Reflections on Columbine It was a picture of a baby that made me cry. I was at the downtown library chaperoning a field trip for my daughter’s sixth grade class, when I saw an innocent picture of a baby. And it made me cry. We had gone to the library to work on their research papers. But there was something about this day that made everyone want to cry. This was the day after the hideous Columbine school killings and everyone was walking around just a little numb. I couldn’t help but look around me at the children busily working on the projects and realize that they were only a few years younger than those thirteen children who were murdered at school the day before. But I also had to face the fact that they were only a few years younger than the two killers as well. When this happened, I wanted so badly to label the murderers as monsters. But the fact remains, the most important label we must recognize is that they, too, were children. How can ones so young be filled with hatred so strong that they are driven to do something so horrid in a place where we parents believed was a haven for learning? Again, the picture of the baby haunts me. Years ago, when I sent my oldest off to kindergarten for the first time I was scared. I was scared about the real world finally touching the daughter I had been able to protect for five too short years. But, truthfully, I was scared for the little hurts I feared my child would have to endure. I was worried some child would not want to sit next to her on the bus. I worried she would feel sad if chosen last for a team in gym class. I worried she might get her feelings hurt by a classmate. I never thought to worry that another child might one day bring a gun to school a start shooting. Every day, we parents must trust that the bus drivers who daily transport our children are physically and mentally healthy. We have to assume that the teachers educating our children are academically and morally good. We believe that all the students who attend school with our children, are basically the same as ours. But not all are. And when children so dramatically fall through a societal crack as the ones did that frightening day, the whole world can hear the thud. Or bang. For this reason the picture of the baby made me cry. To think that a child enters this world full of promise and purity and somehow makes such a wrong turn on the journey that is their life, is more than I can bear. I stare at the picture for the last time. I see the small pouting lips attempting a smile. I notice the soft, full head of dark hair. I smile at the full, rosy checks. And then I shut the book, trying hard not to notice the caption underneath the picture: “ When our community suffers a loss, talk of heroes abounds. It somehow helps mend a broken heart, as if labeling the loss might give an explanation to the inexplicable. So it was this week, while our hometown was still trying to process the feared, but not anticipated news of Staff Sgt. Matt Maupin being confirmed dead by the military, that news began to spread like an errant flame that two of Colerain Township’s finest firefighters were killed in the line of duty on Friday morning. The day of the fire, I was teaching at Colerain High School, collecting a Poetry Notebook assignment the students were to have turned in. Of course, I was also collecting excuses as to why some were not completed. I heard a lot of “printer broken” or “computer issue” excuse-attempts at justifying the day’s missing assignment. One student, however, looked different. She came up to me with tears brimming in her eyes, swallowing hard as she began her explanation. She explained that her mom was going to bring her Poetry Notebook to her that morning, but she instead got called to the fire station for a news conference. It seems my student’s dad is a firefighter for Colerain Township, and she didn’t know if he was one of the two she had just heard had died in the fire. She had no idea at that moment if her dad was dead or alive. I asked her if she wanted to go to the guidance office or if there was anything I could do, but she said she’d rather stay in class and wait. So she did. I watched her as she attempted to read the book in front of her, trying not to stare as she dabbed her eyes, attempting to be strong. In her next class, she finally received a text message from her dad telling her he was okay. Still, for one hour and half, this fifteen year old sat in my classroom, doing her work, not knowing if her life as she knew it was changed forever. For me, that moment was a gentle reminder that we can’t ever fully know what is going on with someone else. Just like understanding that a student who isn’t prepared for the assignment might actually be summoning up heroic strength trying to deal with things I can’t imagine, maybe the person driving too slowly in front of my always-late-for-something car is coming home from receiving life-altering news. Perhaps the man who was rude to me in line at the grocery store is really just doing the best he can at that particular moment. Maybe we could all be more understanding of our fellow humans if we looked at each other as potential heroes in the making. Yes, heroes are incredible, dedicated service men and women who daily risk their lives, often for little recognition or thanks. They deserve our praise and prayers more than we can hope to offer. But we need to use these times of tragedies when we pause our over-scheduled lives for just a moment and collect our collective breath, to recognize that each of us may not know what the next person we bump into (or who bumps into us) might be going through. Sometimes the hero among us might make the morning paper and evening newscast. But the hero among us might also come in unrecognizable forms, like the young teenager who sits in class for an hour, doing her work while waiting to hear if her dad was still alive. In remembering this, perhaps we can all be a little more patient and understanding with each other. I’m not saying we need to make a habit of expecting less from everyone else. But perhaps it is time to expect a little more from ourselves. For Fr. Jim Standing before the immenseness of the ocean as the sun’s rays dance upon the crest of thousands of rippling waves, I am not surprised to find myself thinking of God’s majestic ways. And watching those waves begin beyond where my eyes can see, only to rhythmically be delivered at my feet, I am never without praise for my Maker. I expect that reaction. What I didn’t expect was to feel that same praiseworthy moment when I looked up on my Because that parasailer reminded me of a very dear friend and all he had been through. The person sailing above the ocean reminded me of Fr. Jim Willig. As many