Measure Ten Times, Cut Twelve

I should call my original coat of arms “Well Enough,” because I couldn’t leave it alone.

With all due respect to Luis of Reidarmas.com, I started picking at his lovely rendering, and you know what happens when you keep picking at something: it gets infected. What got the ball rolling was my curiosity as to whether the design was in conflict with established rules of heraldry.

(I do not mean to imply that Luis is unschooled in the rules of heraldry. Moreover, his designing skills in this regard are exquisite, taking what someone gives him, at the very least. This was more a problem of my lack of contentment. In many respects I am chaotic.)

New Direction - Which is to say, Any

I consulted someone who designs and comments on designs of ecclesiastical heraldry. He recommended several changes, not considering any of them particularly mandatory, but some more than others.

First among the issues was the two swords crossing the river.  Second, the consultant discouraged the profuse representation of all these areas of my life, assignments, etc., a common practice in contemporary heraldic design. It becomes a two-dimensional version of those charm bracelets that were all the rage a few years ago. Overkill.

A coat of arms is more of a personal statement than a treatise on priesthood, which (unsurprisingly, intentionally) I was making it out to be. Not the first time I've been accused of trying too hard. Not that it has stopped me since. At any rate it's not improper (certainly not sinful) to ascribe loftier applications to heraldic components, even at the risk of abject eisegesis.

As I compose this post, I am awaiting reply from my consultant. But I would not wait to revise the heraldry according to my best attempts to simplify in ways meaningful and not gratuitous.

The good folks at Fleur-de-lis Designs (fleurdelis.com) incarnated what you see below on the right, substantially based on what you see below on the left, substantially based on the sketch I provided the original artist Luis. Hopefully that’s it now for revisions.

Here’s your hat: what’s your hurry?

As a bearer of ecclesiastical arms, I do not need any particular charge within the shield to represent the priesthood as such. The galero (hat) takes care of that. For a simple priest, the galero is black with one black tassel on each side.

This rounded style very much resembles one I fancied on the inter-webs. The new designer reworked it for my project.

Will you accept the charges?

“Look, Lord, here are two swords!” (Luke 22:38). And then there was one; and a single sword could represent to me not only my secondary nominal patron/first parochial patron Archangel Michael, but also the Lithuanian Vytis. The consultant suggested it could go inside the azure wavy, which I call the “blue river” for my purposes, provided it was metal-on-color.

As for that wavy, it had been stationed per pale (from top to bottom), but now it is per bend sinister (diagonally from bottom to top). Call it a tribute to writing with the sinister hand, which was no crime by the time I was taught how to write.

I switched out the argent (silver) flame with an or (gold) burning bush, following a long-held personal devotion to Moses’ encounter with a burning-but-not-consumed YHWH on Mount Horeb (Ex 3), with its Marian overtones in the Fathers. An icon of the Mosaic meetup appeared in a book on iconography that I consulted for a paper in college seminary. Love at first sight! I think it fed into my love of the color orange.

The plow had less personal significance (aside from my fond years at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary, on whose shield it is a heraldic charge), so I changed it to a blended charge representative of Saint Joseph, my Confirmation saint (and my late father’s first name). The argent (silver, kinda white) lily and or (gold) carpenter’s square fit fine against the gules (red) background.

That gules background is 1/2 the color of the Polish flag and 1/3 the color of the Lithuanian flag. Maybe I had just put a quarter into an online coat-of-arms composer, and it spit out two coats, one for Zelonis predominantly gules and one for Welker (Mom’s maiden name) azure. I didn’t think those families were important enough to merit their own heraldry, but who knows?

The name Zelonis is close to the Lithuanian word for the color gray, zilys. Aside from the cursory Google search of databases, I haven’t found any official meaning to my surname, which for all I know was an anglicization. If there is any connection to gray, my current shield shows it only in the sword and the lily.

