Hi, it's me, Beej. I just want to tell you that I, too, have had sex with Tiger Woods. So have both of my sisters, my daughter, my hairdresser, and my Great Aunt in Topeka.
I know Tiger is grateful that I am willing to keep my mouth shut. He can best show his gratitude by depositing $5,000,000 into my bank account, $3,000,000 into each of my sisters' accounts, $2,000,000 into my daughter's account and $1,000,000 into my hairdresser's account. He does not, however, need to deposit anything into my Great Aunt's account; at 87 year of age, the excitement of swinging Tiger's putter caused her to keel over and die.
oh I almost forgot; please let him know I am grateful that he left no divots.
I'm going to start this post with a little, meek disclaimer. What I am about to write is in no way meant to stir up a debate on religion, belief or personal choices. I am a firm believer that folks have the right to their own choices and I really do not care what others do. To me, the biggest point is every one's right to decide what to think, how to live or where to live. And now that I have that out of the way, let me proceed...
I am second generation Italian. (I would have been first generation except for the fact that my grandparents had their last two babies after they came to this country. All of my mother's siblings except her youngest sister, were born in Italy and my mom couldn't speak English until she was about 7 years old.) My family is from a small village in the region of Puglia, on the east coast of Italy, right on the Adriatic Sea.
In their small village is a magnificent cathedral which was built in the early 1600s. (this is the actual cathedral built by my ancestors:)
I'll get back to this in a little while, but let me preface that with a little something.
When I lived in southern Virginia, I belonged to a church run by the most left wing priest you could ever have the joy of meeting. Father John was more than my priest. He was my friend. For those of you who have known me for a while through our online book club, you might remember my writing about Father John; he was the priest with the ponytail and the pierced ear.
Anyway, I had gone to a convention where Father John was the speaker. I had also just read an article about a phenomenal cathedral that was about to be erected in one of the poorest sections of the Bronx. Father John has just given a beautiful talk on ways to help others on their faith journey. He was taking questions and I, never known to keep my hand down, stood up.
"I want to know," said I, "how the Church can even begin to talk to anyone about this when they are planning on building a multi million dollar structure in one of the neediest neighborhoods in our country."
I glanced around the room and could feel my face turning red because there were suddenly about 200 pairs of eyes fixed on me.
Now as I said, Father John was my friend. He was used to my mouth but I think I caught him off guard by saying this in front of his audience.
"Beej..." he said. And that was all he said.
"No I mean it. I think they could forego at least one chandelier and take that money and buy food for these folks. That would do more to increase the trust in the Church than any light fixture ever could."
I think he wanted to strangle me right then and there. He slowly began to recite to me the reasons the church was doing this and how much pride this cathedral would instill in these poor folks. I didn't buy it.
"It's hard for anyone to be proud of a building in their neighborhood when their stomachs are empty!" I was getting angry now.
Father John asked me to sit down and told me he would talk to me afterwards about this. I did so, and trust me, he and I got into a rip roaring argument afterwards.
Okay, now let me broach the subject of architecture. (You are going to have to trust me that all these subjects will tie together by the time I'm done.) In the recent past, I have seen many photos of beautiful buildings in Mexico. One of our dear blogger friends has been kind enough to share his photos of the gorgeous buildings in the place where he is currently abiding. I am not picking on Mexico. As I said, there is an equally gorgeous cathedral in the village of my ancestors. I became utterly jealous and longed to be in the midst of such beauty. I mean, I ached for this. I have been busy raising kids almost my entire life and have not had the opportunity to experience any sort of world travel and I hungered to experience that. There are, of course, some impressive buildings in my own country, but not to the extent that there is in Mexico, or Italy, or England, or basically anywhere other than in either the United States and Canada. We are just too 'young' as countries to have that to the extent of these other countries. But then I had this HUGE epiphany; it was more than that.
