Southwestern Indiana's Catholic Community Newspaper

The old folks

The old folks My husband and I moved into our house when I was 26 years old. When we arrived, we met the couple living two doors down from us. I considered them old, if not elderly. When she died many years later, I did the math and realized that she was 58 years old when I met her. Ah, the ignorance of youth. H...
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Thursday, July 25, 2019

The fellowship of women

The fellowship of women Years ago, I had an interview in the small town of Odon, which is in the northernmost section of our diocese. I was writing a feature for The Message, and the gentleman and I had a pretty good conversation. When we were finished I decided to take a back road home to Evansville. Shortly after I set...
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Wednesday, June 19, 2019


Trauma Late last fall, my neighbors took down a 70-year-old river birch tree near our property line. It was a really big deal. I set up a chair near a window in my second-story bedroom so that my grandson could watch the process. It took a day, and it was fascinating to see the workers climb dangerously h...
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Thursday, May 23, 2019

Yes, Chef

Yes, Chef There’s an old TV show on Amazon that I find kind of intriguing. It features a world-renowned chef who is invited into restaurants that aren’t doing very well. Every episode has the same format. The chef arrives and orders a few items on the menu. When the food arrives, it’s bland...
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Thursday, April 18, 2019

Idle/Idol time

Idle/Idol time Have you ever been in a desert and had no water? Have you ever been in a spiritual desert without water? That’s just as bad, I think. A year ago, I was having lunch with my spiritual director. I told her that things just weren’t right and that I couldn’t put my finger on what was...
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Wednesday, March 27, 2019

The melting pot

The melting pot When I was growing up, my dad taught pharmacology at the IU Medical School in Indianapolis. He grew up in a small mining town in Pennsylvania, which was filled with Polish and Irish Americans. He fell in love with Indianapolis because it was what he called a “melting pot,” filled with p...
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Thursday, February 21, 2019

My spot

My spot One of my grandsons started pre-school this fall. The first three afternoons went well. On the fourth day, he came out of his classroom in tears; another student had taken his spot on the area rug during story time. Our spots mean a lot to us, don’t they? It seems to me that in my retirement...
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Thursday, December 13, 2018

A place at the banquet

A place at the banquet I moved to southern Indiana when I was in my early 20s, and since I didn’t know anyone here I join a local organization. Soon I was a member of the board, and then I was asked to co-chair a luncheon honoring past presidents. I agreed to help, and another member and I worked very hard on the d...
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Wednesday, November 28, 2018

Telling Our Stories

Telling Our Stories I was talking with a dear friend recently, and she told me about the night that she met her husband. It was fun to listen as she talked. She’s quite elderly, but as she was remembering that happy moment she became animated; in fact, she was transformed into a lovely young woman who was right...
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Wednesday, October 17, 2018

A single grain of sand

A single grain of sand I saw two sentences on the Internet recently that stopped me in my tracks: You will never look into the eyes of someone God does not love. Always be kind. Maybe the writer got the idea from Matthew 5. Early in that chapter, Jesus gives His followers the beautiful words of the Beatitudes. He conclud...
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Thursday, September 20, 2018