At the end of last week, I received an email from one of my best friends from church, when I was growing up.
The news was stunning.
Her first boyfriend, Joe Gargiulo, became a good friend to me at the time, as we were all going to the same church.
When Joe and Kathi broke up, I didn't see much of Joe anymore. At any rate, Kathi and I barely keep in touch, as we have such different lives. It almost seems like a whole other life that I lived then. She's been married for years, with two kids who are almost adults, but sometimes it feels like just yesterday that we were wearing our mother's wigs, teasing them into beehives, putting on lots of makeup, stuffing our bras, and, looking like a more grotesque version of Tammy Faye Bakker in her heyday, simply to go and play Putt Putt, like we looked normal.
The looks we would get were priceless, let me tell you.
Anyway, we keep in touch at Christmas, etc. But I was not prepared for the news she sent to me.
Last weekend, there was a terrible wreck on I-85, near Atlanta. I remember hearing about it on the news. A Chevy Impala, carrying two kids and two adults, crossed the median and slammed into a van, head on.
It was Joe's van that got slammed head on. There was nothing he could have done to prevent the accident, according to the police.
Two of his children were immediately killed upon impact, even though they were wearing seat belts. His other son was injured, as was Joe. Two children in the other car were killed, too. I just read an article, which I will link here, which lists the driver's name, the children's names, as well.
Kathi told me that Joe was in the midst of a very painful divorce, and he was driving his children back to their mother's house, after taking the kids to Walt Disney World.
According to Kathi, Joe had been very, very depressed over the break-up. The two children were buried on Saturday, but Joe could not attend, as he is in ICU.
I cannot imagine what he and his estranged wife are going to go through. As well, what will the surviving son feel and go through in the coming weeks, months, years. Even more tragic, is the fact that driver of the offending auto was a 21-year-old girl.
It reminds me of the verse from the Bible, 'On the just and unjust, alike it doth rain, and the quality of mercy is not strained.'
I normally would not do this on my blog, but I am going to ask anyone reading this post to put down what you are doing, and just send a prayer or a good vibe to Joe and his family. As well, prayers for the Stephens family, and for the girl driving. Their pain is just beginning.
Whatever, or whoever you believe in, please send positive energy Joe's way, and to the Stephens family.
I'll keep you posted on Joe's progress. I am not sure he'll even remember me, but I plan on going to see him, when he is able, and to let him know that he can talk to me anytime.
As I was going to the bank this morning---I got my first 2,000 dollar check for my writing--I was listening to Bridge Over Troubled Water on an Elvis CD that I have. It really made me think about Joe.
These are the times when I have no idea why God allows these things to happen. The only way I can even rationalize it is that God gives us all free will, so that means everyone has it. Some people use it for good, some for evil, some make mistakes--they think the young girl driving fell asleep at the wheel--and God could come down and stop anything, but God doesn't do that.
He lets us choose our behaviors, and the outcome is determined by the chosen behavior, but He's always there no matter what.
That's why you won't find me saying to Joe, "It was God's will...." because I don't believe it was God's will. I believe it was a series of events, a chain of mistakes, that led to the accident. I have to believe that, because if I don't, then I cannot fathom a God that would purposely take away the lives of children in such a manner.
If there is anyone out there in blog-land, reading this post, who has lost children in a car accident, etc. please post and let me know what to say and what not to say to Joe, whenever I get the chance.
Thanks to everyone who will read this.
Here's the Article I found from Connecticut, where the two Stephens children resided
Monday, July 16, 2007
I've Grown Accustomed to her Blog
I don't know what has come over me, or who has come over me, as I feel that I am in sort of trance-like state.
Ever since 'she' ragged about my partner, in a very condescending and nasty way, on her blog, I have felt compelled to read her blog almost every day. Is this part of my anxiety disorder??
It first started as a way to give back the same caustic medicine she doles out to anyone that doesn't jibe with her rigid religious beliefs.
In the beginning, I referred to her as 'it' or Bigmoose, as it seemed a fitting retort to her name calling. Even though I really detested her narrow thinking, I was like a moth to her snide flame.
But as I read her long odes to Chesterton, or when she intimated that I might be like Cotton on the show, "King of the Hill," I started to wonder what she might look like. Actually, the Cotton thing was pretty funny. Oddly, I do picture her looking like a cross between Joann Worley and Peggy Hill
I started to wonder what happened to this woman, with such a high IQ, and how she ended up staying at home with her three children. No, there is nothing wrong with raising one's children as a profession, as it is one of the noblest and thankless professions. It's just that I sense that there is so much more to this woman that simply being a homemaker.
Rarely do I agree with her theories, postulates, or thinking patterns in general, but she is a fine writer.
As well, her knowledge of silent films is phenomenal. I really did not like this woman, after seeing for myself how she skewers anyone who isn't just like her in beliefs--mainly religious--and I left some posts, using the same tactics that she uses in her own posting.
