Contemplating Life – Episode 44 – “Ce N’est Pas Facile Parlant Français” (It’s Not Easy Speaking French)

In this episode, I continue reminiscing about my college days at IUPUI. Specifically this week we talk about my trouble learning a foreign language.

Links of Interest

Support us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/contemplatinglife
Where to listen to this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/contemplatinglife
YouTube playlist of this and all other episodes: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFFRYfZfNjHL8bFCmGDOBvEiRbzUiiHpq

YouTube version

Shooting Script

Hi, this is Chris Young. Welcome to episode 44 of Contemplating Life.

This week we continue my series of reminiscences of my college days. We will discuss my difficulties in trying to learn a foreign language.

I don’t remember the comedian who said, “I am a bilingual illiterate… I don’t read or write two foreign languages.” I always identified with that statement. I expected to be learning lots of languages in college and I did. Upon graduation, I had mastered, “FORTRAN II, FORTRAN IV, BASIC, IBM 360 Assembly language, Algol, Pascal, PL/I, COBOL, and PPL.” For those of you who are unaware, those are all computer languages and most of them are obsolete and no longer in use. Notably missing from the list are, “C, C++, Java, JavaScript, Python, PHP, HTML/CSS, and others” none of which had yet been invented when I was in school.

Unfortunately, I didn’t start taking any programming classes until my second semester. There was one other language I took in college and that was French. That’s what we are here to talk about this week.

Right after posting last week’s episode about my first days at IUPUI, I realized that my memory of events 50 years ago isn’t what I wish it was. While many of my classes were quite memorable, I couldn’t remember all of them or what semester I took a particular class. I got to thinking wouldn’t it be great if I had a list of all the classes I took? Something like a transcript? Duh. Get yourself a college transcript, Chris.

I had no idea how to go about it. The website for IUPUI still exists even though the school doesn’t. The website is transitioning to an Indiana University at Indianapolis website so it is very IU oriented. I wasn’t sure I could get a Purdue transcript. Some Google searches led me to the right pages. Step one was “Login with your IUPUI username and password.” When I went to IUPUI, the internet didn’t exist so I knew I didn’t have a password. I finally got to a section that would ask me questions to verify my identity. It was one of those multiple-choice questions where you have to pick the one that applies to you. Okay, I know my home address and that the other address listed I never lived there. I forget what the second round question was the one that worried me was “Which of these classes did you take?” Hell, if I could remember what classes I took, I wouldn’t need the damned transcript in the first place.

Fortunately, I recognized “Formal Compiling Methods-Purdue CSCI 661”. After clicking on that, it decided I was who I said I was and took my application for a transcript. Total cost $0.00. I was surprised it was free and I figured it might take days or weeks but within a few hours, my email contained a PDF of my official transcript.

I mentioned last week there was a writing course I took. Its formal name was “Basic English Composition W117” The transcript says I was awarded an “S” for “satisfactory” which means I tested out of the class.

The math class I took was “Elementary Math for Engineering and Physical Science – Purdue MATH 151” I earned an “A” and 5 credit hours. I knew that the class would not count towards my math total for my degree but I didn’t care. Spoiler alert… I should have cared. More on that in future episodes.

One of my other first semester classes was “Elementary French FR F101”. That’s going to be our primary topic for today.

I knew that I took 3 semesters of French but I did not think about the fact that the French class was taught at the downtown campus. I thought my first semester I was exclusively at 38th Street. I wish that the transcript told me the class times in the location of the class. There is probably an archive somewhere with the old course catalogs but I searched all over and couldn’t find anything that old.

I know that many semesters where I had classes on both campuses I would go to one school in the morning, transfer to the other campus around dinnertime, take more classes in the evening, and then come home. When VocRehab agreed to pay for my transportation, they would only give me 2 trips per day. CareVan wheelchair van service would take me to one campus in the morning, transfer me to the other campus around dinnertime, and then my dad would pick me up in the evening at the second campus.

The School of Science required three semesters of foreign language. Again they wanted you to be a well-rounded individual and not just a science nerd. Most science students took German because, in the third semester, they could take a course called “Scientific German” which was mostly scientific and engineering vocabulary. I seem to recall my friend Dennis going that route.

I had taken two years of French in high school and did terribly. We got report cards every six weeks. My report card went A, B, C, D, D, D… and then straight D’s for the rest of the two years. I didn’t want to start over with German since I knew I was no good at foreign languages to begin with.

The instructor was a very nice woman named Mme. Chang. Yet she was blonde-haired and blue-eyed. Married to an Asian guy. She realized quickly I already knew some French even though this was an introductory course and most of the students had no previous experience. I explained to her how poorly I had done in high school French and that’s why I was starting at the beginning. At one point she warned me I was resting on my previous knowledge and that next semester I would be working my ass off.

My fondest memories of that class were 2 jokes I was able to make in French. at first, she thought I didn’t understand the question but then I said, “That was my attempt at a French pun.”

She asked in French, “Comment trouvez-vous la musique rock?” Which loosely translates, “What do you think of rock music?” But a more direct translation is, “How do you find rock music?” In the sense, “How do you find” is like do you find it too loud, too annoying, too cool, etc? I replied, “Je le cherche dans ma chambre.” Which translates, “I look for it in my room.” I said that because that’s where I kept my record collection. She thought I didn’t understand the question. I was making a joke. Once she understood I was making a joke, she told me that the French phrase for “pun” is “bon mot” which is literally “good word” or “right word”. Google translate disagrees but that’s what I learned in French class. Maybe it’s a dialect idiom.

The other phrase I was able to use in class of which I was particularly proud was we were taught the French word for frog which is “grenouille”. In a conversation about frogs, I commented spontaneously, “Ce n’est pas facile étant vert.” Which translates, “It’s not easy being green” quoting Kermit the frog. I was so proud of myself that I knew how to translate the present participle of “to be”. I also thought it was cool that my French translation of the sentence still fit the music. I’m not going to try to sing it. You should thank me for that. Anyway, I thought about trying to translate the entire song but I never got around to it.

By the way, Google translates it as “Ce n’est pas facile d’être vert.” So I thought perhaps I had remembered étant wrong and it should have been d’être. So I googled how to conjugate “to be” in French and learned that indeed étant is the present participle. If you use Google Translate on the sentence the way I remember it from French class 49 years ago “Ce n’est pas facile étant vert.” it translates it back into “It’s not easy being green.” So I guess either way works.

Late update… I found a YouTube video of singer Andrew Bird singing “It’s Not Easy Being Green” in both French and English. Here’s a brief sample of his version. He used “d’être“ and not “étant” like I did. I don’t know if he translated it himself or perhaps used Google Translate and that’s why it came out that way. Any French-speaking people out there listening please leave a comment and tell me which version you prefer. I provided the links in the description to various Google Translate and to the Andrew Bird YouTube video.

By the way, my favorite version of the song is the one done by Ray Charles, a man who has never seen green or any other color but still sings the song with great passion. There is a link in the description if you never heard it.

Although I never translated the entire Kermit the Frog song into French, in high school I spent considerable time trying to translate the words from a Beatles song from French to English. The 1965 Beatles song “Michelle” from the album “Rubber Soul” contains the lyrics…

Michelle, ma belle

These are words that go together well

My Michelle

Okay, I already knew “ma belle” translated to “my beautiful” or “my beauty.” The song then continues…

Michelle, ma belle

Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble

One day in high school I sat down with my French/English dictionary and tried to translate “Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble”. It took me about 30 minutes before I realized it translated, “These are words that go together well.” Well, literally, “Are the words that go very well together.” But you get the idea. The song has already been translated for you. If I had been any good at French, I would have recognized it immediately.

One of the problems I had when studying a foreign language was that I didn’t understand some of the technical language terms in English grammar. Things like participles, gerunds, and pluperfect stuff. Throughout grade school and high school, we didn’t get into that very much. We didn’t conjugate verbs in English. I spoke and wrote proper English because my parents were reasonably good students and high school graduates. We didn’t have any ethnic or cultural background in our family that would lead me astray from standard English. So I never bothered to learn why I spoke the way I did in English. When I went to French, I had to learn all of that grammar stuff in both English and French. Then you throw in the idea that all nouns are either masculine or feminine and there seems to be no rhyme or reason to that, I was constantly struggling to figure out the gender of inanimate objects.

I wonder how they are tendering that kind of stuff these days when gender seems to be so fluid. Can tables be both masculine and feminine? What are your pronouns table?

My college transcript reports I was awarded a “B” in the first semester of French.

My second semester French wasn’t as difficult as Mme. Chang suggested it would be. I had a little old lady for a teacher whose name escapes me. She stood about 4 feet tall and could not have weighed 90 pounds dripping wet. When she walked, she shuffled her feet reminiscent of the way Tim Conway used to play that old man in sketches on the old Carol Burnett show. She was a very easy teacher. I wasn’t so much relying on my previous high school experience in French as I was that the class was simply easy. It wasn’t tough at all.

I distinctly remember that I took the class in the evenings at the downtown campus because when my dad came to pick me up one night, he had the hold open the door at Cavanaugh Hall for some little old lady who was too frail to push the door open. I told him, “That was my teacher.” He was amazed she could get around the building at all.

As part of French class, we were supposed to spend time in the language lab listening to tapes. That would’ve made me stay very late at the downtown campus. You could bring them a blank cassette tape and they would speed copy the lessons onto your tape at double speed. When you played them back, they came out normal. I persuaded them to allow me to use the tape copies to fulfill my requirements. The guy in the lab checked off my name and gave me credit for picking up the tape copies but I don’t think I ever listened to a single one of them.

One of the things this second-semester teacher praised me for was my excellent pronunciation which in her opinion was the best in the class. I suppose I was resting on my previous laurels in that regard. My transcript says I was awarded a “B”.

I remember a funny story told by a gal in my second or third-semester French class. I can’t remember which. For one summer during high school, she participated in a foreign student exchange program where she went and lived with a French-speaking family in Canada and a French-speaking student came to America in an exchange. It was an opportunity to immerse herself in a French-speaking culture. She said it was quite an enjoyable experience. Although it was in Canada, the family spoke French consistently.

On the eve of her departure, they prepared a lavish dinner as a farewell gesture. At the end of the meal, she leaned back in her chair, patted her stomach, and declared “je plein” which was her way of saying, “I’m full.” The entire family was shocked and began talking so rapidly that she couldn’t understand a word they were saying. She didn’t realize that using that particular way of saying that your belly was full was an idiom for saying, “I’m pregnant.” They thought she was making some big announcement with a smile on her face like it was something to be proud of. After being responsible for the girl’s well-being they were terrified she had gotten herself into trouble on their watch. She eventually learned that the proper phrase under those circumstances was “Je suis satisfait” which translates more directly as “I’m satisfied or “I’m sated”.

Hearing that story made suffering through those French classes worth it. It’s one of my strongest memories from my college days.

Finally, in my third semester, my luck ran out. According to my transcript, the class was called “2nd Year Conv Comp & Reading 1 FREN F203”. I’m not sure what “Conv Comp” meant. Perhaps conversation and composition. I just remember it was mostly reading short stories in French.

We had a professor named Dr. Burke who was a former Jesuit priest. He had lived and worked in France for many years. He was the most arrogant, pain in the ass, stickler for perfection I’ve ever met. Although I was top of the class in pronunciation in my second semester, he thought my pronunciation was absolutely horrible. He corrected me constantly.

He also had a horrible reputation with female students. Legend said he always picked one girl in the class who he would berate viciously. It was as though he was determined to get her to cry on a regular basis until she would eventually drop the class. Someone said they kept a stack of forms in the foreign language department that were already filled out to drop out of or transfer from Dr. Burke’s class. There was further speculation that “gender female” was already checked on those forms. That is the extent to which he had a horrible reputation with female students.

I was maintaining a “D” average on the homework and quizzes. I absolutely had to pass the class to graduate. At one point about two-thirds of the way through the semester, I stopped by his office. I told him, “You and I both know I’m not any good at this class and I have no motivation to get better. But I absolutely have to pass to get my degree. I show up every day. I do the work. I put in minimal effort. You are giving me ‘D’s consistently. Can you promise me that if I continue to show up to every class, do every assignment, and produce work at the same horribly substandard level that I have been doing you will give me a ‘D’ for my final grade?”

He said, “Yes I can promise you that.”

I thanked him. Left left his office. I continued to perform terribly in his class and was awarded my promised ‘D’. The class wasn’t that terrible. I did enjoy a couple of the French short stories we read. When it was all done, I was glad to be done with foreign language once and for all after 2 years of high school and 3 semesters of college French.

I still barely know anything of French. Occasionally when someone is speaking French on TV such as the recent season of the Darrell Dixon Walking Dead series I can pick up a word or two. In hindsight, I wish I had taken Spanish because my neighborhood and my church have a growing Hispanic population. We have mixed English and Spanish services at St. Gabriel now.

According to my transcript, the other first-semester class I took was “Principles of Sociology SOC S161”. It was in that class that I met one of the best friends I ever had. A guy named Mike Gregory. Next week’s episode will be a tribute to my dear friend who sadly is no longer with us.

If you find this podcast educational, entertaining, enlightening, or even inspiring, consider sponsoring me on Patreon for just $5 per month. You will get early access to the podcast and other exclusive content. Although I have some financial struggles, I’m not really in this for money. Still, every little bit helps.

Many thanks to my financial supporters. Your support pays for the writing seminar I attend and other things. But most of all it shows how much you care and appreciate what I’m doing. Your support means more to me than words can express.

Even if you cannot provide financial support. Please, please, please post the links and share this podcast on social media so that I can grow my audience. I just want more people to be able to hear my stories.

All of my back episodes are available and I encourage you to check them out if you’re new to this podcast. If you have any comments, questions, or other feedback please feel free to comment on any of the platforms where you find this podcast. Again, I am especially interested in people who speak French and can weigh in on some of the translations in his podcast.

I will see you next week as we continue contemplating life. Until then, fly safe.

Contemplating Life – Episode 43 – “Getting into College”

In this episode, I begin a series of episodes about my college days working towards a degree in computer science at IUPUI. This week we talk about getting into college. Not just being accepted but getting in the building in a wheelchair which wasn’t exactly easy.

Links of Interest

Support us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/contemplatinglife
Where to listen to this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/contemplatinglife
YouTube playlist of this and all other episodes: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFFRYfZfNjHL8bFCmGDOBvEiRbzUiiHpq

YouTube Version

Shooting Script

Hi, this is Chris Young. Welcome to episode 43 of Contemplating Life.

In a previous series of episodes, I described my school experiences from kindergarten through high school attending a special education school as well as my neighborhood high school. Now it’s time to go to college.

I’ve mentioned many times that I attended IUPUI but if you aren’t from central Indiana you’re probably saying, “What the hell is that?”

The acronym stands for Indiana University–Purdue University at Indianapolis. So it is a combination of the two largest state-supported universities in Indiana. Or I guess I should say, “It was…”. Earlier this year, IU and Purdue had a bit of a falling out and they dissolved the partnership. Let’s talk about the parent schools for a second.

Indiana University has its primary campus in Bloomington Indiana a little over an hour’s drive south of Indianapolis. There are several satellite campuses around the state, the largest being in Indianapolis. In addition to the liberal arts programs at a downtown campus, the IU Law School, School of Medicine, and School of Nursing are based in Indianapolis.

Purdue University is in West Lafayette about halfway between Indianapolis and Chicago. Purdue has an excellent agricultural research program but is more famous for its science and engineering programs, especially aerospace. A total of 25 astronauts have attended Purdue University including Neil Armstrong and Gene Cernan – the first and last men to walk on the moon. The Indianapolis extension consisted of just two buildings on 38th St. across from the Indiana State Fairgrounds.

In 1969 these two Indianapolis extensions were combined into a single institution known as “Indiana University–Purdue University at Indianapolis”. At the time it held the distinction of being the longest-named university in the United States – a record now held by “California Polytechnic State University San Luis Obispo”. Even the acronym IUPUI is a mouthful. At one point early in its history, people referred to it as “oo-ee-poo-ee” apparently an attempt to pronounce “IUI” followed by “PUI”.

Over the years, new science and engineering buildings were constructed at the downtown campus and the Purdue programs on 38th St. were moved to the new buildings downtown. That move occurred after I graduated.

IUPUI is often described as a “commuter college” in that very few students live on campus. Most live in their own homes or apartments somewhere in the city and attend classes by driving to school. IUPUI is a university full of parking spaces and not dormitories. The term “commuter college” should not be construed to imply it’s a “community college.” It is a renowned institution of higher learning with distinguished alumni of its own. It supports vibrant research programs in a variety of fields.

It saddens me every school I ever attended has been dissolved. Indianapolis Public Schools #97 James E. Roberts School for the Handicapped was closed in 1986 and eventually turned into an apartment building. Northwest High School was converted into a junior high school. Most of the classes I attended at IUPUI were at the 38th St. campus because that’s where the Purdue programs were located. New buildings were constructed at the downtown campus and everything was moved there. The 38th St. buildings were torn down and are now used as overflow parking for the Indiana State Fairgrounds. And now that the merger between IUI and PUI has been dissolved, Even IUPUI no longer exists.

I’m not sure who got what in the divorce between the two institutions or how that works on a practical level. Even though I attended something called IUPUI, my diploma says “Purdue University Awarded at Indiana University Purdue University at Indianapolis.” So I got a Purdue degree not an IUPUI degree.

To get a degree in the school of science like I did, you are required to take some liberal arts courses to make you a well-rounded individual and not just a science nerd. I took classes like US history, French, psychology, and sociology at the downtown campus. My science and math classes were on 38th St. So my question is, if I’m getting a Purdue degree at the new Purdue at Indianapolis, does Purdue offer liberal arts classes that duplicate those offered by Indiana University at Indianapolis? Obviously, if you were in West Lafayette at Purdue, they would have liberal arts. It looks to me like the split is going to be more expensive if Purdue is duplicating all of those classes here in Indianapolis when they are being offered across the street at an IUI building.

Late update… After writing the script I found an FAQ that explains more details about which programs are moving where. You will be able to transfer credits between the two institutions and Purdue students can take IU classes and vice versa. I put links in the description.