If you have read 'The Pillars of the Earth,' set in England but I suppose its story could apply to many other locations, you know that the construction of these magnificent buildings was brought about by the blood, sweat, tears ,and even life itself, of the poorest of people, those who struggled to feed their families, find a warm place for their families to sleep at night. People sacrificed and suffered in working on these structures because they had no choice! The more awe inspiring the church, the more money their parishes were given, the more chance of having food on the table. In other words, hunger was taken advantage of. People sought refuge from starvation. And if you wanted to fill your bellies, you had better be willing to sweat your tail off to erect these buildings.
Now, back to my family land; As I said, there is a breathtaking cathedral in this little village. My family lived there for more generations than we can trace back. I know, I know! my ancestors helped build it. There is no doubt in my mind that they suffered, they struggled, they cried and prayed to get this building done because they had no choice! They really weren't given any choice to do otherwise.
And THAT is the reason my grandfather came to America, leaving behind a young wife and a half dozen children. He came here to better himself as a way to better his family. After a few years, he sent for my grandmother and aunts and uncles. Now let me tell you how successful his dream became for his family; My cousin is a Judge. My nephew is a doctor with also a PhD in immunology and microbiology (yessiree, that's an Md.Phd., folks.). We have several lawyers in our family as well as a dentist. Another nephew is an artist with carvings in some pretty prestigious museums as well as the author of a coffee table art book for which he had a NYC signing, he attired in a full tuxedo. My niece is one of CNN's news anchors.I could go on and on. But this is why my grandparent left their homeland. And it happened. Their dream came to fruition. It would not have occurred had they stayed in the shadow of that building.
Now, if one looks back to the majority of churches in the early history of our land, they are stark. They are minimal. They contain what was needed by the congregation. I doubt anyone died building them. They were enough to serve their purpose and that was that.
The remnants of an early American Church:
These earliest of immigrants suffered to come here in order to have the freedom of choice. My own family, rather recent immigrants, is a prime example of that. So are all the poor Mexicans coming into this country by the droves in order to feed their families. Their gorgeous cathedrals are plentiful, but they have not done a whole lot to ease the extreme poverty in that country.
In short, my epiphany was this; there is a reason why neither the USA nor Canada has the extreme amount of breathtaking architecture that other countries do; it was a choice our ancestors made. Their priorities dictated something more. They lived through something most of us in our fair country have not. And you know what? I'm glad. I am so glad. Because if they hadn't done that, we could all still be struggling by the roadside, looking for shelter in the shadow of a towering cathedral.
My sister lived for several years in Ethiopia and because of that, there is a special place in my heart for this country. The Omo is a group of people comprised of several different tribes, a group that is rich in tradition, tradition that goes back thousands of years.
Tourists have 'discovered' these people and because of that, the culture there is on the verge of being destroyed. For some reason, whenever something unique and beautiful in its diversity becomes known, it inadvertently becomes destroyed. I hope that doesn't happen in this case because it would be such a beauty lost.
These people have not as much as a mirror to admire their human art, so it all goes on faith that whoever is decorating their bodies, embellished with uncovered pigments from the earth and wild flowers, is creating unique works of art on a human canvas.
There is treachery in this world, evil occurrences, murder, torture, sexual deviance. And God has had enough.
He has sent a sign of better things to come; Did he create a river of pure water for draught ridden lands? Or change the hearts of a multitude of child abusers? No. He laid an egg.
Yup, He laid an egg in Texas, USA. Is it a newly created holy relic, brought into this world during this most blessed of seasons as a sign of better things to come? At least one woman thinks so:
Now, I'll admit, I am a believer in God. I am. But I don't think that means I need to be a believer in eggs. And if you look at that chicken, who is the proud Virgin Mary of the poultry world, I don't think she thought it a blessing while she was laying this thing.
Most of us would, maybe, take a photo and then scramble the egg. Or at least put little holes in the ends and blow out the insides. But are these farmers doing that? No, these people are going to save this egg. Can you imagine that? Thy have it in a little black box. And if it sits there much longer, they WILL need a miracle..to gt the stinky stench out of their home.