However, when you put a mirror up to someone, they either get that their behavior is irrational and hurtful, or they run crying to their comrades, "Look how MEAN the liberal is to me!!" She engaged in the latter, and I was chastised as 'vile' by simply pointing out the obvious about her daily routines.
I was told that I made fun of her autistic children. I did not make fun of them at all, nor would I ever do that. I did point out her fondness in speaking about her children defecating on the floor, as well as pondering why one would try for a third child, if the first two had Autism. As well, I just gave her a dose of her own medicine, as she routinely picks apart those liberals that seem to so rankle her, for just being liberal.
Was it too harsh? I don't know, but I publicly apologize (her group of witch hunters always love it when a liberal apologizes, so they can pick it apart and decide whether it's a real apology or not).
Why would I continue to return to her blog? I have no idea. I know she reads my comments, and she allows me to post them, but she refuses to respond. As well, I'm sure the email chain letter has gone out, which tells others not to respond to me as well. I think it's funny. Actually, I think she's probably a very nice person, somewhere underneath the fear and sarcasm.
But, as I read her odd posts, there is just something that keeps me coming back. Maybe it's the fact that she must really hate it that we have so much in common. We really do. Well, I am not in love with the same dead author--she is in love with G.K. Chesterton--but we actually like the same TV shows, books, etc.
It's an odd attraction and fondness I now have for her, sort of like watching a train wreck happen right in front of you. You have to look, even if you might not want to, deep down in your soul.
I must say that I agree with Dr. Alice--Alice, please post a comment, as I see you have been visiting my blog as of late--I think 'she' is a better linguist than I am.
So, I must write this song for her, borrowing from Lerner and Loewe's "My Fair Lady" show stopper, "I've Grown Accustomed to her Face"
Of course, it's all tongue in cheek.
So, this is for that multi-talented Catholic Curmudgeon, who is 16 times the writer I am:
I've Grown Accustomed to her Blog
Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!
I've grown accustomed to her blog.
She almost makes my stomach churn.
I've grown accustomed to the anti ECUSA tune
that she whistles night and noon.
Her smiles, her frowns,
How Chesterton brings her up when she's down
Are second nature to me now;
Like trapping gas in and then, just letting it out.
I was serenely independent and content before we met;
Surely I could always be that way again-
And yet
I've grown accustomed to her screeds;
Accustomed to her sarcasm;
Accustomed to her blog.
[Spoken]
Become a anti-US Anglican CATHOLIC?
What an infantile idea. What a heartless,
wicked, brainless thing to do. But she'll regret, she'll
regret it. It's doomed before they even take the vow!
[Sung]
I can see her now, Mrs. Anti TEC
In a wretched little flat above a store.
I can see her now, not a penny in the till,
And a bill collector beating at the door.
She'll try to teach the things I taught her,
And end up picking up poop instead.
Begging for her bread and water,
While her husband has his breakfast in bed.
In a year, or so, when she get sick of talking about the gays
And the blossom in her cheek has turned to chalk.
She'll come home, and lo, he'll have upped and run away
With a hockey-playing bimbo from Quebec.
Poor Mrs. Anti-TEC. How simply frightful!
How humiliating! How delightful!
How poignant it'll be on that inevitable night
When she hammers on my door in tears and rags.
Miserable and lonely, repentant and contrite.
Will I take her in or hurl her to the walls?
Give her kindness or the treatment she deserves?
Will I take her back or throw the baggage out?
But I'm a most forgiving person;
The sort who never could, ever would,
Take a position and staunchly never budge.
A most forgiving person.
But, I shall never take her back,
If she were even crawling on her knees.
Let her promise to atone;
Let her shiver, let her moan;
I'll slam the door and let the hell-cat freeze!
[Sung]
But I'm so used to hear her say
"CHESTERTON" ev'ry day.
Her joys, her woes,
Her highs, her lows,
Are second nature to me now;
Like keeping gas out and breathing in.
I'm very grateful she's a bigot
And so easy to forget;
Rather like a habit
One can always break-
And yet,
I've grown accustomed to the trace
Of something in the air;
Accustomed to her blog.
Ever since 'she' ragged about my partner, in a very condescending and nasty way, on her blog, I have felt compelled to read her blog almost every day. Is this part of my anxiety disorder??
It first started as a way to give back the same caustic medicine she doles out to anyone that doesn't jibe with her rigid religious beliefs.
In the beginning, I referred to her as 'it' or Bigmoose, as it seemed a fitting retort to her name calling. Even though I really detested her narrow thinking, I was like a moth to her snide flame.
