Despite summers spent near the shoreline of Marquette, Michigan, and my daily travels near the St. Clair River, I never tire of freighters. There’s something particularly majestic about a freighter at night, the forecastle lit like a small town and – better yet – rising high over the waterfront houses that block the pedestrian’s view. Wednesday night was a real sight: one of the Canadian freighters downbound and unusually low with cargo.

I enjoy the whispering of dry fallen leaves, especially now when the oak leaves are added into the mix. They rattle and scrape along the ground like something alive. It’s especially spooky when one hits the windshield like a brittle moth, startling me.

And then I’m forced to laugh at myself.

Mary Shelly wrote, “The beginning is always today.” She just didn’t mention that sometimes the beginning is today, tomorrow, and the day after that. (When should I end this chapter?)

The biggest excitement was the building of a haunted forest. Two high school boys asked permission from a neighbor to use his portion of the woods across the street from me. They cleared a path through the underbrush, strung cotton-thread spider webs along the boundaries, hung skeletons and severed heads, and dressed up (along with their girlfriends) to frighten the kiddies.  I gave them a few things, as I’m sure the other neighbors did.

One of the girls handed out candy in the middle of the forest – and did a great theatrical scream when a monster came from nowhere and bit her neck just after giving out the candy.  They were kind enough to modify it for the little ones, but it was still an adventure.

It was much cooler tonight and windy, but the silver of moon and the scrabbling of dry leaves lent atmosphere. My favorite moment was when a boy of about 8 escorted his mother through the woods, brandishing a sword. “I’ll protect you, Mom!” he yelled.

The Trick-or-Treaters were uniformly polite, with many homemade costumes. I couldn’t choose a favorite from the parade of mock horrors and dream careers. A baby dragon came in a little red wagon,  completed with  with skull and bones of victims dragging behind.  Several students came by, including a Spanish-speaking werewolf. A chubby-faced bear said “Hello, lady” instead of “Trick or treat”, but he remembered “thank you”  just fine.  The best costume was an elementary-school pirate: a brown felt hat and a girl’s blue peacoat modified with lace at the sleeves and gold rickrack across the chest.

This is what Halloween is for kids:  mocking fearful things with make-believe, walking after dark, and having an adventure.   The teenagers are talking about what they’re going to do for next year’s haunted trail.

Madrid also doesn’t mince words. When he discusses the ways that the teachings of Mormons or Jehovah’s Witnesses contradict Scripture, for example, there is no equivocation.

Madrid surprised me in two ways. First, he included not just the well-known New Testament verses that justify Catholic doctrine, but delved into Old Testament passages that (frankly) aren’t in my usual repertoire, such as 2 Kings 13:20-21. Second, when it came to familiar verses, he took the route less traveled. For example, his commentary on Matthew 16:13-19 could have taken the route of “See, this justifies having a Pope!” Instead, he relates the rock to Panius, a looming cliff well-known to Our Lord’s audience.

This review was written as part of the Catholic Book Reviewer program from The Catholic Company. Visit The Catholic Company to find more information on 150 Bible Verses Every Catholic Should Know.

“If you write for God, you will reach many men and bring them joy. If you write for men, you may make some money and you may give someone a little joy and you may make a noise in the world, for a little while. If you write only for yourself, you can read what you yourself have written and after ten minutes you will be so disgusted, you will wish that you were dead.” — Thomas Merton, “New Seeds of Contemplation”

I got up at 4 am and did a little writing, just to see how it felt. Fast. I gave myself just 30 minutes.

The National Novel Writing Month (aka Nanowrimo) is November. Last year, I signed up for the Flint group, but I didn’t participate. I was too busy at work. This year, I’m even busier – but I’m going to do it, anyway.

I read two recent novels and they are 1) a re-working of the author’s previous fantasy novels but in the gothic/horror genre, and 2) yet another re-telling of a classic novel. Between them, I decided that there is more entertainment value (despite the work) in writing my own novel.

For whom am I writing? God and me.

But giving a Nobel prize to someone whose international claim-to-fame is winning an election? Comparing President Obama to Lech Walesa or Nelson Mandela or… well, just about ANY Nobel Laureate from politics – that’s like comparing a drop of linseed oil to the Sistine Chapel.

He hasn’t done anything yet. After hearing him repeatedly refer to “my health care plan”, I went looking and discovered that it exists only in his mind. And don’t get me started on his recent choice for “school safety czar”: By law, educators and administrators must report and seek help for suspected sexual abuse of under-aged students, not encourage them to keep hooking up with strange adults.

