A Prayer For America: Seems Reasonable

Posted on January 20, 2025 by Brian H. Gill

Monday’s presidential inauguration may edge the Los Angeles wildfires off the top of my news feed. Momentarily, at least.

About that, and results of the election: I’m not political.

I haven’t and won’t frantically declare one candidate or party as America’s Only Hope, or hysterically denounce another as That Which Will Destroy Our Fair Nation. Maybe that’s why I’m not giddy over the election results. Or plunged into the depths of despair.

I do, however, give a rip about what happens in my country and in my world.

I have precious little control over national and world events, but there’s something I can do: pray.

A Prayer for Healing, Help, and Guidance

I added a few prayers to my daily routine last month, including this one:

God of all nations,
Father of the human family,
we give you thanks for the freedom we exercise
and the many blessings of democracy we enjoy
in these United States of America.

We ask for your protection and guidance
for all who devote themselves to the common good,
working for justice and peace at home and around the world.

We lift up all our duly elected leaders and public servants,
those who will serve us as president, as legislators and judges,
those in the military and law enforcement.
Heal us from our differences and unite us, O Lord,
with a common purpose, dedication, and commitment to achieve liberty and justice
in the years ahead for all people,
and especially those who are most vulnerable in our midst.

Amen.
(Prayer After an Election, Prayers and Devotions, USCCB (United States Conference of Catholic Bishops))

The prayer is labeled “Prayer After an Election”. But to me it looks like one that’s appropriate for any time. Particular when, as a nation, we’re coming off a publicity bender like last year’s political pandemonium.

Judging from what I’m seeing in my news feed, this year will be more of the same.

On the ‘up’ side, decades of noticing disconnects between what partisan doomsayers and publicists say and what the rest of us live with — I don’t think this year will bring either utter disaster or the dawn of a golden age.

Why Share This Prayer?

I think praying is a good idea.

Asking for help with what I can do: that strikes me as reasonable.

Which is why I’m sharing this prayer. No pressure: but it’s short, the goals seem reasonable, and asking for “protection and guidance” sounds like a good idea.

I’ve talked about this sort of thing before:

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Kids, a Subway Station, and Offhand Advice

Posted on January 18, 2025 by Brian H. Gill
Google Street View's photo: Powell Street, San Francisco, California. (March 2022)
A cable car on Powell Street. San Francisco, California.

One of the many things I liked about living in San Francisco was the city’s public transportation system.

I don’t know about the situation now. But a half-century ago I could get up, eat breakfast, catch a cable car, connect with a bus, and be at work on time.

Getting back was another matter. By late afternoon, agreement between the bus route schedule and actual running time was at best approximate. I got in the habit of walking toward downtown until a bus came along, leaving the bus near the Embarcadero Center, and walking from there. After a cup of coffee.

InvadingInvader's photo: 'An A-class BART train pulling into Civic Center UN Plaza Station in November 2022.' (November 23, 2022)My weekday routine didn’t involve BART, San Francisco’s rapid transit system. But I used my BART card fairly often, partly to get places faster than a bus would take me, partly because I liked the then-new system.

I’ll admit it. I’m a technophile. So was my ancestor Arba Zeri Campbell. That’s a story for another day. The main point for today is that I was in the downtown BART stations fairly often. And when I was, it was during the less-busy hours.

Not Really Advice: More Like an Observation

BART.gov's photo: a BART train with passengers boarding. (1972)
1972: the latest in fast urban transit: a BART station.

One day — I’m guessing it was a Saturday afternoon, but that’s just a guess. Anyway, one day I was waiting in a downtown BART station.1 I was alone, except for three other folks: two boys and an older girl.

I’m guessing she was their sister, partly because of their conversation’s tone.

The two boys were sitting on the edge of the platform, dangling their legs over the tracks. The girl/young woman was exhorting them to stand up and back away from the edge. Urgently, and unsuccessfully.

She was getting frustrated, the boys were enjoying themselves.

They might have had time to remove their legs from the area that’d be occupied by a train, since we were some distance from the platform’s end. Then again, maybe not.

The boys were early adolescents, or thereabouts: at one of those ages where individuals in my half of humanity can generally be relied on to exhibit energy, enthusiasm, and an appalling lack of wisdom.

I wasn’t exactly sympathetic with the one I figured was their older sister.

The other half of humanity includes some individuals who, from an early age, exhibit a degree of poise and aplomb generally associated with international diplomats. She was not one of those individuals. Neither am I, for that matter.

I think it was when one of the boys glanced back at me that I said “helluva young age to lose your legs”.

