How Firm A Foundation II

I remember a dear colleague of mine, many years back describing herself as a 'Recovering Catholic'. I remember laughing with her and agreeing that I too, was a 'Recovering Catholic'.  It was an easy concept to laugh at.  There were definitive aspects of our shared upbringing as Parochial School Catholics that we could instantly relate to.

Originally I was  amazed at the number of Catholics in my chosen profession. I have long since stopped being surprised when I am introduced to a new 'Cobol' Developer that had roots in Catholicism, there is something about the structure, logic, and precision of Cobol working with Relational Databases that attracts the Parochial trained mind.  Someday I may write a blog studying this more.

Regardless of the cause, my Parochial upbringing was a very powerful and direct influence upon me, lifelong. Though, it has been decades since I have considered myself Catholic, the aspects of Catholicism that continue to effect my life are countless.

What I learned about Mathematics and Algebra, I learned in Elementary School, St. Thomas the Apostle Catholic School in Phoenix Arizona provided me a firm foundation in those two key tools. Mathematics and being a Cobol developer go hand in hand. My mind is geared toward pretty and precise If-Then logic. For my mind, there is an algorithmic solution for every technical or business problem. That I try to instill this formula for problem solving in my personal life may not always be as successful, but I never fail to try to apply it.  I know that my Parochial upbringing was a big part of me being able to support myself and my family for all these years. And from the number of Catholics in my profession, I don't think this was unique for me.

There is more Catholic in my makeup than just the logic I use in my occupation.  'Catholic Guilt' courses through my veins as one of my chief moral drivers. I am a living breathing example of 'Catholic Guilt'.  I am loyal to my Children and wife, I am loyal to my siblings, any personal challenge to that loyalty triggers the 'Guilt' gene in my like an ignition switch. My 'Recovering' friend would laugh at this part of me if she were to read this now, like this 'guilt' is some type of curse.  I guess I have learned to come to grips with this part of myself.  At this later stage in my life, I start to look back at the precept of  'Catholic Guilt' as a productive guiding part of me. I am proud to be dedicated to the institution of family, the preservation of that institution to me is a noble endeavor. When I look at some of the countries where Catholicism is prevalent, like south of our border, or Italy...I see that institution of family has been put on a pedestal. Grandparents, the elderly, are treated with respect and kindness. Children are protected and cherished. Large, close knit families are not mocked and abused, rather they are admired and cherished.   I fail to see this as a negative outcome of 'Catholic' Guilt. That my moral compass is influenced from the Catholic upbringing can not be denied, and I would not want it to be denied.

I believe my parents raised me as best they could. They chose to raise me within the boundaries of their faith. My father was raised a Catholic, and my Mom adopted Catholicism as a married adult.  At times when I choose to view my parents through my 20/20 hindsight, all their mistakes and blemishes are so very clear and obvious. It becomes so easy for me to itemize all their faults.  But they did not have the luxury of 20/20 hindsight as they were fostering us through out our lives, putting their parenthood skills to the test.  That they turned to the Catholic Church for help in building my moral character means that they did have faith in the family unit, enough faith to entrust me and my siblings to the teachings that they understood to be the best for us as a family. It also meant they had faith in Our Father in Heaven, and in his begotten Son,  such faith that they chose to add those helping hands into our lives. This is no small thing. It took a great deal of sacrifice of their time, their Sundays, and their budget to educate and indoctrinate my siblings and myself.  If I look at my seven living brothers and sisters, I see that miracles did happen. That each of us were able to raise ourselves up out of poverty and to build our own families with moral character and with faith. This is no small accomplishment from such humble beginnings.

Occasionally I hear a judgment  passed upon organized Religion concerning raising children within the loving arms of faith.  The judgement is some variation of 'I prefer to let my children learn religion at their own pace, as they are ready for it, and without my guidance or leanings'.  I believe I understand that concept, and I see some value in it.  But, as I look at how I was raised, and how I raised my daughters, and how my grandchildren are being raised, I am not sure that is the only way to raise children. Yes, it may be fine for others, it is not for me to judge. But for me, and mine, I feel that a parent wishing to add faith to the mix when raising children is perfectly within his rights as a parent.  I believe that faith is a virtue, and that sharing faith can be an act of love passed parent to child.  I believe Children may choose to reject that Faith, move on to other Faiths, or perhaps even adopt that Faith in their lives as they move to their own adulthood. But the foundation of Faith provided and taught by the parents, when it is done with respect and love for the child, is also of great value.