Anyway, enough rambling about the institutions. Let’s talk about my experiences there.

IUPUI was my only practical choice. I couldn’t imagine living on campus and having to deal with hiring caregivers. I wasn’t used to being away from home. I would live at home and commute like most people.

At Northwest High School I took the PSAT test my junior year but I don’t remember the results. I’ve found a copy of my SAT results that I took my senior year and I got 540 verbal and 620 math. You may recall in my article “The Reunion” I found a way to somewhat cheat on an IQ test because the test was designed so that the answers on one side of the page lined up with the answers on the other side of the page. The designers of the PSAT and SAT were smarter than that so I had to take the tests legitimately. But I certainly had my eye open for that opportunity.

The Indiana Department of Vocational Rehabilitation also known as VocRehab paid for my tuition. The application process wasn’t very involved. I have heard stories of kids with Duchenne muscular dystrophy being denied help from their state rehab agency because they felt the kid wouldn’t live very long. As I previously mentioned, most kids with DMD barely make it into their mid-20s. But there were no such concerns expressed about my potential lifespan or lack thereof.

I applied to IUPUI with nothing but my grade transcript which was about a B average and my SAT scores. In those days colleges and universities didn’t require things like a written essay and I don’t think that at state schools like IU and Purdue even today. That’s just for prestigious private schools. State schools just are not very picky about admissions. I was confident I would be accepted so when I got my acceptance letter naturally I was very happy but it wasn’t one of those jump up and down screaming moments you see on YouTube. I guess I never really thought about what I would do if I wasn’t accepted.

My only other options would be private colleges such as Butler University or Marion College. VocRehab will only pay state school tuition rates. You can go to a private school but you have to make up the difference. I don’t think my family could have afforded that.

Sometime during the summer, I met with a guidance counselor at IUPUI who was a math professor. We picked out my first semester classes. I wanted a degree in computer science which at the time did not yet exist at IUPUI. But there were promises that one would be established in about a year. So initially, I was considered a math major which was a big mistake. I wasn’t going to be taking any programming classes my first semester. That caused major problems later on.

I took a college-level algebra class because I wasn’t confident in my algebra skills from high school. For a school of science degree, this course was considered a remedial course and I would not get Math credit for it. I said that’s okay. I still needed the course before I tried to tackle calculus. Once I was in the class, I realized it was much easier than I expected and I easily got an A.

I really liked the teacher. One time he called on me and asked me if I got the right answer on a particular problem. I said, “I probably did.” He replied, “This is not a probability class. You either got the right answer or you didn’t.” That cracked me up along with the entire class. He followed up saying, “Commit to your answers. Even if you are wrong you will learn something. But don’t give me this wishy-washy I might be right.” That was a good lesson to remember.

I took physics and a creative writing class. There must’ve been one or two other classes but I don’t recall what they were.

The writing class was a bit of a joke. The assignments were strange. The TA they had teaching it was a strange guy. After about three weeks he announced that three people would be leaving the class because they had taken the test to test out. He did not offer the option to test out to anyone who didn’t get an A on the first assignment. What I did not know was I could’ve taken a writing test over the summer and skipped the class entirely. There would be another option to take the test two-thirds of the way through the semester. I got A’s on all of my following assignments and he let me take the test which I passed. I got to skip the last third of the semester.

For the first semester or perhaps two, Mom drove me back and forth each day. Eventually, we persuaded VocRehab to pay for transportation. A wheelchair van service called CareVan would pick me up in the late morning and drive me to the 38th St. campus. I would have classes in the afternoon and early evening and then they would bring me home at the end of the day.

Getting accepted to college was relatively easy. Getting into college… That is getting into the buildings and getting around… That was a different story.

The 38th St. campus consisted of two buildings separated by Coliseum Avenue. That is the street that runs perpendicular to 38th St. and leads into the main entrance of the Fairgrounds. To the west was the Krannert Building or K-building which consisted of classrooms, labs, and offices. To the east of Coliseum Avenue was the Administration Building or A-building which housed administration offices, the library, a large architectural classroom set up with lots of drafting tables, and a couple of other small classrooms in the basement. It also housed the computer center.

On Coliseum Avenue there was a Burger Chef fast food restaurant between the two buildings. The back half of the Burger Chef also contained some offices for the psychology department but I never went inside the psych building in four years.

I’ve had a difficult time trying to find photos of these buildings which were torn down years ago. The YouTube version of today’s podcast includes a couple of photos and a map I created that shows where in the parking lot that exists today, the buildings were originally located.

The K-building was three stories tall plus a basement however the first floor wasn’t ground-level. It was up a half flight of stairs. The only way into the building by wheelchair was through the loading dock. There was a long, well-built wheelchair ramp leading up to the loading platform. Then you would get on a freight elevator to go down to the basement. From there I would transfer to the passenger elevator to access the three main floors. The freight elevator had large manually operated doors that slid up and down. Then a grill door that you would slide manually to the side. There was no way I could operate the elevator on my own.

They gave me my own keys which would call the freight elevator if it wasn’t at the dock. However, if it was in the basement and they left the door open, whoever was with me would have to go into the building, go down to the basement, close the elevator doors manually, and bring it up to the loading dock.

Inside the building, the passenger elevator was a regular fully automated passenger elevator. But to call the elevator, you had to have keys. Once you were inside, you just pushed the button to choose which of the three floors or basement you wanted to go to. My dad took a long half-inch diameter dowel rod and mounted the key on the end of it. With great difficulty, I could sometimes get the key in and turn it by myself. But then I had to get it back out again by the time the doors opened, drive into the elevator, and then use the stick’s other end to push the button. Sometimes I would have trouble getting the key out in the elevator would come and go before I could get in.

I soon gave up on that plan and just carried the keys on a keychain. I would get someone walking by to insert the key and turn it for me. Initially, I didn’t have them wait around. When the elevator arrived, I would go in and push the button with my stick. Unfortunately, one day I got on the elevator, dropped the stick, and could not push the buttons. I had to wait until someone else such as a staff member called the elevator so I could get out. After that incident, whenever I asked someone to call the elevator for me. I would have them wait until it arrived, reach in, and push the button for me. They didn’t need to ride with me. Just push the button and I could get out on my own. People were very generous with their help and oftentimes I had friends with me who could do it.

We didn’t have a cafeteria with food service. We just had a big lunch room with tables and chairs and a small room filled with vending machines. You could get horrible microwave pizza or a stale ham sandwich. I decided to pack a lunch. My favorite choice was mom’s famous tuna salad sandwiches but I had no way to refrigerate it. By the time I got around to eating the sandwich, the mayonnaise would separate and the oil would soak into the bread making it a soggy mess. It’s a wonder I didn’t get food poisoning from stale mayonnaise.

As I mentioned, there was a Burger Chef between the two buildings. Occasionally we would get someone to make a run over to the place and bring back food. I think it wasn’t until my third year that they established an “Office of Handicapped Student Services” and they would have a volunteer who would run to Burger Chef for me and a half dozen other disabled students. Burger Chef gave them a printed notepad with the menu on it like the ones that the people behind the counter used to take orders. So we would just check off what we wanted and someone went take it over there and hand it to them. Of course, that didn’t ensure that they got the order right every time.

The K-building also had a rather large recreational room with pinball machines, pool tables, a foosball table, and other tables that were often used for chess games. I drew up a sketch of a spring-loaded pool cue that I was going to have Dad build but we never got around to it. I don’t think it would have worked anyway.

My friend Rich and I would play pinball together. I could pull up my wheelchair and push the left flipper button and he would push the right one.

Access to the A-building was also via a loading dock. The ramp was a little bit scarier and you had to drive your wheelchair very close to the edge of the loading dock to get onto the elevator. There was no railing and it would’ve been easy to drive your wheelchair off the edge of the loading dock and plunging about 2 and a half feet down. The elevator was one of those freight elevators that came up out of the floor through folding doors. A very loud alarm bell would ring all the way up. It was almost deafening to ride the elevator up to the loading dock from the basement with that bell ringing and bouncing around the metal walls of the elevator. My fraternity would take people up and down on the elevator blindfolded as part of their hazing ritual. More on my frat experience in later episodes. Again this elevator had manually operated sliding grates for doors. Not only were the doors manually operated, you had to hold the pushbutton continuously to make it work.

Once inside the basement, you could take another regular automatic passenger elevator up to the first floor where the computer room was on the second floor where the library was. As I mentioned previously, I didn’t take a computer class my first semester so I didn’t have much opportunity or need to go across the street to the A-Building. By the time I did need to frequently go to the computer center, they had rebuilt the ramp, extended the loading dock, and added a safety railing.

The computer center housed 2 of the 3 available computers. An IBM 360/44 and an IBM 1620. More about them in a later episode. There were also about half a dozen 026 and 029 keypunch machines to type your programs on punch cards. Although I occasionally used these machines, most of the time I used a third computer which was housed at the downtown campus. There was a row of about a dozen teletype machines in the computer room and 2 CRT terminals available for connecting to the downtown machine.

I didn’t always have to go across the street to access the teletypes. There were also 2 teletypes in the K-building hidden away. One was hidden in a locked closet under a stairway. My friend Mike knew how to Jimmy the lock to get it open. You didn’t have to pick the lock. You just had to slide a credit card between the door and the doorjamb and push back the latch. Once you were inside, people presumed you had permission to be there and didn’t question you.

The other teletype machine was in a small room called the “Calculation Lab”. It housed several very expensive mechanical adding machines including ones that would do multiplication and division completely mechanically. They made a terrible racket when they ran. There was also a very sophisticated programmable electronic adding machine that could be programmed by sliding magnetic striped cards through a slot. Keep in mind, that this was years before the personal computer had been invented.

All of the teletypes were classic ASR 33 teletypes. The one in the Calculations Lab had a paper tape punch machine on the side. It was identical to the one that my friend Dennis had carried down the stairs at Northwest High School for me to use to run programs. We previously talked about the fact that this was the equipment that Bill Gates used to write his first commercial product, a BASIC interpreter program.

All the teletypes were connected via phone lines to a Digital Equipment Corporation DEC-System 10 computer downtown in the Student Union Building. Although I didn’t have any computer classes my first semester, I knew people who did. They would loan me their Project-Programmer Number or PPN as it was called and password to log in. If you are old enough to remember the CompuServe online network you had a PPN to log in to their service. That’s because CompuServe ran on DEC-10 computers as well.

We would play a variety of text-based computer games. The most popular were a submarine warfare game and a Star Trek game. See the links in the description for more info about the Star Trek game.

I wrote a small program in the BASIC language to print out the words of “The 12 Days of Christmas”. I only typed in the words to each day one time, then it would go through a series of nested loops to print out the words to each verse adding a line each time. Every time it typed the phrase “five golden rings” it would ring the bell on the teletype machine five times. The teletype typed so slowly that you could almost sing the song as it was typing out the words and keep in time.

Even though I didn’t have any computing classes during my first semester, it was a great experience. I made some good friends who we will talk about in future episodes.

Next week, we will talk more about my second and third semesters. Third semester I spent at the downtown campus picking up several liberal arts classes. I had quite an adventure there.

If you find this podcast educational, entertaining, enlightening, or even inspiring, consider sponsoring me on Patreon for just $5 per month. You will get early access to the podcast and other exclusive content. Although I have some financial struggles, I’m not really in this for money. Still, every little bit helps.

Many thanks to my financial supporters. Your support pays for the writing seminar I attend and other things. But most of all it shows how much you care and appreciate what I’m doing. Your support means more to me than words can express.

Even if you cannot provide financial support. Please, please, please post the links and share this podcast on social media so that I can grow my audience. I just want more people to be able to hear my stories.

All of my back episodes are available and I encourage you to check them out if you’re new to this podcast. If you have any comments, questions, or other feedback please feel free to comment on any of the platforms where you find this podcast.

I will see you next week as we continue contemplating life. Until then, fly safe.

Contemplating Life – Episode 42 – “The Priest, the Nun, and the Miracle”

In this episode, I conclude a series of episodes about my life of ministry in my local Catholic Church. I discuss the struggles I had with our new inexperienced pastor in my experience of a miracle worthy of canonization of a saint.

Links of Interest

Support us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/contemplatinglife
Where to listen to this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/contemplatinglife
YouTube playlist of this and all other episodes: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFFRYfZfNjHL8bFCmGDOBvEiRbzUiiHpq

YouTube version

Shooting Script

Hi, this is Chris Young. Welcome to episode 42 of Contemplating Life.

This week I’ll continue with more stories of my many years of volunteer ministry for Saint Gabriel Catholic Church. This week we discuss the challenge of adjusting to a new pastor and my experience of a miracle.

Standard disclaimers: I’m not trying to evangelize or preach to anyone. I’m just telling my stories. Also, this is my best recollection of events from over 20 years ago. I may have some of the details wrong or out of sequence but this is what I remember… the way I remember it. I believe I served briefly on the Board of Education. They not only covered the management of the school but the CCD Sunday school program as well as RCIA and other adult education programs. Naturally, my interest was in RCIA and adult education.

The biggest transition after leaving the finance committee was that we had a new pastor. A relatively young priest named Father Bill Marks was assigned to St. Gabriel. He was a tall, blonde, handsome man who somewhat resembled a young Robert Redford.

Let me talk about clergy assignments for a moment.

In my earlier faith series of episodes, I talked about getting private tutorship from Father Paul Rehart at St. Christopher Parrish when I was about six years old. He was the youngest of 3 priests assigned to that parish. While having three clergy in one parish was rare, the standard was 2. There would be an experienced priest assigned as pastor and a young priest newly ordained as an associate pastor. One typically did not get to be a pastor until they had served a considerable time as an associate.

As I was growing up in St. Gabriel we always had 2 priests. When I returned to the church in my late 20s we also had 2. Father Paul Landwerlen was the pastor and Father Conrad Camberon was the associate. Father Conrad was eventually moved and assigned as pastor of another parish but I don’t remember which one. We then had Msgr. Fred Easton lived at our parish rectory and celebrated mass but his regular job was as the Judicial Vicar of the Archdiocese. He didn’t have any other duties at the parish except to celebrate the sacraments.

The Catholic Church as a whole is suffering from a severe lack of new priests so the days when you could have 2 or 3 per parish are long gone. These days, one priest might have to serve multiple parishes.

As our story approaches the turn of the century, that shortage is just beginning to be felt. Father Bill Marks had only briefly served as an associate pastor before being assigned full pastor at St. Gabriel. Having Father Bill assigned as pastor so early in his career was quite unusual.

Having listened to Father Paul Landwerelen preach for a decade, I was looking forward to someone with a new perspective. I got something new all right but it wasn’t anything I could use. Father Bill would tell stories that we knew could not have happened to him and he would tell them as if he was the originator of the story. He would say something like, “I was on a flight to Chicago this week to visit my family and…” he would describe an encounter with a famous person. The likelihood that he would encounter such a person on a flight from Indianapolis to Chicago was near zero. I’ve heard that there are magazines that clergy can subscribe to that contain articles and anecdotes that you can use for a homily. But the idea behind it is that you’re supposed to stand up there and say, “I read this article with an inspiring story I want to relate to you.” Instead, he was taking these articles and making himself the center of the story.

Sometimes it was an old joke that I’d heard many times before but rather than say, “Did you hear the one about the guy…” Again he would tell the story as if it had happened to him.

There were other instances in which his duplicitous nature caused me great trouble.

In addition to our weekly bulletin that was printed and distributed after Mass each Sunday, we had a monthly newsletter with feature articles about the activities in the parish. Sometimes it was a thank you article from a parishioner whose spiritual needs have been met perhaps during the loss of a loved one or an extended illness in which parishioners helped out.

There was a woman who came to my RCIA class who converted to Catholicism and wanted to get involved. She went to Father Bill and said that she wanted to be the editor of the monthly newsletter. He suggested she form a small working committee and come up with a proposal on how to revamp the newsletter and make it more useful. She put countless hours into that committee putting together a proposal. Just before she was ready to present it to him, I had a conversation with him and learned that he was going to cancel the monthly newsletter. I later ran into the woman and said something like, “I guess your newsletter ideas didn’t go anywhere. I’m sorry to hear that.”

She said, “What!?”

I told her I had heard the newsletter was being shut down. She was furious. She had not yet presented her proposal to Father Bill. She was livid that her work was for nothing and was dead on arrival. She ended up leaving St. Gabriel and I don’t know but I think she may have left the Catholic Church completely.

There were also major changes he made in the staff. Many of them affected my friend Judy who was the parish secretary and bookkeeper. Under Father Paul, Judy had a great deal of responsibility. In any other parish, I think someone with her responsibilities would have had the title “business manager” which many parishes had. Saint Monica parish had a man named Jim Welter who I greatly admired. His title was business manager and pastoral associate. A pastoral associate is someone who is a priest but deals with many of the spiritual needs of the parish. It’s the kind of thing that an associate pastor used to do. Our pastoral associate was Sister Timothy Kavanaugh. I think that the titles business manager and pastoral associate could have fit Judy considering the work she was doing. I had often been disappointed that Father Paul had not given her a title that more closely reflected what she was doing.

But Father Bill was offended that a lowly secretary was running the parish. The clashes between Judy and this new inexperienced pastor are not mine to tell. I only mention these things here because they so deeply affected me. It hurt me personally that someone who had dedicated so much of her life above and beyond her job description to work for the parish was being so devalued. She eventually resigned and took a position as an administrative assistant at the Church Federation of Greater Indianapolis. I continued to work with her as her favorite computer consultant for several years in that position.

Judy wasn’t the only staff person who was driven out. We had a part-time staff person named Joan who served as Youth Ministry Coordinator. He redefined her job description such that the position required a college degree. She didn’t have one so it was his backdoor way of firing her. When she filed for unemployment, he contested it in court. He said she was free to apply for the new position of course ignoring the fact that he knew she wasn’t qualified under his new standards.

He went into court with his priestly collar on and testified that he didn’t fire her and therefore she didn’t deserve unemployment. The judge practically laughed in his face and ruled against him. When a man of his position testifies under oath to something with his hand on the Bible and the judge rules against him it says a lot about the kind of person he is.

