Loogan, Larry and I never got Mom's name.

Joe, like the Patron of the Catholic Church, the patron of Fathers, the patron of workers, the patron Saint of Italians and Sicilians, was man who cared for the child who belonged to another. Joe found a little boy who had wandered off and agonized his mother, just like St. Joseph, the blue collar tradesman of Royal Blood, found his wife's little boy in a Temple full of wise men. Joe the Loogan found a little boy in waves of green costumes pushing strollers and wagons.

St. Joseph is the best saint. He teaches us males what it means to be a man - how to love with unconditional courage and gentle toughness. Toughness means not what one can dish out - pain, abuse, terror - but how much one can endure - doubt,discomfort and sometimes disgrace. Italians and Poles celebrated the masculine St. Joseph who worked quietly with his hands and protected his wife and child from the idiot who governed them.

We Irish celebrate a loner who worked miracles with his words. We need to crowd in on St. Joseph more than we do - I know I could use some manning up,

St. Joseph teaches us to Man up. Celebrate St. Joseph - no goofy green hats, and Miller Brewing keeps their hands off him. March 19th - St. Joseph Watch Over Us Guys!



*Joseph was foster father to Jesus. There are many children separated from families and parents who need foster parents. Please consider contacting your local Catholic Charities or Division of Family Services about becoming a foster parent.

Prayer -Saint Joseph, patron of the universal Church, watch over the Church as carefully as you watched over Jesus, help protect it and guide it as you did with your adopted son. Amen