Resting Place

Traveling back from NH yesterday I stopped at the rest area north of Tolland, CT. I didn't notice it at first, but the flag was flying at half-mast. A sign on the door indicated that PFC Stephen Richardson, Bridgeport, CT, had died in Iraq on March 20, 2007. We honored him by pulling down the flag in a place where we pull down our pants - surreal.

I said a prayer for Private Richardson as the sun set on the day. I started out by thanking him for his bravery and for protecting us from something, but I couldn't think of what that something was.

Freedom? Anybody in the audience who feels like your freedom is about to go up in flames, raise your hand. If you boys are fighting for our freedom to board an airplane without having to go through a security screening, come on home.

Military threat to our country? That's a joke. I know 9-11 was real and if you proffer enough "just suppose" theories you can make it seem like every crazy bastard in the Middle East is on his cellphone each morning talking to thousands of cousins planning for the day they'll decapitate the Statue of Liberty. Bring it on, and let the military guard our borders. Heck, if the cab drivers they send over now are any indication of the species, our women could take them!

Oil? I have never been a conspiracist, but have any of your friends ever talked about taking the family vacation in Iraq? When the Soviet Union was our enemy there were lots of people who couldn't wait to pull back the iron curtain to see the countryside. The same is true of tourist wanting to jump over the Great Wall of China. But, do you know anyone with the Fodor's book, Hidden Baghdad? We wouldn't have a nickel's worth of interest in Iraq if it weren't for its location in the oil region of the world. Only those who love to build sand castles think otherwise.

Here is a novel idea for all the American scientist in the crowd, instead of dreaming up the next generation toothbrush or another pill to make my dick stiffer, how about coming up with an alternative energy source? I can see a ticker tape parade in your honor rolling down Pennsylvania Avenue where the Marines have you hoisted on their shoulders while you hold the Nobel Peace prize above your head. Bring the boys home.

Anyhow, enough of the silly rambling. Enough of the helpless anger.

I never finished my prayer of thanks for Stephen Richardson yesterday. Instead I stared at the lifeless flag juxtaposed with the setting sun and said, I'm sorry.

Happy Birthday, Coach

Steve looks older than he really is. Yesterday was his 13th...no wait 31st birthday! Married less than a year, Steve just adopted 15 children, all girls. He was named head coach of the girl's varsity softball team at Arlington High School.

Go you, Spy Ponders! Beat Peabody, er Peebirdie, um Peebuddy...oh, you know who I mean!

Buckle Up

Erin and little Henry got into an auto accident the other day. Erin suffered a slight concussion but Hankers escaped without injury. He was strapped snugly in his car seat and despite being hit at 50 mph, he stayed strapped snugly in his car seat.

Thank God for Henry and Erin's health. Thank God for car seats. Thank God for moms who know how to properly buckle up a car seat (it ain't easy!).

Room with a View

I don't need a room with a sunset over the bay, but for $200 a night I was expecting more than a dumpster.

When I checked in the front desk clerk gave me a "free" upgrade to one of the newly remodeled jacuzzi rooms. He was doing me a favor because the local Marriott didn't have a discounted corporate rate. What the hell is a married guy traveling alone going to do in a jacuzzi?

Unpatriotic Bastard

So as not to get into too much trouble, I want to state right up front that I love the USA.

You can't find a guy who gets a bigger kick out of the 4th of July than yours truly. I buy a new red, white and blue shirt to wear at the town wide picnic every year. I get the family together and we go and sit for hours with the rest of the melting pot waiting to cap off the day with a brilliant firework display. As the rockets burst above us and Kate Smith sings "God Bless America" you can see tears rolling down my cheek in the red afterglow.

I'll sing patriotic songs all day - God Bless America, America the Beautiful, The National Anthem. I'll recite the Pledge of Allegiance, read the Declaration of Independence and act out the Gettysburg Address. To wake the kids at daybreak I'll bark out, "The British are coming, the British are coming!"

But that is on the 4th of July.

When I go to a sporting event I loath the fact we have to start every game with The National Anthem. Is loath a stronger word than hate? Because if it is not, I hate the fact we have to start every game with The National Anthem. Yesterday we went to a college hockey doubleheader and they sang The National Anthem twice!