But as I read her long odes to Chesterton, or when she intimated that I might be like Cotton on the show, "King of the Hill," I started to wonder what she might look like. Actually, the Cotton thing was pretty funny. Oddly, I do picture her looking like a cross between Joann Worley and Peggy Hill
I started to wonder what happened to this woman, with such a high IQ, and how she ended up staying at home with her three children. No, there is nothing wrong with raising one's children as a profession, as it is one of the noblest and thankless professions. It's just that I sense that there is so much more to this woman that simply being a homemaker.
Rarely do I agree with her theories, postulates, or thinking patterns in general, but she is a fine writer.
As well, her knowledge of silent films is phenomenal. I really did not like this woman, after seeing for myself how she skewers anyone who isn't just like her in beliefs--mainly religious--and I left some posts, using the same tactics that she uses in her own posting.
However, when you put a mirror up to someone, they either get that their behavior is irrational and hurtful, or they run crying to their comrades, "Look how MEAN the liberal is to me!!" She engaged in the latter, and I was chastised as 'vile' by simply pointing out the obvious about her daily routines.
I was told that I made fun of her autistic children. I did not make fun of them at all, nor would I ever do that. I did point out her fondness in speaking about her children defecating on the floor, as well as pondering why one would try for a third child, if the first two had Autism. As well, I just gave her a dose of her own medicine, as she routinely picks apart those liberals that seem to so rankle her, for just being liberal.
Was it too harsh? I don't know, but I publicly apologize (her group of witch hunters always love it when a liberal apologizes, so they can pick it apart and decide whether it's a real apology or not).
Why would I continue to return to her blog? I have no idea. I know she reads my comments, and she allows me to post them, but she refuses to respond. As well, I'm sure the email chain letter has gone out, which tells others not to respond to me as well. I think it's funny. Actually, I think she's probably a very nice person, somewhere underneath the fear and sarcasm.
But, as I read her odd posts, there is just something that keeps me coming back. Maybe it's the fact that she must really hate it that we have so much in common. We really do. Well, I am not in love with the same dead author--she is in love with G.K. Chesterton--but we actually like the same TV shows, books, etc.
It's an odd attraction and fondness I now have for her, sort of like watching a train wreck happen right in front of you. You have to look, even if you might not want to, deep down in your soul.
I must say that I agree with Dr. Alice--Alice, please post a comment, as I see you have been visiting my blog as of late--I think 'she' is a better linguist than I am.
So, I must write this song for her, borrowing from Lerner and Loewe's "My Fair Lady" show stopper, "I've Grown Accustomed to her Face"
Of course, it's all tongue in cheek.
So, this is for that multi-talented Catholic Curmudgeon, who is 16 times the writer I am:
I've Grown Accustomed to her Blog
Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!
I've grown accustomed to her blog.
She almost makes my stomach churn.
I've grown accustomed to the anti ECUSA tune
that she whistles night and noon.
Her smiles, her frowns,
How Chesterton brings her up when she's down
Are second nature to me now;
Like trapping gas in and then, just letting it out.
I was serenely independent and content before we met;
Surely I could always be that way again-
And yet
I've grown accustomed to her screeds;
Accustomed to her sarcasm;
Accustomed to her blog.
[Spoken]
Become a anti-US Anglican CATHOLIC?
What an infantile idea. What a heartless,
wicked, brainless thing to do. But she'll regret, she'll
regret it. It's doomed before they even take the vow!
[Sung]
I can see her now, Mrs. Anti TEC
In a wretched little flat above a store.
I can see her now, not a penny in the till,
And a bill collector beating at the door.
She'll try to teach the things I taught her,
And end up picking up poop instead.
Begging for her bread and water,
While her husband has his breakfast in bed.
In a year, or so, when she get sick of talking about the gays
And the blossom in her cheek has turned to chalk.
She'll come home, and lo, he'll have upped and run away
With a hockey-playing bimbo from Quebec.
Poor Mrs. Anti-TEC. How simply frightful!
How humiliating! How delightful!
How poignant it'll be on that inevitable night
When she hammers on my door in tears and rags.
Miserable and lonely, repentant and contrite.
Will I take her in or hurl her to the walls?
Give her kindness or the treatment she deserves?
Will I take her back or throw the baggage out?
But I'm a most forgiving person;
The sort who never could, ever would,
Take a position and staunchly never budge.
A most forgiving person.
But, I shall never take her back,
If she were even crawling on her knees.
Let her promise to atone;
Let her shiver, let her moan;
I'll slam the door and let the hell-cat freeze!
[Sung]
But I'm so used to hear her say
"CHESTERTON" ev'ry day.
Her joys, her woes,
Her highs, her lows,
Are second nature to me now;
Like keeping gas out and breathing in.
I'm very grateful she's a bigot
And so easy to forget;
Rather like a habit
One can always break-
And yet,
I've grown accustomed to the trace
Of something in the air;
Accustomed to her blog.
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