By the time I’d finished saying “legs”, they were both looking at me: briefly, before scrambling up. Fast. They’d probably have been able to get their legs out of the next train’s way with seconds to spare.

Then the train I was waiting for came. I got on, and haven’t seen any of them since.

That Voice

I don’t, can’t, know why those two boys picked that moment to stand up. But that won’t keep me from speculating.

Brian H. Gill. (March 17, 2021)I suspect part of an explanation is my appearance. Even then, I had a bushy black beard: and had been using a cane for years.

Seeing someone who looked like that — and might actually be one leg short of the usual quota — might have encouraged a re-evaluation of leg-dangling’s benefit-risk ratio.

Then there’s my voice. I could do a credible “Smoky the Bear” imitation in sixth grade, and sounded like James Earl “Darth Vader” Jones long before Star Wars opened.2

Come to think of it, Star Wars came out in 1977. I was in San Francisco during 1978 and 1979.

Whatever their reasons, the kids got up and their sister(?) stopped fussing. I’ll take that as good, or at least neutral, news.

Talking about those kids and the station platform reminded me of another BART story, but that’ll keep for another time.

Now, some vaguely-related posts:

Bryan Costales' photo: 'Just inside 4 Embarcadero Center from the pedestrian extension of Sacramento Street was the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf'. (November 24, 2012) (c) 2013 Bryan Costales, via bcx.news, used w/o permission
A coffee and tea shop in the Embarcadero Center. Photo by Bryan Costales. (2012)

1 Mostly about getting around in and around San Francisco:

2 Voices from the past:

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Grogu, a Christmas Stocking, the Liturgical Year, and Me

Posted on January 14, 2025 by Brian H. Gill

Product photo from Amazon.com: '...Christmas Inflatable Yoda The Child Holding A Christmas Stocking Indoor/Outdoor Decoration'. Inflatable Grogu, similar to one displayed in a front yard near me. (January 10, 2025)I learned, long ago, that being “pretty sure” about something wasn’t necessarily the same as being right.

Take what I was “pretty sure” about last month, for example:

“…Folks living in the next block north of our house have inflatable yard decorations out and lit up for this Christmas season. So, on my way to Mass, I drove by Baby Yoda and SpongeBob SquarePants wearing a festive Santa hat.

“Baby Yoda is holding what I’m pretty sure is an orange Halloween treat bag….”
(“Christmas: Family, Lights, and a Little Weirdness” > Holiday Weirdness (December 28, 2024))

The neighbor’s Baby Yoda/Grogu’s Christmas stocking didn’t seem as bright red as the one in that promotional photo. But the symbol on it was the same. And it was clearly a Christmas stocking.

Then, when I was writing last week’s post (“A Short Look at a Small Dog…”), I was pretty sure that the Christmas season ended on Epiphany Sunday. More accurately, I wasn’t thinking about that particular aspect of the liturgical calendar.

I was wrong. Christmas season ended last Sunday, January 12, when we celebrated the baptism of Jesus.

As mistakes go, this one wasn’t all that serious.

But it was embarrassing, and another reason for me to be very glad that I’m not responsible for planning what we do and when we do it during Mass. We have folks who are a great deal more qualified than I am for that sort of thing.

This is an ‘unscheduled post’, so I won’t go on about our liturgical year, cycles, and the year’s seven principal celebrations. Some of that’s discussed in first few pages of the following resource:

I’ve talked about lawn decorations, holidays, and why we celebrate, before:

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A Short Look at a Small Dog, and Another Week in Minnesota

Posted on January 11, 2025 by Brian H. Gill
Shepherds, with some sheep, following up on what angels told them. 'So they went in haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the infant lying in the manger.'(Luke 2:16) Meanwhile, the Magi are still on their way. (January 2, 2024)
Shepherds and sheep visiting Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Magi were still on their way. (January 2, 2024)

I missed Mass on Epiphany Sunday. I’m not happy about that, at all.

But we had very cold weather outside — and I’d been noticing a serious mismatch between temperature readings my body was giving me, and what I saw on a room thermometer.

I’m not a 40-year-old kid any more, so I played it safe. Other members of the household have been quite distinctly not up to par, so playing it safe was probably a good idea.

About all that: getting to Mass is very important. Basically, it’s important because Jesus is there — which is about as big a deal as it gets. Around here, at any rate.

One of these days I’ll talk about that again, but not today. The Eucharist involves ideas that aren’t part of my native culture, and therefore take a little explaining. This week I lack the vim, vigor, and vitality it’d take to say why I think Jesus was telling us the truth.