The obvious fabrications from the pulpit, his disrespect for the staff, and his manipulation of volunteers created an atmosphere where it was impossible to respect anything that he said or to receive any sort of spiritual direction from him.

All of the incidents I’ve described and others I haven’t described affected other people. They were people I cared about but they didn’t affect me directly. I kept telling myself he hadn’t done anything to me personally so I shouldn’t react too strongly. But it was becoming more and more difficult to stay involved in the parish I loved.

It came time for the parish to buy a new computer. I consulted with him and others on what they should purchase. I don’t recall the details of the controversy that arose around that purchase. It all boiled down to the question, “Had the computer been ordered or not?” I was told that it had been and had made major preparations to get it set up and configured. I think I recall we were in a time crunch. Again I don’t remember all of the details but I remember having to make a lot of arrangements that turned out to be unnecessary because the new machine had not yet been ordered.

When I confronted him about it, he argued over the sentence, “It has been ordered.” He argued over the meaning of the word “has” which reminded me of Bill Clinton. Clinton had made a statement under oath during a deposition in the sexual harassment civil trial which came out in public after the Lewinsky scandal. Clinton famously said, “It depends on what your definition of the word ‘is’ is.” Clinton was so duplicitous and chose his words so carefully that he could argue over the meaning of the word “is”.

The idea that my pastor, a man of the cloth, and an ordained priest of God in the Holy Roman Catholic Church could be a deceptive, manipulative, bender of words similar to William Jefferson Clinton completely destroyed any hope that I could work with the man in the future.

I tried repeatedly to get an appointment with him to discuss some church business and he kept blowing me off. When I finally did get to sit down with him, he admitted he was avoiding me because he knew how disgruntled I had become. I told him he was making value judgments. I did have important things to discuss with him. After discussing them, I gave him an earful. I told him that I was done working in any administrative capacity.

I told him I couldn’t keep up with his lies and cover for him when he got caught. The only way to avoid that was to avoid having to deal with him at all. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not something he told me was going to burst someone’s bubble and drive them away from the church when they discovered they couldn’t trust the priest.

I did spend some time crunching budget numbers for the school because the principal there, a wonderful woman named Barbara Shuey, knew my skills as a number cruncher and respected me.

I would keep teaching RCIA because it meant I didn’t have to deal with Father Bill directly. By the way, Father Paul used to teach all but about 8 weeks of the classes throughout the year. RCIA was a high priority for him. I would teach 4 or 5 lessons. A retired history professor from our parish would do two weeks on church history and Sister Timothy would do a lesson on prayer. Father Paul would do nearly 20 lessons to fill out the course. In contrast, we were lucky to get Father Bill to teach 4 or 5 lessons all year. It just wasn’t his priority. So I could continue to do nothing for the church but teach and avoid having to deal directly with him.

I would go to Mass on Sunday and sit through his lies from the pulpit and hate every minute of it. I seriously considered moving to a different parish. St. Christopher in Speedway and St. Michael’s on 30th St. are almost the same distance from my house in St. Gabriel. The problem was, that I attended Mass with my mother, and although she was aware of everything that was going on and disturbed by it, I don’t believe she would change parishes. As upset as she was about the situation, she was in the mode where I had been in that he hadn’t done anything to her personally.

Both my mother and I were devoted to the church and our parish. It wasn’t like we had to be good friends with the pastor as we had been with Father Paul. But there are limits to what we can tolerate.

I also had to consider what kind of message it would send to my students if I wasn’t attending Mass at Saint Gabriel. Here I am saying, “Come join this Church but I can’t stand being here so I’m going elsewhere.” I didn’t know was there would be a teaching opportunity for me at St. Christopher or St. Michael.

As I was dealing with all of this, we had an outside guest speaker come to RCIA. It was a nun from the Sisters of Providence St. Mary of the Woods. They are an order of religious sisters based out of Terre Haute Indiana about 70 miles west of Indianapolis. Their special ministry was as teachers. They had been providing teachers to Catholic schools around central Indiana for over a century. They founded and ran St. Mary of the Woods College. It was an all-girls institution again focused on training educators whether they were vowed religious sisters or not. I had attended a couple of weekend seminars there and it was a very nice facility.

This sister, I’m sorry I forgot her name, was giving a talk about the founder of their order Mother Théodore Guérin who had recently been beatified by Pope John Paul II. This is the final step before becoming canonized as an official Saint of the Catholic Church. The speaker was the nun who was in charge of the program to try to get their matriarch declared a saint.

Mother Guérin was born Anne-Thérèse Guérin in France in 1798. She entered the convent in 1823 and took the name Sister Saint Theodore. In 1840, at the request of the Bishop of Vincennes Indiana, a group of sisters from France led by Sister Theodore came to Vincennes to found a school and convent and to assist with the influx of Catholic immigrants to the area. In those days, Vincennes was the capital of Indiana. This was before the founding of Indianapolis and its establishment as the state capital.

They arrived in the small village known as St. Mary of the Woods and in a small log cabin founded a convent and school that later grew into the institution it is today. Sister Theodore was their Mother Superior.

Apparently, Mother Guérin was quite a character. She was known to hang out in town and engage in intellectual debates with the movers and shakers of the community discussing religion, politics, philosophy, or whatever topic and she could hold her own with the best of them.

Although she was there at the invitation of the Bishop, he tried to micromanage her and interfere in the way that she ran the convent and the school. When she returned to France briefly on a fundraising mission, he tried to hold an election in her absence to have her replaced as Mother Superior. She was unanimously elected to retain the post by her community.

At one point, she was so upset with the interference from the Bishop that she wrote a letter to the Bishop of Detroit and asked if he would sponsor their move to his area. He wrote back rejecting the request and told her to stay faithful and that God would provide. After that, the Bishop of Vincennes never interfered with her again. Probably the Detroit Bishop wrote him a nasty letter telling him to stay the hell out of her way and let her run her convent or he would end up losing them altogether.

Mother Théodore Guérin died in 1856 at age 57.

Under the rules of the Church, one cannot be considered for sainthood until 50 years after their death although there have been exceptions made. In 1907, a process was begun to have her considered for canonization as a saint. To be declared a saint, one has to have two miracles attributed to them. The first was in 1908. One of the sisters in her community had breast cancer and other medical issues including an abdominal tumor and a neurological problem that affected the use of her arms. One evening she prayed at the crypt of Mother Théodore Guérin not for herself but for another sister who was ill. The next day, she regained the use of her arms, her abdominal pain disappeared, the cancer never spread and she lived into her 80s. They never said what happened to the woman she was actually praying for. Let’s hope she recovered as well.

Once you have one miracle attributed to you, can be “beatified” which is a step along the way to becoming a saint. The sister who visited us talked about going to Rome for the beatification ceremony and how beautiful it was. After beatification, you earned the title “Blessed”.

I was greatly inspired by the story of this amazing woman who dedicated her life to God and to education. She also had clashes with clergy that nearly drove her away from her ministry as a teacher. I could identify with that situation. My primary ministry for the church was as a teacher and I was worried that my troublesome clergy was going to make it impossible for me to continue that ministry just as it had happened with Mother Guérin.

That night I went home and prayed to Blessed Mother Théodore Guérin. I told her, “You know what it’s like to try to teach the Word of God under the authority of a troublesome member of the clergy. Yet you persisted and succeeded. Mother Théodore… give me the strength to endure this challenge the way that you endured your challenges.”

The following week it was my turn to teach. Throughout the lesson, I kept thinking that this might be the last time I would teach for Saint Gabriel and perhaps the last time I would teach forever if I could not find a position in another parish.

When I returned home from class that night, my mom had a huge smile on her face. “I’ve got some juicy gossip for you.”

“What is it?”

“Father Paul heard that they are moving Father Bill to a new parish. He will be leaving in just a few months.”

Thank you Blessed Mother Théodore Guérin. All I asked for was the strength to endure. I would never have had the gall to pray that the man goes away. But that prayer was answered. He was leaving my life for good. I could continue to serve my parish as I had been doing for many years.

I don’t recall exactly how long Father Bill was assigned to our parish but I think it was under two years.

We would be getting a new pastor. With new challenges. Like all priests in my life, I had some serious disagreements. But things were much much better after that.

Overall, I taught RCIA classes for 31 straight years.

I wrote a letter to the sister from St. Mary of the Woods who had come to our parish to tell us about Blessed Mother Théodore Guérin. I told her how untenable things had become under my pastor. And how I had prayed to Mother Guérin not for a solution to my problem but for the strength to endure it. And I told her that my troublesome pastor was leaving. I said I didn’t know if it was the kind of thing that would count as the second miracle to get her matriarch canonized but I had no doubts whatsoever that I had my own personal miracle through the intercession of Blessed Mother Théodore Guérin.

The cause for canonization finally succeeded.

The second miracle occurred in January 2001 when a maintenance man who worked at the college wandered into the chapel attracted by sacred music. He was suffering from an eye condition that was going to require surgery. He prayed that the crypt of Mother Guérin and awoke the next day to find that his vision was much clearer. He no longer needed complicated eye surgery and doctors were at a loss to explain how his condition resolved itself.

She was canonized as Saint Theodora Guérin in 2006 and at the time was only the third American Saint.

Father Bill was assigned a new parish in southeastern Indiana just across the border from Cincinnati. I pray from time to time that he is doing well and is growing in experience as a priest and a pastor.

I could continue to talk about my work under our next pastor but I think it’s time to take a break from the religious topics. I know not all of my audience is that interested in this area of my stories. Next week, we go to college. I will talk about my nine semesters at IUPUI earning a BS degree in computer science and I will probably follow up with the two years I was employed as a computer programmer starting with my eighth semester in college.

If you find this podcast educational, entertaining, enlightening, or even inspiring, consider sponsoring me on Patreon for just $5 per month. You will get early access to the podcast and other exclusive content. Although I have some financial struggles, I’m not really in this for money. Still, every little bit helps.

Many thanks to my financial supporters. Your support pays for the writing seminar I attend and other things. But most of all it shows how much you care and appreciate what I’m doing. Your support means more to me than words can express.

Even if you cannot provide financial support. Please, please, please post the links and share this podcast on social media so that I can grow my audience. I just want more people to be able to hear my stories.

All of my back episodes are available and I encourage you to check them out if you’re new to this podcast. If you have any comments, questions, or other feedback please feel free to comment on any of the platforms where you find this podcast.

I will see you next week as we continue contemplating life. Until then, fly safe.

Contemplating Life – Episode 41 – “Agreeing to Disagree”

In this episode, I continue a series of episodes about my life of ministry in my local Catholic Church. I discuss more work on the church finance committee and talk about my relationship with my pastor and good friend Father Paul Landwerlen.

Links of Interest

Support us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/contemplatinglife
Where to listen to this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/contemplatinglife
YouTube playlist of this and all other episodes: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFFRYfZfNjHL8bFCmGDOBvEiRbzUiiHpq

YouTube Version

Shooting Script

Correction to this episode: I mentioned that Father Paul would be 95 in January. Actually he is 95 now and will be 96 in January. Also I said he retired at age 70. Actually he was pastor until 70 but was appointed as administrator of St. Vincent Depaul Parish on an annual basis until he was 85. He is currently the oldest serving priest in the Archdiocese of Indianapolis.

Hi, this is Chris Young. Welcome to episode 41 of Contemplating Life.

This week I’ll continue with more stories of my many years of volunteer ministry for Saint Gabriel Catholic Church continuing with stories from my eight years serving on the finance committee and later on the Parish Pastoral Council.

Standard disclaimers: I’m not trying to evangelize or preach to anyone. I’m just telling my stories. Also, this is my best recollection of events from over 30 years ago. I may have some of the details wrong or out of sequence but this is what I remember… the way I remember it.

As you’ve seen in these past few episodes, the work on the finance committee at Saint Gabriel was intense but it built a camaraderie among us. We worked hard but we had a good time as well often joking around with one another. One of my fondest memories was a discussion in which we were trying to decide how much to increase a particular line item. Should it be 10% or 11%? I don’t recall if it was me or a committee member named Julie who suggested 11% was a better number. Someone asked why. Julie and I looked at each other and grinned and simultaneously said, “Because it’s 1 more.” And then we both burst into laughter hysterically at the reference to the classic film “Spinal Tap”. Neither of us had any idea that we were fans of the movie before that day. The other committee members looked at us like we were crazy and wanted to know what was so funny. We said, “Spinal Tap.” They still had no idea what we were talking about. By the way, if you don’t know what I’m talking about, I included a YouTube clip in the description.

We also very much enjoyed our December meeting because that was our annual Christmas party. We would dispense with our business as quickly as possible then bring out the snacks, turn on the Christmas music, open a bottle of wine, and have a really good time. Larry, the chairman of the committee, always brought a really great cheese ball made by his wife. Somehow that started a tradition that the chairman brought the cheese ball. When I was the chairman, they liked my mom’s recipe almost as well as the one made by Larry’s wife.

As much fun as we had, there were still times when controversies arose and differences had to be worked out.

The Parish Pastoral Council was governed by a set of bylaws. We loosely followed the normal parliamentary procedure of making a motion, having a second, and discussion followed by a vote. The strange thing was that we had to find what we called “consensus”. The theological theory was that God has a plan for us and it’s our job to prayerfully discern that plan and implement it. And there can be no division among us. So consensus in essence meant a unanimous vote on everything. If we are really guided by the Holy Spirit there can be no division among us. The Holy Spirit guides each of us differently so maybe that one dissenting voice has the right answer.

In practice, what we said was, “You don’t have to totally agree with it 100%. But you have to be able to live with it.” Council members were strongly encouraged to sort of go with the flow and side with the majority. I’m not saying rubberstamp whatever we brought in. You could raise objections and often people did. The bottom line was that one individual had the power to block, veto, or essentially filibuster anything.

On one occasion, when I was the finance chairman there was a guy named John on the pastoral Council. John was the finance chairman before me so we had worked together for a couple of years. We were pretty good friends. He objected to the budget which sort of pissed me off because he knew the kind of work that had gone into it having been in our position before. We spent the entire evening listening to his objections, trying to understand his concerns, and to address them. The evening ended with an impasse. We were all sent home to pray over it and come back again in a week.

The finance committee met in a special meeting a few days later to see if we could come up with a proposal that would address John’s concerns. I made a little speech which got me in some hot water. I really screwed it up. I intended to speak in John’s defense but I started out really poorly. I really regretted it. Rather than starting out saying, “I want to defend John but…” instead I said, “I want to say a few things about John. I like the guy but he can be a real pain in the ass…”

Before I could finish my sentence, Father Paul tried to stop me. I insisted on continuing and said, “But I’m not here to criticize him. I’m here to empathize in support him. I’m a pain in the ass also. As much as he frustrates me. I have to defend him because I want the right to be the same kind of pain in the ass as he is.”

When we came back for the second meeting, John didn’t show up. The budget passed through consensus without him. I don’t recall if we made adjustments or if it passed in its original form. He later explained he wasn’t happy with it. But he could live with it. And that was the definition of consensus. You had to be able to live with it.

As I mentioned previously, the chairman of the finance committee automatically had a seat on the parish council as part of their job. Somewhere along the way, they amended the bylaws and said the chairman of the finance committee could not participate in the consensus on budget issues. The finance chairman was otherwise allowed to participate in consensus on non-budgetary matters just like any other council member. They thought that the finance chairman would be biased in favor of the budget that they had worked so hard to present. I was always proud of the work we did but I recognize that we serve at the pleasure of the Council.

I was offended by the idea even before I was the chairman. Did that mean that a school board representative also should not participate because the school budget was on the line? That was a big, big line item. Or what if you represented the maintenance committee? Did they not also have a vested interest in the budget? Even if you’re a member at large and didn’t have a specific role on the Council, everyone there had their own priorities.

My concern was, why would you exclude this veto power from the one person in the room who was the most knowledgeable about the budget? If the Council voted to change the budget in a way that could be significantly detrimental to the financial status of the parish, the chairman of the finance committee would be the one person in the room who would be most likely to know that and to raise concerns about it. The idea that their opinion should not count in the final consensus seemed completely idiotic to me.

After I was no longer on the finance committee but was serving on the parish council for other reasons, I tried to get them to reverse that policy but I was unsuccessful.

I want to conclude this series were some comments about my dear friend Father Paul Landwerlen who was our pastor throughout this time. I’ve mentioned him several times in this series and in my previous faith series in which I talked about my return to the church after a nearly 9-year absence.

Father Paul and I had a great working relationship and I always felt that he respected me and I deeply respect him to this day. But we both got on each other’s nerves on several occasions as you’ve already seen.

One time there was controversy about someone on the school staff doing some bad paperwork on finances. There wasn’t anything nefarious going on. Nobody was dipping into the till. It’s just the record-keeping sucked. Everything didn’t always balance. It was just a procedural problem.

Father met with the person in question to try to work things out but he took John, who was the finance chairperson at the time, with him. Word got out about the meeting. Several school people came to various finance members and asked, “Why is the finance committee involved in a private personnel matter?” Most of us on the committee had no idea what was going on. We didn’t even know about the meeting. At the next finance meeting several of us complained why we were out of the loop on this issue. Father explained it was a staff issue and had nothing to do with our committee. Father seemed upset that we were making a big deal out of this. In his mind, it was none of our business. John simply said, “Father asked me to be there so I went.” I wasn’t upset with him. He was just doing what the boss asked.

So I asked Father, “Then why did you take John our chairman to the meeting with you? He is the public face of the committee. When you take him to a meeting you’re taking this committee. Sure he knows our procedures and was probably a useful resource in straightening things out. Still, either this was a private internal manner that should not have involved anyone from the committee, especially the chairman who everyone sees as the representative of the committee, or it was the work of the committee. We all needed to be at least aware of what was going on and not hear it secondhand and get the 3rd° from people what to know why we’re meddling.”

As I was speaking, Father had a nasty scowl on his face because I was continuing to complain about something he didn’t want to discuss any further. When I finished, his expression changed. He sort of raised his eyebrows and then cracked a grin. Finally, he said, “Uhh… you’re right. Now I get it. He is the public face of the finance committee. Now I get it. I probably should not have gotten him involved.”