Edit: As usual, James at Heelers Diaries made me laugh with his version of the announcement: “Other Nobel Prize winners announced this evening included Beyonce and Lady Gaga who respectively received the Nobel Prize for Physics and the Nobel Prize for Economics.”

“(I)n 1973, the Michigan legislature passed a law intended to regulate unlicensed day care providers, not good neighbors, to ensure the health and safety of children.” – Ismael Ahmed, director of the Michigan Department of Health and Services

Recently the plight of a West Michigan woman made national headlines when she received a letter from the Department of Human Services warning her against running an unlicensed daycare. Except that she wasn’t doing that: She was helping her neighbors. Between the time they left for work and the time the school bus arrived, the woman looked after their children.

In these parts, that sort of caring gesture is called “neighborliness”.

But another neighbor – anonymous, of course – called the DHS to report an unlicensed daycare center. The DHS sent a letter to the helpful lady, complete with a list of consequences like fines and jail time.

News shows and bloggers leaped on the story. A few (very few) right-leaning commenters equated the law with a Michigan full of “union toughs” and power-hungry “libs”. Evidentally they missed when Governor Granholm*- a notoriously left-leaning politician – talked to Mr. Ahmed and Michigan legislators about working together to change the law.

I also tired of comments (both online and in real-life) that stated that the helpful neighbor should go ahead and get a daycare license. I suppose some of them responded out of igorance, having no idea that a license entails background checks, home inspections, etc.

But what bothered me most were others implied that private citizens (Jane Q. Neighbor, if you will) shouldn’t be doing public service.

I’ve heard that tune more than once, lately.

In the spring, Senator Tom Coburn (R-OK) proposed an amendment that would have protected the conscience clause, which allowed health care workers to opt out providing abortions and the like. After it went down in flames (thanks in part to 16 Catholic senators voting against it), I heard and read a lot of comments that dismissed the idea of workers having the right to refuse to compromise their moral convictions. When informed that Catholic hospitals are the largest provider of hospital services in the US, a co-worker remarked, “Another reason for national health care.”

The implication was that “godbags”** shouldn’t become doctors, nurses, or technicians unless they are prepared to do abortions, sterilizations, and whatever else might offend their moral sensibilities. Leave public service to secular authorities.

Last week, a fellow on the radio talked about ending the tax-exempt status of religious organizations. Someone mentioned the charity work that such organizations do, and he responded that our government has the responsibility to ensure the welfare of its people.

“(I)t is my responsibility ethically and morally to enforce the code. We don’t mean to be punitive with the non-profits…” – the Salem (Massachusetts) Health Agent, in 2007 after holiday bake sales were required to meet restaurant health requirements

Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I tend to agree with what Charles Dickens wrote in Martin Chuzzlewit : “Charity begins at home, and justice begins next door.”***

Michiganians are typical of most Americans in that if someone needs help, we donate our own time and money. When I worked at a Detroit parochial school, the most generous children often had the least. The principal told me of children going hungry so they could give their lunch money to a classmate whose family lost everything in a fire.

When I first moved to the Thumb, I was introduced to the Spaghetti Dinner fundraisers, “Chinese” auctions, and raffles for Barrels of Cheer. If a church, a fire department or another community institution needs money, there is no end to the bake sale, bottle-drives, and volunteers. No one waits for officials to step in.

It would also be a shame if we lose our tradition of spontaneous self-giving, not because it becomes illegal, but because red tape and restrictions stifle. It would be a profound loss if Jane Q. Neighbor starts to think paying taxes is the same as charity.

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*Referred to as Her Jenniferness whenever her liberal-headedness gets in the way of fiscal responsibility

**For some reason, I like the derogatory terms “godbag” and “Papist”. The former sounds like an affirmation that we’re empty until our lives are filled with the Divine. And the latter sounds like the pet term for members of the Society for the Appreciation of Human Nipples. (Oh, let the spam begin!)

*** Martin Chuzzlewit is yet another Dickens book in which I loved a supporting character – Mark Tapley – more than the main characters. See also Aunt Betsy in David Copperfield.

At the session last week, the deacon asked Luigi, who was approaching his 50th wedding anniversary, to take a few minutes and share some insight into how he had managed to stay happily married all these years.

Luigi replied to the assembled husbands, “Well, uh, I’ve a-tried to treata my wife nizza, spenda money on her, but besta of all is that I tooka her to Italy for the 20th anniversary!”

The deacon responded, “Luigi, you are an inspiration to all the husbands here. Please tell us what you are planning for your wife for your 50th Anniversary.”

Luigi proudly replied, “I’m agonna go get her.”

I don’t believe Kool Aid is Kosher.