The lyrics are nice, but the song actually sucks. There are about 3 people in the world who can sing it the way it was penned by Francis Scott Key - Whitney Houston, Cher and Celine Dion. Celine isn't even an American.

Why in the world do we have to reaffirm our patriotism before some guy throws the first pitch, drops the puck, or tosses up the jump ball? Half the guys playing in any game you watch aren't even from the United States. At least at the college level couldn't we just stick to the school fight songs? Heck, if its two Catholic schools according to the current logic we should all be saying the Apostles Creed and then let the boys go at it.

Given our current penchant for singing contest, I think we could make The National Anthem much more enjoyable for the common fan. At least for the really big games, I'd like to reunite the Gong Show cast of Chuck Barris, Artie Johnson, Jaye P. Morgan and Jamie Farr. We can have them standing on the sideline with a giant gong as the singer attempts to make it all the way through to "and the home of the brave."

Can't you just hear 15,000 fans screaming, "Gong him, Dog! Gong him!" As soon as the singer gets gonged, Gene Gene the Dancing Machine would shuffle out to mid-court and toss up the ball or drop the puck - game on!

Fear of Flying

At yesterday's NCAA Hockey Tournament a blistering slap shot by a Boston College winger ricocheted off the mask of the St Lawrence goalie and knocked him out. He was down on the ice for about 10 minutes before being able to gather his faculties. A tough kid, he stayed in the game and made some stellar saves in the Saints 4-1 loss to the Eagles.

Having heard the sound of the puck hit the mask, I still wonder how the goalies of old ever made it out of the game alive given they had no mask. I can recall as late as the mid-60's guys who refused to wear a mask even while Bobby Hull was launching 100 mph slap shots - crazy.

Gumper Worsley was one of those goalies. He played in over 700 games in the NHL and won half of those. He was an outstanding goalie who proudly proclaimed that his face was his mask. The irony in his bravado was he retired in 1969 because he was deathly afraid to fly. When the NHL was only 6 teams stretching from Boston to Chicago, all the teams traveled by train. Go figure!

Drop the Puck

The NCAA Frozen Four Tournament is underway, and yes there are some Catholic schools to cheer for including Notre Dame. I'm tempted to pick the Irish to go all the way, but I'm still waiting on word from above as to why the hoopsters made such an early exit - wrecked my entire pool!

March Madness includes more than just basketball for us puck heads. The excitement and energy of the college hockey tourney is on par with everything you see in The Road to the Final Four although I must say, the crowds can be a bit more intimate.

Rochester, NY played host to the Eastern Regional for the first time yesterday and the attendance was posted at 3,877. Normally these numbers are inflated, so I am guessing Rochester won't be the host again next year. This is actually a positive in my book as we typically spend the first weekend of the tournament jaunting between Albany, Worcester, Amherst, Boston or Providence trying to squeeze in a half-dozen games in 3 days. Tracing the lines on a map from Hartford to Rochester to Manchester and back resulted in an ugly obtuse triangle, and too many hours on the road.

We're heading north this morning to take in the Northeast Regional in Manchester, NH. I wouldn't be surprised if they get a full house at the Verizon Center as the UNH Wildcats were basically handed a home game. Boston College is also on the venue and they always bring a good crowd.

Let's get ready to rumble!

Vanity Fair

We were at Borders the other night picking up a book and I couldn't help but glance through the magazine aisles. I'm always on the lookout for an article about "How to Photograph Your Dog" or "Montana Farmers Howling Over Wolves", but no such stories this month.

What I did see however were a lot of magazines appealing to our vanity. One in particular struck me as an extreme call to narcissism - Glutes. An entire magazine about the ass? I didn't look at the content of the magazine too closely, but I can't imagine they've got 60 pages dedicated to the booty. How much can you write about two cheeks and a crack?

Glutes is so specific it got me to thinking of other targeted periodicals that could be popular with certain elements of our society. Below are three ideas I came up with. See if you can think up a few of your own and lets compare notes. Maybe there's a buck to be made!

1. Pimples - monthly magazine for teenagers - How to Get Rid of Acne, Most Embarrassing Zit Ever, Mothers Who Love to Pop Pimples, etc.


