The parking lot at Durand Eastman Beach was packed this morning, as crowded as it is on a hot summer day. And this was one but it was still early. And these people were not dressed for the beach. They had their Sunday finest on. Many of of the women looked as if they had made their own, the long skirts and head coverings. You’d think they would have made some masks for their families.
Celestial music was playing from a sound system and the hillside which slopes down to the beach was crowded. A row of men dressed in all white were dunking parishioners in the water. The crowd was entirely white and no one was wearing a mask.
My large, extended family was solidly Irish Catholic. But my parents canceled church as an obligation when they bailed on the culture of Catholicism. I was in high school and was thrilled with their decision. I had been begging them to let me attend public school where my friends were. Bishop Kearney (named after an early Rochester bishop) was run like a prison. A lot like “Orange is the New Black” but the uniforms were blue and there were a lot less Black people.
The church was changing but not fast enough for my parents. They thought priests should be allowed to marry and women should be allowed to serve, something that is still out of the question. The church is desperately hanging onto an anachronistic, dark ages script. Bishop Clark, in his recent testimony followed that script, a script that attempts to keep the clergy above the law.
“There is also to be a secret archive in the diocesan curia or at least a safe or file in the ordinary archive, completely closed and locked which cannot be removed from the place, and which documents to be kept secret are to be protected most securely.”
Clark claimed he never looked at the secret files when he took over as Bishop. Two of my first cousins, both near my age, were abused by priests. Bishop Clark was asked about a long list of area clergy, most of whom he acknowledged knowing about, who were accused during his time as Rochester’s bishop. Apdf of his testimony is available online but it will make you sick to read. Here are some excerpts.
Father O’Neill Q. Were there other complaints during your 32 years at the Diocese of Rochester that priests had sexually abused minors other than the first two Bishop Hickey told you about? A. Oh, yes. Q. What position did you hold at Albany when you had that kind of responsibility? A. I was the chairman of the Priest Personnel Board. Q. Were you aware of any allegations prior to arriving as bishop of the Diocese of Rochester that there had been complaints that priests had had inappropriate – – A. Oh, yes, yes. Q. And after Father O’Neill admitted A. Well, I sent him to — what’s the word I’m looking for? Q. Rehabilitation center? A. Yeah. That’s — I’m not sure that was the exact title, but, yes. Q. Was it the Institute for Living in Connecticut? A. No. It was in St. Louis.
Father Eugene Emo Q. Did Father Emo ever admit to you that he had acted inappropriately with minors? A. Yes. Q. And did you meet with Father Emo on this or did he meet with somebody at your direction? A. I met with Gene, I would say, three times. Q. Okay. After Father Emo went for treatment, was he reassigned to a position with the diocese? A. He was.
Father Paul Cloonan Brother John Walsh Father Albert Cason
Father Ronald Frederick Q. Was he allowed to still work at parish assignments? A. Yes.
Father Vincent Panepinto Father John Gormley Father Dennis Sewar Brother John Walderman Father Joseph Beatini Father James Burk Father Thomas Burr Father Robert Guadio Father G. Stuart Hogan Father Robert Meng Father Thomas Kent William O’Malley Francis Pilecki, a teacher at Aquinas Father Foster Rogers Father John J. Seger Father David Simon Father Anscar Sullivan Monsignor Joseph Vogt Father Francis Vogt Father Otto Vogt Steve Ward
Father Paul Schnacky A. I know he offended, and I know he eventually returned to ministry.
Father William Lum Brother John Farrand Deacon George Finch Father Gerard Guli Father Robert Hammond Father Robert Klem Father Bernard Kuchman Father Gereon Lindsay Father Joseph Lynch Father Charles McCarthy Father Neil Mille Father Bernard Newcomb FatherLawrence Pais? Leonard Riforgiato Brother Dennis Sewar Father Dennis Shaw Father Gary Shaw Father Francis Taylor? Father Zenkel Father Gary Shaw
Many of the clergy have been profiled on the Democrat & Chronicle’s site where Steve Orr has been doing some bang-up reporting. Add to this list John Tobin, Father James Curry and Father Harry Utereiner, three McQuaid teachers who were named yesterday in sexual abuse cases involving students there.
When I was going to Kearney it was common knowledge that Brother Heathwood was chasing the girls. The Irish Christian Brothers, who ran the place, agreed to pay $16.5 million to satisfy about 420 abuse allegations. The Kearney building on Kings Highway South was put up for sale to help fund the order’s abuse settlement. Billionaire philanthropist B. Thomas Golisano purchased the building in 2014 for $3.4 million and gave it to the nonprofit that was then running the school.
I still have a deep soft spot for the iconography and rituals. And Christianity without the miracles is fine by me. But Bishop Clark’s testimony illustrates how corrupt and morally bankrupt the organization is. He comes off like a good soldier if there is such a thing.
