Five Favorites - In Vino Veritas! Edition

Check out Hallie's here!

{one}

The top slot of the day goes to Maple Bourbon Bacon Jam.

Yes, you heard me. MAPLE BOURBON BACON JAM. I have not had this particular kind, but I have had bacon jam, and I am beyond ecstatic at the thought of going home for the holidays and creating my own jars of deliciousness with my bestie and fellow foodie Sarah.

H/T to the always wonderful April, who has made her own jars and is making me seriously contemplate driving west to obtain a jar or two...

{two}

Next, Essie nail polish - because it is a happy, classy brand. It also makes my hands look like they have a party to attend.

{three}

Every Saturday, we have Supper Club with a classmate of Will's and her sister, who have become very dear friends down here. Unfortunately for them, their neighborhood is infested by roosters. Fortunately for me, I got to spy this sweet mama hen and her three chicks this past weekend!

I know I'm not the one being woken up every morning by them, but GOSH they're cute!

{four}

We had another one of Will's classmates over for dinner and he brought the wine. If I was not preggo, I may have consumed half the bottle. It is that delicious; and the label is funny too!

Barrel Monkeys, 2011 Shiraz - from McLauren Vale in Australia.

{five}

My Dad ordered me my very own subscription of The Magnificat and it is so comforting to me to have morning prayer, the mass readings, and evening prayer at my disposal, as well as a daily reflection and saint of the day. I was especially touched by this passage: "Behold, I have left an open door before you, which no one can close." (Rev 3:8)

I love that I can read it all through my iPhone app as well - much better than bringing the book along, and then misplacing it for days.

Have a wonderful day, y'all!

What Are You Reading?

I'm back, after a loooong time. Can't promise consistency, but at least content. Volume 21, baby!

one

This week, I bought more books than my New Years' Resolutions allowed*. I said 3? Well, I meant 8! It's summer, does that count for anything?

I also renewed two subscriptions (First Things and The New Criterion) and took out a third (Touchstone, because its price was blessedly and severely reduced). I sadly am letting one of my newspapers go, though, and am happy to still have my Wall Street Journal, National Catholic Register, Financial Times, and The Magnificat.

Have you bought any good reads lately? Are you supporting excellent writing and the advancement of intellect?

two

Elizabeth is always marveled by how much I read. I thought I'd share the five books I am currently reading (yes, at the same time; I like multitasking):

I got this one for Christmas and am loving it:

Edith Stein and Companions On The Way to Auschwitz by Father Paul Hamans

This thick one will be finished before the summer is out - fantastic and meticulously written and researched:

From Dawn to Decadence: 500 Years of Western Cultural Life by Jacques Barzun

This one is really interesting and insightful:

Philosophy 101 By Socrates by Peter Kreeft

B. lent me this one, and it is hil-arious:

A Practical Guide to Racism by C. H. Dalton

I am listening to this one in the car, and it is, of course, just wonderful:

The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

In July, I'm going to start Brighton Rock by Graham Greene for my long-distance book club with Tessa and Brenna! Excited to read more Graham Greene - I love The Heart of the Matter and The Power and the Glory. Highly recommend both as well, if people are looking for summer reading recommendations.

Up next: Christopher Dawson, Zora Neale Hurston, Pope Benedict XVI and some Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

three

Here is my blog referral of the week: Born After Reagan

My friend Logan started it a few months ago, and now I am excited for the 2012 election just so I can read what he has to say about it!

Why yes, we did meet Ron Paul together three years ago:

CPAC 2008

four

The topic for next week's Bright Maidens' post is picked! Next Tuesday, please join us in discussing "Catholic Modesty."

If you're a first time participator, all you have to do is write on the same subject and post your response to the topic on our FB wall. Wa-la! If you're not on FB but still want to participate, e-mail it and we will post it for you to share with the group. If you're on Twitter, our hashtag is #brightmaidens (with an 's' on the end!) to share posts and tweets.

Also, Bright Maidens refers to we three girls, but we have both males and females participating. The male hashtag on Twitter is #cathdudes if you want to read some some cool Catholic dudes.

A re-cap of last week's topic, a response to Max Lindenman's article on "Dating Nice Catholic Girls":
Elizabeth: On Reading Confused Catholic Writers
Trista: Please Don't Call Me A Prude
Julie: Help! Help! I'm Being Repressed!

Elizabeth makes a list of all the contributions too, so please check our FB page later for that!

five

I've been home for a week, and am still actively learning to adjust to a new sleep schedule, being back at work, and hearing people talk to me in English. As happy as I am to be home, South Korea was an amazing experience. I'll give you a sneak peek from my weekend in Busan:

This is a kimbab, and the best thing I ate in South Korea (stay tuned!)

Best bathroom sign EVER.

The Eastern Sea, a.k.a. The Sea of Japan. But they don't like the Japanese, so don't call it that, please.

The Busan fish market. I'm going to have a whole post on food.

six

I'm also going to have a whole post on drinking in South Korea. Here's me trying authentic Korean beer for the first time:

So innocent.

There are so many patron saints of beer; they obviously did not invoke any of them!

seven

I bought Adele's latest album, 21. I seriously do not know why I waited so long. It is wonderful, soul-filled and beautiful.

Here's "Someone Like You" with Adele talking about why she wrote the song. Warning: I teared up a bit.



She's a two months younger than me, too. Gives a girl perspective!

Okay, one more, this one upbeat: "Set Fire To The Rain"



SHE IS SO AMAZING. Buy her music. Make her famous and wealthy, she deserves it. I want her singing forever and ever.

Happy Friday, friends! See Conversion Diary for more. Also, say a prayer for Jen! She's having her baby on Wednesday!!

*I've been miserably failing to follow most of my New Years' resolutions, actually, which is why I take the book buying limit one so seriously!

