Glad I’ve left the church…

June 18, 2021 meisajDaily Life

I’ve been an atheist for a long time. It’s been 20+ years since I’ve considered myself a Catholic.

I’ve only called myself an atheist for the last 12 or so years. A slow journey from the hypocrasy of the Catholic church to the realization that religion, spirituality, or anything resembling that has no place in my life.

But the church still baffles me. What does it do in response to declining membership, increasing scandals, and a narrow world view…. It puts up walls.

Case and point. Catholic Bishops in the America just gave themselves the power to deny communion on anyone who is pro-life.

And why…. Because Joe Biden is Catholic, President, and Pro-Choice.

My dad once told me “When I’m asked if it bugs me that you don’t attend church anymore, I tell them that it doesn’t at all. That I believe you (and your siblings) are good, kind, people that I can be proud of. That I think being raised in the Catholic church helped with that.”

This was long after I stopped going to church and well on the way to out and out calling myself an atheist. And for a long time I really liked what my dad said.

But reflecting on it over a decade later, giving any credit to the church is too much and takes away from the amazing people my mom and dad are.

My morals, who I am as an adult is largely in part to how he and my mother raised me, not some narrow minded conservative organization that shelters pedophiles, treats women as second class citizens unable to hold the same positions as men, and holding onto the belief the a woman’s body is no longer her own to make decisions over once she is pregnant – no matter the circumstances that lead to the pregnancy, the current situation or beliefs of the woman, or health/medical factors regarding either fetus or woman.

Portland

July 23, 2014July 23, 2014 meisajDaily Life

Years ago, 13 years ago in fact, I told my mom that all I really needed to do when visiting a new place was get a cup of coffee and walk around. That stands true today. I wanted to plan a trip to see Angie in Boston, and threw in a quick couple days in Portland Maine to visit my friend Pat as well. Unfortunately Pat couldn’t get the two days off work. But I wasn’t concerned. Like I told my mom years ago, I don’t need to be entertained. So after he picked me up at the airport – sorry, Portland doesn’t have an airport, it has a Jetport…. which according to the dictionary I looked at is an obsolete word – so after Pat picked me up at the Jetport he dropped me off in downtown Portland.

I walked more than a few miles exploring Portland. I loved it. I walked down by the water, up by some bridges, got my feet in the ocean, had some fizzy homemade old fashioned soda, visited an art gallery and of course drank some coffee. That is my idea of a trip somewhere. Walking around, exploring and generally enjoying myself.

After Pat got off work I got to see his house, eat Mexican at an interesting restaurant, and relax. Pretty good day indeed.

Parental Units

August 14, 2013August 15, 2013 meisajDaily Life

I’ll admit. I have some pretty awesome parents.

I’m lucky in that sense. I’ve never been embarrassed by my parents. They are just genuinely nice friendly people. So when they were out to visit this last weekend it was a lot of fun.

They didn’t get in until Saturday around noon. Sam and I took them out to lunch (Aladdin’s) and then went to the Rocky River Nature Center and did some trail walking. It’s a nice view of the Cleveland area that you don’t get unless you make an effort to get there. For dinner Saturday we hit Happy Dog. Best vegan sausages (or hot dogs) and Tatter Tots ever served at a pub.

We played cards Saturday night. That’s what my family does.

Sunday we hit Coffee Pot (best hole-in-the-wall breakfast place out here), then went to the Cleveland Museum of Art for a few hours before meeting Sam’s parents at Debonne Winery, music and general outdoor awesomeness. It was the perfect slightly cloudy warm weather.

Sam and I made pizza from scratch for dinner Sunday night. We played some more cards and watched a little tv to relax. I had to work Monday, so my parents did what my parents do when they can…. they went to the casino. They also hit up the West Side Market. For dinner we all got Melt.

Tuesday morning they even made it out to the school I work at and met some co-workers before taking off for Atlantic City.

See… I don’t make plans per say when people visit, I’m actually a horrible planner. But there’s a lot more to do in Cleveland than just the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame and I do a good job of winging it. And we definitely made the best out of the time my parents were here.

Random Life Story Number #3 or 3 Flights of Stairs and a 300 lb Foosball Table

May 19, 2012 meisajDaily Life

A few years ago (more than a few, but less than a decade), my friends and I were really into playing foosball whenever we could. We got so good we accepted random challenges at bars, and boasted about victories. So one Christmas when I saw a slate top foosball table in my aunt’s basement I got really excited. I told her, and my parents how amazing of a table it was. It was bar/restaurant quality at least.

A few months later when my parents called me up to tell me Tina (my aunt) said I could have it I got real excited. Until then we played mostly on crappy cheap tables when not out at bars. The problem existed though that it was still 6 hours away at my aunts. But it gave my parents a good excuse to come visit (it fit in the van with the seats removed). Graciously I told them to bring it out whenever, that I’d love to have, and something about them being the best parents in the world and to give my aunt my ever lasting gratitude.

They showed up a few weeks later and we started to unload it. I can’t remember who it was exactly that was there to help, Mike maybe. It could have been Rollin or Reggie also, but for some reason I think it was Mike. Regardless it was someone I considered stronger than me significantly. We (we being Mike… I’ll just say it was Mike from here on out, my father and myself) pulled it from the van. I swear the thing had to be over 200 pounds easily. Apparently large slabs of slate are not light. When my dad told me that him and my mother shoved it in the van themselves at Tina I was shocked (but it made the fact that they brought it out to Buffalo all that much more amazing).