Q. What is Exhibit 2? A. It’s a draft of a book I was working on at the time and I have yet to complete it. Maybe I never will.
From the book: “It is the abiding pain in these young people and their loved ones who have suffered sexual abuse at the hands of priests in whom the young — by instinct and training — so readily place deep trust.”
“It makes it incumbent on us to learn what systemic deficiencies, what actions or omissions helped to create an environment in which such horror could even be possible.”
Q. When you had priests go to psychologists or psychiatrists for evaluation did you usually get back a written report from the psychologist or the psychiatrist? A. Yeah. They would send reports. And they would be —
And with that, the three hours of allotted time for testimony was up.
I always liked the Ramones’ “I’m Against It” and I think of it often. Especially when I see something like this. But just what does this mean? The two of us walking up to Aman’s Farm Market with our masks is not the old normal. So the guy likes the old normal and denies the very existence of the new.
When we got home I visited the web address listed on the sign. According to the site “There’s quite a lot of medical debate about whether masks work.” They want to flatten a different curve than the rest of us – the economic curve. “We believe that the government has overstepped its authority and is impeding our life, liberty and pursuit of happiness. They are no longer able to prove a clear and imminent threat.” And that does sound like the old normal.
While I worked to crop this just right in camera I realized the owner was sitting behind the wheel. He was wearing a cowboy hat. I braced for a conversation but none came. If you’re a glutton for punishment or perhaps you’re wondering where the other side is coming from you can click on this photo for clarity. The “AMAC” sticker at bottom left is the weirdest. The Association of Mature American Citizens.
We stopped by to visit our neighbor this afternoon. Peggi made some corn bread for him. I’ve talked about him before. We see him out walking his dog while wearing his MAGA hat. He was cleaning his leaf blower, a Toro model just like ours, and cut some of his fingers off. He’s the nicest guy but we don’t talk politics.
With only the semis and final ahead of us and the Jazz Fest behind us we are out of the woods with DVR issues. Our Spectrum box went rogue on us. Soccer matches that we recorded would freeze while we were trying to watch them or sometimes they would not even be there when we got home from Jazz Fest.
Spectrum’s customer service number is manned by a dumb AI maze, designed firstly to not get their employees involved. I take it they get lot of calls about streaming issues, which rightly they should not have to field, so if you have a real cable issue you have work your way to that topic. And when you get there, there is only a limited menu of problems to report. Why did we have to wait while they checked for an outage in our area? Why do we have to watch while they reboot our cable box when we already did that?
We gave up and took our box to Spectrum’s office. They gave us one that looked brand new but it had apparently already been refurbished and the first soccer match we recorded jumped from the 82nd to the 90th minute in the blink of an eye, We missed the game winning goal. The second debate gave out in the middle of Kamala Harris’s take down of Joe Biden. When we rebooted the box the whole recording was gone.
We drove over to Spectrum again the next morning and signed in on the iPad at the door. I sat down and noticed there were two Paul Ds on the monitor. I thought I may have submitted my name twice. Two clerks’s were helping customers. The one on the left of us was talking to a woman who thought she was being overcharged. She was. The Spectrum employee pointed out the promotional offer she had signed up for had expired. She didn’t remember ever signing up for a promotion. Listening to this conversation was painful but I wasn’t being paid by the hour.
On the other side of us someone was looking at a list of cable packages and trying to decide which one included the stations he wanted. We were planning to meet at a friends house to watch the US France match in a half hour so we getting antsy. He finally decided on a package and left. The Spectrum clerk went in the back room. A third clerk came out to man another station but as soon as she did her phone rang, the one in her pocket. She was still carrying on a personal conversation when the clerk on our left called “Paul D.”
I stood up at the same time as the guy across from us, the other Paul D. I said “I’m Paul D” but he just gave me a blank look so I went up to the desk and traded in our gear.
The neighbor across the street found a tick on her back, a big one, big because it was so engorged. She went to Urgent Care and the attendant called another worker in just to look at it. It was the biggest one they had seen. It was easy to get off because it had already done its thing. She was given some antibiotics and sent home. No symptoms of Lyme as yet. If you can believe what you read, the chances of that are only one in fifty.
We’ve both had ticks attached and we know a few people with Lyme so we are somewhat short of super-vigilant. We wear Permethrin-treated socks for the most part and if we’re gardening or walking in the woods we wear pants that we have sprayed and a hoodie we bought at LL Bean that is treated. Ticks are on our radar but I don’t want to buy into a conspiracy theory.
I remember someone we worked with coming in with a video about the government being behind 9•11, something produced by a guy named Alex. And we have a few friends who still believe there’s much more to the Kennedy assassination. Our niece won’t vaccinate her kids! I try to steer clear of the theories.