“That satisfies me,” I said. The rest of the committee seemed satisfied as well. One of the other committee members, a woman named Betty, used to pick me up at my house in my van to go to the meeting and take me home afterward. After the meeting that night when she brought me home, she gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, “I’ve never felt closer to you than I did tonight.” She was glad I raised a stink.

The point of the story though is not that I had this great victory in a disagreement with Father Paul. It was that most of the time, if not always, Father really listened to what I and others said when we complained. We didn’t win them all. I’m sure that I and many others frustrated the hell out of him on occasion. And he frustrated the hell out of me. But he would listen when you pinned him down and if you could make a good argument, you could win one now and then. That’s why I love the man so much. I didn’t need to win every argument but I needed to know that my opinion mattered and it did matter to him.

I’ve mentioned before that I taught classes for our RCIA inquiry program for new converts. Father trusted me with that responsibility. I would also attend most of the classes that he taught and afterward, the RCIA team which consisted of Father, me, Judy, my mother, and Sister Timothy would go out to Denny’s after class for a late-night cup of coffee and some snacks. On the evening as we didn’t go out to Denny’s we would generally hang out at church for a while to talk about how the class went or just socialize.

It was on those occasions after class Father and I would have our share of theological debates as well. You may recall way back in Episode 6, I had been asking priests tricky theological questions since I was six years old so I guess this was just an extension of that.

A lot of it had to do with the nature of miracles in the relationship between religion and science. Science fiction author Arthur C. Clarke famously said, “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” The same is true for theological miracles that seem magical. It might just be science we don’t understand it. We would debate the nature of miracles.

One time we had a debate about the “Star Trek The Next Generation” episode “Who Watches the Watchers?” season 3 episode 4. We watched that episode together.

The most interesting part of the discussions was the time that I speculatively asked him one time, “What if someday they scientifically proved that Jesus rose from the dead by a completely explainable scientific method? Theologically, Jesus was fully human and completely suppressed his divinity while here on earth so he could fully embrace the human condition as an example for us. Theoretically, anything that Jesus did, if we had strong enough faith we could do as well.

And because we are told that someday we will rise as well, what if science proved that under the proper circumstances, any of us could rise from the dead by the same method that Jesus used?” My point was that I think it would not diminish its miraculous nature. Just because there is a scientific explanation, does not for me mean that God is not involved. For me, science is the mechanism by which God does everything. Science is the study of the things God did.

Father’s response was, ”If you scientifically proved how the resurrection worked, I would hang up my collar and walk away.” I guess he needs his miracles to be mysterious in order to be miraculous.

Father and I spent other social time together over the years. Sometimes we would hang out at Judy’s and watch football or movies. We would often gather at her house on Good Friday and re-watch “Jesus Christ Superstar” over and over every year. He would celebrate Christmas Eve at our house for many years and would visit us at our lakeside cabin in Brown County about an hour south of here.

But sadly, all good things come to an end. Priests are typically appointed to serve at a particular parish for a term of six years and most of the time that is extended for another six years. It is quite common to rotate them to a new place after that. He served at St. Gabriel from the summer of 1982 until the summer of 1996 so he exceeded the typical 12-year term.

There were people in the parish who disliked him greatly. It eventually reached the point where it was apparent that he needed to move on and we needed fresh blood. As much as I was going to miss him and as much as I admired and respected him, I also had the sense that he had taught me everything that he could teach me. I needed a fresh perspective if I was going to continue to grow spiritually. The Archbishop assigned him to St. Vincent Depaul Parish in Shelbyville about 45 minutes southeast of here. He served there for many years and then took the mandatory retirement at age 70. In January, he will celebrate his 95th birthday and is still going strong.

Because there is a severe shortage of priests, he serves as a substitute priest in parishes all over the Archdiocese so he is still celebrating Mass in front of some congregation almost every Sunday even though he doesn’t have any administrative duties any longer.

Overall Father Paul Landwerlen is a great spiritual director and a great pastor, and he remains a good friend to this day. I’m very blessed to have him in my life.

We were assigned a new priest who was quite young. It was his first assignment as pastor. Next week we will talk about that experience and how it nearly drove me away from Saint Gabriel Parish. On the bright side, I will tell the story of how I experienced what I believe to be a genuine miracle worthy of the canonization of a saint.

If you find this podcast educational, entertaining, enlightening, or even inspiring, consider sponsoring me on Patreon for just $5 per month. You will get early access to the podcast and other exclusive content. Although I have some financial struggles, I’m not really in this for money. Still, every little bit helps.

Many thanks to my financial supporters. Your support pays for the writing seminar I attend and other things. But most of all it shows how much you care and appreciate what I’m doing. Your support means more to me than words can express.

Even if you cannot provide financial support. Please, please, please post the links and share this podcast on social media so that I can grow my audience. I just want more people to be able to hear my stories.

All of my back episodes are available and I encourage you to check them out if you’re new to this podcast. If you have any comments, questions, or other feedback please feel free to comment on any of the platforms where you find this podcast.

I will see you next week as we continue contemplating life. Until then, fly safe.

Contemplating Life – Episode 40 – “The Prophet and the Sugar Daddy”

In this episode, I continue a series of episodes about my life of ministry in my local Catholic Church. We talk about the struggles of maintaining a budget in a Catholic parish in the various strategies we used to meet those challenges.

Links of Interest

Support us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/contemplatinglife
Where to listen to this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/contemplatinglife
YouTube playlist of this and all other episodes: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFFRYfZfNjHL8bFCmGDOBvEiRbzUiiHpq

YouTube Version

Shooting Script

Hi, this is Chris Young. Welcome to episode 40 of Contemplating Life.

This week I will continue my story of my many years of volunteer ministry for Saint Gabriel Church continuing with stories from my eight years serving on the finance committee.

Standard disclaimers: I’m not trying to evangelize or preach to anyone. I’m just telling my stories. Also, this is my best recollection of events from 40 years ago. I may have some of the details wrong or out of sequence but this is what I remember… the way I remember it.

It’s difficult to remember what happened in what order when you’re talking about things nearly 40 years ago. This week I have two different stories and I don’t recall when these events occurred or what order. Some of it could’ve been before events I’ve already described in previous episodes. I don’t remember the order of these two separate stories I want to tell this week.

Like last week’s episode, it’s a bit of a best-of-times and worst-of-times story. Let’s get the bad one out of the way first and try to end on a high note.

As I mentioned a couple of episodes ago, the plan to reinstate tuition for Catholic families was not well received but it did solve our immediate budget crisis and saved us from having to close the school.

Although tithing had worked wonders for us initially, there was a certain percentage of the population that just wouldn’t buy into it so the dramatic increases we had experienced tended to flatten out. I don’t think many people gave up on tithing but we just weren’t getting new converts.

There was pressure to do more fundraising. My belief was that any fundraising we did should be for particular projects and not for ordinary operating expenses. Part of the promise of tithing was that we wouldn’t do other fundraising. That promise eventually faded away. The school wanted to further subsidize its income and started something called “Market Day” where you could order frozen food from some service. They would deliver it to the school and you could pick it up once a month. They also sold trash bags after Mass. School volunteers handled all of the logistics of these programs.

I was a bit uncomfortable with it. I seem to recall Jesus got pretty pissed one time about all of the people selling things in the temple and he threw them out. At least this just took place in the school cafeteria and not the actual church sanctuary. All of this was mostly harmless but I would’ve preferred people do their shopping at the store probably at better prices and put the savings in the collection plate. But I didn’t feel strongly enough to raise a stink about it.

I did raise a stink about other things.

I was very upset about how aggressively we pushed people to increase their financial pledges. The standard philosophy of fundraising is that you put your efforts into the big donors because they are the only ones who are going to make or break your budget. You do a minor amount of effort courting smaller donors because they are not going to help anyway. That might work for some big fundraising organizations like a United Way agency where your corporate sponsors are your bread-and-butter and the five-dollar donors help a little. Or perhaps if you are trying to raise big dollars for a capital campaign I can see that is an appropriate strategy. It’s one we used many years later for capital campaigns when we raised money to renovate the church. More on that in future episodes.

But when it came to ordinary income in the Sunday collection, I STRONGLY objected to pushing the large donors and ignoring the little guys. The reason was, our big donors were already tithing. If we kept coming at them more and more, all we were going to do was alienate them.

I wanted to focus on the people who were not tithing. We would have people get up at Mass and give a witness talk about how using tithing and putting God first in their finances had really helped them. I wanted to see everyone have those benefits. We were supposed to be preaching Gospel values and not just fundraising.

I got so emotionally caught up in the arguments over fundraising philosophy that I nearly had a nervous breakdown. The politics and greed were too much for me. I needed to get back to more spiritually-based activities. I signed up to go back on the team for Christ Renews His Parish renewal retreat for a second time.

One of the lessons that I used to teach in my inquiry classes was about the Old Testament prophets. They weren’t just about predicting the future. Their primary responsibility was to be God’s spokesperson and to call people back to God when they went astray. They were almost always persecuted for that. I felt like I was being called to be a prophet. People needed to understand that we were drifting away from spiritually-based fundraising. I was failing at that job and I felt like I was being persecuted for my views.

My entire personality was changing. I was becoming extremely withdrawn and shutting people out. I was bitter and angry all the time. I knew that I was withdrawing. I knew that that was bad for me. I knew it was bad for the people around me. And I didn’t care. I was just too depressed.

The definition of a mortal sin is when you do something wrong, you know it is wrong, and you do it anyway. It also has to be a serious offense. I don’t think going into a deep emotional withdrawal in a self-destructive way necessarily rose to the level of mortal sin. I didn’t steal money or kill anybody or anything. But I certainly was aware that what I was doing was self-destructive and I didn’t care and I did it anyway. So it’s the closest I’ve ever come to a mortal sin.

The thing that brought me out of the self-destructive cycle was when I realized it was hurting the people around me. I was cutting myself off, isolating myself, and pushing people away. I thought about the end of the classic Pink Floyd album “The Wall”. It’s a semiautobiographical story by Roger Waters about how he shut the world out. The final song called “Outside the Wall” goes…

All alone or in twos, the ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand. And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and the artists make their stand.
And when they’ve given you their all, some stagger and fall.
After all, it’s not easy banging your heart against some mad bugger’s wall.

I could see people pounding on my wall trying to pull me out of that situation. And so I had to drag myself out. Like Roger Waters, I had to tear down the wall.

I suddenly realized that if I was in such a personal mess, I really didn’t have anything to give as a member of another CRHP renewal team. I had signed up for the wrong reasons. On the evening that I was supposed to be at a team meeting discerning what job I would take on in the team, I didn’t go to the meeting. Instead, I tracked down Monsignor Fred and I went to confession.

After confession, I joined the team meeting late and told them I was withdrawing from the team. I explained that I joined for all the wrong reasons and that I needed to take care of my personal demons before I could have anything to give of myself to the team or the people who would come to our renewal.

The team was understanding. Father Paul… not so much so. He was a bit upset with me. They barely had enough people to form the team. Without me, they were going to be a man short and someone would have to double up on duties. Trust me, if I had stayed… They still would’ve been a man short. I was not in a state where I could contribute in a positive way. My first trip through the renewal program was emotionally and physically draining on me. I never would’ve made it through a second one.

Eventually, I simply resigned myself to the idea that I wasn’t getting through to the people I wanted to. I was powerless to do anything about it. They were making mistakes and they were going to have to deal with the consequences. It was going to be difficult not to say, “I told you so” when the strategy failed or backfired. I just kept thinking of how the prophets felt when they preached and no one listened to them. How sad it must’ve been to see the people they loved fail to heed warnings. There’s no pleasure in being right under such circumstances.

The policies I opposed did ultimately fail. There was negative backlash as I predicted. I took no pleasure in being right.

So, I think that was the lowest point in my many years of ministry. But there were other successes to celebrate. Here’s another story about the finance committee that’s a little more upbeat.

One day the finance committee was meeting on a Saturday afternoon to stuff envelopes for financial statements. It was that complicated procedure I described a couple of episodes ago where we had to send different letters to different groups of people based on whether or not they were a school family and whether or not they had met their pledge. While we were doing it we brainstormed about strategies for solving our financial difficulties.

As I explained a couple of episodes ago, my best efforts to project our income were unsuccessful. Trying to figure out how much money we could spend in a given year was a challenge we weren’t meeting. One of our members, a very dedicated and gregarious guy named Tom, said, “What we need is a sugar daddy who will come along and give us one year’s worth of income. Then we would know how much money we had to spend that year. The following year, we would have banked all of our income and we would know how much we had to spend for the following year.” Unfortunately, none of us knew any filthy rich people who could do that. Our annual ordinary income in those days needed to be about $600,000 per year.

It was several days later thinking about Tom’s proposal that I realized how brilliant it was. He had the right strategy but he overcomplicated the solution.

We didn’t need a sugar daddy to kickstart the process.

The core of the idea that Tom proposed was to base this year’s expenses on last year’s income. All we had to do was project a 0% increase. We could still do that. It would be tough the first year because we had been counting on those increases. But if we held the line and counted on a 0% increase, we could build the budget on that. We were already basing school budgets on the 12-month rolling average ending February 28. Let’s take that number with no projected increase and use it as our income for the following year.

There’s an old adage, I’m not sure if it’s actually in Scripture or not, but it goes, “Don’t tempt God to perform a miracle.” That’s what we were doing when we proposed budgets with income increases. Let’s say for example our rolling average through February was $600,000. That’s the amount of money that God gave us during a 12-month period. So that must be how much he expects us to spend during 12 months. So use that as the income figure for the following fiscal year. If by chance, we get more than that, wonderful. Spend it next year. The only problem will happen if our income decreases and if it does, we make some midyear adjustments to expenses. We were doing that anyway when we didn’t meet our targeted income.

I really liked the idea because it was theologically based and I thought I could sell Father Paul on it. That’s what he liked about tithing. It wasn’t purely a fundraising strategy. Tithing is a theological principle based on the idea that everything you have comes from God and you give back 10% in gratitude. My plan says it’s sacrilegious to say, “We don’t have enough money.” God gives you everything you need. So if the budget didn’t balance, it’s something we’re doing wrong. You can’t say, “We don’t have enough.” That’s saying, “God didn’t take care of us.”

So that means either our spending priorities were wrong or we weren’t working hard enough to explain to people the value they were receiving for their donations. It was our fault that the budget didn’t work– not God’s.

The committee bought my idea. Tom was a strong supporter because it was really his proposal, to begin with. I just had the insight that we didn’t need a rich person to kickstart the program.

For the last couple of years that I was on the finance committee, that was the principle that we used going forward. No projected increase in income. If it goes up, spend it next year.

There was a catch… One that I didn’t see. But fortunately, it was a catch in our favor.

I hate to bog you down with numbers especially since these are hypothetical and I don’t remember the real figures but I don’t know any other way to explain the hidden positive consequence of this plan.

Let’s say that our running income from 1985 was $600,000. We base our 1986 budget on that amount. Now presume it goes up $10,000. So in 1986 we actually took in $610,000 instead of the $600,000 the year before. So we base our 1987 budget on $610,000. Let’s say that in 1987, the income went up another 10K so our 1988 budget is based on $620,000.

In 1986 we spent 600,000 but took in 610,000. In 1987 we spent 610,000 but took in 620,000. We end up with $10,000 extra in the bank each time the income goes up. The original idea was, “If it goes up… we’ll spend it next year.” But we didn’t. We kept basing next year’s expenses on this year’s income and I didn’t realize we would be banking that extra money.

Probably what we should have done when it went up by $10,000 in 1986, Our 1987 budget should have been $620,000. That is the $610,000 that we expected to continue to get plus the $10,000 windfall that we got through the grace of God.

When the money finally started getting significant, and we realized we had this extra cash lying around we began to use it for some long overdue maintenance projects. We started talking about our capital needs. We formed a special committee. I think it was called something like the “capital planning committee” or something like that. Their goal was to look at all of our big-budget capital needs and try to prioritize them. As I mentioned previously, there were maintenance projects that had been deferred year after year and we were only doing the bare minimum.

Windows needed to be repaired and replaced. The parking lot needed resealed and restriped. My mother came up with an idea for remodeling part of one of the downstairs restrooms into a handicapped restroom. All of these projects were funded out of this unspent increase which was an unforeseen side effect of our zero increase budgeting.

The only problem would come if we reached a year if our income decreased year-over-year. So it probably would’ve been a good idea to keep a little of that cash in reserve especially if that income graph flattened out too much. Because we were keeping a 12-month running total continuously, I think we would have seen it starting to flatten out and could’ve held back some of that windfall in the event that it did actually decrease.

So Tom had a brilliant idea. We needed a sugar daddy.

It turns out we had one all along.

His name was Jesus.

Next week we will continue telling stories of my days serving on my parish finance committee.

If you find this podcast educational, entertaining, enlightening, or even inspiring, consider sponsoring me on Patreon for just $5 per month. You will get early access to the podcast and any other benefits I might come up with down the road. Although I have some financial struggles, I’m not really in this for money. Still, every little bit helps.

Many thanks to my financial supporters. Your support pays for the writing seminar I attend and other things. But most of all it shows how much you care and appreciate what I’m doing. Your support means more to me than words can express.

Even if you cannot provide financial support. Please, please, please post the links and share this podcast on social media so that I can grow my audience.

All of my back episodes are available and I encourage you to check them out if you’re new to this podcast. If you have any comments, questions, or other feedback please feel free to comment on any of the platforms where you find this podcast.

I will see you next week as we continue contemplating life. Until then, fly safe

Contemplating Life – Episode 39 – “Nothing But the Blood of Jesus”

In this episode, I continue a series of episodes about my life of ministry in my local Catholic Church. We talk about the struggles of maintaining a budget in a Catholic parish in the various strategies we used to meet those challenges.

Links of Interest

Support us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/contemplatinglife
Where to listen to this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/contemplatinglife
YouTube playlist of this and all other episodes: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFFRYfZfNjHL8bFCmGDOBvEiRbzUiiHpq

YouTube Version

Shooting Script

Hi, this is Chris Young. Welcome to episode 39 of Contemplating Life.