I'm Younger Than That Now

I have a fair share of editing to do, so today's week 15 actually will be fairly quick...

one

Yesterday, I gave Eli the gospel according to The Black Keys. Join him in love them as much as I do:



He says I'm his new best friend. What says you?

How It Feels To Be Catholic Me

Week One: Women and their Relationship to the Church

"How It Feels to be Catholic Me" by Julie Robison
"Grandmother Kaleidoscope" by Elizabeth at Startling the Day
"A Relation of Love" by Trista at Not a Minx

This is the first post of a Lenten blog post series called "Bright Maidens". We three are from the oft-mentioned, widely-speculated upon demographic of young, twenty-something Catholic women. We're here to dispel the myths and misconceptions- please join us for the discussion!

Also, today is the 100th anniversary of International Women's Day! May we all rejoice in our feminine vocation, and properly appreciate the males in our life too.

I was born a poor black child. No, wait; that was Steve Martin. I was born a Catholic girl, which is kind of like the same thing.

Don’t believe me? Think about it: I’m oppressed by celibate white men who make rules about my body, say I can’t hold leadership in my Church because I happened to be born female, and tell me to accept my place in this world as a child-bearer.

At least, that’s how the World-at-Large phrases it. I am here to refute commonly misconstrued claims about Catholicism as a Catholic woman who not only adheres to the traditions and teachings of the Church, but freely follows the Pope, reads Scripture (and thus delights in dogma), and rejoices in her feminine vocation.

The modern world is full of choices and possibility, and today’s women are indiscriminately exposed to birth control ads and unrealistic expectations, like the need to be sexually desirable in both body and dress. Intellectual development is checked off the To-Do List once a woman graduates school. Morals are now synonymous with personal decisions.

Women are not more or less than men. They are equal, but their equality does not lie in a power tug-of-war or numbers game. If so, then it is not equality women seek, but liberation from their very femininity. A woman rejects that she is equal, compatible and complementary to man when she relinquishes the only power woman has over man: the ability to create life.

A Catholic woman has three possible vocations: religious, single or married life. All three are great and noble; all three have different limits and aims. A religious woman gives her life to serve God; a single woman serves those around her; a married woman serves her family. The modern woman seeks a fourth option- to serve herself- and, as a Catholic and a woman, I reject that.

The Catholic Church has protected the dignity of women since it was founded over 2,000 years ago. The Church, the Bride of Christ, encourages a sacramental life of beauty, truth and goodness to help women, not hinder them, in their pursuits. It was Pope John Paul II that said the problem with pornography isn’t that it shows too much—it is that it shows too little.

A Catholic woman can think, read, laugh, run, study, dance, play, talk, and drink alcohol, just like a Catholic man. Catholic women cannot divorce, use birth control, have sex outside marriage, have abortions or curse-- and neither can Catholic men. Now do they? Of course. Catholics are human and therefore fallen. But that doesn’t make it right or okay. Catholicism is not a democratic institution, and neither is truth.

What binds a Catholic woman may seem harsh, but in practice, it is liberating. It is not easy to be defined by beauty of body and soul. The Church provides life guidelines and supports true feminism. When a woman respects herself first, so will others. A Catholic woman is not perfect. She suffers and bears hardships; she appreciates good things; she serves those around her; and, most importantly, she remains constant in her faith and trusts the Church, even in turbulence.

It has been said that the Catholic Church has benched women to the back pew. I say, if a Catholic woman is sitting in the back pew, it is only because the view is so much better!

Virginia, Your Little Friends Are Wrong

'Twas the day before Christmas, and all through the blog, not a creature was reading, except for the dog... Okay, fine, Heidi can't read, but if she could, she would. Here is the 5th volume and seven of my favorite things connected to Christmas.

ONE

Favorite Christmas movie: A Muppet Christmas Carol


I realize this is a bold statement to say, seeing as there are so many fantastic Christmas movies out there, but it's true. Yes, we watch it on VHS too, while we churn butter and sew our own clothes:





("Our assets are frozen!")

Deck the Halls with Booze and Holly

Volume Four, folks:

ONE

My friends are the coolest: Anna, upon receiving her first speeding ticket - "You can't possibly hear the last movement of Beethoven's Seventh and go slow."

TWO

So I walk by the cabinets in my kitchen where my mom puts all the invitations, schedules, pictures of my little cousins, etc. and I see the invitation for my mom's side's annual Christmas party. Talk about a good time! I love the family Christmas party, My mom's side is huge. I'm talking extended family of the extended family comes to this party. We used to have it at a yacht club by the river, but it was moved to various relatives' houses when I was in college. Everyone comes and eats and drinks and tells stories and laughs and drinks some more...

Then I see this: Where? Steve and Gigi's house!

WHAT.

Steve and Gigi are my parents. The Christmas party is at our house this year. All I can say is... seriously? We just had Thanksgiving at our house. The 30+ people then will look like a small get-together compared to this family gala. Holy Bloody Mary, Mom!

'Nuff Said

For those who love to laugh:

And from the Robictionary:

Irish Diplomacy: The art of telling a man to go to hell so that he looks forward to making the trip.

I hope you are all having a wonderful Sunday!

"We all must understand that our whole life should be an 'Advent' in vigilant expectation of Christ's final coming." --Pope John Paul II

Sleepless in Cincinnati

On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays (for at least the next semester), I am out the door by 6:30 a.m. to take my brother to ROTC training.


Now, what part of that sentence seems odd?

The night he came home in uniform!

If you guessed the part of me being out the door by 6:30 a.m., you are correct! If the above statement was in an article, it would be extensively fact-checked and supported by a quote because, in terms of Julie trivia, it is widely known and accepted that Julie is not a morning person.


And yet, here I am, many, many hours and 3 cups of coffee later, being productive and in a good mood. It may be further baffling to learn I volunteered to take Mikey in the morning. I am hoping it is the proper motivation I need to help get me into a cycle of waking up earlier and sleeping better at night. This is technically the second time I am voluntarily up at such an hour, so we shall see! (I took my sister to summer rowing practice by 6:30 a.m. during high school.)