Border warfare 

The more-rounded shield is surrounded by alternating sable (black) and argent (silver, a heraldic fudging of ivory): perhaps a persnickety personal stamp but, to my mind, sharp. Not as “sharp” as the sword hashtag, I grant. Clever, but not contrived. 

The most recent example is found around the shield of Bishop Timothy Christian Senior; the description of his coat of arms called it a bordure compony. If it has a fancy name, it must have some pedigree in the heraldry business. 

Since the heraldry is meant to reflect the person of the armiger (bearer of arms) more than his office, it seemed fit to adopt this border as a nod to my love of performing and listening to music; better, too, as a border than yet another charge.

Incidentally, Bishop Senior is a skilled pianist. He accompanied several of the musicals we did at Saint Charles, in which I either acted or played trumpet in the pit. 

Taking Occam’s Razor to the Motto

The final changed component was the motto. Ever before knowing simple priests could “bear arms,” I would take note of Scripture verses as future mottos, as part of a fascination with ecclesiastical heraldry, vesture, etc.

My ordination holy card boasted a burning bush, and, below it (in English), Hebrews 12:29: “For our God is a consuming fire.” Soon after ordination, I had a local printer make me stationery that featured at the bottom a burning bush and the Latin version of that motto.

So why didn’t I choose that verse? Mysteries abound. It certainly factors into my conception and experience of God, and my esteem of the mystical tradition. It was one of many intriguing excerpts of Scripture and other Church documents that I have been writing down or highlighting over the years. 

Settling on a single statement has proved difficult for me. I think that’s why I first chose Matthew 13:52 (“He brings forth from his treasury both the new and and the old”—qui profert de thesauro suo nova et vetera). 

As I type, its appeal once again strikes me. That’s how volatile my fancies fly. I have old choices, I have new choices. One after another I bring them out of my storeroom, show them off, and put them back. That’s a good description of the preacher’s craft, come to think of it.

Can I take a moment to relish the pun on “thesaurus”? I love words: I love to use them, especially big ones, obscure ones, foreign ones. No meadow is free from my word-wantonness (cf. Wis 2:9). Preachers draw words from their treasuries, and the Church’s treasury, in their feeble attempts to express the Word Incarnate.

But Saint Paul’s intention expressed in 1 Thessalonians 2:8 also describes the minister of the Word: he said he and his companions wanted to share “not only the Gospel of God, but [their] very selves as well” (non solum evangelium Dei, sed etiam animas nostras). Not only a content, but a contender.

That phrase (from 1 Thess, not the one about a contender, though I could’ve been!) eventually replaced the one from Matthew, like another note from the treasury. How can the preacher not invest himself in his ministry, to the extent that he conveys much of himself in the process of conveying Christ?

Since the paradoxical inclusion of apparent opposites is much at the heart of Catholic theology and spirituality, I figured, why not abbreviate it to the relevant adverbs non solum sed etiam: “Not only, but also”?

Species of the Origin

Doubtless you may say, as did the bystanders of Zechariah and Elizabeth, “Nobody in your family has this name,” meaning “Nobody else has used this as a motto.” You’re probably right.

But forget about the novelty: does it even make any sense? Maybe not by itself, but as it can be applied to any number of aspects in Catholic life. So is it wise to blazon it by itself? I will let this rhetorical question ring out into the ether.

Everybody has been reminding me this is my coat of arms and I need not be exceedingly dependent on anyone else’s opinion. Well, that has never satisfied me. I will do my best to remain at least somewhat unsatisfied. It’s my nature, at least as of right now.

Take Me To What?

I saw this song being featured on iTunes, but it wasn't until a friend tipped me off to it that I paid it any real attention. Irish singer Andrew Hozier-Byrne, who goes by Hozier, rocketed to fame with his hit "Take Me To Church."

Now my friend jokingly marketed it to me as a song advocating Mass attendance; but when I gave it a listen, and followed up with cursory research on the song and the artist, I experienced mixed admiration, irritation, and shame.

