Where I Been

The first pic was taken on the beach at the old family place in Maine; the second, from the deck of the house in Bovina. God is good.

While in Maine I attended my first Catholic mass in that state at a small church that was plain but attractive and, gratifyingly, packed with about 350 souls. I suppose it's a race to the bottom when it comes to bad Catholic liturgy and music but this church has set, for me, the new lead standard. The music was a Haas, Haugen & Co. songfest, led by the ghastliest and most heavily amplified soloist under whom I have ever withered. If tonality were geography this poor woman was in Kuala Lumpur not Maine; her timbre would obviate the need for a band saw in a machine shop. The organist must have learned at the feet of the late John Kiley in Fenway Park, with his appliance set at warp-speed vibrato throughout (even during Communion), everything fortissimo, of course.

Happily, the priest (as has been my experience at virtually all Catholic churches) was wonderful. He was a guest celebrant, making the pitch for his mission in his native Lesotho. Despite the horrendous crime and poverty in his homeland, he elected to stay there and do God's work, somehow maintaining a sense of humor as well, e.g. advising us the first collection of the mass was merely a "test to see if we were still awake," that we should "pay no attention to it at all" and save all for the second collection. Had I not already made a check out, I would have complied better with the good man's instructions. His godliness more than compensated for the aforementioned unpleasantries.