On top of being a night owl, I am a notoriously light sleeper, which I can assure you is a bad combination. Last night was particularly bad, and then Heidi came into the guest bedroom (where I’ve been sleeping until my room is in complete order) and took up a sizeable chunk of the bed. Thanks, dog.




"A heart enfolded in Divine love cannot remain inactive."



Today is the feast day of St. Therese of Lisieux, also known as St. Therese, the Little Flower. She was a Carmelite nun who died of TB in 1897. Without getting into too much detail, she was a temperamental, emotional and sickly child who learned to control her emotions through prayer and a childlike devotion to Jesus. She entered the convent at age 15, wrote a diary now read by millions of people as a spiritual classic (The Story of a Soul) and strove to please God in all ways, especially small, because she believed she was never going to be important in this world. She said, "What matters in life is not great deeds, but great love."

Her Christian witness motivates for me to do better in menial aspects of my life. Last night, for example, I was organizing all my books (into fiction, academic, anthologies, spiritual, writing & grammar, etc.) when my dad called me downstairs to help him in the kitchen for a half hour. I didn’t want to go downstairs. The request irritated me. (As sung in Veggie Tales: "I'm so busy, busy, dreadfully busy!") Nevertheless, I decided to offer it up and complied with my dad's request. I ended up helping out for over an hour, talking to Dad and making fun of Heidi (who was watching me cut raw chicken into strips very, very closely). We were later joined by my sister, who shared a few Shel Silverstein poems, and then I helped her with Chemistry.


The hour spent downstairs was enjoyable, but I kept thinking about what would have happened if I had said no. (I have lots of time to think while not sleeping.) Nothing I did was urgent. It wasn't necessary. It was helpful and anyone-old-enough-to-use-sharp-knives could have done it. It was not a big or grand gesture. But I still did it. I still took time to help another. From the perspective that I didn't complain either, my willingness to help made it a happy environment, which drew others into the fun familial fellowship. I acted from love for others, opposed to satisfying my own want of organization. And gee whiz! It felt damn good. 
 And what does this have to do with my sleeplessness? Excellent question. I’ve used my sleeplessness to my advantage, for the most part. Late nights of hanging out with friends; late nights of studying and graveyard shift; late nights of reading and discovering. But not sleeping still takes its toll on the mind and body. My mom has taken me to doctor a couple times, but their suggestions have never particularly helped me. My dad told me that if I’m still having problems sleeping, I’m obviously not drinking enough.


They comment  because they care. Not sleeping can make Julie pretty crabby and, if provoked, I can descend southward of a 5-year-old child. In college, I was able to take naps. This opportunity has vanished in Big Kid world. But like that particular Sunday morning sophomore year, when I realized Jesus didn’t make me drink the night before and, therefore, I needed to go to mass irregardless of how horrible the idea of sitting/ standing/ sitting/ standing/ kneeling/ standing and actively participating sounded that early in the morning—the same goes for sleep. I need to control myself, even when I can’t control the situation.


St. Therese died when she was 24. That’s 1 ½ years away for me. That's quite young. Yet by loving God in her small way, she was able to project his greatness to the rest of the world. I don’t see myself reaching that many people, so at the very least, I can at least reach my own family and maybe a few friends too, along the way. If I can make them happy in this lifetime, and keep Christ at the center, there’s few else one could want—except maybe a few hours more of sleep. (Is that so much to ask? Ah, well. There’s always the weekend!)

Have a great weekend, folks! May it be full of fall activities, like crunching leaves, drinking apple cider and wearing plaid flannel.

The Time Has Come, the Walrus said, to Talk of Many Things

At this point, I have nothing to say on the overruling of Proposition 8 in California. Proposition 8, a ban on same-sex marriage, has been upheld by voters in 2000 and 2008. Vaughn R. Walker, a U.S. District federal judge in California- one man- reversed it with one ruling. It is one victory and it only serves to show how important marriage truly is and the need to protect and strengthen it. Why else do people fight so hard?

I got into a horrible discussion with a lady who supports same-sex marriage two days ago. MB later told me my first problem is that I always want to talk to people. This lady certainly wasn't interested in civil dialogue. She asked me if I hated gays and lesbians because I support traditional and heterosexual marriage. I attempted to not be offended by the question and said certainly not; I asked her how she defined marriage. She recited Loving v. Virginia at me, which is a 1967 case striking down interracial marriages as illegal and which quotes a case from the 19th century which says marriage is a fundamental right. I said marriage between different races is different than marriages between those of the same gender. 

Marriage is fundamental, I said, because its two-fold purpose includes the procreation of children for the continuation of society; same-sex couples can't naturally have children. A third of gay couples have kids, she replied. Would you discriminate against children of homosexuals? Absolutely not, I said; equal protection under the law. Then why do you punish the kids by denying their parents the stability of marriage?, she raged at me. I'm talking about parental choices, I said; children are a different matter.

I left the conversation trembling. The above is an abridged and re-created conversation. I left out many of the back-and-forths and derogatory comments she said to me, including saying I obviously wish harm against the children of gays and lesbians. I had to pull myself out in a respectful way and it is one of the few times in my life I felt utterly dejected and miserable. I feel I have failed to witness for truth, but I don't know how else I could have properly conveyed it to her. It was like we were speaking two different languages. O'Connor said it is often the absence of grace which helps us see its true nature.

Here's a selection from Alexis de Tocqueville's 'Democracy in America':

"America is the most democratic country in the world, and it is at the same time (according to reports worthy of belief) the country in which the Roman Catholic religion makes most progress. At first sight this is surprising. Two things must here be accurately distinguished: equality inclines men to wish to form their own opinions; but, on the other hand, it imbues them with the taste and the idea of unity, simplicity, and impartiality in the power which' governs society. Men living in democratic ages are therefore very prone to shake off all religious authority; but if they consent to subject themselves to any authority of this kind, they choose at least that it should be single and uniform.