Admiration, because I like Hozier's warm and full voice. The song is growing on me, too. "Church" is a dramatic, almost maudlin ballad with its pulsating beat and haunting background voices. It's very serious. I wonder if he's the type of person who can enjoy a chuckle; and if not, I'd like to sit him down to a Three Stooges or Monty Python marathon and see how he does.

I admit, however, that it could just be the aura necessary for this piece. After all, we're not allowed to act up in church! But tell that to his funeral-mocking lover, whom he seems to admire for her humor.

Hozier was born in 1990, around when most of my high school students were born (I taught between 2004 and 2006). Since my days as a teacher I have begun to take note of "his generation," and of generations in general--their differences, the way that other generations perceive them, etc. I don't at all style myself a theorist on these matters, but that's never kept me from theorizing, yea, even with curmudgeonly notes.

Millennials and younger sense that they are living in a moral and doctrinal wasteland. At once they object to it and wallow in it, precisely in songs like this. Hasn't that been the way of artists, though? I have to give it to millennials. They've been holding up all right, given the circumstances of their age.

Irritation and shame are of a piece. The Church has proved for Hozier and many of his generation woefully insufficient, what with its allegedly homophobic and frigid teachings alongside its abusive and elusive representatives. Besides the dearth of sound modeling, there's also the drought of catechesis and devotion. Can we therefore blame him and his generation for turning to idols? Theirs isn't even a defection; they never really came to know the Way, the Truth, and Life at all! We've been fiddling while Rome's been burning.

Hozier alludes to a line of "New Atheist" Christopher Hitchens: "Born sick, but commanded to be well." If I understand this line (admittedly ignorant of its context), he posits a conflict between the Church's doctrine of original sin and her demanding moral teachings, especially with respect to the "pelvic issues" of the sixth and ninth commandments.

Hozier declares that his religion "has no absolutes," but he would fain fashion his lover (or how he feels about himself when he's with her) into an absolute. We've heard that contradiction before: "How can you say there is no absolute truth? Isn't that very statement an absolute?" One's own will or whim becomes the absolute, the standard. But worship we will--and the object of one's worship will, as he notes, "demand a sacrifice," even if it be one's own understanding and freedom.

He is right to say that there are "lots of starving faithful." While some of the Church's leaders were on their alleged "high horse," his generation has been starving for rich fare. Spare no doctrine! Spare no liturgical beauty! But only when mired in his brand of madness, free of "masters and kings" (oppressive hierarchy? oppressive everyone?) does he style himself "human" and "clean." It's hard to get any headway here, because madness consumes.

Our worshipper is not asking for pity. He is declaring his righteousness and piety before everyone. What more can be said? Yes, he is promoting the (hedonistic) worship of his "lover," a "goddess" who "demands a sacrifice." In the absence of the God of revelation, eros seems to be a trusted place to hang one's hat--trusted in the sense of typical, expected, and accessible.

Fulton Sheen and others spoke often of how we are hard-wired, geared by nature, to worship, to outpour ourselves. If the object of our worship is not God, then go with whoever or whatever else offers ecstasy, escape of oneself. But substitutes soon prove fatally flawed, and soon betray the sad fact that their slaves (dogs, he calls them!) are really worshipping the image of themselves that they see in the other. A human being is a fine wine that cannot be made into a reduction.

We have far to go with the evangelization of this generation. One place we can start is the sense of bleakness that people rightly experience amid the surfeit of earthly desires. Someone can satisfy!

This task, this responsibility, this mission--"Let it begin with me." How else will it continue?

Sinatra's Greatest Hits (In One Fan's Estimation)

Truth

In honor of the 99th anniversary of the birth of the Servant of Mammon (and, in his own way, of God) Francis Albert Sinatra, I decided to look over what, almost twenty years ago, I dubbed "The Canon": my collection of Sinatra's musical renditions.

