1968 Amputees say they still feel a missing leg. There's a phantom pain that remains long after what's taken is gone. It was long ago. But I still feel it. 1968 is the year part of me was taken. That year brought terrible collisions between old virtues and new verities. Truths taken of faith were tested and sometimes failed. Families were shaken to the bone by wars declared fought in jungles but also undeclared wars fought over kitchen tables. It was the year I discovered loss. The kind that climbs down and in and stays. And this year, 2024, has begun to feel like then. I recognize something in it. Something coming . 1968 began when a kid I knew was expelled from my Catholic grammar school for the grave sin of wearing Beatle boots. We both wore white shirts and clip on ties but the nuns explained he was a heretic. His hair was over his ears. And though we learned to read together, memorized the commandments and confessed our sins each Friday that year, they s
This week near Bethlehem, Pa. in the middle of the night, a woman approached a Nativity scene outside a local church. Surveying the deserted street around her, she crept into the manger drawn to the porcelain statue of the Baby Jesus. She gently picked up the statue,cradling it. Then looking both ways,she slipped it beneath her coat and hurried away. The next night a nervous young man, who spent his entire life savings on a ring, fell to his knees in Times Square. He was about to ask the only girl he ever loved to save from loneliness. To marry him. As he stammered and reached for the ring it slipped from his hands, rolled away and disappeared into the black beneath a subway grate. The following morning a little girl in Mexico carefully wrote a Christmas letter to Santa Claus. The letter said that the girl's mother worked three jobs. That she was tired and sometimes late at night the girl could hear her crying. The letter asked, 'Please Santa can you send something br