Religious powers not radiating from a common centre are naturally repugnant to their minds; and they almost as readily conceive that there should be no religion as that there should be several. At the present time, more than in any preceding one, Roman Catholics are seen to lapse into infidelity, and Protestants to be converted to Roman Catholicism. If the Roman Catholic faith be considered within the pale of the Church, it would seem to be losing ground; without that pale, to be gaining it. Nor is this circumstance difficult of explanation. The men of our days are naturally little disposed to believe; but, as soon as they have any religion, they immediately find in themselves a latent propensity which urges them unconsciously toward Catholicism. Many of the doctrines and the practices of the Romish Church astonish them; but they feel a secret admiration for its discipline, and its great unity attracts them.

If Catholicism could at length withdraw itself from the political animosities to which it has given rise, I have hardly any doubt but that the same spirit of the age, which appears to be so opposed to it, would become so favourable as to admit of its great and sudden advancement. One of the most ordinary weaknesses of the human intellect is to seek to reconcile contrary principles, and to purchase peace at the expense of logic.

Thus there have ever been, and will ever be, men who, after having submitted some portion of their religious belief to the principle of authority, will seek to exempt several other parts of their faith from its influence, and to keep their minds floating at random between liberty and obedience. But I am inclined to believe that the number of these thinkers will be less in democratic than in other ages; and that our posterity will tend more and more to a single division into two parts —some relinquishing Christianity entirely, and others returning to the bosom of the Church of Rome."

I broke it up to make it easier to read, but that is all one paragraph from Chapter 23, "The Influence of Democracy Upon Religion", which opens with, "I have laid it down in a preceding chapter that men can not do without dogmatical belief; and even that it is very much to be desired that such belief should exist among them. I now add that of all the kinds of dogmatical belief the most desirable appears to me to be dogmatical belief in matters of religion; and this is a very clear inference, even from no higher consideration than the interests of this world." It is worth reading as a whole.

3/5 of the founding members of Founding Fridays.

In other Julie news, I'm attempting to resist my jealousy that Dakota is in Boston visiting Matty right now. Lovers of truth, good beer and American Studies are we three!

God bless y'all and this country. You're in my prayers as I bike to work, close my eyes during typing and find holy in the human.

It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World

Second post of the day, I know. This incident is from a little less than 3 years ago, but with Christopher Hitchens recent self-removal from his book tour to attend to his throat cancer and have chemotherapy, I stumbled upon it. (I'm a reporter, I like to dig around deeper and wider.)

Imagine this: an encounter between Fr. George Rutler, the Roman Catholic priest who served the firefighters in NYC on 9/11 and a convert from Anglicanism, and Christopher Hitchens, the gifted writer and Atheist.

Hitchens described the encounter like this in the September 2007 issue of Vanity Fair:

May 1, New York City: An evening at the Union League Club, sponsored by the conservative David Horowitz. A full house of upscale right-wingers who at least agree with me on the single issue of fighting Islamic jihadism. A generally receptive and friendly audience as I am interviewed by the publisher Peter Collier. He's just closed the meeting when a man in a clerical collar puts up his hand. In a magnanimous mood, I say, Fair enough—let's extend the event for a man of the cloth. This turns out to be Father George Rutler of the Church of Our Saviour, who announces that he's on the committee of the club and will make sure that I am never invited there again. There's some shock at this inhospitable attitude, but I think: Gosh. Holy Mother Church used to threaten people with eternal damnation. Now it's exclusion from the Union League Club. What a comedown. In a brisk exchange near the elevator, the good father assures me that I shall die a Catholic. Why do people think this is such a good point?

Here's a brief transcript from Elizabeth Scalia's First Things blog:

Father Rutler
I have met saints. You cannot explain the existence of saints without God. I was nine years chaplain with Mother Teresa [inaudible]. You have called her a whore, a demagogue. She’s in heaven that you don’t believe in, but she’s praying for you. If you do not believe in heaven, that’s why you drink.

Christopher Hitchens
Excuse me?

Father Rutler
That’s why you drink. God has offered us happiness, all of us. And you will either die a Catholic or a madman, and I’ll tell you the difference. And secondly, I’m an officer with this club. And this conversation has been beneath the dignity of this club.

I've been thinking a lot about God and Catholicism as a whole lately. Being Catholic is the hardest and best part of my life. Today was no different. I'm too rebellious by nature; God has been slowly taming my soul. This has not been easy for me, but very necessary.

Pascal talked of the God-shaped vacuum in people's lives. Augustine wrote in his Confessions that our hearts are restless Lord until they rest in thee. B.H. Fairchild wrote in his essay "Credo" that the reason Christians attend mass or services is because they are admitting they are weak; they talk to God. Pope Benedict says there are as many ways to God as there are people; that being said, Jesus Christ is the only way.

And to get to Christ, He uses the worst of us. He befriended the tax-collectors and prostitutes. He gave the keys of the Church to a coward who denied him three times. I sometimes think, if there were no homeless, would we still be thankful for the roof over our head and our covers at night? If no one was persecuted, how could we taste justice? Resisting temptation bears fruit of contentment. When I leave the office late only to continue working at home, I'm glad I have the crucifix to remind me of what a blessing it is to have a job after college and the chance to write for a living, among many other good things.

The subjective nature in which people see the world always makes me think of E.A. Robinson's poem "Richard Cory":

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king,
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

With all the material gain in the world, Richard Cory still had nothing to sustain him. "Cum panis" is Latin for "with bread." It is a simple phrase my good friend Betsy brought to my attention in the spring in a letter; about the significance of communion and community when friends and family share bread together at a meal- or, for me at least, when Catholics gather to celebrate the mass and the Eucharist.