The very act calls to mind Mr. George Repella, my senior year English teacher at Nativity, a musical connoisseur and otherwise wise man. At the time of our acquaintance, the extent of my Sinatra knowledge included a handful of the popular "Greatest Hits." It wasn't that Mr. Repella played any of his songs in class; he simply spoke about him, and I listened--first, to him, and then, to *him*. I'll call  Mr. Repella a Sinatra Evangelist, on the basis of these words of Holy Writ: 

"But how can they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how can they believe in him of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone to preach?" (Rom 10:14)

Serious exploration happened in the seminary, which was like regular college in that it gave me a chance to experiment--with styles tonsorial, sartorial, and musical.

My consciousness was expanded in those days--not with the help of illegal drugs, but rather with music. WPEN, WMGK, and Plastic Fantastic (a now-defunct used album store in nearby Ardmore, where you'd swear I was taking an elective for as often as I was there).

Between the purchases from various brick-and-mortar establishments and, more recently, iTunes, I have acquired enough Sinatra songs to last for nearly two and a half days of continuous dulia. ("Dulia" is the honor afforded to the saints. Mary, foremost among them, is said to receive hyperdulia, extra honor. Perhaps Tony Bennett, Jerry Vale, et al would receive dulia, but Sinatra hyperdulia, for he has slain his ten thousands.)

Now not all his recordings were winners; even the Chairman himself would grant you that. Without easy access to liner notes, un/authorized biographies, or Sid Mark, I'd bet that Sinatra would have taken out back and shot not a few of his sides from over fifty years of public singing. "Strangers in the Night" stands as the most cited example; he called it, among other things, "the worst [expletive] song that I have ever heard." But he cursed it all the way to the bank, because it was his first #1 hit in eleven years. As in 1966, so today: what's popular isn't always what's best.

It's not his worst, either; but I'm not writing my first blog post in over two months to limn Frank Sinatra'a worst songs. Rather I will recount my favorites, the ones I scroll past the others to select (if I don't just directly type the ones I have in mind). Their place in this "canon of the canon" can be attributed to, for example, Sinatra's voice, the musical arrangement, an obscure instrumental lick, or my personality.

In no particular order:

1. Ebb Tide (ok, this one and only this one is "in order," because it has stood out as my favorite. Lush, passionate, and profound in every respect.)
2. All The Things You Are (Columbia era, the 1940s. Haunting. Lead and backup vocals only) 
3. Rain In My Heart (from Cycles, an otherwise substandard countrified album. The syncopation of the crash cymbals in the last ten or so seconds is as sharp as the dramatic vocals throughout)
4. Mam'selle (Nice 'N Easy, a great late Capitol album; the strings trill and he sings so gently)
5. Hello, Dolly! (from the 2nd Basie collaboration. The arrangement and lead trumpet soar)
6. Should I (late Capitol; part of a swinging masterpiece album. Short and sweet)
7. Ol' Macdonald (all-around clever piece, from the same album as #6)
8. How Little It Matters (How Little We Know) (The Capitol or Reprise versions are equally good, but in the latter he effortlessly hits the F "...and the WORLD around us shatters")
9. For Once In My Life (Don Costa's arrangement and Frank's sans souci, especially noted in the last few bars)
10. Nice Work If You Can Get It (teeming with energy)
11. I Only Have Eyes For You (10 and 11 are from his first collaboration with Basie. Piano and brass deftly punctuate, as only "Splank" knows how to do it)
12. You Turned My World Around (Power-balladish arrangement that tugs at me)
13. Ol' Man River (descends to a solid but groaning E, then finishes on an equally solid E up top)
14. Call Me (from the same kooky album as "Strangers." It has me at the six cymbal strikes in the intro)
15. Take Me (from the "I Remember Tommy [Dorsey]" album)
16. You Go To My Head (from the same album as #4, which, in its entirety, is just grand)
17. If I Had You (from the "Great Songs From Great Britain" album. Like many other songs, Sinatra recorded this more than once. Three times for this one--and the third time is the charm. The second one was a light swinger from the mid 50s: I'd have removed the hook and thrown it back in)
18. Autumn Leaves
19. I Think Of You
20. There's No You
21. Lonely Town (18-21 are from the same album, Gordon Jenkins-arranged "Where Are You?", the title track of which is also good; but 21 knocks me out)
22. Forget To Remember (a single found on the larger Reprise compilations. Goes from simple and silent to loud and rich in not much more than a minute)
23. I've Got A Crush On You
24. Someone To Watch Over Me (same album as 23, I think)
25. Three Coins In The Fountain (Capitol-era, not the Academy Award Winners rendition)
26. London By Night (the Robert Farnon arrangement)
27. Around The World
28. Brazil 
29. It's Nice To Go Traveling (28-30 are from the Come Fly album; 27 also, as an earlier version)
30. Birth Of The Blues (late Columbia single)
31. American Beauty Rose (late-Columbia, not from the late-Capitol album of contractually obligated swingers. The arrangement is punchy and Sinatra plays it like a champ)
32. The Song Is You (he recorded this with Dorsey in the 40s, once in the Capitol 50s, and then for the '79 Trilogy album, which is the best of them all, for its energy)
33. Let's Face The Music And Dance (from the same album as 33, liked for the energy that was just not evident in the Ring-A-Ding-Ding version)
34. The Coffee Song (both the Columbia and the early-Reprise versions, each unique but fun)
35. I Concentrate On You (the mid-60s Jobim version, but also the Swingin' Session chart)
36. Wave (he digs deep on "to-ge-THER"; in his performances, Mel Tormé jokes, "Antonio, you've got a hell of a range on this song!")
37. The Girl From Ipanema (36-38 from the first, classic, collaboration with A. C. Jobim)
38. The Girl Next Door (early-Reprise version with the poignant pizzicato strings)
39. If You Are But A Dream (Capitol single)
40. Why Try To Change Me Now? (late Capitol version only)
41. If I Should Lose You (not the Columbia version, but the late-Reprise version with Q--another example of the Voice improving with age)
42. Only The Lonely (from the Capitol album of the same title, along with #1)
43. It's All Right With Me (Capitol and late-Reprise, both. Diverse, but complementary)
44. Stars Fell On Alabama (only once, for Capitol)
45. River, Stay 'Way From My Door (he means it when he sings it. Listen for the last "I ain't breakin' your heart", which soars)
46. Let's Fall In Love (from the Ring-A-Ding-Ding album)
47. I Have Dreamed
48. Soliloquy (47 and 48 hail from the same album as #13, The Concert Sinatra)
49. Indian Summer (from the Ellington collaboration, which also boasts #50)
50. Come Back To Me (He swings the hell out of this one)
51. Begin The Beguine (Columbia only; he couldn't have gotten away with it after that)
52. (Love Is) The Tender Trap (Capitol is better than the Basie one with Reprise)
53. Everything Happens To Me (the Reprise versions that are only on the Complete collection, which I want for Christmas)
54. This Is The Night (only with Columbia, a late but pleasant discovery)
55. Laura (the Capitol version, on the same album as #18-21)
56. Spring Is Here
57. Blues In The Night
58. Where Or When (55-57 from the Only The Lonely album; the swinger of WoW, with Steve and Eydie, is also great)
59. Day In, Day Out (from the Sinatra and Sextet: Live in Paris; where else would he "grab your lips"?)
60. I Wished On The Moon (from the Moonlight Sinatra album)
61. The Moon Was Yellow (same album as #59, but an earlier Capitol version has its own merits)
62. April In Paris (from the Billy May album that boasts #26-29)
63. Misty
64. Prisoner Of Love (Like #63, from the Don Costa Sinatra and Strings)
65. Love Is A Many-Splendored Thing 
66. Secret Love (like #65, from the Academy Award Winners album)
67. That Old Black Magic (late Capitol version)
68. Star! (allegedly a "Greatest Hit" according to its album. Not; but still good)
69. It Never Entered My Mind
70. I Get Along Without You Very Well
71. I'll Be Around (#69-71 from In The Wee Small Hours album)
72. Fools Rush In (from same album as #4)
73. Poor Butterfly (from Ellington compilation)
74. Baubles, Bangles, and Beads (from the Jobim collaboration)
75. I'll See You Again (from late-Capitol Axel Stordahl collaboration)
76. I Remember April (same album as #75)
77. Last Night, When We Were Young (again, Wee Small Hours. That mid-50s Capitol output might have been his best overall)
78. Too Close For Comfort (Capitol era)
79. Downtown (Strangers in the Night album, as #14. He sings the title word with a strange slur that sounds like "oo" to "ew" to "ay," probably because "he can't even," as the kids say today)
80. Young At Heart (so pleasant, so Capitol)
81. What's New? (Only The Lonely version)
82. The House I Live In (mid 60s "A Man And His Music" version comes to mind, but the others, before and since, are good, too)
83. You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Loves You (early-Reprise era)
84. P. S. I Love You (from the Close to You (And More) album, which I experienced exceeding joy upon finding, as it had been out of print for several years)
85. South Of The Border (from Come Fly, with May's signature slurping saxes)
86. Just One Of Those Things (Capitol--so tender)
87. How Deep Is The Ocean (from same album as #4)
88. One Note Samba
89. Sunrise In The Morning (like #88, from the later Jobim compilation)
90. If You Go Away (from My Way album)
91. I Could Have Told You (from No One Cares)
92. Not As A Stranger (pretty Capitol single)
93. The Christmas Waltz (Reprise; if I had to include a Christmas one, that would be it)
94. Come Dance With Me (from the eponymous album)
95. Something's Gotta Give
96. Dancing In The Dark (#94-96 from the same album)
97. Ill Wind (from Wee Small Hours)
98. Teach Me Tonight (late-Reprise, with Quincy Jones; "What 'ya get for lessons?" Classic.)
99. My One And Only Love (Nice 'n Easy album, like #4, 87, etc.)