At the time I lived in a second story apartment. It came with an unfinished attic that Mike was using as a bedroom. That was were we planned to put the foosball table. For some reason getting it up the first set of stairs was pretty easy. Mike and my father took the top and I supported the bottom. The real problem would be the narrow stairway to the attic. It would be hard to fit multiple people up the stairs at one time, and twist the foosball table up the steps and around the corner.

But we were single minded in our efforts. And again I took the bottom, Mike and my father at the top. We got about halfway up the stairs and my father and Mike decided we needed a break. The problem that arose at this point was that I was supporting the majority of the weight on the bottom, and if i set it down on the stairs I would never be able to pick it up again. With no way to set it down, and no way to prop it up on anything, I just set it on my thighs.

The break went from a few minutes to a fifteen minute break. And I stood there the whole time with the weight of the of the foosball on my thighs. Somehow it didn’t hurt, and I was able to pick it right up when we were set to get going again. And we got it up there.

The foosball table rocked. We used it for years, and then when I moved I gave it to Mike. Who still has it in his house in Buffalo. The memories from that foosball table will last forever.

The bruising that appeared instantly on my thighs lasted about a month.

Random Life Story #2 or Happy Mother’s Day

May 13, 2012May 13, 2012 meisajDaily Life

My friends joke that my mom doesn’t care about me. Its not that she doesn’t care, its that she has this faith that everything will be fine, or at least that I’ll be fine. That’s what she tells me at least. That and that it will make a good story.

There are many stories that reinforce this, but none so much as the time my friends and I went to see a late night movie in high school.

I’m not sure what movie it was. It may have been The Crow 2, or Mortal Kombat or some cheesy thing like that. Something that was surely marketed to high school boys. Regardless of the movie, Reggie, Keith and I were the only ones in the theater. It started at 11, or 10:40 or something similar to that. Last movie starting in the theater, and in my recollected memories I pictures the workers being annoyed that we actually showed up. It was in July or August, definitely summer, and we had nothing else to do. So we went to a late night movie, got some popcorn and soda, and settled in.

Keith had driven us. He was legal to drive, but was under 18 so he wasn’t allowed to drive after 10 o’clock (maybe it was 9, I don’t recall… all I know is that there was a drive curfew for kids under 18). We readily ignored those hours when we hung out, Keith drove us all over the place.

The movie was about two hours long and when we exited I don’t think they even tried to clean up the theater after us. They locked the doors, and while we were talking about the “awesomeness” of the movie outside Keith’s car and we watched them all drive off. When we finally got into Keith’s car to leave it wouldn’t start. We sat around a bit, tried starting it again and again it wouldn’t start.

Being the high school kids we were we carried no cash on us. Or at least had no coins. We came up with one quarter between the three of us. This was 1996 or 1995 and cell phones were non-existent. We thought about it a while and called my house. In the discussion of who’s house to call, we decided there was always someone up at my house because it was the busiest.

Sadly no one answered. I left a long extended call that went something like this:

“Hi. This is AJ. I’m with Keith and Reggie and Keith’s car won’t start. We at the theater on Route 9 and are going to start walking home. If you get this please come get us. We’re going to walk on Route 9 until we can cut through a neighborhood to Aviation Road, then Potter and down West Mountain. It looks like its going to rain. Thanks.”

After that we started walking. Although I always exaggerate the distance, it couldn’t have been more than 6 miles. It started raining almost immediately. We walked down the middle of roads hoping someone would tke pity on us and pick us up. We even kicked over construction barrels, but the police (who did drive by) didn’t think we were “hooligan-ish enough” to stop and talk to.

On Potter road we actually ran into some people I ran with on the Cross-Country team. However they were extremely drunk and stumbling down the road. Nice enough though. They even offered to drive us home but we smartly declined.

About a mile from my parents, soaked, and having walked for what seemed like forever we came to Reggie’s house. Both Keith and Reggie decided to crash there, but I was annoyed, tired and wet enough to want to head back home. So I said goodbye and walked the last mile home.

When I finally stumbled in the door I found my mother sitting at the island in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading. I was shocked, astounded really. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. I had to ask, so I did.

“Did you hear the message I left on the answering machine?”

“Yes. Actually it woke me up,” she replied.

“And you listened to the message?”

“Yep. I figured you’d be ok. I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just shuffled by her and started down the stairs. Before I reached the first step my mom added one last thing, the one thing that made this story all the more fantastical.

“You know… if it were any of my other children I would have left right away to go get them.”

Yeah. My mom, she told me that. I didn’t even turn around. I just headed downstairs to my room and passed out.

To this day I swear that’s the story I’ll tell of my mom at her wake. Those are the words my mom told me. My brother, any of my three sisters; if any of them had been in that situation she would have gone to get them right away, but not me.

Of course it can be taken many different ways. At the basest it sounds like a statement that my brothers and sisters are more important than me. But that’s not how I take, nor how I ever took. I actually took it as a joke at first. My mom can make funny little quips like that.

But, and she insists this how she meant it, she meant it that I would be fine no matter what’s going on around me. That I can get through whatever is happening.

Its a nice admission, of strength, of support, of belief in who I am. That I’ve made good choices, that I’m the kind of person she can be proud of.

And of course…

It makes a nice story.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom. Love You.