My fellow reporter doesn't get why I go to mass every day I am able. "Again?" she once said, slightly exasperated. I smiled and said "Yes!" but wanted to elaborate. I wanted to share why I feel compelled to go and why I must go. Yes, must. How mass (ergo, God) comforts me in estrangement from dear ones, drives away doubts about my purpose and His will, quells fears that I will end up alone, gives me the gumption to do my job, fills me with His Love and gives me peace. As St. Ignatius Loyola said, "Go forth and set the world on fire." That I will, God-willing.

Perhaps I have told too much and gone on for too long but something compels me to tell this story (most likely the Holy Spirit; I loathe to think I wrote this for my own silly purposes). I hope this aids or supplements something on your own minds or hearts. God works in mysterious ways but purposeful ways.

And something else to think about: how momentous would it be if Christopher Hitchens had an Alexander Flyte from Brideshead Revisited moment? The English do have their fair share of famous converts!

Jake and Elwood Blues ain't got nothin' on Julie and Laura

Today is the birthday of William Butler Yeats! Here's my ode to the great Irish poet and dramatist:

"To a Child Dancing in the Wind"

Dance there upon the shore;
What need have you to care
For wind or water's roar?
And tumble out your hair
That the salt drops have wet;
Being young you have not known
The fool's triumph, nor yet
Love lost as soon as won,
Nor the best labourer dead
And all the sheaves to bind.
What need have you to dread
The monstrous crying of wind?

and

"To Ireland in the Coming Times"

Now, that I would accounted be
True brother of a company
That sang, to sweeten Ireland's wrong,
Ballad and story, rann and song;
Nor be I any less of them,
Because the red-rose-bordered hem
Of her, whose history began
Before God made the angelic clan,
Trails all about the written page.
When Time began to rant and rage
The measure of her flying feet
Made Ireland's heart begin to beat;
And Time bade all his candles flare
To light a measure here and there;
And may the thoughts of Ireland brood
Upon a measured quietude.

Nor may I less be counted one
With Davis, Mangan, Ferguson,
Because, to him who ponders well,
My rhymes more than their rhyming tell
Of things discovered in the deep,
Where only body's laid asleep.
For the elemental creatures go
About my table to and fro,
That hurry from unmeasured mind
To rant and rage in flood and wind;
Yet he who treads in measured ways
May surely barter gaze for gaze.
Man ever journeys on with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.
Ah, faeries, dancing under the moon,
A Druid land, a Druid tune!

While still I may, I write for you
The love I lived, the dream I knew.
From our birthday, until we die,
Is but the winking of an eye;
And we, our singing and our love,
What measurer Time has lit above,
And all benighted things that go
About my table to and fro,
Are passing on to where may be,
In truth's consuming ecstasy,
No place for love and dream at all;
For God goes by with white footfall.
I cast my heart into my rhymes,
That you, in the dim coming times,
May know how my heart went with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.

and, per recommendation of the statehouse reporter from West Virginia sitting behind me,

"The Secret Rose"

Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those
Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre,
Or in the wine-vat, dwell beyond the stir
And tumult of defeated dreams; and deep
Among pale eyelids, heavy with the sleep
Men have named beauty. Thy great leaves enfold
The ancient beards, the helms of ruby and gold
Of the crowned Magi; and the king whose eyes
Saw the pierced Hands and Rood of elder rise
In Druid vapour and make the torches dim;
Till vain frenzy awoke and he died; and him
Who met Fand walking among flaming dew
By a grey shore where the wind never blew,
And lost the world and Emer for a kiss;
And him who drove the gods out of their liss,
And till a hundred morns had flowered red
Feasted, and wept the barrows of his dead;
And the proud dreaming king who flung the crown
And sorrow away, and calling bard and clown
Dwelt among wine-stained wanderers in deep woods:
And him who sold tillage, and house, and goods,
And sought through lands and islands numberless years,
Until he found, with laughter and with tears,
A woman of so shining loveliness
That men threshed corn at midnight by a tress,
A little stolen tress. I, too, await
The hour of thy great wind of love and hate.
When shall the stars be blown about the sky,
Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?
Surely thine hour has come, thy great wind blows,
Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose?

Yeats is really great, but I wonder how many people read him beyond "The Second Coming." Do you know what isn't done enough today? Making kids memorize poems. They memorize lots of things; why not good poetry? Then perhaps they'd appreciate better literary quality when they're older. No one would read books like the Twilight series after devouring Tennyson.

Today is also the feast day of St. Anthony of Padua! He's a Doctor of the Church and was canonized only a year after his death. He died at age 36, only 10 years after joining the Franciscans, and was known as the Malleus hereticorum, or "Hammer of Heretics." He is a personal favorite and friend of mine, especially as I am constantly calling upon his intervention to find lost items. My parents say I have a personal connection to him because I usually find what I had been looking for within moments of asking for help, but that seems to be the typical response of anyone who asks for his help. I think the difference is between people who ask and people who don't.

For example-- Rach, you'll enjoy this-- it was dinnertime at Kappa two semesters ago and Cervini came in being dramatic about having lost something and getting into a tizzy and Sarah (Rachel's awesome little, for all the non-KKG readers) shouts from the kitchen to pray to St. Anthony (to a mainly Protestant audience, I should add). Well, dubious side-looks aside, Cervini found what she was looking for and for at least the next week, it was hilarious to hear Kappas going around saying things like, "You can't find ____? Go ask Sarah to pray about it!" :)

Laura and I are currently hanging out at the Corner Bakery until we leave for our flight out of Chicago. Our waiter pretended to have a heart attack while bringing over my panini. He's hilarious and is chatting up his entire section/ impromptu dancing. We certainly have met a lot of characters this trip. We've also spent time with friends and I had the blessed chance to be in Chicago the same weekend part of my family was in town for my aunt's graduation from her masters' program. I have had a splendid time, to say the least. It was wonderful to see and spend time with so many good, dear people. Columbus is fun, but it's currently missing a few crucial pieces to my life puzzle.