This week I will continue my story of my many years of volunteer ministry for Saint Gabriel Church.

Standard disclaimers: I’m not trying to evangelize or preach to anyone. I’m just telling my stories. Also, this is my best recollection of events from 40 years ago. I may have some of the details wrong or out of sequence but this is what I remember the way I remember it. Now on with the story…

As I mentioned before, some of my volunteer activities for the church, especially regarding my computing skills, were before I made the decision to return to the church. In previous episodes, I chronicled how I drifted away from the church and what brought me back. Once I was back attending mass regularly and attempting to grow spiritually and deal with my remaining doubts, volunteering for the church became a huge part of that process.

One of the first spiritual growth opportunities I availed myself was attending the Christ Renews His Parish weekend retreat. We used the acronym CRHP but pronounced it “chirp”. The goal of that program is not only to renew spiritually but to motivate you to become actively involved in the church. After attending the weekend retreat, you begin attending a series of weekly meetings of discernment and formation. You try to discern what role you will play in the parish or as we called it “What is your ministry?” Although it isn’t mandatory, nearly everyone who goes through the process begins forming a team that will present the program to a new group of parishioners six months later.

I someday may do an episode about that experience but for now, I just bring it up to explain that the program worked on me because I felt a very strong motivation to become as involved in the parish as I possibly could. Of course, much of this was an extension of my sense of volunteerism which we have discussed extensively. It’s just that now I was spending my volunteer time for the church and not for other secular activities.

I believe it was about a year or so after I returned to the church that there was a vacancy on the Finance Committee and I lobbied hard to fill it. I was already heavily involved in the finance of the parish because I was helping train people how to use spreadsheets and accounting software. I was very happy when I received an appointment to the committee.

The committee consisted of about six or seven people. The chairman of the committee automatically was appointed to the Parish Council. We also had a Board of Education and they had a representative on the Finance Committee as well. Our pastor, Father Paul attended every meeting. The parish bookkeeper also attended as part of their job.

Shortly before I joined the committee, my friend Judy was hired as the parish bookkeeper. She was the one who had invited me to the Easter Vigil service which led me on my journey back to the church. Judy and I spent countless hours together working on budgets for many years.

The church and the entire archdiocese operated on a fiscal year that ran from July 1 through June 30. This was convenient because the largest item in the budget was our subsidy to our parish elementary school. They had a budget of their own that they prepared. Having the fiscal year start and stop in the summer worked well with the school year schedule.

One of the problems with the system was that we had these two entities – the church and the school, preparing budgets that were dependent upon one another. It was a question of who went first. Did the parish need to hear from the school how much money it needed as a subsidy? Or did the school need to know how much money the parish was going to give it? The parish could not determine what it could afford until it made its overall budget.

There was also a great tension between those who supported the school as being absolutely essential to our parish life versus those who thought that the school represented the tail wagging the dog. There was resentment that the school took too much of our resources that could’ve been used for other ministries. And there was resentment on the other side that not everyone felt that the school was our top priority.

Our pastor, Father Paul, hated having to stand in the pulpit and beg for money. That wasn’t what the pulpit was for. It was for preaching the Word of God. Then he heard about the program which promoted tithing. As I mentioned in a previous episode, that was the scripturally based principle that everything you have is a gift from God, and in thanksgiving for that blessing, you give 10% back to the church. Even if you have financial troubles of your own, we encourage people to put God first in their finances. You were encouraged to take a leap of faith. If 10% was completely out of the question, pick a percentage of your income as close to 10% as you could manage and stick to it.

Father brought in a priest from somewhere else that had already implemented the tithing program. He preached every Mass to start the process and then Father took it from there.

After the program had been running, he would recruit ordinary parishioners to speak at Mass to give witness testimony about how tithing and putting God first in their finances had worked wonders for them.

It did work. We worked on both the parish and the personal level.

Our parishioners told inspiring true stories of how putting God first in their finances had reaped its rewards in their lives. People who were facing serious financial difficulties took a leap of faith, adopted tithing, and saw many blessings come their way.

We saw a significant increase in our Sunday income. I think it was a combination of Father Paul preaching tithing and the renewed dedication of parishioners who had attended the CHRP program. At one point, we were able to put a much-needed new roof on the school at a cost of about $90,000 without having to add to our mortgage.

Because we were seeing steady increases in our income, we couldn’t resist the temptation to count on those increases. We would prepare our expense budget and then see how much money we needed to cover that. If it required an 8, 9, or 10% increase in our income, it was easier to just plug that number as a goal on the income side and hope that tithing and Parish renewal continued to produce those results.

Our finances were in such solid shape for a few years that we completely eliminated school tuition for active Catholic families. By the way, on several occasions, I’ve talked about tuition for active Catholic families. We also had a good number of students whose families paid full tuition because they were not Catholic at all. They just wanted their kids to go to a quality private school. Or perhaps they were inactive Catholics who were willing to pay full price.

About the second or third year of our tithing program, I did an extensive analysis of our income trends. I created a graph showing our 12-month rolling average of contributions. We had to use rolling averages in all of our estimates because our contributions were seasonal. People tended to give more during the winter months especially right before the end of the tax year and they gave less during the summer because they were often gone on vacation or not motivated to contribute when school was out.

My projections showed a clear trend of growth of approximately 10% per year. For once, we did the budget the way you’re supposed to. We made a credible estimate of our income and then built an expense budget based on it. This was in contrast to the previous way in which we computed our expenses and then plugged in a magic number to cover that and hoped and prayed we could meet that income target.

When we presented the budget to the parish council, many of the members were skeptical that we could meet such a goal. I tried to explain to them, supported by my graphs and spreadsheets, that for once we had done it the right way. When a council member named Craig questioned the projected income I tried to explain that if they wanted us to lower that projection, we would have to redo the budget to keep it a balance. That’s what I said. But I concluded with, “If that’s not our income number the budget won’t balance.”

Craig became irate and accused us of picking a number out of thin air just to make the budget balance. That’s what we had been doing for years. The one year that we didn’t do that, we got accused of doing that.

I don’t recall if they ended up accepting our projections or if we had to go back to the drawing board and recompute the budget based on a smaller number. What I do recall distinctly was that the projections that I had spent countless hours producing did not come true. The big bump that we had gained by introducing tithing had run its course. The inflation of the late 70s was putting pressure on everyone’s finances. Those who had brought into the concept of tithing were remaining faithful to it but we were getting no new converts to the concept. Almost immediately after approving the budget, that graph of the 12-month rolling average income began to flatten out.

So, if our income did not continue to grow at the rate it was growing, we would have to make cuts to expenses. But where? There was very little in our budget that was discretionary. The problem was similar to the problems faced by government budgets and I suppose any other large entity. A huge percentage of our expenses are fixed. Clergy salaries were set by the archdiocese. We had to pay other staff a reasonable wage. Healthcare costs seemed to go up disproportionately to everything else. Utilities, mortgage, and ordinary maintenance were fixed costs. Much of our maintenance had to be deferred which of course would be more costly down the road.

One of the few things that was discretionary was the liturgy budget. My mother was the chairman of the liturgy committee for about 10 years. The budget included the cost of sacramental bread and wine, flowers and decorations for the sanctuary, cleaning, and occasional replacement of vestments and robes used by the priest and altar servers. So we could do less decoration of the church for various seasons, and have fewer banners, flowers, or other displays. But our services would have been much less meaningful and enjoyable.

There is a hymn titled “Nothing but the Blood of Jesus” the theme of which is that that’s what’s necessary for salvation. Mom warned them that that was going to be our theme song if the budget cuts went too deep. The only thing we would have in the liturgy budget would be the bread and wine.

I wrote a bit of a parody…

Budget time is here again
Nothing but the Blood of Jesus
What to cut, what to leave in?
But the Blood of Jesus
Everything has to go
‘cause
Your line item must go
Nothing but the Blood of Jesus.

I put a link to a Carrie Underwood version of the song. She does much better than me.

The problem was, that taking 10 or 20% out of the liturgy budget, which was only a few percent of the overall budget to begin with, wasn’t going to solve our financial problems. But it would have a dramatic, visible effect on our celebrations each Sunday. She rightly objected to having to make drastic cuts in her small budget that weren’t going to help our overall financial stability.

To deal with the crisis, we put together a special committee consisting of three members of the Parish Council, three members of the Finance Committee, and three members of the Board of Education. We had several meetings which I recall were a bit contentious, to say the least. The solution came at a meeting of the special committee around my dining room table. I don’t recall why we were meeting at my house rather than at church. I can only speculate that perhaps there was a nasty snowstorm that would’ve made it difficult for me to get out. So to accommodate me, we met here. But I don’t really remember what the reason was.

It was the chair of the school board, a wonderfully dedicated woman named Kathy who is a friend to this day, who brought in a proposal. We would have to resume charging Catholic families tuition to send their kids to school. We had eliminated the tuition when we first brought in tithing. But that just wasn’t sufficient anymore. The only other viable alternative would be to close the school.

To further attempt to put things on firmer financial grounds, we made a commitment that the school subsidy would be a percentage of our parish income. That would ease the tension that the school was consuming all activity and income from the parish. I seem to recall that in our previous year, the school subsidy was 28% of our income. Like I said at the top of this episode, this was over 30 years ago and some of these details may be wrong or out of order. Anyway, everyone agreed that this was a reasonable percentage. But then came the question, 28% of what? The previous calendar year? The previous fiscal year? Although the curve had flattened out, our income was still increasing gradually.

We came up with a solution that solved one of our other budget problems which was who would make their budget first? The parish or the school? Working backward from our June 30 deadline, we concluded that we would take the 12-month rolling average income through February. Take 28% of that and guarantee it to the school. That would give them time to prepare a budget during March and April. The finance committee could meet in April and May. We would present the budget to the Council in either May or June and be ready by the June 30 deadline.

The committee approved the proposal as did the full Parish Council and School Board. Naturally, it was not well received by the school families. When you had been getting your kids a Catholic education for free and now had to pay tuition–even at a reduced rate, you can imagine the turmoil. For some, it was proved that tithing didn’t work.

I remember a few years later talking to Kathy about the years we had served together on the finance and education committees. Shared our disappointment and how poorly our hard work and difficult choices were appreciated. She said to me, “I didn’t expect them to be happy about the idea that they were going to have to begin paying tuition again. But not once did anyone express gratitude for the fact that we saved the school from folding completely.” I totally agree.

Personally, I’ve never been a fan of Catholic schools. Yet I respect that it is important to many people. They were raised in an era when it was sacrilegious if not outright sinful to not send your kids to Catholic school.

My Mom was a vocal critic of our school. She was firmly in the camp of those who thought it was an overwhelming drain on our resources and an unnecessary luxury we couldn’t afford. She felt sorry for families who felt obligated to send their kids to Catholic school when they couldn’t afford it. Private school was for rich people. Let them pay their way and not burden the parish or Less wealthy families with the cost.

I seem to recall there was one proposal that suggested we should eliminate the school subsidy completely. Let the school be financially self-supporting through tuition and then we could use church money to give scholarships to those who had financial need. I might have supported that however it really would’ve almost been a divorce between the church and the school. It would’ve made them totally separate entities. While I didn’t see the school as a top priority, I recognized that it was an important part of the overall work of our church. I think such a divorce between the church and the school would’ve had disastrous effects on the church community as a whole.

Although we survived our immediate crisis by reinstituting tuition for Catholic families, it didn’t solve all of our problems. We still needed more strategies to deal with the difficulty of projecting income in wrestling with the fact that we had many more ways than means.

Next week we will continue telling stories of my days serving on my parish finance committee.

If you find this podcast educational, entertaining, enlightening, or even inspiring, consider sponsoring me on Patreon for just $5 per month. You’ll get early access to the podcast and any other benefits I might come up with down the road. Although I have some financial struggles, I’m not really in this for money. Still, every little bit helps.

Many thanks to my financial supporters. Your support pays for the writing seminar I attend and other things. But most of all it shows how much you care and appreciate what I’m doing. Your support means more to me than words can express.

Even if you cannot provide financial support. Please, please, please post the links and share this podcast on social media so that I can grow my audience. I just want more people to hear my stories.

All of my back episodes are available and I encourage you to check them out if you’re new to this podcast. If you have any comments, questions, or other feedback please feel free to comment on any of the platforms where you find this podcast.

I will see you next week as we continue contemplating life. Until then, fly safe.

Contemplating Life – Episode 38 “A Tale of Two Ladies”

In this episode, I share the story of two relationships that I had in 1989-1990. One of them left me bitter and angry. The other one left me fulfilled and affirmed. This was originally written for the writing seminar I’m attending. I hope you enjoy it.

Links of Interest

Support us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/contemplatinglife
Where to listen to this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/contemplatinglife
YouTube playlist of this and all other episodes: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFFRYfZfNjHL8bFCmGDOBvEiRbzUiiHpq

YouTube Version

Shooting Script

Hi, this is Chris Young. Welcome to episode 38 of Contemplating Life.

This week I’m going to depart from my planned schedule for a special episode. I had been recounting my many years of ministry as a volunteer for St. Gabriel Church. I’ve also mentioned many times that I’m attending a writing seminar online with award-winning science-fiction author David Gerrold. Each week he gives us a writing exercise. Recently he suggested we write a story about a negative emotion. For the following week, we were supposed to write a story about joy in a relationship. I got behind on my homework and decided to write a two-part story to cover both of those assignments.

It somewhat relates to my current series because one of the relationships I’m about to describe was with someone I met at church. I’ve given them fictitious names but the story itself is completely true at least the way I remember events. I call it “A Tale of Two Ladies”. Apologies to Charles Dickens. I hope you enjoy it.

A Tale of Two Ladies

by
Chris Young

It was the best of relationships. It was the worst of relationships.

One left me fulfilled and affirmed. The other one left me bitter and angry.

It was 1989 and I was spending much of my time as an active volunteer in my church. Along the way, I developed several working relationships with women from my church. A few of these relationships were with women who were single or divorced and were my age. Those working relationships developed into serious friendships several of which have lasted decades to this day.

None of those relationships ever turned romantic but I had learned years ago that given my disability, it was going to take someone extraordinary if I was ever going to have romance in my life. I have learned to make the best of such friendships rather than constantly lamenting that they didn’t develop into romance. I found myself content and fulfilled by these relationships rather than being constantly depressed and disappointed over what hadn’t happened.

It was a strategy I had used throughout my life in other areas. I knew many disabled people who constantly lamented what they couldn’t do rather than trying to maximize what they could do. I’d used the same strategy in my faith journey concentrating on the parts of the faith that resonated with me and not being consumed by my doubts.

Along the way, I befriended a lonely divorcee whom we will call Sharon. At first, we would hang out in a group setting where three or four people from church would gather at her house or elsewhere. We’d play Trivial Pursuit or perhaps we would just order some pizza and sit around and talk. Eventually, we began getting together one-on-one. She would come pick me up using my wheelchair van, drive me to her house, and drive me home at the end of the evening.

I had developed a reputation as a good listener. Sharon was lonely and needed a friend. We’d met at church but we never socialized together until someone recommended we get together. It wasn’t like we had been fixed up to be a couple. But she needed a friend and I had room in my life for another one.

I liked the idea that I was valuable to people as a friend. I have to admit that even though I was okay that these relationships were friendships and not romantic, it was difficult to repeatedly hear women say things like, “I wish my boyfriend or husband was more like you.” Or “I wish I could find someone who was more like you.” It was tempting to reply, “If you’re looking for someone like me, why not me? I don’t know anyone who is more like me than me.” I never found the courage to say that.

Unlike when I was younger, I never went into a relationship with a woman with strong hopes that she might be “the one”. But I did realize that if I ever was going to have an intimate, lasting, possibly marital relationship with a woman, it would have to start out as a friendship. Let’s face it, no one looks across a crowded room, sees a severely disabled guy in a wheelchair, and says to themselves, “Wow… Someday I’m going to marry that man “ I never closed the door to the possibility that someone might be right for me and we could share our lives together but at this stage of my life, I never went into the relationship plotting to make that happen.

Sharon’s marriage had been a disaster which left deep emotional scars. Her ex-husband had a high-paying job. He saw her as a beautiful trophy wife he could show off at social and business gatherings. They had four children together. He tried to paint a picture of the perfect family. It was far from that.

She found out he was having an affair with someone at work. He acted like it was no big deal. He thought he deserved a little something on the side. He expected Sharon to be okay with it. After all, they lived in a nice house, drove nice cars, and the children were well cared for. Did she really want to throw all of that away just because he wanted something extra? Her answer was a resounding, “Yes!” She gave up that lifestyle to get rid of a cheating husband.

Although he paid child support, Indiana law does not provide for alimony. Sharon had to take a job cleaning houses in order to make ends meet.

I can’t imagine the emotional scars that she bore from that entire experience.

One evening at her house after sharing some pizza with me one-on-one, she was expressing her pain over her circumstances. She lamented her inability to move on with her life and seek out a new relationship. She said, “I just have so much difficulty talking to men. I’m too intimidated by men.” In an effort to try to help her see that things weren’t quite as bad as she thought, I said, “You don’t have any difficulty talking with me.”

“Yes,” she said, “but I don’t think of you that way.“

“What do you mean by ‘that way’?”

“Well, because you’re in a wheelchair.”

Like I said before, I never had any delusions that I was a great catch. My disability brings with it a lot of baggage and I could find no offense that someone would not want to have to deal with all of that baggage if we were in a serious relationship. Although I am capable of a physical relationship, obviously it would be much different than what one could have with an able-bodied man. But this wasn’t just about not wanting to deal with the day-to-day challenges of an inter-abled relationship. This was way beyond that. She did not see me as a real man.

I thanked her for brutal her honesty. We talked about honesty in relationships for a few minutes and then I asked her to take me home.

I never spoke to her again. I avoided eye contact with her at church and at church gatherings.

I’m not the kind of person who needs to have their ego stroked. I am quite self-confident and appreciate my value to other people and to the world. I’ve experienced rejection which is never fun but I’ve always been able to deal with it. But never in my life have I encountered anyone who so disrespected me as to emasculate me. Decades later I am still incapable of putting into words the rage and contempt that I feel for her.