2. Bunions - bi-monthly periodical for seniors - The Real Reason Why Walmart Won't Sell You Mixed Shoe Sizes, I Had a Date Until He Saw My Bunion, Do Bunions Only Grow on My Feet?, etc.


3. Pubic Hair - quarterly review for porn industry - Bald Isn't Beautiful: Porn Queen Fined for Growing Out Hair, Long Dong Silver Goes Grey, Clairol Announces New Line of Crotch Curlers, etc.

Picture Perfect

My son John was born a brawler. He enjoys standing up for the weak, slaying modern day dragons and rumbling just for fun. Most of his hay makers have been thrown in the U.S., but rumor has it he connected on a couple of shots in a Dublin pub while hallucinating on Guinness. "Kiss me, I'm Irish" isn't a t-shirt he would ever wear.

Improvised Explosive Device

It started out as a bologna sandwich. Even the dog had no idea what happened.

Happy St Patrick's Day

St Patrick is the patron saint of Ireland despite not being Irish. That's good marketing!

Here are the other major saints of Ireland:

• Saint Aidan - founder of great center of Celtic Christianity.



• Saint Brendan - patron of boatman, sailors, travelers and whales.



• Saint Brigid - patron of babies, blacksmiths, cows and dairy workers, Ireland, midwives, poets, sailors, scholars and travelers.



• Saint Columba - patron of bookbinders, Ireland, poets and Scotland.



• Saint Columban - emblem is a bear; he was a trouble maker.



• Saint Ida - revered teacher of Saint Brendan.



• Saint Kevin - patron of blackbirds, the archdiocese of Dublin, and Glendalough.



• Saint Kiernan - visionary who established a great Irish monastery.



• Saint Malachy - the first Irish saint to be canonized by a pope.



• Saint Oliver Plunket - the last Irish martyr to die at Tyburn.

Something Wrong with My Hearing

If you read my blog you know that we are in the Lenten Season. You also know that occasionally I like to blog about my friend, God. And finally, you should know that the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament is in full swing as I have blogged about March Madness as well.

I like to look for the connection between events in life and tie it all back to God when I can. Early in the week I prayed to God to help me project the winners of each game for a tournament pool I entered.

It's hard to find the time to sit silently in today's hurried world - too much to do. But I put the Field of 64 chart up on the wall and contemplatively studied each match-up waiting for a sign from above. As I looked at the schools participating one thought kept creeping into my mind....."stay with your faith".

Stay with your faith. Stay with your faith. Hmnnn, what could that mean? Was that God talking to me? They say God talks to all of us if only we listen. I think I was listening and so I picked Boston College, Georgetown, Xavier, Marquette, Creighton, Gonzaga, Niagra, Villanova, Holy Cross and Notre Dame to win - all Catholic colleges.

As I selected a school of Saints to defeat their heathen counterparts visions of David & Goliath, Moses parting the Red Sea, and Christ rising from the dead floated in front of my eyes regardless of the point spread. Bring on the Philistines! Bring on the Pharaoh! Bring on Death!

Moses saw a burning bush. I saw the Holy Spirit wearing a bookie's cap holding a sheet of paper stamped with the motto, stay with your faith. Was this my apparition?

No. It was my imagination. I had picked Notre Dame (a 6 seed) to win the whole thing with a narrow victory over Georgetown in an all-Catholic finals. Notre Dame lost to Winthrop in their first game. I don't even know where Winthrop is and I'm not going to find out. I just pray they aren't one of those oddball evangelical schools.

Not only did Notre Dame bow out, but so did Marquette, Creighton (best Daily Reading website on the web), Gonzaga, Holy Cross (keep them away from the Muslims), Niagra and Villanova. Either Boston College or Georgetown will be crucified today as they go head to head in the East Regional. Xavier plays the number 1 team in the country, Ohio State, in the early game of today's South Regional. You can expect the moon to block out the sun somewhere around 3:00 p.m.

My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?

I have to sit quietly again this afternoon and pray to God. I've got to do a better job of sitting in silence so I can hear Him clearly; I know He is trying to talk to me.

Once we connect I am going to ask Him to help Georgetown stay with the faith and carry the Cross all the way to the finals for the rest of us sidelined Catholics!

Let's go, Hoyas!