The conference was really great and informative and it gave me the reassurance that I'm going about my job in the right way. My current goal for the next year is establish a presence at the Statehouse, recruit lots of college journalists and make BI another venue to publish them (i.e. more clips! a win-win for both parties), create a syndication system with the small Ohio newspapers (eventually moving into the larger papers) and generally create the base of a small news bureau with a large reach. If I can get the news bureau to function without me (hypothetically speaking) in the next year or less, I will be a very happy reporter. I'll also bring more attention to Buckeye, which is also needed, so I am excited to get back to Columbus and start tapping into the potential more.

Something I discovered this weekend: Mercatus, George Mason's economic research center, which is too fantastic for words. First article on the page: "The Roaring Twenties and the Austrian Business Cycle" (which is a working paper that I am currently reading- tres bien!) My favorite is "The Death of Fiscal Federalism," a concept that I hold very dear to my limited government-loving heart. This is a really great organization and I am excited to read and delve deeper into what they do and pursue.

Also, here's a great lede in a recent article by George Will:
"WASHINGTON - Under the current imperfect administration of the Universe, most new ideas are false, so most ideas for improvements make matters worse. Given California’s parlous condition, making matters worse there requires ingenuity, but voters managed to do so last Tuesday."

I think Laura and I might leave our bags at the hotel and wander down to the Chicago Blues Festival for a bit. Our flight isn't till 5 and I adore live music. Betsy is coming to stay with me for the next 3 days since she'll be student teaching in Columbus for 3 days. So much happiness to see my dear friend. Happy Sunday, y'all!

Paddy Murphy!

This is Paddy Murphy week at Sigma Alpha Epsilon (SAE). Paddy Murphy was a bootlegger and an SAE who was gunned down by one of Al Capone's men, who was also and SAE and who Murphy gave the secret SAE handshake as he was dying. Realizing that he had killed a brother, this week was set up to commemorate brotherhood. It's a week filled with fun, shenanigans and drinking. My Dad and all my uncles are SAEs and Paddy Murphy has always held a legend-like status in my home. This week, I had the opportunity to experience a little bit of it myself. It was awesome (!!!).

There are currently 8 grand kids on my mom's side in college. Of those 8, two are girls (my sister and I) and of the six boys, four go to UC and all four are SAEs. The only reason I would ever want to be a boy is that I could be an SAE. I would be a very different person, but I would love it so much. It was really fun to be at a huge college party after spending four years at a tiny college with decent but smaller fraternity parties. Although that definitely was not my scene in college, I did have friends I would stop by the frats for; it's different having family at a house though. It's been so terrific these past few days sharing the SAE party scene with my cousins, especially Tommy, and knowing that my Dad and uncles and Mom and aunts all spent time at the house and in the area I was in and around. That's a neat part of going to a school like UC.

Here's the Paddy Murphy song:


(Have I mentioned how much I love being Irish?)

Dad's birthday today! Big Five-Oh. Mom, Muffy, Kato and I are taking him out to lunch and then my cousin Andrew's rehearsal dinner that night. We're throwing him a surprise lunch tomorrow before my cousin's wedding Saturday night. I've been packing this week. Dad and I went through the list of everything I'll need and what I'll be taking from home. I move into my new apartment next weekend, which is still a little surreal.

Another Hillsdale couple got engaged this week though, so more evidence that people are growing up all around me! It was interesting being at the party tonight because all I could think was, I'm happy to be here, but I am done with college. At SAE, I talked and laughed lots, met people and had a great time, but didn't even sip the many beers offered to me because I didn't intend to stay long. I love alcohol, but I don't need it and I don't always want it. Even last year, I don't think I would have felt this way. It's actually a great feeling, saying no to beer.

And that's how I showed my respect for Paddy Murphy!

I hear you call my name, and it feels like home

Tonight is KKG spring formal! I'm excited, even with everything. We're going up to a country club in Ann Arbor, the same place we went to last year. Maybe a few fellow devious minds and myself will succeed in "borrowing" a golf cart...

This is the dress that I am wearing, and I'll be wearing plum heels. Will is going to wear a yellow tie. Matchy-matchy? More like complimentary-ary, which is much, much better.

For everyone in the chapter who was interested, I placed an order last week for these sweet plastic ray-bans with blue sides; on the left side, they say "Kappa Kappa Gamma." They arrived and are so sweet! The chapter is going to look so fly!

It'll be nice to have a night I'm not actively thinking about all the writing/ editing/ work I have to do. Ahhh... sigh of senior release! And I love dancing, and just being, with my favorite people.

Kappa chapter song, compliments of Glee:



Aunt Tracey's funeral is tomorrow. I talked to Aunt Nancy and Dad, and we've decided it's better if I don't go. I'm already completely exhausted and overworked, this would just add to it. Uncle Mark told Dad I shouldn't come either because it would be too much for me. Aunt Nancy says I'm so close to graduating and Tracey would be miffed if I didn't finish strong. My family is so wonderful, even in our grief. So the rest of this year is for you, Aunt Tracey.

Happy Friday friends, and many blessings on your day.

Senior Profile, Dogwood-style

Dakota, junior DPN-er, e-mailed the American Studies majors (all four of us) because the American Studies major is being changed (a good change) and they are reviving old traditions and customs, including the newsletter. Dakota's e-mail began:

"I really hate to do this to you, I do. But Sundahl has spoken, and by some mystic power of Lutheran persuasion I have taken up his command. There shall be a newsletter sent out to our most illustrious [and hopefully successful] alumni, and in keeping with the beautiful newsletters published by Dr. Jordan in 2002/2003, which Matt has generously furnished me with as source material, we will be including...senior profiles. This means you."

I love that. Dakota kills me. He really does. He also makes incredible paper airplanes.