In the writing seminar I’m attending, we have discussed the topics of forgiveness and redemption. We discussed how to forgive despicable people. The solution seems to be to ask the question, “What could have happened to make that person behave in such a way?” That can generate sympathy for their bad behavior. While I appreciate that she suffered significant emotional trauma in her life and I tried to be sympathetic to what she had been through, I still don’t understand how someone who had been so objectified could objectify me.

Well, I told you that story so I can tell you this one.

Fast-forward a few months to February 6, 1990. I’m riding in the back of an ambulance en route to St. Vincent Hospital ER. I have sharp pains in my abdomen from a flare-up of diverticulitis. I only recall the exact date because it happened to be a friend’s birthday and I was going to miss the opportunity to celebrate with them.

I was accompanied on the ride by a very friendly EMT we will call Mindy. We had a quite pleasant conversation which helped to distract me from my pain during the 20-minute journey. I asked how long she had been working as an EMT. I think it had only been a year or two. She began talking about her struggles as a single mother. She spoke of how her kids had been supportive of her as she studied for the job. She helped them with their homework and they would help her prepare for exams by giving her sample questions from her EMT textbooks. She also revealed that she was about to be a grandmother at age 35. Her teenage daughter was expecting a baby. I said, “I’ll turn 35 in July. It kind of freaks me out that someone my age can be a grandparent.”

She said, “How do you think I feel?” We both laughed and then I grimaced from the pain. She admitted that both she and her daughter had started motherhood a little bit too early.

I shared some details about my life story as well. I don’t recall what I said. I must have made an impression upon her. Later that day, while I was still in the ER waiting on the results of my CAT scan, she was back in the ER after dropping off another patient. She stopped by to check up on me. She said that she really enjoyed our little chat. She was frustrated that she never gets to hear how their patients turn out after she delivers them. I gave her an update on my situation which wasn’t very serious. Morphine was working wonders on my pain and I was feeling fine. Strong IV antibiotics would take care of the diverticulitis infection.

She then said, “I could get in trouble for this, but could I copy down your address and send you a card?” I said, “Sure no problem.”

I was only in the hospital for a couple of days. Soon after I returned home I received a get-well card with a really nice note from her. I returned the favor by sending her a Valentine which included a very flattering letter with the card in which I complimented her not only for her bedside manner which had made a very difficult day bearable but for the way she juggled her career and her family so successfully. I added my phone number.

This led to a series of regular lengthy phone calls from her. She would sit around the ambulance garage waiting for a run and she would pass the time talking to me. We eventually made plans to go to dinner.

We had a wonderful evening together. She was completely comfortable with the need to load me and my wheelchair in and out of my van. I had explained the procedure in advance and the fact that I couldn’t feed myself. She seemed unfazed by any of that. Keep in mind that even though we had been talking for weeks, this evening was the only time we had been together in person with the exception of that ambulance ride. It was the first time she had ever seen me in my normal situation sitting up in my wheelchair.

We had a really nice dinner and then we went back to my house and sat in my office for more conversation.

At one point, a solemn look came across her face as she stared me in the eyes and said, “You’re dangerous.”

“What?”

“You’re dangerous. You scare me.”

“How the hell am I dangerous?” I laughed, “I’m sitting here in a wheelchair and can barely move a muscle. You had to feed me dinner. How am I my dangerous?”

“You could hurt me. Not physically but emotionally. If I’m not careful, I could fall in love with you. And you could fall in love with me but I’m certain it could never work between us. Once we realized that, we would both be devastated. Hurting you like that would hurt me. So I have to be careful. Because you’re dangerous.”

In my 68 years of life, those words “you’re dangerous” are the most beautiful and affirming things that anyone, female or male, has ever said to me.

You see, neither Sharon nor Mindy felt that they could deal with the day-to-day challenges of being in an intimate relationship with someone as severely disabled as me. That’s okay. It’s tough enough that I have to deal with my disability and I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. I struggle to lead a productive and fulfilling life so I have no ill will toward anyone who understands that they are not capable of sharing those challenges with me. That’s okay.

The difference is, Sharon’s response to that reality was that she failed to see me as a real man. Her fear of men did not apply to me. She did not see me as dangerous. Mindy did see me as a real man. A man who could win her heart and break it. That made me dangerous.

I like being dangerous.

The only lasting scar I have from my experience with Sharon is that I get triggered by Pizza Hut pizza. It brings back a strong sense-memory of that night. After that, it was nothing but Domino’s pizza for me.

After my date with Mindy, we continued to talk regularly for several weeks. I had plans to attend a weekend seminar in Terre Haute about 70 miles west of here. I’d need to hire a caregiver to take care of me for the weekend. Mindy said that if I couldn’t find anyone, perhaps she could go with me. That would’ve been an interesting experience. Imagine the two of us sharing a room together with all sorts of opportunities. Danger danger danger!

I ended up hiring a home health aide who occasionally cared for my grandmother. That home health aide was happily married and we had a great professional relationship. No hanky-panky.

Eventually, my lengthy phone calls with Mindy became less frequent. I don’t think I ever had her work number or her home number. She always called me. We eventually drifted apart and I lost touch. But for that one brief shining moment when I learned I was dangerous to women, I experienced great joy and profound satisfaction knowing that Sharon was wrong about me.

If that’s not a sufficiently happy ending for you, Then I’ll add this epilogue. The confidence I gained in my relationship with Mindy and my success at flirting with her emboldened me in my next relationship with a woman. In October 1990 when Mindy was enjoying being a grandmother at the ripe young age of 35, I was losing my virginity at that age. That was something that might not have happened had I not been told I was dangerous.

-end-

So that was the story I wrote for my writers’ group. It was very well received. One of them commented, “Those were both meaningful stories… together they are POWERFUL!”. I agree. They really are connected stories. You can’t fully appreciate one without the other.

I’ve tried on several occasions to find Mindy through Google searches or Facebook searches. Her real name is similarly common. I’ve had no success. It would be nice just to touch base with her and express my thanks for her acceptance of me and tell her what happened as a result of the affirmation she gave me.

I’m not much of a “kiss and tell” kind of person so I don’t know when or if I’ll detail that other relationship I alluded to. But I do have some interesting stories I will share eventually about that third woman.

Next week, I plan to continue with other stories about my years of volunteering at St. Gabriel Church.

If you find this podcast educational, entertaining, enlightening, or even inspiring, consider sponsoring me on Patreon for just $5 per month. You will get early access to the podcast and other benefits such as exclusive access to some of my short stories. Although I have some financial struggles, I’m not really in this for money. Still, every little bit helps.

Many thanks to my financial supporters. Your support pays for the writing seminar I attend and other things. But mostly it shows how much you care and appreciate what I’m doing. Your support means more to me than words can express.

Even if you cannot provide financial support. Please, please, please post the links and share this podcast on social media so that I can grow my audience. I just want to share my stories with a larger audience.

All of my back episodes are available and I encourage you to check them out if you’re new to this podcast. If you have any comments, questions, or other feedback please feel free to comment on any of the platforms where you find this podcast.

I will see you next week as we continue contemplating life. Until then, fly safe.

Contemplating Life – Episode 37 – “Putting the Deux in the Machina”

In this episode, I begin a series of episodes about my life of ministry in my local Catholic Church. So that time was serving as the parish’s computer consultant setting up a database of parish records. I talked about the ups and downs of automating parish communications.

Links of Interest

Support us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/contemplatinglife
Where to listen to this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/contemplatinglife
YouTube playlist of this and all other episodes: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFFRYfZfNjHL8bFCmGDOBvEiRbzUiiHpq

YouTube version

Hi, this is Chris Young. Welcome to episode 37 of Contemplating Life.

Back in episodes 6, 7, and 11 through 15, I told the story of my faith journey as I grew up Catholic, left the church in my late teens, and returned in my late 20s. For over 30 years after that return, I remained extremely active in my local parish. The only reason I’m no longer active is that I simply lack the stamina to get out of the house on a regular basis and contribute my time and talent to the church. My dedication to the church hasn’t wavered much over the years.

I included the word “much” because there have been some challenging times. There were times when the work became emotionally overwhelming. I occasionally disagreed with the clergy and other volunteers about the course we should take in our ministry. There were times when I felt as though the work I did was not appreciated or understood.

I thought we would go over some of those stories in the coming episodes. As always when I discuss my faith journey, I include a disclaimer that I’m not trying to evangelize, proselytize, or convert anyone to my way of thinking or believing. I’m simply telling the stories of my experiences that I hope you will find well… As my closing remarks always say… I hope you find them educational, entertaining, enlightening, or even inspiring.

Much of my early ministry in the church revolved around my expertise as a computer programmer and systems analyst. I helped my church and others computerize their operations.

As I mentioned in that earlier series of episodes about my involvement in the Catholic Church, I began volunteering my time and talent to Saint Gabriel Church even before I decided to return to the Church.

In 1978, I had a personal computer that my dad and I had built from kit parts. I have to laugh these days when I hear someone say, “I built a PC.” What they mean is they purchased a motherboard, a CPU, a graphics card, a power supply, and a case. When I say that I built a computer in the late 1970s, I purchased circuit boards and a bag of loose parts in kit form. We had to solder integrated circuit sockets to plug the chips into as well as discrete components like resistors, capacitors, and voltage regulators.

Anyway, I drifted off topic there sorry. Make a note to self… Do a series of episodes about all the computers I’ve owned over the years.

There was a woman named Diane Something who was the parish bookkeeper. She would come over to my house once a month and enter the monthly financial report into a spreadsheet that I designed for her. I believe we were using Borland Quattro spreadsheet software. The name of that software was a joke because the leading spreadsheet at that time was a product called Lotus 1-2-3. The word “Quattro” is Italian for four. The joke was that it was one better than 123.

[Note: My bad. Quattro and Lotus didn’t come along until 16-bit systems under MS-DOS. The story I’m telling was on the 8-bit system under CP/M. It must’ve been VisiCalc or Microsoft Multiplan which I mentioned later.]

My mom heard about a program called Parish Data System or PDS for short. It was written by a Catholic programmer in Arizona in conjunction with his parish priest. It was a database program for keeping track of members. Each family had a family number and the members within the family had a member number. There were screens full of information at both of those levels that included addresses, phone numbers, and so on. It also had the ability to track financial contributions.

You could establish your own lists of keywords to assign to families or individuals. Family keywords would include things like, “school family”, “inactive”, or “out of parish” the latter being for people who attended our church but didn’t live within our boundaries.

Member keywords were usually used for the type of activities a person was involved in such as “parish council”, “board of education”, “maintenance committee, “men’s club”, “women’s club”, “Eucharistic minister”, and so on.

There were a wide variety of ready-made reports built into the system. The most useful one was called “fam-quick” which was a quick report of family information that included family name, address, and phone number. You could also print mailing labels based on keyword searches. So if you wanted to do a mailing to everyone in the men’s club, you would simply specify that keyword and it would spit out labels for everyone who had that keyword.

It also contained some rather useful Catholic-specific features most notably whether or not you had received certain sacraments and the date in which you had received them. So you might search for all children of a certain age who have not yet received First Communion and send them a mailing encouraging them to enroll their kids in sacrament preparation classes.

Someone had donated a personal computer to the parish. It was made by Zenith which was a brand name known mostly for TVs, hi-fi stereos, and other appliances. rather than computers. It was probably made by someone else and they just stuck their name on it. It had a Z80 processor and ran CP/M. It had a pair of 5.25” floppy drives. That wasn’t sufficient to run PDS. You really needed a computer with a hard drive to make good use of it.

I taught our priests how to use WordStar word processing software and I built spreadsheets using either Quattro or Microsoft Multiplan. By the way, Multiplan was the first piece of Microsoft software I ever owned. It had a feature that is still not available on Microsoft Excel or any other spreadsheet that I know of. It was three-dimensional. Microsoft Excel has the ability to have multiple pages or tabs within the same sheet. And you can reference cells or ranges of cells between pages. But Multiplan would allow you to select a range across pages. Suppose you had 12 sheets in the file, one for each month’s expenses. You could write a formula that would give you the sum of cell G32 from sheet 1 through sheet 12. If there’s a way to do that in Excel, I haven’t figured it out.

A decent personal computer with a hard drive could cost well over $2000 in those days. We then had someone make us the proverbial offer we couldn’t refuse. There was a company that would publish your weekly Sunday bulletin for you. You would send them a typed camera-ready copy by FedEx on a Monday evening. They would print your bulletin for you and FedEx it back to you by Friday afternoon. They made their money by selling ads on the back of the bulletin. If you could get a certain amount of ads sold, they would give you a free computer. I seem to recall the deal also included the Parish Data System program as part of the free bundle. That program alone was worth hundreds of dollars.

My mom told the salesman, “I’ve been lusting for a computer for our parish.” He was happy he could satisfy her lust.

The computer was a Kaypro 10. It was the second major “portable computer” mass-produced. When I say portable computer I’m not talking about a laptop. Those were still some time off. The term “portable computer” meant it folded up into a package about the size of a medium-sized suitcase. I believe the advertised it was capable of being stashed underneath an airline seat.

The first such computer was the Osborne 1 but it had a notoriously small TV screen. Adam Osborne, its inventor, sold them like hotcakes but then made the mistake of announcing more advanced versions with a better screen and a hard drive. Unfortunately, the machines were not nearly ready to ship. His sales dropped to zero because nobody wanted the old version. They were waiting for the new one.

The Kaypro II and Kaypro IV hastened the demise of Osborne Computers. They had better screens and better floppy drives. The Kaypro 10 included a 10 MB hard drive. Yes people that’s megabytes – not gigabytes. Your phone has multiple gigabytes of memory. You can get a flash drive with 256 GB of storage. But in those days, 10 MB was huge.

Whenever we got a new computer at our parish, Father Paul would give it a blessing that we would be able to use it for good purposes. I always warned him not to sprinkle holy water on it lest it short out

I helped them set up the PDS database software and put together a plan for data management. That involved choosing keywords that I thought would be useful such as those I’ve already described. This really helped them to unlock the power of a computer database beyond just printing mailing labels.

PDS report generation also had a bit of a programming language built into it so that you could create sophisticated reports. I did some pretty clever things with it over the years. Rather than just using the standard reports.

One of the limitations of the program in those days was that it would only keep track of monthly totals of contributions. It had the capability of recording donations across 9 different funds. They expected you would set up one fund for ordinary Sunday contributions and the other funds for things like capital campaigns or special fundraising drives, missionary work, etc.

I came up with a clever idea that we should create five funds one for each Sunday of the month because some months have five Sundays. That way we could keep track of weekly contributions even though the system was only designed to keep monthly totals. That still gave us 4 additional funds that we could use for other purposes like special collections or missionary work.

I had to rewrite the financial reports to take advantage of the crazy system I designed. Fortunately, the programming capabilities of the report generator were fairly sophisticated. We would mail everyone a financial statement to families a few times a year to remind them perhaps if they skipped a Sunday. Father would write a topping letter suggesting that if they notice they had missed a Sunday they might consider making it up. We would of course send them a complete report at the end of the calendar year that they could use for tax purposes.

We also had a requirement that if you had kids in our parochial school and wanted a discount on your tuition, you had to be a regular contributor. There were tax regulations that said if we required a certain level of contribution in order to qualify for a Catholic discount on tuition, you couldn’t count that as a charitable contribution. It was just a different way to pay your tuition. So, we had to drop the mandatory contribution requirement so people could still count their donations on their taxes. But still find a way to make sure that if you were going to get the benefit of the lower tuition rate, you had to be an active member of the church. Our school principal came up with a very clever plan even though in some ways it shamed people into paying. Hey, you had to be active in the church to get the church discount anything we could do to coerce you into doing your fair share was okay with me.

We preached the principle of tithing. That is giving 10% of your income to charity. It comes out of some Old Testament Scripture readings. We defined that as 5% to the church and 5% to other charitable endeavors such as United Way, American Cancer Society, etc. But we also said that the other 5% could include your Catholic tuition. I wasn’t so sure that was completely kosher if you pardon my cultural appropriation.

So we couldn’t force people to give 5% but we can use that 5% number as a standard. We participated in a federal school lunch program that would give subsidies for school lunches to low-income families. The principal knew what the income level was to qualify for that program. She took 5% of that and then concluded if you weren’t paying 5% of the poverty level income in your contribution it must be because you were too poor.

She would invite the parents to come in and very gently and discreetly offer them the opportunity to sign up for free or reduced lunch prices. After all, if you’re making more money than the poverty level, then why weren’t you contributing more? Of course, when you filled out the paperwork for the subsidies, you had to reveal your income and that’s when conversation would come about not doing your fair share. So technically we didn’t have a set amount that you HAD to contribute but we made it clear participation was a requirement. The school lunch thing was a ruse to start that conversation. Sneaky, but I liked it.

One of the clever things that we did with the program was to send out these financial statements encouraging people to meet their tithing pledge and we would send a custom letter depending on whether or not they were meeting their pledge, falling short of the pledge, or perhaps giving absolutely zero. This was whether they were making use of the parochial school or not. We wanted people to honor their pledges. But there was a limitation to what PDS could do. You couldn’t say to it, “Print letter version A to people who meet their pledge. Send version B to those who gave zero.” and do it all in the same run. You have to select the people who gave zero, print mailing labels for that group, stuff the right letter in those envelopes, and then do a separate run for the people who really gave something.

Members of the finance committee would get together on a Saturday afternoon for an envelope-stuffing meeting. I had to set things up with four different groups. School families who gave something, school families who gave zero, nonschool people who gave something, and nonschool people who gave zero. They each got a different letter and we had to run them separately.

I would give them names like Group A, B, C, and D so that the people stuffing the envelopes wouldn’t necessarily know that if they were doing Group B it was a deadbeat family with kids in school. We didn’t want them looking at those people sideways when they came to church. We wanted to respect their privacy.

Inevitably, the people stuffing envelopes wanted to know why we had to do all these complicated separate groups of mailings. I just said, “It’s a limitation of the program.” Then they wanted to know what the categories were. I finally just explained to them what the categories were. Afterward, I said, “But I’m trying to be sensitive to people’s privacy and not telling you which group is which. If you want to be really nosy and read the letter you’re stuffing and know who was a deadbeat then do so but it’s on your conscious not mine.”