Choices

God gives everyone the gift of free will. My brother and I talk about it often when contemplating the choices people make in life. But sometimes I wonder if God is ever shocked at what man does with his free will.

There was a report on the radio this morning about a Louis Vitton Tribute Patchwork handbag that sold for $45,000. Is there anyone who really has a need for a 5 figure purse? How is it in a world of free will, given to us by a loving God, there exist such a disparity in wealth that one person can carry around lipstick and a compact in a $45,000 satchel while another sifts through a trash can searching for food to eat?

In the same news broadcast there was a story of a 17 year old girl who received a gift wrapped package containing the head of her pet dog. Already distraught because her dog had been missing for weeks, the teenager was traumatized by the act of terror. What hatred goes through a man's heart to exercise such cruelty on another?

A man raping a young girl and burying her alive, another man taking credit for masterminding 9/11 and the death of 3,000 innocent people, a suicide bomber blowing up 8 more people in Baghdad - free will gone wild.

Voice in the Wilderness

It isn't every day you hear your name called out on the city streets of New York. This morning I was tuned in and relieved when I heard a yell of, "Hey, Mullen!" It was my friend, Mike.

I actually was expecting to run into him mid-morning as we had a business meeting scheduled in lower Manhattan. That being said, traveling with Mike is always an adventure.

He manages to find his way, but with him there is no truth to the shortest distance between two points being a straight line. There are no straight lines in his world. I've never traveled with him where we started from point A and arrived at point B as outlined on a map. Even when using a GPS system there is always a moment of satellite disconnect - "recalculating directions - please proceed to the highlighted route."

I recall with amazement a 2nd trip we took to San Francisco where Mike pre-printed the directions from our meeting place to the hotel using MapQuest so we wouldn't get lost. We followed the directions with the exception of one slight twist and wound up arriving at the printed address - an empty lot just beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. We were in the right place according to the map, but the hotel itself was on a street of the same name in South San Francisco!

We've been lost together in California, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Oklahoma, Texas and beyond. We've even been lost 10 minutes from Mike's house in Pittsburgh - a place he has lived his whole life.

There is an element of adventure to traveling with Mike that is, well....exhilarating. But I really was hoping he'd find me today in New York City before 10 a.m. Some good planning on his part and several prayers to Saint Anthony on my part was the recipe for success.

I better call him tomorrow though; I don't know if he ever made it home.

Sleeper

I could use a long nap. An 8 hour snooze between 10 pm and 6 am would also do me well. But for some odd reason when I get into bed I just can't sleep.

I can read - Digital Photographer, Catholic Transcript, junk mail.

I can watch TV - Jay Lenno, Conan O'Brien, EWTN.

I can hear the sounds of the night - wind through the trees, cat meowing, hoot owl in the woods.

I just can't sleep.

Put me on the couch with a little sunlight coming through the window at 2 in the afternoon and I'm out cold. I need a job as a nightwatchman.

Relying on Faith

The field of 64 is set and my picks are in! I might change my mind and tweak a few choices by Thursday, but as of today I'm going with the Fightin' Irish. Besides Digger Phelps and Tracy Tripuka, I might be the only guy in the country predicting Notre Dame will win it all.

Don't follow my lead. I haven't seen a single college basketball game this year. Does Adrian Dantley still lace them up in South Bend?

Madness is Upon Us

It's time to pump it up! March Madness is once again upon us and for the 4th time in 5 years the University of Vermont Catamounts are looking to make the field of 64. UVM squares off against University at Albany today in Burlington, VT for the America East Conference championship. If they win they probably go to the dance as a 14 or 15 seed. Go, Cats, Go!

What are the odds they could win it all? Who cares.

A basketball fan from Vermont doesn't have the same need to hoist a trophy as a guy from Westwood, Chapel Hill or Lexington. Heck, we beat Syracuse in the 2004 tournament and if the Cats never made the tournament again we'd have enough to talk about in my lifetime. Prior to upsetting the Orangemen, we made the story of Dr. J playing at the Patrick Gym last for 30 years. You can see we have low expectations.

We're not talking about a lineage of Gail Goodrich, Lew Alcindor and Bill Walton. As a kid I followed Tom Clay, Joe Grecco and Warren Prehmus none of whom are in the basketball hall of fame. Prehmus came to UVM to get into the med school and I beat Tom Clay in h-o-r-s-e when I was in the 7th grade. Grecco should have been a hammer thrower for the track team; what a great name for an Olympian.