Here are my answers:

What is your thesis topic? Title/adviser if applicable. How did you choose a topic? Any special research or interviews that helped you in your writing?
Loosely stated: the degradation of the family with the expansion of government, focusing on the 1965 Moynihan Report and the black American family. My thesis adviser is Dr. Allan C. Carlson. I chose my thesis topic because of my interest in race relations, government social engineering, and life in a post-Christian nation with fundamental Christian roots. I did research at the Library of Congress and spoke to a few specialists on the phone.

What are you future plans? What would you like to be doing in 10 years?
My future plans involve being fruitfully employed; two years ago, I was at a Cincinnati Reds and Cleveland Indians game with my cousins, and those guys who smooth out the dirt on the baseball diamond came out. I asked my cousin's husband who they were, and he replied, "American Studies majors." My exact future occupation is yet to be decided, but I do know that I would like to continue writing (namely book reviews, articles, essays, short stories and the like) and work towards re-creating a Christian Republic of Letters. If I am being called towards the vocation of marriage, in the next 10 years, I'll be married and re-populating the world with more Roman Catholics; but if not, I'd like to serve the Lord as a missionary overseas.

What aspect of the American Studies program have you most enjoyed over the last four years?
I knew none of the other American Studies majors very well the first two years in the program, and now, four years later, I am very close friends with a few of them, on good terms with all of them. I have loved my teachers and my classes, especially American Order and Disorder with Dr. Birzer, the Robert Frost seminar with Dr. Sundahl and Dr. Willson, and the Conservative-Libertarian Debate with Dr. Schlueter and Dr. Wenzel. I love the interdisciplinary aspect of the major, because I learn more not only in the actual class, but through my surrounding classes, whether it be context or connecting ideas.

Tell me about your best Delta Pi Nu moment or memory. The worst moment or memory is also acceptable and even encouraged.
My favorite Delta Pi Nu memory was the summer between junior and senior year, when Matt Stone, Emily Thiessen, Dakota Fuller and I were all in Washington, D.C. for the summer and Katherine Correll came up to visit. We went out to lunch, briefly discussed amending the DPN constitution and then went to the National Gallery, where we found major figures in history we had read in Dr. Gamble's History of the American Identity class. We got our picture with the portrait of George Berkeley, who said "Westward the course of empire takes its way." So, in a bad memory sort of way, we Dogwoodians mocked the art museum for their lack of proper understanding of historiography in their mini-bios by the art. Nonetheless, for better or for worse, I/ we the class can never read historical texts the same way again. Dr. Gamble, you've ruined us!

Honorable mention to Founding Fridays, a definite highlight of my college experience. I am continually grateful, humbled, and edified by these friendships and conversations, and the chance to enjoy their fellowship over beer.

Any parting wisdom or advice for coming American Studies majors?
Read, read, read: books, essays, speeches, newspaper articles, magazine features, poems and short stories. Take an active interest to know current events as well as the history, political philosophy and literature. Acknowledge that ideas have consequences and prepare accordingly to defend the responsibility of holding thoughts. Do not only seek truth, but intend on finding it; additionally, it will not be enough to know it--one must study it, understand it, and energetically promote it.

Furthermore, American Studies is not a major for the easily intimidated. Take the best teachers and expect to work hard. What a student gets out of the major is contingent of the work one puts in, as well as having an insatiable curiosity and a disposition to be happy in small ways. Dress up often, because it will encourage an air of seriousness towards your studies, but especially after pulling an all-nighter (what I fondly call "the graveyard shift"). Smile on test days. Never cease from exploration. Find your passion. Don't be afraid to discuss ideas with people who hold differing views. And never, ever underestimate people who wear penny loafers.

Give a parting author, book or quote that you are fond of in the context of Hillsdale/American Studies/DPN.

“Religion, morality, and knowledge, being necessary to good government and the happiness of mankind, schools and the means of education shall be forever encouraged.”
--Article 3 of the Northwest Ordinance

Also, an incomplete list of favorite reads: George Nash's "The Conservative Intellectual Movement in America since 1945," John Courtney Murray, S.J.'s "We Hold These Truths," Robert Frost's poetry and lectures, Flannery O'Connor's "Mystery and Manners," Willa Cather's "Death Comes For the Archbishop," Whittaker Chamber's "Letter to my Children," F.A. Hayek's "Constitution of Liberty," Russell Kirk's essays, Martin Luther King Jr.'s "Letter from a Birmingham Jail," Zora Neale Hurston's "How It Feels To Be Colored Me," T.S. Eliot's "Four Quartets," William F. Buckley's "The Trojan Horse of American Education?" and Paul Elmer More's "Pages from an Oxford Diary."

And for 10 bonus points, what is the true, the good and the beautiful?
It is not what, but rather--who: "I AM" (Exodus 3:14). The Incarnation of our Lord gives meaning to the past, understanding to the present, and hope to the future, reflecting truth (Gospel of John, chapter 1), goodness (Romans 2:4), and beauty (Psalm 104), for "it touched heaven, but it stood upon the earth" (Wisdom 18:16).

Second bonus question: what is the most American beer? In other words: "What would George Washington drink?"
Shiner Bock, hands down.

Tonight starts my last Initiation weekend ever... can't believe it.
"Kappas are dedicated to living by the ultimate Greek ideals of goodness, truth, and beauty. Kappa at its core is about these qualities: leadership, scholarship, and friendship."

Mere Semantics

A short story of mine got published in the Tower Light Lite (a literary supplement publication at Hillsdale before the actual Tower Light comes out in April) this week. Prof. S told me last night that both he and Mrs. S read it. When I asked him what he thought of it, he said "interesting," so je ne sais pas. If you have any specific comments or questions about it, feel free to ask. I've gotten a few of those too. For example, No, this did not happen to me. Hence the fictional aspect of the short story opposed the essay format. That is not to say particular feelings are not universal, which is why, perhaps people keep telling me they relate, which is semi-gratifying to hear. I do like knowing my words affect people, so feel free to share.

"Ever After, Happily" by Julie Robison

The house overflows with people, the smell of beer and cigarettes wafting outside as Fiona weaves through the throngs.