Computerizing our mailings allowed us to do some really great things. For example, we could create a search of the database for anyone who had children of school age who were not already enrolled in our parochial school. We would invite them to consider coming to our school but if not, please enroll your child in Sunday morning religious education programs which we use the Catholic acronym CCD classes as I explained in an earlier episode.

Sounds like a really their idea doesn’t it? We want our kids to get a Catholic education one way or the other. If not in our parish elementary school then in Sunday school. Nothing wrong with that is there?

Unfortunately, that letter had the potential to cause someone a great deal of emotional upset. There was a man who was a very active and devoted member of our Catholic parish but whose wife was not Catholic. For centuries, Catholics were either forbidden or strongly discouraged from marrying someone non-Catholic. My dad was not Catholic. He had to sign a paper assuring the priest that any children they had would be raised Catholic. Apparently, this particular parishioner who was married to a non-Catholic did not have his wife sign said to paper or didn’t care that she violated it. The wife and kids all attended a Protestant fundamentalist church and were quite disapproving that the husband was Catholic. I can only imagine the emotional pain and marital conflict it would’ve caused if she opened a piece of mail suggesting she should send her kids to Catholic school or Catholic Sunday school. This was decades ago and I don’t recall if we were able to intercept that letter or if it was delivered. I hope we caught it in time but I think perhaps we did not.

In a similar case, a non-Catholic husband was unsupportive of his wife’s faith and didn’t want to see any mailings at all from the church. We had a special family keyword that I think we only attached to very few families that indicated “send no mail”.

One day someone asked me why we have a “send no mail” keyword. I explained that there were just some people who shouldn’t be getting mailings. They asked, “Why?” I got really frustrated And I lost my patience because they wouldn’t take my word we just needed it so I rather angrily explained, “Will if you have to know it’s because we’re trying to keep wives getting beaten by their husbands because they don’t like getting mail from the church!”

I didn’t realize it, but one of the women who had the “send no mail” keyword overheard me. I was about to apologize when she came over, patted me on the back, and said, “Keep up the good work.”

So, even though computerization gave us tremendous new capabilities, we learned very quickly that we could not take the human element out of the equation. In any such customized correspondence we created, we had to make sure we had someone knowledgeable reviewing everything that went out.

Everything I developed using the PDS program I did for free from my own parish. Then, three other parishes hired me to consult with them on the best ways to use the program. I describe those efforts as doing well while doing good.

Parish Data Systems was acquired by another company ACS Technology. It has expanded into a much more sophisticated suite of programs that also include general ledger, payroll, facilities scheduling, and other tools at both the parish and diocesan levels.

In the weeks to come, I will talk more about the eight years I served as a member of the Finance Committee and eventually as its chairman. At one point I think the community was called Ways and Means and it seemed like we always had many more ways than we had means. We’ll talk about those challenges and more in the weeks to come as I continue the story of my volunteer work at Saint Gabriel church.

If you find this podcast educational, entertaining, enlightening, or even inspiring, consider sponsoring me on Patreon for just $5 per month. You will get early access to the podcast and any other benefits I might come up with down the road. Although I have some financial struggles, I’m not really in this for money. Still, every little bit helps.

Many thanks to my Patreon supporters. Your support pays for the writing seminar I attend. But mostly I appreciate it because it shows how much you care and appreciate what I’m doing. Your support means more to me than words can express.

Even if you cannot provide financial support. Please, please, please post the links and share this podcast on social media so that I can grow my audience.

All of my back episodes are available and I encourage you to check them out if you’re new to this podcast. If you have any comments, questions, or other feedback please feel free to comment on any of the platforms where you find this podcast.

I will see you next week as we continue contemplating life. Until then, fly safe.

Contemplating Life – Episode 36 – “Striving to be Obsolete”

In this episode, I will outline the advocacy efforts of my late mother Fran Young, and how I joined her in those efforts. Although I will be bragging about some of my own accomplishments, this really is a tribute to my mom who was such a dedicated advocate and volunteer in a variety of activities. Everything I accomplished in this area was based on her example of hard work and dedication to human services.

Links of Interest

Support us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/contemplatinglife
Where to listen to this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/contemplatinglife
YouTube playlist of this and all other episodes: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFFRYfZfNjHL8bFCmGDOBvEiRbzUiiHpq

YouTube Version

Shooting Script

Hi, this is Chris Young. Welcome to episode 36 of Contemplating Life.

The tagline of this podcast says that it’s about “Disability, religion, entertainment, politics, and anything else I want to talk about. You know, the easy non-controversial stuff. We briefly dove into politics in the last episode or two so I thought I would continue with that theme.

In this episode, I will outline the advocacy efforts of my late mother Fran Young, and how I joined her in those efforts. Although I will be bragging about some of my own accomplishments, this really is a tribute to my mom who was such a dedicated advocate and volunteer in a variety of activities. Everything I accomplished in this area was based on her example of hard work and dedication to human services.

As I mentioned previously, Mom was always interested in politics. She was a bit of a news junkie. She watched the Today Show every morning, local news, and the NBC nightly news every night as far back as the days of Chet Huntley and David Brinkley. I absorbed that passion by being exposed to it at an early age.

She had what I called a strong sense of volunteerism. When I started at Roberts school she became involved in the PTA. First as a “room mother” which meant that she would host various parties for my class such as an annual thank you party from the PTA to celebrate our annual cookie sale fundraiser, Valentine’s Day parties, Christmas parties, etc.

Eventually, she was elected treasurer of the PTA and then the president.

Through that effort, she got involved in the citywide and statewide PTA organizations. The Indiana State PTA had something called the “Exceptional Child Committee.” It focused not only on special education for disabled kids but also on programs for gifted children such as advanced placement classes. They were active lobbyists at the Indiana General Assembly advocating for funding for education programs for exceptional children.

There she met a remarkable woman named Amy Cook Lurvey who became a lifelong friend. Amy was trained as a speech and language therapist and was the first to hold such a position in Indianapolis Public Schools. She ran for the IPS school board in 1963 but lost to Richard Lugar who would later go on to become Indianapolis Mayor and later US Senator. We talked about Lugar in recent episodes – what an amazing man he was.

While working as a lobbyist for the PTA, Amy, and other such advocates were advised by state Senator Charles E. Bosma that they were not being effective advocates. There were too many organizations competing with one another for scarce resources. He suggested that all the disability advocacy groups form a coalition that would speak with one voice on behalf of disabled people.

Amy Cook Lurvey, Muriel Lee, and other advocates formed an organization called the Council of Volunteers and Organizations for the Handicapped, or COVOH for short. I don’t know for a fact that my mother was on any of the founding documents of this organization, she certainly was involved from its inception and I don’t hesitate to describe her as one of its founders.

It was an organization of organizations. Its members included groups representing muscular dystrophy, cerebral palsy, Associations for Retarded Citizens, deaf and hearing impaired, blind and visually impaired, as well as other groups involved in education such as the PTA.

Through the lobbying efforts of this organization, the Indiana General Assembly passed the Mandatory Special Education Act in 1968. Prior to that legislation, there were only two school corporations in the entire state of Indiana that were serving the needs of disabled children. One of them was Roberts School in Indianapolis where I attended. The other was a special education school in Gary Indiana. Anywhere else in the state, if you were in a wheelchair or had any other disability that could not be accommodated by your local school, you simply didn’t go to school at all. The most you could hope for was that your school district would send you a “homebound teacher.” This was a teacher who would visit you perhaps 2 or 3 times per week giving you one-on-one instruction and a bunch of homework.

The Mandatory Act required that all school districts statewide develop special education programs and begin serving all Hoosier students by 1972. That was the year I graduated high school. Mom often said, “Sometimes you build your bridges behind you so that others may cross.”

You have no idea how tempting it is to read a sentence like that like I was Forest Gump.

”My mama always said sometimes you build your bridges behind you so that others may cross.”

I was fortunate that we lived inside the Indianapolis city limits and the IPS school district. My cousin Nancy, who was born with spina bifida, lived in Lawrence Township northeast of the city. My uncle and aunt sold their home and purchased a new one on the south side of Indianapolis so that Nancy could go to Roberts School five years behind me.

As we have already chronicled in previous episodes, Roberts did a fine job all the way through junior high but their high school program was severely deficient. Nancy lived very close to the Indianapolis/Perry Township border. When she reached high school age, she persuaded IPS to allow her to transfer to Perry Meridian High School.

I was pleased to learn that my mother’s work here in Indiana was paralleled by none other than Hillary Clinton. When Hillary ran for president in 2016 there were lots of features about her history. One of her first jobs as an advocate was for the Arkansas Department of Education. They were unaware that there were so many disabled kids not being served in Arkansas. I don’t recall if they said Arkansas passed its own special education law or if she then took that issue to the federal level which resulted in the passage in 1975 of Public Law 94-142 Known as the “Individuals with Disabilities Education Act” or IDEA. I thought it was cool to learn that my mother and Hilary had worked on the same cause in different states. In 1973 we also saw the passage of the Rehabilitation Act including section 504 which provided huge civil rights benefits for disabled people. Substantial progress in disability rights on the federal level had to wait until the night to guide the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act.

Passing a piece of legislation, and implementing it fully are two different processes. There was still much work for COVOH to do. The organization, with my mother as the eventual president of the group, continued to be active in the Indiana General Assembly and other areas.

As I grew into adulthood, I began supporting her work in COVOH. One of our major activities was to review the abstract of every piece of legislation introduced in the General Assembly to see if it impacted disabled people. We would then track its progress through the legislature and put out frequent newsletters advising COVOH members to write or call their legislators in favor of or against various bills as we recommended.

We also worked closely with special education administrators. They had an organization led by a wonderful man named Bill Littlejohn. He hired me to post summaries of special ed legislation to an online service through Prodigy.

Mom served on a statewide special education advisory board and although I didn’t participate because I wasn’t on the board, I enjoyed attending those meetings with her as well as countless COVOH general meetings and committee meetings some of which were held in our dining room.

Periodically, the Indiana State Building Commission reviews all of the building codes for the State of Indiana. Mom educated herself in the federal Section 504 accessibility requirements and other accessibility standards. She would attend monthly meetings of the Building Commission and comment on proposed revisions to the building code. While I was in college and later after I had to quit work, I would attend such meetings with her.

The typical agenda of the Building Commission was to do some general housekeeping such as approving minutes from the previous meeting, setting the agenda for future meetings, etc. Then, architects, developers, project managers, or whoever would come before the board seeking a variance from building codes. If you could prove to them that you had a particular project that was unusual and could not be built strictly according to the code but that you could make accommodations that would ensure safety and access then the commission could grant you a variance.

Mom and I would sit at the back of the room patiently waiting through the boring request for variances until we got to the part of the agenda that interested us. Only after their ordinary business of variances was completed would the commission take up the revisions of building codes including accessibility provisions for which we intended to comment.

It seemed invariably, that there was one group always asking for relief from strict adherence to disability accessibility rules. Because the commissioners knew my mother well, they would often turn to her and ask, “Mrs. Young, what do you think of this request?” She became a resource to the commission as their resident expert on accessibility issues. Furthermore, we had made friends with members of the building commission. The State Fire Marshal on the board attended the same Catholic Church we attended during the summer when we stayed at our Lakeside cabin in Brown County. If the meeting ran all day, we would often eat lunch with them.

Anyway, when the plaintiff heard them ask my mother her opinion, you could see the expression on their face saying, “Who the hell is this woman and why are they asking her?” On occasions that I was sitting there in a wheelchair with her, they seemed especially disappointed. They knew they weren’t going to get any breaks with me sitting there staring them down.

On one memorable occasion, architects representing Indianapolis’ Market Square Arena were asking for a variance. I don’t think it was for the initial construction of the facility because my research shows it was completed in 1974 and I didn’t think I was attending those meetings with Mom until years later. Perhaps this was for a renovation. At any rate, there were 2 press areas at MSA. There was one on the sixth level nestled into a couple of rows of the stands. And then there was another press box high above the arena used for hockey games. That press box was not going to be accessible by elevator which would violate accessibility rules.

The architects argued, there aren’t any disabled sports reporters. When they asked Mom what she thought, she asked, “What about Tom Carnegie?” For those of you who are not local to Indianapolis or not a race fan, Carnegie was the sports director at local TV station Channel 6 but is most famous for being the PA announcer at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway until he was well into his 80s. As he aged, he began walking with a cane and would navigate the Speedway in one of those three-wheel electric scooters.

“What if Tom Carnegie wants to branch out from racing and wants to cover hockey,” she asked.

I chimed in, “I’m an aspiring freelance writer. What if I wanted a job as a sports journalist? I wouldn’t be able to cover hockey.”

The architects went back to the drawing board.

My greatest accomplishment as an advocate was that I was instrumental in the passage of a bill that made it easier for disabled people to vote.

Mom and I would go to the Statehouse a couple of days a week during the legislative session to read bills, get copies of them, and occasionally attend hearings. I discovered a bill that would allow physically disabled people to be assisted in the voting booth by a member of their immediate family. The way the law was at the time, blind people could be assisted by family members but if you were physically disabled, you would have to be assisted by the two precinct judges – one Democrat, and one Republican.

Obviously, you want your vote to be private. These precinct workers could be people that you know from your neighborhood, church, or whatever. You don’t want them to know who you voted for. What if you wanted to vote for independent or even communist parties? That’s none of their business.

It wasn’t surprising that there was already a special provision for blind people to be assisted by their families. Prior to the formation of organizations like COVOH, it was common for specific disabilities to be able to advocate for specific benefits that related only to their people. Blind and visually impaired advocates had traditionally been very successful in securing accommodations but they did not extend those accommodations to other disabilities.

The bill wasn’t getting any action. I tracked down one of the sponsors of the bill but he said he was just a cosponsor. He really didn’t have anything to do with it. He just put his name on the bill. I needed to contact the author. So I tracked him down. He said that one of his constituents had written him a letter. She had MS and wanted her husband to help her operate the voting machine. The precinct would not allow it. So, she did what you’re supposed to do. She wrote her legislator. He wrote the bill but didn’t have the time, inclination, or political capital to see it through. He said we needed to get the committee chair to schedule a hearing.

So I tracked down the committee chair, cornered her in a hallway at the Statehouse, and asked, “Why haven’t you scheduled a hearing for this bill?” It had been assigned to some obscure subcommittee on elections that probably didn’t have any other business all session long. But seeing me sitting there in a wheelchair asking for a hearing on a bill that had no price tag necessary and wasn’t going to ruffle any feathers, she had no choice but to tell me she would schedule a hearing.

She did schedule it. A couple of days later I got on the elevator that she was on. She thought I was stalking her but I just needed a ride on the elevator. It was a coincidence. She said, “I got that hearing scheduled.” I had to explain I wasn’t tracking her down.

The hearing was scheduled for 8:30 AM and there was a question at first if was going to be in an accessible hearing room. Some of the rooms in our ancient Statehouse are up or down three or four steps for no good reason. I called out the troops and I was there along with five other people in wheelchairs ready to testify for this bill early in the morning.

One of the representatives asked, does the bill need a provision that you need something like a note from your doctor stating that you can’t operate the machine. One of my buddies Jim Pauly spoke up and said, “I’m tired of having to prove I’m disabled. Can’t you look at me sitting here in a wheelchair and not figure that out for yourself? Are you really concerned this is going to be abused somehow by nondisabled people?

The bill had no price tag attached so there really wasn’t anything to object to. It passed out of committee unanimously and went straight through both houses on unanimous votes. I don’t recall if it was even assigned to a committee in the Senate or if they just rubberstamped it in some committee. There was no need for an additional hearing. Once something innocuous makes it through one house, there is usually no resistance in the Senate.

I later saw the author of the bill and he thanked me for what I did. He was somewhat embarrassed to admit that he had not given it the attention it deserved. He said it’s the kind of thing where you introduce the bill, hope it goes somewhere, and if it doesn’t, you at least write back to your constituent and say, “I tried.” Apparently, he didn’t try very hard. I had to save the day.

I was extremely proud that my only official effort as a lobbyist was so successful.

Eventually, the volunteer efforts of my mother and I shifted from disability advocacy to work at Saint Gabriel Church. At some point, COVOH changed its name to “Council of Volunteers and Organizations for Hoosiers with disabilities” as the word “handicapped” fell out of favor. See Episode 4 for my rant over the loss of the term “handicapped”.

As best I can tell, COVOH no longer exists. It’s not that that there is no need for disability advocacy but without a central focus such as passing the Mandatory Special Education Act, the organization faded away. Mom said that Amy taught her, “The goal of any human service organization is to make itself obsolete. Once you have met all of the needs of your clientele, You no longer need to exist.” So I don’t feel so bad that COVOH is defunct. I feel like it served its purpose. There are other organizations, backed by laws and legal precedents that we didn’t have before that allow us to continue to advocate for our rights.

My mother is no longer with us. Mrs. Lurvey passed away several years ago. I’ve linked her obituary in the description. She was an amazing woman. Also, Muriel Lee, mother of my friend Christopher Lee, who was very active in that area is neuron with us. I learned a lot from their example and no others carry on that fight.

I want to recommend again a book that I recommended in early episodes. Disabled freelance journalist Ben Mattlin’s “Disability Pride: Dispatches from a Post ADA World” provides excellent background on the history of disability rights and the current state of affairs. Links are in the description.

My mother also spent countless hours volunteering for the Marion County Muscular Dystrophy Foundation (MCMDF). She developed a book about caring for special needs kids and updated a publication called “Navigation Unlimited”. It was a guidebook to accessible facilities in Indianapolis. She went to restaurants, shopping centers, government buildings, and other public places surveying their accessibility accommodations, availability of handicap restrooms, and other issues. These days, accessibility is much more ubiquitous than it was and such a guidebook is no longer needed. I’ve heard of some cities developing an app that would serve such a purpose but I don’t think it’s really needed anymore. She served on the Board of Directors of the organization and when her term was up, I replaced her and served two terms on the board.