For my parents, for their choices and for all the work they did in raising my siblings and myself...I have the greatest love and am gaining greater understanding, day by day. Thanks Mom and Dan. :)

Cheers, nca

Our Cowardly King

President Trump 

Visited Arizona This Week

08/22/2017

Generous Reward

My Mom often walked on paths less warn than my own. Because of this, through much of my life and to this day I lack significant understanding of her.  Not for her lack of trying. Bequeathed to me at her passing I have several of her attempts at novels and her 'life story'.  As of this post I have not sampled her life story, but I have read various passages from her novels.  At some point in my life I may draw from those wells, but at this point I am not quite ready. From our conversations those last few years I am still wary and not trusting enough.

But I am aware of many areas where my Mother lives on in me and my siblings. Her blood courses through me, her peculiar brand of nurturing is in my nature. I find particular phrases of hers in my vocabulary. I see moments where particular mannerisms of hers cross my brows or wrinkle my face. 

This blog itself likely owes some allegiance to my Mother. She was a reader, I am a reader. She was a writer, I attempt to write too. 

My chosen occupation has roots with my Mother too. Certainly not by her design, or mine. But her insistence in us kids attending a Catholic parochial school particularly weighs heavy in what I do for a living.  The emphasis on math and logic I received in school has kept food on my family's tables for 35 years. The summers where she enforced me to do work-sheets when I would rather be swimming or playing ball did have an impact. She even encouraged me to take up typing as an elective in High School, a skill that serves me as a developer and serves me here on this keyboard.

Mom was an artist. Not a classical artist in any way.  She reminds me more of folksy artists like Maud Lewis or Grandma Moses than a more classical artist. She mastered bead work, crotchet, knitting, sewing. She dabbled in wood-burning, painting, writing, dancing, and performance art.  She created scripts, and short plays. She tried her hand at the piano and organ. She had a beautiful soprano singing voice.

How that passed to me was mostly in the writing arts. Though I have made videos, podcasts, and more. I fancied myself a poet at one time, and still dabble at that.  I received a fraction of her creative skills, and am grateful for that.  I get great joy from being able to create something different.

I have strong compassion for equality and fairness. My Mom installed those things in my from a young age. Sadly, late in life she may have lost some of that from her conversation and makeup, but not until it was passed on to me. I hope that as time carries on for me that I don't lose sight of that, it is important to me and worthy of retaining.  I fear that age may wither passion from the vine....perhaps it did for her.

In some ways, Mom's failings have shaped me too.  For better and for worse.  I have strong feelings about 'no kid should ever feel neglected by their parent'. No one should feel unwanted. That every child deserves an attentive parent or Grandparent. This is not to judge my Mother on her motherhood, rather to judge me on allowing those feelings to foster in my youth. It pains me now to think of another youth to have to sample from that bitter well.

To me, as a youth...Mom seemed distant and aloof. Not fully engaged. I share this trait too, which serves me no great service. I apologize to those who may have experienced this from me. My wife particularly. That this one trait from my Mother has continued on in me is no great blessing. Yet, folks....it too is part of me.

All these parts that make a whole. Parts from my Dad, Grandparents, and just from my own life experiences all combine to make me who I am.

When judging our parents and holding them accountable for perceived weakness and failures, are we not in some ways judging ourselves? We do not walk step by step in their every footstep. We only walk part of their journey through life, and they only walk part of our journey.  By judging our parents, we serve judgement on their journey, and we discredit the shared path we have walked. I hope to someday have better understanding of my Mom and her journey.

Mother, thanks.  Thanks for taking the time to raise me in your fashion, the best way you knew how. Thanks for taking me to the Dentist and the Doctor, and for bandaging my cuts and scrapes. Thanks for my yearly birthday movie night. Thanks for working so hard to provide me a great education, and for keeping food on the table when times were tough. Thanks for all the dishes washed, clothes washed, and for taking me to buy school clothes. Thanks for signing me up for little league and boy scouts. Thanks for summer vacations at Mingus Mountain and Indiana. Thanks particularly for my terrific siblings who I love so dearly. And thanks for doing the very best you knew how to do, with what you had, and in your own fashion.

I know that there will be a time when my spirit is reunited with my parents. That is part of my faith. I hope then I will have a better understanding of Mom's journey when we meet again. We will have so much to talk about.

Cheers, nca