It was just one drunken night, he had told her. It only happened once, and I was really drunk, he added, for her benefit. She hadn’t cried, as he had expected her to, and she hadn’t gotten mad. She just sat there and said, What Now?

They had left it there, in the uncomfortable silence and uneasy feelings; the place where they sat next to each other, smiling only when friends came by, pretending things were just as they always were. They each secretly loathed the other for placing their relationship in this waiting room. After a few weeks, he decided to end it.

It’s not fair to you, he had told her.

But in the end, she heard otherwise. Her friends, trying to be a comfort, discussed his many infidelities while occasionally patting her knee.

You’re Too Good for him they told her, before turning away to whisper about things that made her stomach hurt.

She excused herself to the bathroom, where she sobbed on the toilet, hating herself for being that girl who cried over her ex-boyfriend and for believing him when he had told her they would have their own ‘happily ever after’ together. She cried until a knock on the door reminded her that other people needed to use the bathroom too, and what an impractical room she had chosen to cry in.

Now Fiona sees him at the party, and feels his stare and tries not to notice his arm around that girl, Amy. She feels lightheaded, and in need of a strong drink. She finds relief only when she reaches the kitchen, her fingertips gripping the counter top.

While they were dating, she had always found it a great source of comfort whenever he put his arm around her, as if to further emphasize that they were together. Then she would put her head on his shoulder, because she thought she ought. And if they ever sensed a void was growing between them, an empty space where neither had anything to say to the other, they would touch the other in a reassuring way, as if to say, I’m Still Here.

The kitchen linoleum needs to be cleaned. Fiona feels the soles of her shoes sticking. The kitchen spills over with people drinking cheap beer. There had been a football game that day, and they had won; all, football enthusiasts and otherwise, celebrate.

We beat their asses into the ground!, Dan says loudly. The cocky bastards; and they thought they were going to beat us. Harry agrees with an unwieldy grin, a victorious grunt, and thrusts his beer into the air. People follow suit, cheering. Then Tyler calls out for body shots and picks up Caroline, who giggles in protest as she is placed on the table. Fiona turns away.

Fiona remembers a night like this; the night she had worn her new strappy sandals and they had won at State, the game before he tore his ACL. She hadn’t meant for it to happen that way. She had dreamed of being somewhere exotic, anywhere besides his tiny upstairs bedroom, where the sheets were clean and the room was a mess. She had chastised herself afterwards and cried only a little bit. He had zipped up his pants and rubbed her arms up-and-down as he told her it’s okay, they’re in love. But even now, Fiona remembers his empty eyes and tries not to blush as he walks by.

Fiona wonders how to respond if he should approach her: her first response is to ignore him, and her second involves a slap to the face and plenty of yelling. She wonders if they will talk about it: what went through his head or why he did this to her, someone he claims to love—especially with someone like Amy, who looks like she never eats or sleeps.

The thought crosses her mind that perhaps it was her fault; perhaps she had pushed him away.
She suddenly feels trapped in the narrow hallway where she stands talking to people about the game (she hadn’t gone) and other topics that do not demand her full attention while speaking.

She excuses herself, and goes out back, where she watches her breath and talks to a few friends from freshman year, catching up on their lives and accepting their apologies for what had happened: they had heard, they say in low, sympathetic tones, and how horrible. She smiles appreciatively and keeps repeating, teeth chattering, Oh no, it’s Fine, really, I’m Fine.

No, really, if you need anything, they insist. She tries not to look through the kitchen window where she knows he stands with Amy, laughing with his old football friends. She wonders if she still loves him. She wonders why she has even come.

Bill joins the semi-circle of conversation. Bill plays football, but had met Fiona in a Music Theory class. They break off into an affable side conversation, talking and laughing. Fiona is surprised how much she enjoys his company, and she almost forgets why she hates these kinds of parties. Almost. Her eye catches a glance of him walking through the door frame. Their eyes meet. Bill sees the glance, and tries to keep the conversation steady as each footstep becomes louder than the last, the leaves crunched underfoot with reckless abandon.

Fiona, he says, finally before her.

Fiona exhales. He’s so close, she thinks. I could touch him. But she doesn’t; she keeps her fists in her jacket.

Oh, hi, she says; and, after a pause, How are you?

I’m fine, he replies shortly, staring at Bill and Fiona standing next to each other. The air is tinged with smoke and unspoken explanations—Hey, Fiona, could I talk to you for a minute?, he says, his steadfast gaze fixing on her. She wishes he would look away.

She touches Bill’s arm to excuse herself, and he nods graciously. She walks a little ways off to the side yard with him, feeling nervous and wondering if she looks all right. But Fiona soon finds her mind wandering as she watches Bill, who stands with hands in his pockets, trying not to watch them from a distance. She casts glances toward Bill while half-listening to his reasoning and reckonings, his why Amy and why now. She entertains thoughts of Bill, their conversation, his smile.

Listen Fiona, he says, talking in a hurried, agitated manner. I know you’ve got hundreds of reasons to hate me but I want you back. I love you. You’re the only girl who understands me, the-only-girl-I’ve-never- regretted.

Fiona reflects on their relationship, what it used to be. She misses those days.
I’m a different guy now, you’ve got to believe me.

She flinches perceptibly at his touch, but begins to feel at ease as he soothingly strokes her arms.

Fiona? He gets closer.

She looks into those unblinking eyes; he doesn’t seem to be lying, she thinks. The corners of his eyes and mouth crinkle when he lies.

Fiona, what do you think? Can you ever forgive me? Can we give this another go?

She considers the offer before replying. They just stand there, not speaking, staring. She sees herself in his eyes, and she smiles.

No, Fiona says, shaking her head while gently pushing away his roving hands. I’m not interested. Amy’s inside, she adds; and I would find her if I were you.

With that, Fiona, taking one last look at her ever-after, happily walks away.