Add your own favorite in the comments, or just leave that one behind and listen to any of these 99.

You may have noticed the absence of "My Way," "Theme From 'New York, New York," and "Strangers In The Night." I like those, and most of the other well-known and well-liked hits, but I wanted this list to set those aside in favor of some more obscure ones. The most erudite Sinatra scholars would include examples far stranger than mine.

In any case, offer a prayer for Frank and for all his fans. May his name, his charitable deeds, and his love "not too wisely, but too well" live on in eternal memory!

Sinatra's grave, what I visited in 1999, a year after his death

Note-Worthy

I am always delighted to peruse the posts of Robert Badger, who writes The News From Wabu-eup. While a seminarian at Saint Charles for several years, Robert offered his virtuosity at the organ for many daily and Sunday Masses. It was not unusual for him to pull out works from obscure (to me, anyhow) composers such as Alan Hovhaness to play at the Preparation of the Gifts. For several years Robert has been teaching English to Koreans. Most recently, through the social media we have offered each other samples of composers, songs, and instruments. His most recent post (cf. link above) highlights the artistry of Danish pianist Victor Borge, whom I have enjoyed since Harry Sands, a neighbor of my late grandparents and a former bandleader, played some of his tapes for me.

By the way, in case you haven't heard of Alan Hovhaness or anything composed by him, here is an arrangement of his "Prayer of St. Gregory," played by famed trumpeter Wynton Marsalis.