The other evening, Michaela and Tareq Salahi attended a State Dinner. Normally, there is not much to-do about guests at these dinners but all hell has broken out over these folks, because they crashed the damned thing! The media as well as congress are up in arms over this. Security had been breached with very little effort.
These people also crashed a Black political event recently:
'WASHINGTON – On September 28, 2009 The Congressional Black Caucus Foundation hosted its Annual Phoenix Awards Dinner as part of its 39th Annual Legislative Conference in Washington, DC. More than 4,000 guests attended the event which is the major fundraiser for the Foundation’s scholarship, internship and fellowship programs. Michaela and Tareq Salahi were in attendance. The couple was approached by CBCF staff when they were alerted about a ticket dispute at the table. Upon asking for tickets for the table, which the Salahi’s could not produce, the couple was asked to leave and they complied.'
This thoroughly cracks me up! The Congressional Black Caucus Foundation?? Just take a look at these people while at this event:
I mean, isn't it obvious something is amiss??? I'm just about rolling on the floor laughing over this. I find it absolutely delightful.
I know, I know, it's just not a good thing that folks, particularly con artists such as Michaela and Tareq Salahi, can get that close to the highest powers in our land, to sneak in, sashay and smile like they own the place, posing for pictures with the highest powers of out country. It is a dangerous thing, and Congress is about to question them on this. That in itself is not funny. But what I do admire is the pure gall of these folks.
This takes guts. This is not something the ordinary person would dream of doing. But, there is something about people who dance outside of the lines that wins my admiration.
Do I like them? No. I think they're overbearing and snooty. But I do need to give the devils their due.
Hi. It's me, Beej. I just wanted to drop you a little letter and tell you how sorry I am about your car accident. I want you to know how much I admire you; only you could take out a fire hydrant at 3 mph. Good aim, Tiger!
I think I understand what happened. I have a feeling you were '5 under parring' that cute little waitress, Rachel Uchitel, from NY.
Lets face it, no man is called Tiger because he's good at a sport. (wink wink.) I personally would never marry a man named Tiger. I would instinctively know what that would mean. and lets face it; (and I'll be blunt here because I know you wont share this letter with anyone) you are the best in the world at sinking your balls into little holes.
Ok this is what I think happened. Your beautiful blonde wife found out about your girlfriend. They say she whacked the back window with a golf club in order to save you after the accident. I know in my heart she really was trying to whack you.
I admire you to begin with because from your injuries it is obvious she beat the crap out of you when she heard about Rachel. Did you defend yourself? No! You, as a gentleman told yourself, instead, "I am getting away from this bitch before I kill her." And off you went in your Caddy van. Good move Ti!
I heard on the news yesterday that you are worth well over a billion dollars. I was amazed and I thought to myself, wow that's a lotta cash for hitting little balls around a yard! You must do good by your wife and I bet Christmas at your house is awesome. I want you to know, if you would marry me, I would spread the wealth. You could have all the little waitresses on the side that you want. I would not whack you with golf clubs. I would just take all my diamonds and jump onto my private jet and say, "Oh well, what do you expect from a Tiger?"
I wish you well, and hope your face heals quickly.
Here it is, December first, 5:30 am and I am wide awake and about to jump in the shower and wash my hair. In a couple of hours I'm going to go open the bookstore doors and let in all the shoppers who come out of the woodwork at Christmas time.
I just love working in a store at Christmas time, especially a book store. I always get these folks who have no idea what literature is and who are there to purchase something for the readers in their families.
Most of them will look for a bargain and a fair share will ask me to discount their purchases for whatever reason they can devise.
Very rarely do I even come close to having a melt down with them, even at this time of the year. They amuse me. Even the rudest of them. And I'm pretty successful at getting them to return, even the ones who tell me they will never be back because I wouldn't slash the prices of their books.
I'm going to have a great day today. And part of the reason for that is because I'm going to put into practice BBC's wonderful words of wisdom to me;
"Fuck you, get out of my way. I'm moving on."
And if you think I might be talking to YOU, you are probably correct.