We were funded mostly by United Way of Central Indiana. It was always a struggle to get funding for our organization because we were compared to the much more famous Muscular Dystrophy Association of America. MDAA was funded by the famous Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon. In those days, MDAA raised funds strictly for research. Nothing went to patient services such as assistance with the purchase of wheelchairs, home modification, assistive technology, accessible vans, etc.

MCMDF did fund a small research program but they primarily focused on patient services. The other reason they existed was that really objected to the way that MDAA portrayed “Jerry’s kids” as objects of pity. They would play on your guilt that you had healthy children in order to raise money. It was a successful tactic but it was abhorrent to nearly everyone in the disability community. There were also reports that of all major charitable organizations, a larger portion of their efforts with to administrative costs rather than the actual beneficiaries of the charity.

See the article from Wikipedia which talks about the downfall and demise of the telethon.

Jerry Lewis left the telethon in 2011 and the telethon ceased operations after 2014. There have been online fundraising videos a couple of hours long that tried to re-create the telethon efforts but they have been online only and have not had much success. Jerry Lewis died in 2017 at 91.

MDAA still exists and funds research. Only 30% of their annual budget came from the telethon at its height. They do now also provide some patient services and overall are a better organization than they used to be. MCMDF expanded beyond Marion County and is now known as the Indiana Muscular Dystrophy Family Foundation. They continue to focus primarily on patient services.

I also served two years on the board of another United Way Agency – the Central Indiana Radio Reading Service. This organization used volunteer readers to read newspaper and magazine articles over the radio for people who were described as “print handicapped”. This included the blind, visually impaired, and anyone who was physically unable to handle print media. The reading was broadcast over a sub-carrier frequency of the Butler University radio station and could be received by special radios that were distributed free to anyone who qualified for the service.

I joined the organization when it was founded. I remember the first board meeting. Apparently, at the time, there were 2 organizations that represented the interests of blind people and there seemed to be a rivalry between them. As we went around the table and introduced ourselves, one person said, “I represent people from the… Whatever the organization was.” And another person proudly said they represented the rival organization. You could really feel the tension between the two groups. When it came to my turn, I said, “I believe I was invited to serve on this board for my perspective on people with physical disabilities who qualify as print handicapped because they can’t handle newspapers and magazines. But it will be my intent to attempt to serve the interests of all of our constituents regardless of their affiliation or variety of handicaps.”

I saw some smiles from some of the other board members. Unfortunately, the blind representatives did not see them. I was bringing the COVOH philosophy of “We are all in this together and a rising tide lifts all boats.”

I served my term of two years and then moved on to other activities. As best I can tell, the organization no longer exists and is no longer necessary. With cable news, online news which is available to a variety of disabilities, and the advent of text-to-speech and screen reading software, such as service is no longer necessary.

I’m so very proud of everything that my mother did in her lifetime of advocacy and political activism as well as the countless hours she devoted to her church. And I’m proud to have served with her and tried to carry on some of her legacy.

As I mentioned, our focus shifted from disability advocacy to volunteering for our church. I think next week we will begin a multiparty series about the work I did at Saint Gabriel the Archangel Church. Some of it will be about my continued faith journey that I already chronicled in episodes 6, 7, and 11 through 15 but mostly it will just be my experiences of working as a volunteer there.

If you find this podcast educational, entertaining, enlightening, or even inspiring, consider sponsoring me on Patreon for just $5 per month. You will get early access to the podcast and any other benefits like the exclusive short story I shared with Patreon subscribers recently. Although I have some financial struggles, I’m not really in this for money. Still, every little bit helps.

Many thanks to my financial supporters. Your support pays for the writing seminar I attend and other things. But mostly I appreciate it because it shows how much you care and appreciate what I’m doing. Your support means more to me than words can express.

Even if you cannot provide financial support. Please, please, please post the links and share this podcast on social media so that I can grow my audience.

All of my back episodes are available and I encourage you to check them out if you’re new to this podcast. If you have any comments, questions, or other feedback please feel free to comment on any of the platforms where you find this podcast.

I will see you next week as we continue contemplating life. Until then, fly safe.

Contemplating Life – Episode 35 – “Not In My Wildest Fantasies”

This week we conclude my two-part series on how I would change the world if I could go back in time and why the science fiction story had planned to tell based on that concept probably would not work.

Links of Interest

Support us on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/contemplatinglife
Where to listen to this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/contemplatinglife
YouTube playlist of this and all other episodes: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFFRYfZfNjHL8bFCmGDOBvEiRbzUiiHpq

YouTube Version

Shooting Script

Hi, this is Chris Young. Welcome to episode 35 of Contemplating Life.

After last week’s episode, I detailed the outline of a science fiction/fantasy novel I considered writing about how I would change history during my lifetime if I had the opportunity.

I concluded that in order to have the power and influence to make major historical changes, I needed to be filthy rich. I outlined how I would have started my own software company and beat Bill Gates and Microsoft at their own game. I know the things they did right that I could duplicate and I know the mistakes they made that I could avoid.

If you are just joining us, or to refresh your memory, the scenario I’m working with is that a man is given the opportunity to live his life over again from the beginning yet retain all of the memories, intellect, and experiences of his first lifetime. He is going to use that knowledge of the future to effect change. Also, the idea for this story started out as an exploration of what it would be like for someone with a disability to relive their life without one.

The working title of the story is “The Reboots” because our hero, a guy named Eric is given the opportunity to reboot his life. Note the title is plural because along the way he’s going to discover other people who have similarly rebooted.

Eric would coin the word “reboot” explaining that he didn’t want to use the word reincarnation because it has religious overtones. Although the phrase “born again” would be highly descriptive, that’s even more linked to religious meaning. So he decided and his colleagues simply rebooted. When you reboot your computer, you start from scratch. Everything on your hard drive stays intact but the system itself goes back to its original state. And it’s a catchy title.

Under the scenario I developed, my reboot hero had only one opportunity to make a major change in history because once he had changed the timeline, the history that he knew would no longer exist. So it had to be something big. I decided our merry band of reboots would try to stop 9/11. And if we couldn’t do that, we needed someone other than Bush 43 and Dick Cheney in the White House at the time.

Note it’s not that I blame George W. Bush for 9/11. I blame him and Dick Cheney for the aftermath. I blame them for the unnecessary war to find WMDs that weren’t there, the illegal detention and torture of people without any due process, the Patriot Act, and other erosions of our Constitution.

How do you stop Bush 43? You need to fix what was wrong with the 2000 presidential election. If I’m in the computer business, I need to strongly promote accurate, reliable, foolproof computerized voting machines to avoid the problems experienced in Florida with their crazy punch card system and the hanging CHAD.

The major problem that made it tough for Al Gore to win the 2000 election was that he couldn’t run on the legacy of the Clinton/Gore administration. During that administration, we were not involved in any significant armed conflict. The economy was booming. We had a balanced federal budget and were beginning to pay down the debt. It was an amazing record that he should’ve been able to leverage to an easy victory. But he had to distance himself from Bill Clinton because of all of the scandals.

As with most political scandals, it’s not so much what you did wrong but in the attempt to cover it up. Liberal pendants will say Clinton was impeached for having an extramarital affair with Monica Lewinsky. But let’s be fair, he was impeached for obstruction of justice. To a certain extent, the same was true for Nixon. He didn’t plan or order the Watergate break-in. He orchestrated the cover-up.

So to help Al Gore get elected, we have to get rid of the Clinton scandals.

In a nutshell, the secret to stopping the post-9/11 consequences is to get Bill Clinton to keep his pants zipped!

But how do you do that?

As a young man, Bill Clinton dreamed of being president. He wanted to create a legacy for himself. If you could go to him early in his political career, convince him that you could accurately predict the future and that his destiny was the Oval Office, but similarly convince him that his unchecked libido was going to destroy that legacy, it might be enough to keep him out of trouble.

One of my favorite scenes in the film Terminator 2 is when John and Sarah Connor along with the Good Terminator, visit Miles Bennett Dyson who developed the supercomputer chip at the heart of Sky Net. Sky Net was the evil AI that tried to destroy humanity. They explained to him the consequences of his invention. Dyson says, “You are accusing me of things I haven’t done yet.” I could imagine if you sat down with Bill Clinton and told him that his extramarital affairs meant that we had a weak president in office at the time of the most deadly terrorist attack in US history he would’ve said something similar.

If you had Bill Clinton’s ear, there is a lot you could do to prevent 9/11 even if you couldn’t stop him from having a scandalous lifestyle and ruining things for Gore. The Clinton administration had the opportunity to get Osama bin Laden and missed it. You could have convinced him to make that a higher priority. There were intelligence failures that should have prevented 9/11 and didn’t. You could advise him to ensure that didn’t happen. I’ve already mentioned that you could fix the problems of the 2000 election. Clinton could have promoted a federal election law that sets standards for and promoted the use of better quality computerized voting equipment. You could institute some of the security measures that were implemented post-9/11 such as reinforced lockable cabin doors and stricter passenger screenings.

You might write a book about a fictional hijacking based on your knowledge of 9/11 to call attention to these issues. Then again, if no one heeded this cautionary tale, you would be accused of planning the hijacking for the terrorists.

How do you get your foot in the door with Bill Clinton? How do you convince him that you have credible knowledge of the future?

You have to demonstrate that knowledge. You have to make predictions for him that you are confident will come true. The problem is… I’m terrible at history. As I established last week, I can’t remember the dates or the details of historical events. Okay, I know when 9/11 was. I remember the date of the JFK assassination. But I didn’t recall the date of MLK or RFK assassinations when I talked about them a few episodes ago. I had to look it up.

I need to add another gimmick to the story to make it work. I hate to do that but I couldn’t see any way around it. In science fiction, I abhor what I call “plot-driven technology”. I define it as a gadget or gimmick that works the way it does solely for the purpose of making the plot work the way you want it to. Well-written science fiction uses “technology-driven plot.” You invent a technology and then see where that takes you. Unfortunately, in this instance, I need some gimmick to make the plot work. Someday I’ll probably do a whole episode on plot-driven technology complete with extensive examples. For now, I’m just confessing and dipping my toe into those waters.

We can’t just reboot our hero, send him back in time to the day of his birth, and have him grow up with knowledge of the future. We have to give him a photographic memory of the events of his life.

One of the problems of creating a superhero is you need to put limits on their superpowers. Every Superman has to have some sort of kryptonite. So rather than have my hero Eric have a perfect memory of everything that occurred in his life, let’s give him, and other rebooted characters, a photographic memory of particular areas of interest.

Eric, who is based on me, would have total recall of everything he ever learned about computers. He would have detailed knowledge of the APIs of CP/M, MS-DOS, and Windows so that he could easily re-create these programs himself.

Since this is a story that was born out of my own fantasies, we have to give our hero a love interest. In this case, she would be based on my teenage crush Rosie who you’ve heard about in previous episodes. I would call her Julie and she would have total recall of world events. If it was something you would see on the evening news or read in the newspaper, she could tell you the date of any major event. By the way, there are people in real life who have such an ability.

Later we would introduce a character who had total recall of medical knowledge about infectious diseases and we would develop his storyline where he could try to develop an early cure or treatment for HIV/AIDS.

Perhaps we would introduce a space enthusiast based on my friend Christopher Lee. He would try to prevent the Apollo 1 fire and or the space shuttle Columbia and Discovery accidents.

Eric and Julie using mostly her knowledge of “current events” would type up a list of predictions. This would probably occur during the Watergate scandal. Eric would come up with an excuse to interview Bill Clinton perhaps for a school project. Maybe he was writing a report about Rhodes scholars. After getting a sitdown with Clinton, he would say something like, “Mr. Clinton I have come here under false pretense. Please give me just 10 minutes of your time. In all likelihood at the end of 10 minutes, you will shake my hand, wish me well, and plead with me saying, ‘Young man. Please get psychiatric help because if you truly believed or expected me to believe this bullshit story then you truly must be crazy.’”

Eric would explain that he had accurate knowledge of future events but would not tell him how or why he was telling him this. He would hand Clinton a typed list of near-future events and say, “When you are more certain than not that the next item on the list is going to come true, call me and I will tell you why I’m letting you in on this secret.”

About six weeks later Clinton would call and say he was a believer.

One of the problems our hero would face was that he could possibly convince someone that he had credible, accurate knowledge of the future. But he couldn’t prove how he came about that knowledge. To say that he was given the opportunity to reboot his life and live it over again is less credible than if he made up some weird story about inventing a Time Machine that would allow him to read the evening newspaper in the future.

Only after Clinton was convinced that Eric could predict the future would he tell him that if he didn’t keep his pants zipped, America would be in deep trouble with a weak president during a deadly terrorist attack in 2001. Eric could also give him an outline of other things we discussed that he could do to positively change the future.

I think it’s a pretty good idea for a sci-fi novel even if it is a little bit far-fetched. It would illustrate the butterfly effect that small changes can have big consequences. For years I was very excited about the possibility of trying to write this story.

There are also some serious moral questions to be debated in this scenario. In my get-rich-quick scheme, outlined last episode, I would be stealing the legacy of Bill Gates and Ernő Rubik. What did they ever do to me that I would ruin them? Gates, unlike other billionaires such as Bezos, Zuckerberg, and Musk, has been a significant philanthropist. Maybe to assuage my guilt I would offer Gates a job or a merger between my company and Microsoft. Gates isn’t just a skilled programmer. He is a shrewd and at times ruthless businessman.

What are the difficulties of keeping such a secret? How would you apply your knowledge of the future on a personal scale? Would you make the same friends? Would they be interested in being friends with you if your life was significantly different? Would you warn friends about mistakes they were going to make and could you convince them without revealing your secret?

Would the lies you had to live weigh you down? I imagine if someone said to Eric, “Did you really invent the Twisty Cube at age 14?” He could reply truthfully, “According to the US patent office I did.” You can tell I’ve studied politics. I know how to answer the question I wanted to answer and not the one that was asked.

What does our hero do during his teenage years he wants to explore his sexuality in ways that he could not with a disability? Let’s say Eric dies and reboots at age 65. When his rebooted self is 16 and wants to have sex with a 16-year-old girl it’s not a pair of 16-year-olds. He is essentially 81 years old. That’s statutory rape. He would face some tough moral dilemmas. There is no guarantee that Rosie… whoops I mean Julie… would fall in love with him the second time around even though they would share this amazing secret existence.

So… I’ve gone into a lot of detail to tell you the outline of the story that sadly I’m never going to write. One of the problems is that many of my sci-fi story ideas take place in the very, very near future. And by the time I get the story written, the real world has evolved to the point where the story no longer works.

My plans for this great sci-fi/fantasy alternate-history opus began dying in 2016 with the election of Donald J. Trump and culminated with the events of January 6, 2021.

By that time, the greatest threat to democracy and the United States of America was no longer 9/11 and its aftermath. The greatest world crisis in public health was no longer HIV/AIDS.

I thought about writing the story with my hero dying in 2016 before Trump was elected. Then perhaps he comes across a reboot person who died in 2023 and who had knowledge of the events between those two dates. Our hero could then change his plans in such a way that he could stop 9/11 and stop Donald Trump.

At one point, I decided to do it that way. Eric would die in 2016 shortly before the election he would think that Trump was going to lose and he would continue with this plan to rewrite history as we’ve described. Then he would come across another rebooted person and he would have to rework the plants.

I started to write that story. I wrote the first chapter. When I finished it, I realized that the first chapter was a pretty good standalone story. I submitted it to seven magazine and website markets but it was rejected everywhere.

But I have news for you. My first ever Patreon benefit other than the early release of the podcast. I’m going to record a reading of that first chapter under the short story title “I Can’t Say.” No, I’m not being coy. The title is literally “I Can’t Say.” Patreon will also have the text of the story. Both the audio and text versions are available now to Patreon subscribers.

The reason I haven’t continued beyond that first chapter is I don’t know where to go with it. For the past five years or so, I’ve racked my brain to come up with an alternative way to tell the story to prevent Trump from becoming president.

All I had to do to stop 9/11 was convince Bill Clinton to keep his pants zipped. But no simple nor complex solution to stopping Trump and Trumpism has occurred to me after countless hours of trying to find a way to do it. First of all, assassination is off the table. And it’s not just stopping Trump. I have to stop the climate that allowed him to rise to power. As Rachel Maddow said recently, when history looks back on these days, it won’t ask, “How did a former president come to be indicted with dozens of felony charges?” It will ask, “How did such a man get to be president in the first place?” Even if I get Hillary elected in 2016, the January 6 riots just come 4 years early. The threat to democracy will continue.

I think over the past two episodes, I’ve demonstrated what a vivid imagination I have. I can come up with insanely crazy detailed scenarios for changing the world and changing my life. But I lack the imagination to find a simple way to stop Trump and the erosion of public trust in our institutions including law enforcement, the judicial system, and the press. I don’t know how, even if I could go back in time and rewrite history I could keep him out of office so that a competent president would have been at the helm when COVID emerged.

Directly or indirectly, Donald J. Trump has systematically assaulted our values, and our American life, and cost us hundreds of thousands of lives.

Not in my wildest fantasies can I fix what’s wrong with the world right now.

I lived through the Cold War, the Cuban Missile Crisis, and the assassinations of JFK, MLK, and RFK. I witnessed the Iran hostage crisis, Reaganonmics, Newt Gingrich, the TEA party, the 2008 financial collapse, and wars in Vietnam, Kuwait, Afghanistan, Iraq, and Ukraine as well as the ongoing issues between Israel and the neighbors.

None of that compares to the crisis we currently face.

I can only hope and pray that the assault on democracy fails. There was a glimmer of hope when Joe Biden defeated Trump. That glimmer faded on January 6 and proves that the fight isn’t over. The GOP’s failure to deliver big results during the 2022 midterm elections is a good sign. On the other hand, indictments in four jurisdictions with over 90 felony charges have only served to strengthen Trump. Biden, if he can be relected, will be the most disliked incumbent President to ever be reelected.

A huge percentage of the country has fallen under Trump’s influence and it seems that no amount of reason or logic can sway them from their cult.

My hope and my prayer is that I live long enough to see us emerge from this crisis with democracy intact.

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I will see you next week as we continue contemplating life. Until then, fly safe.