And, for something completely different, a selection of Richard Cheese, whose clever parodies Robert introduced to me last year (pardon the graphic frontispiece):

As a clarinetist and soon trumpet player for Saint Clair Area High School Band (in fifth grade), my first love was classical music. Actually, it may have been Elvis Presley, as my father was a big fan and introduced me to him before I started playing an instrument. The first cassette I ever bought was of J. S. Bach's Greatest Hits, including the famous organ piece "Toccata and Fugue in D minor" and the "Little Notebook of Anna Magdalena Bach" on harpsichord. Around the same time I started playing clarinet, I also took up the keyboard under the influence of Harry, my next door neighbor. He had a Lowrey which he played nearly every day. Our thin walls often enabled me to hear what he was playing. Years later, he would let me come over and play for him, to our mutual enjoyment. I was largely self-taught, having only a few lessons and scant patience for the rigors of practice. I didn't want to relearn silly things like finger positions; the bass clef was covered satisfactorily with chords. This latter preference helped me, I believe, to be able to transpose more easily. As a hymn organist I  can play songs in almost any key (but please, don't go over five sharps or flats without necessity!).

My high school friends and I used to compose mix tapes for our car rides. In this venue I would discover a broad swath of genres and artists, ranging from classic rock tunes like "War" and anything Queen, to pop classical pieces such as Samuel Barber's "Adagio for Strings" (as heard in the movie "Platoon"). My tapes weren't as popular because my tastes weren't. Thanks to my mother and late grandmother, Engelbert Humperdinck became a favorite, supplanting but not altogether replacing Elvis.

But my senior year English teacher George Repella's fondness for Frank Sinatra turned me on to arguably the greatest entertainer in American history. My appreciation for Sinatra blossomed while I was in the seminary. I collected as many of his albums as I could. But meanwhile a classmate of mine got me interested in Led Zeppelin. He tried his best with Pink Floyd, to little avail. Another fellow seminarian got on a country kick. I did not follow suit.

Today, thanks to iTunes, I have discovered contemporary artists. Most recent additions to my library include the latest album from Nicole Atkins, Slow Phaser. Atkins' rich, dramatic voice has reminded people of one of her respectable influences, Roy Orbison. She has released three or four albums since hitting it big, but she has also covered Linda Ronstadt, Mama Cass, and The Doors quite artfully.

I listen to music as a musician does, attentive to chord progressions, rhythm and time signature (Burt Bacharach is good for that), other facets of music. I could use a refresher on Music Theory, for all the complexities that can delight the ear!

My Favorite March(es)

One of my regular reads, Fr. Dwight Longenecker, posted today on his favorite hymn, from the corpus of Methodist powerhouse Charles Wesley. As a longtime church organist (including three years for the United Methodists in St. Clair!) I am quite familiar with Wesley's contributions.

As a longtime trumpet player, I am also familiar with the corpus of John Philip Sousa, "The March King" who died in Reading, PA after conducting a practice session with The Ringgold Band, one of the oldest continuous marching and concert units in these United States.

Just today a woman approached me after Mass to tell me about the "Ringgold New Horizons Band," for senior citizens returning to their instruments. Perhaps, she suggested, we'd like to have them play a concert at the church someday. Although I can't speak for everyone in the parish, would we!! And perhaps I'd like to sit in with them. And with the main group, too.

Since 1991 I've been honored to play trumpet with the Cressona Band. Until about seven years ago I played for most of the summer concerts and occasionally with their stage unit; nowadays I'm happy to join them for a parade and a few concerts. I don't get to practice with the band, but they let me slide because I can sight-read well enough and have played many of these songs over the years. I have many good friends among the fine musicians in Cressona (and in Pottsville's Third Brigade Band, with whom I played for several years, alongside many of the same musicians). A good number of them are current or former educators who are very much responsible for the quality of music programs in Schuylkill County.

Anyhow, since Fr. Longenecker posted a favorite hymn, allow me to post a favorite march. First, I must decide on one...

I have chosen...no, wait--

Well, since you understand about indecision, you don't mind that I chose two. But there are more, and I won't bore you with them, because you'll probably stop listening. But I do enjoy Sousa--listening as well as playing (except the 2nd and 3rd parts, which pretty much double the french horns with the rhythmic background).

If I haven't told you lately, patient reader: thanks for listening, and for reading.