Shepherds, sheep, and angels; presumably doing shepherd, sheep, and angel things; Christmas Eve morning. (December 24, 2024)Let’s see. Context. Epiphany Sunday was the 12th day of Christmas, the end of Christmas season for us.

I’ve enjoyed another year of seeing our Christmas display change as the season progressed, with the Magi arriving at the stable on Epiphany Sunday. It’s a good reminder of the events we’re celebrating.

Now, getting to what I’ve been trying to write about this week.

San Francisco, Remembered (Eventually)

Archdiocese of San Francisco's cathedral.It’s been about a half-century since I lived in San Francisco.

I enjoyed my time there, for the most part, but wasn’t surprised at the city’s 2020 pandemic rules: which were apparently intended to protect San Franciscans from religious cooties.

Number-one daughter, when I asked her for ‘what to write about’ ideas, suggested “maybe something from when you were in San Francisco”.

That struck me as a good idea. Then, when I sat down to actually write something — that’s when I realized how long it’s been since I lived “where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars”.

“…I left my heart in San Francisco
High on a hill, it calls to me
To be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars….”
(“I Left My Heart In San Francisco” , Tony Bennett (1953) music, George Cory; lyrics Douglass Cross; via genius.com)

I spent 18 somewhat-eventful months in and around that city, so I know I’ve got anecdotes galore stored somewhere in my mind. But I haven’t accessed them recently. It looks like it may take something in the nature of an archaeological dig to unearth them.

Another Happy Dog

Photo from Etsy via Pinterest, Antique 1890s Delftware vinaigrette. Also see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DelftwareAll I’ve got this week is another dog story.

And not even a story. More like a vignette. Which, oddly enough, has little to do with vinaigrette and/or small ornamental bottles for smelling salts.1

At any rate, my weekly routine in San Francisco included a walk back from a parking ramp near Fisherman’s Wharf.

My destination was a boarding house on Powell Street, a few blocks from the top of Nob Hill.

Man! It’s good to use those names again.

The point is that I’d be walking through what at the time was a moderately okay neighborhood during the late evening on the same day each week. That, happily, often brought me within a dozen yards or so of someone walking her dog.

The human half of the sketch would walk along at a smart clip, which probably suited the dog fine. It was one of those subcompact dogs, about the size of a loaf of bread.

Street lighting was adequate, but if the dog hadn’t had very white fur I probably couldn’t have seen the legs clearly.

As I said last week, I don’t know much about dog breeds. This was probably some particular sort of dog. All I could tell was its size, and the perky set of its tail, ears, and mouth. Its legs, although not in the dachshund class, were not long.

Matching the human’s speed kept the little dog’s legs moving at a very smart pace. All three of them. Not three dogs. One dog, three legs. Two in front, one in back. And all three keeping the dog moving at what looked like a very happy trot. Or pace, or maybe canter.

As far as I could tell, the dog and the human were both enjoying their walk.

Jubilee 2025: “Hope Does Not Disappoint”

I talked about animals and humans last week, and mentioned that I enjoy being human, despite being defective. Instead of repeating what I said, I’ll put a link to “A Dog Named Ulysses” in the ‘related posts’ list, along with whatever else comes to mind.

But first, something I could have mentioned last week — 2025 is a jubilee year.

I may talk about that another time. For now, I’ll share these links:

Right. Now, finally, the usual links to somewhat-related stuff:

1 Vinaigrette — a small personal item we don’t use much these days:

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Snow, Yes; Storm, No: Another Thursday in Minnesota

Posted on January 9, 2025 by Brian H. Gill
Weather.gov's current conditions map for United States. (January 9, 2025, 16:34 UTC)
Today’s U.S. weather: fire in the west, winter storm in the south. (January 9, 2025)

Former President Jimmy Carter’s funeral was at the top of my news feed briefly, earlier this morning. Then the California wildfire headlines bobbed back up: reminding me that living in the frozen north does have advantages.

We’re getting a little very light snow, here in central Minnesota. I see that as a good thing, since it (1) looks nice, and (2) lowers the odds that we’ll be having blowing dust when the sky clears and the wind picks up.

Later on, come spring, it’ll melt, adding needed moisture to the soil. Unless, of course, it melts too fast and we get flooding. Which does happen now and again.

But even though my part of the country has blizzards, floods, the occasional tornado, and (happily) even less frequent dust storms — I prefer living here.

Places like Los Angeles are shining centers of commerce and culture; and, in the case of Los Angeles, are home to the Oscars. But out here we’ve learned to build around our area’s hazards. This town has snowploughs and fire trucks, and equipment designed to handle water-related emergencies.

Even if I could move, I’d rather live here.

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