The Cats never had guys in the limelight. A typical crowd during the 1960s and 70s included me, my friends Marty & Dexter, my father, Zum Lapointe, the McKenzie brothers and the cheerleaders. Sometimes the cheerleaders had other things to do. My father just wanted to get out of the house.

The coach from 1972-1981, Peter Salzberg, use to deliver newspapers on Sunday morning to the local hotels to make a couple of extra bucks. It was common for a front desk clerk to chew him out for throwing the papers in the snow bank.

But people in Vermont are patient. 101 years after starting a basketball program, UVM finally put together a 20 win season in 2001 thanks to Taylor Coppenrath of West Barnet, VT (where?). His 38 point performance against UCLA was actually the real end of the Dr. J story, but these are small details.

And so we are slowly building a program to rival that of the Duke Blue Devils. 5 consecutive trips to the America East championship game, 3 NCAA appearances, 4 20+ wins seasons, a record breaking 25 game win season....lookout Tobacco Road - we're coming!

P.S. How to Win the Office Pool. Hey, James! Where the heck is the pool for Mullen Clan?

Larger than Life

I might wear the pants in our family, but there is a pair of shoes I never try on - they wouldn't fit.

The Nut of It

I heard a priest this evening give a fascinating talk on Chapter 15 of Luke's Gospel. In it he said that if you understand the essence of the 3 parables then you'll understand all there is to know about God.

Each of the parables is about a seeker who is looking for a lost item of value. Give it a read and see if you can figure out who the seeker is. Once you solve the mystery, the rest is quite humbling.

Taking Control

Sometimes in life you just have to take matters into your own hands. Help isn't always on the way.

Breaking News from The Alamo

Big news was posted tonight on the Mullen Clan Yahoo!Group website - Alisa is getting married. She met a beau in San Antonio named Billy, and he proposed to her back in January. They are working on firming up a date for 2008. Congrats!

Miracle of the Loaves & Fishes

I keep hearing about the demise of the Catholic church from the media, friends and family. I got news for all of you - the faithful are growing.

If you don't believe me, ask the folks from Quiznos. According to an insider from the Willimantic location (James!) the tuna sub outsold the roast beef sub 2:1 on Friday. Tell me those aren't good Catholics sticking to their Lenten vows - no meat on Fridays.

Alleluia! Amen!

Nothing Personal

I had my annual physical exam last week. I was 5 years overdue and I have to say I was a bit disappointed.

Not that there was anything wrong with me, there wasn't. Unexpectedly, I am as healthy as the healthy horse referenced in the cliche. I say unexpectedly because I don't do a damn thing to take care of myself.

So why be disappointed? No rectal exam. No holding the balls and coughing either. I wish someone had told me. I spent 20 minutes in the shower scrubbing my anus and testicles with a loofah pad. I kept thinking cleanliness is next to holiness.

When my physician came into the examination room I was bent over cheeks to the wind, "Make it quick, Doc and give a man back his dignity!"

Turns out now they only do rectal or prostrate checks if you are exhibiting problematic symptoms. Even then they rely more on lab test and less on 'something feels a little funny in there' tactics.

I'm okay with the advancements in technique, but how about letting a guy know before the test. What's the sense in having an answer to a question that's never going to be asked? They called me the day before to remind me of the exam; you'd think they could have sent me a little cheat sheet.

Had I known, I wouldn't have bought new underwear.

Eternal Love

Good night my angel time to close your eyes
And save these questions for another day
I think I know what you've been asking me
I think you know what I've been trying to say

I promised I would never leave you
And you should always know
Where ever you may go
No matter where you are
I never will be far away

Good night my angel now it's time to sleep
And still so many things I want to say
Remember all the songs you sang for me
When we went sailing on an emerald bay

And like a boat out on the ocean
I'm rocking you to sleep
The water's dark and deep
Inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me

Goodnight my angel now it's time to dream
And dream how wonderful your life will be
Someday your child may cry and if you sing this lullaby
Then in your heart there will always be a part of me

Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabies go on and on
They never die that's how you and I will be

Billy Joel