The research on Lyme is so sketchy. Rep. Chris Smith of New Jersey wants Trump to investigate and he is calling attention to an explosive book that alleges the epidemic started with an American biological warfare experiment gone awry. The theory has been around for years. A naval base off Long Island where the government ran experiments and deer swam from there to Lyme Connecticut with the tick borne virus. Say it isn’t so.
“You are damn right I hit your car.” Actually I didn’t but I said I did. It was Peggi who whacked the back of the guy’s car with her hand after he drove through a red light. We were crossing at the sidewalk. The walk light was on. As if any of that matters. He never saw us and nearly took us out turning right, right in front of us. You think your life is so important and then you realize it could end so quickly. And this guy rolls down his window and yells, “You hit my car.”
We were walking up to the post office on Waring. The commemorative stamp selection had been depleted with Christmas so we came home with a sheet of Hot Wheels stamps and one dedicated to a Muslim holiday.
Rochester is one of seven cities in the US that can claim half of their children are living below the poverty line. This is something that is hard to believe for those of us lucky enough to be on the other side. And according to the Democrat & Chronicle, Rochester compounds the poverty with extreme racial and economic segregation. New York State is the most segregated state in the country. What is a kid born into these circumstances gonna do?
The Urban Suburban program is growing but they’re simply syphoning off the best, those that could be role models for the rest. And one sixth of city students go to charter schools, the ones without disabilities or language problems. Last year at Kodak Park School fewer than ten percent of the students were proficient in math and and English.
The newspaper, in a series called “Time to Educate,” is looking for solutions but right now they are in probing mode. They are asking for suggestions as to what they should be investigating. This a problem that belongs to all of us and it will bring us all down if we don’t do something about it.
Steve Hoy was the best man at our wedding. But before that he was my college roommate, back when they were randomly assigned without any profiling or preferences being stated.
I coasted through high school and had a great time but I was a terrible student, learning only what I needed to get by. I was determined to turn over a new leaf in college and planned on applying myself. That idea went out the window when Steve showed up. The first thing I remember him saying was, “Is it ok to put one of my stereo speakers on your desk?” He was already a junior. He had a car, a white Barracuda. We had a good time.
We rented a small, coal-heated house the next year and I eventually dropped out but before I did, Steve wrote an English paper for me. I think the assignment was to make something up and that was too much for me. Steve’s paper got me an A-/B+, one of the best grades I received. Steve, a sci-fi buff, entitled the essay “The Fourth Dimension.”
Nikole Hannah-Jones spoke tonight at the Third Presbyterian Church. We were there. Now we must act.
Hannah-Jones is an award-winning investigative reporter who covers civil rights and racial injustice for The New York Times. She was just named a prestigious MacArthur fellow. She is a truth teller. Here first chart had a few key dates in American history. 1607 when the English landed her. 1619, twelve years later when the first African slaves were imported. 1776 when the Constitution was signed. 1954 when the Supreme Court decided Brown v. Board of Education and the Civil Rights Act of 1968, or the Fair Housing Act. Peggi remembers canvasing her neighborhood with her friend Christine Latti in Suburban Detroit in an effort to get the Open Housing Bill based. Up north we discriminated by redlining, obstructive lending practices and impediments to home ownership.
The second graphic that hit home was one that showed the narrowing of the achievement gap between white and black students. That was in 1988. Integration was working but it became branded as “forced integration.” The gap has continued to widen since then. Nikole says its funny how we never hear anyone call it ‘forced segregation.” “Separate but equal” is a crock of shit. She says the one thing that has been proven to work is the one thing we are unwilling to do. Our schools in Rochester are some the most serrated schools in the country. NYC is worse.
Someone is going to have to sacrifice if once again integrate or schools. Many more being sacrificed now. Justice is not easy.
It was a perfect day for cruising along the lakeshore. Full sun but not too hot. The sand beach, which is still mostly underwater, was packed with bathers but most people arranged themselves on the lawn where the old railroad tracks were. Giant boom boxes were cranking competing salsa tunes and barbecue equipment was everywhere, even those stainless steel consoles that run on propane. One group was grilling a whole pig on a spigget rotating above a double wide oil drum cooker. The whole trick was riding our bikes slow enough to take this all in.
On top of it all, a super patriotic trucker drove slowly through the parking lot with a sound system mounted on the outside of its cab. The playlist included AC DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.”
We walked up to Wegman’s this afternoon and while we were cutting through the cemetery our neighbor, Steve Greive, yelled out his truck window at us, “You’ll be there soon enough.” I had no idea what he had yelled. Peggi translated. On Culver we walked by one torn-out book page after the other. Some high school kid had dropped pages every few steps for ten blocks. I picked up one of them and it was Sarah Palin’s book, “Going Rogue.” I couldn’t believe it. I had photographed that book in the Little Free Library in front of a house Culver Road just a few weeks ago. Sure enough the trail of pages stopped at the library. I thought it would be fun to transcribe one of the paragraphs from the page I picked up but it is too mundane.
We ran into Jan, another neighbor, in Wegman’s and we told her we saw her husband and Dave Pitt, the tree surgeon, down on Hoffman Road this morning. She told us Dave had run out of firewood and he was borrowing some. This made no sense at all and we all laughed.
Speaking of funny. I have not laughed so hard for so long in quite some time as I did to Dana Carvey’s stand-up Netflix show, “Straight White Male, 60.” The Church Lady was never this funny.
Too busy watching tv to check in here. Remaking America every night. I fell asleep last night just before Ted Cruz brought the house down. My favorite speaker so far has been Tiffany.
Somewhere in the seventies the Dictators played a gig in the back room of WCMF. Their Manifest Destiny lp had just come out and they rocked the place like they were downtown in the War Memorial. Sleeping With The TV On was my favorite song on the record.
Rich Funke’s website starts with this headline. “Good Morning sports fans, thanks for coming out:” My father put it this way. “It’s gotta be tough competing against a sportscaster.” Rich Funke lawn signs are everywhere. Nevermind that Ted O’Brien has admirably represented us in the NY State Senate and has boldly stood up for the environment. Funke says. “I’m not a politician.” That’s great. So how is he going to get anything done?
Mr. Funke came to our door but we were not home to experience him in person. When he stopped at our neighbor’s place Jared was up on his roof, relaxing in the sun. He had a bird’s eye view of the Funke hairpiece. My friend, Frank, has some politically astute reasons to just say, “No thanks.”
Who picks up for the low-lifes? Public works employees, conscientious neighbors, walkers? Somebody is keeping us from drowning in rubbish.
Check out what this one kid dumped down at the end of Hoffman Road, right near an informal entrance to Durand Eastman Park. 2-for-99 cent Garcia y Vega Grape cigar packages, a fat free Gummy Bears bag, Hershey chocolate and Reese’s peanut butter cup packaging, a receipt from the 7-Eleven on Culver and some small drug bags. Think for a few minutes about what this character might look like.
A friend of ours is running for NYS assembly in the the town of Greece, the same town that W. came to when he wanted to sell the country on privatizing social security and the same suburb of Rochester where two women had their day in Supreme Court on Monday. I wish him luck.
As someone who came up in Catholic schools where the nuns would stop everything in the middle of a lesson and take us over to the church for some reason or start talking about religion in the middle of math class I understand that I (or my parents) asked for the intrusion. But when addressing the town on a legislative matter why should someone be made to feel uncomfortable or be put in a position of sucking up to some cult?
The town claims to be trying to recruit members of various faiths to offer prayers, “non-sectarian prayers” of course. Just what boundaries surround “non-sectarian prayers?” This calls for active, performance-art resistance, wacky, outrageous prayers to all sorts of imaginary devils, witches and gods.
It was tempting to go beyond this point on the Charlotte Pier but we chickened out and turned back but not before we spotted a Snowy Owl. Winter is not for the faint of heart.
“Five hundred years after Copernicus, it sure still looks as if the sun is going around the earth.” I snagged that line for Adam Gopnik’s piece on the New Yorker site. I like taking the counterintuitive route, bundling up and stepping outdoors in inclement weather. It’s some kind of kick.
I’m just passing through so I could pretend that I don’t notice but that is not so easy. There is an awful lot of science bashing going on here. It’s kinda like the OJ trial where the TV shows that grew up around the murders discovered they could keep the story alive by pretending that there were two sides to the story. Panels of experts were equally divided regardless of how unbalanced the evidence loads were.
It’s not just climate change deniers. Tennessee, South Dakota and Louisiana have passed legislation that allows the teaching of creationism as an alternative to evolution in their public schools. Evangelicals have mounted similar efforts this year in Oklahoma, Missouri, Kansas, Texas and Alabama. “Teach the controversy.” As John Adams said, “Facts are stubborn things.” There is no controversy.
I like graffiti but it certainly has it limits and that’s why they call it graffiti. Some idiot has marked a well traveled path around the ponds and through the park with these yellow markings. The yellow looks like Rust-oleum’s “Sunburst Yellow” and the little rectangles are sort of intriguing. Small touches of color take on monumental proportions in the grey/brown landscape. But this group marked the trail over and over again on straight-aways where there could be no confusion as to which way to go. All this so a bunch of idiots can follow each other through the park in some sort of race on paths that others take every day? Grrrr.
I know County Executive Maggie Brooks has her hands full reigning in the free spending, cigar smoking, strip club going public works employees but I bet somebody knows who did this. We could make a citizen’s arrest.