know, cancer claimed Fr. Jim at the age of 50, but only after a valiant fight that included writings, books, and recordings that are still with us today to inspire and teach us how to live. What some may not know is that shortly before he died, in an uncharacteristic moment, Fr. Jim accepted an invitation from a fellow priest friend to go on a much needed And he will raise you up On eagles’ wings Bear you on the breath of dawn Make you to shine like the sun And hold you in the palm of his hand. And that moment --- that song--- so perfectly describe how Fr. Jim Willig dealt with the incredible set backs and sufferings of his cancer. He knew no matter how low he got with the pain and frustrations, the Lord would ultimately raise him up. By living this way, he was able to glorify God through his cancer journey, miraculously finding his strength in his very weakness. So I guess it’s actually understandable all these years later, that I would see the parasailer raised in the sky, think of Fr. Jim, start singing that song, and utter a heartfelt prayer of praise to God. And today, home again from my The Play Someone once said, “All the world’s a stage and most of us are simply stagehands”. Well, this last weekend, I was a stagemom. You see, my daughter was in a play at her school. Now, I have never been a believer in pushing my kids. In fact, I often go to the other extreme. At times, I can be heard saying these less than encouraging words: “Oh, I’m sure you don’t want to play soccer…be on the swim team…try out for the play…do you?” I say this not for lack of faith in my children, but simply for lack of energy in me. Because I know that the more things my kids are involved in, the more things I will consequently be involved in. But in spite of my lack of pushing, my kids have gotten overly involved in everything. So when my daughter came home and announced she was going to try out for the musical, I may not have been the most enthusiastic mother. And when she told me she got a part in the play, my excitement for her was held in check with the realization of the commitment that had to be made by the actors and the actors’ families. There were rehearsals to attend, little jobs to volunteer for, and costumes to make. And this didn’t even take into account the time spent helping to learn lines and songs and dance numbers. Now we were already shuffling schedules around for baseball practices, cheerleading practices and part-time jobs. And does anyone remember that thing called homework? At the rate we were going, we would be lucky to all sit down for dinner together sometime next July. So I admit, I was not the biggest dramatic supporter of the play. But then it was opening night. The curtain opened. And the lights went up. Suddenly sitting there in the auditorium filled with my family and the families of all the other little middle school thespians, my heart began to race. As the first scene began and the children sang, danced and acted their hearts out, I was filled with such pride watching my child and all the others demonstrate what all the shuffling of time and sacrificing of dinners had been for. I think there is very little that can compare to the feeling parents have when they are watching their children do something they are good at, enjoy, and are learning from all at the same time. And as I sat, watching the last scene with tears in my eyes, I couldn’t help but marvel at how fast children grow up. For now, I was watching these young teens who were now confidently saying their lines to a packed theater, but I was remembering them as a group of little eight year olds who once put on mini song and dance routines in my backyard. I guess the world really is a stage. And right now I am feeling very grateful for my roll of mom in this busy play we call life. Every day is a new scene. No one is exactly like the other. Sometimes I am sure of my lines. And other times I stammer for something to say. And no matter how chaotic the play gets with all the scene changes and shifts in characters, I want to try to remember to applaud the wonder of this precious God-given production. The worst thing that could happen, is to not appreciate this play until the curtain closes. There’s an old song that has the lyrics, “We need a hero/ We’re holding out for a hero ’til the end of our fight/ He’s gotta be pure/ And it’s gotta be soon/ And he’s gotta be larger than life”. I find myself thinking of that when I read the newspapers, watch the news broadcasts. Sometimes it gets so frightening, we all just want a hero. For this same reason, our kids so frequently turn to public figures to find their heroes. Sports figures, musicians, and movie stars all fill a void for our kids. This type of admiration is not all bad, as long as it is balanced with a good base of faith. I was thinking of this the other day after our last snowstorm. After a short delay in the school day, I could be found with my youngest trying to get out of the snow-covered driveway to take him to school. Now, my driveway slants down from the street, which makes it a nice safe area for basketball playing –but a not-so-nice area to try to get a car out after a snowfall. My son and I had shoveled. We had salted. We had rocked the car back and forth. And back. And forth. Still, the vehicle was not budging from the lower level of the driveway. Right before I was about to announce the futility of the situation, it occurred to me to say a prayer. Pray about it. I always tell my kids that, so why wasn’t I showing them I do it too? No sooner did the simple prayer for God’s help pass my lips, but we began to steadily pick up momentum for the first time that morning. Slowly and steadily we made it to the top of the driveway as if by a separate force other than the car. I looked at my 12 year old next to me. The amazed grin on his face told me all I needed to know. At that very moment, God was his hero. In a perfect moment of youth, my son had witnessed a plea for God’s help and an immediate answer. More powerful than a homerun-hitter, more famous than a rapper or movie star, God was his hero. Think about it. Omniscient. Omnipotent. How much more of a hero could he be? Now, any of us who are old enough to have kids, are old enough to have had prayers in our lives that are not only not answered immediately, but sometimes they devastatingly seem to not be answered at all. Sometimes the answer to our prayer seems so obvious to us, but it is not on God’s list of what He wants for us. And this hurts. But in spite of all the tests, trials, and tribulations we may have experienced in our lives, the important question to ask is, do we still believe that God is our hero? Do we still believe He can make it all better? Do we still believe He alone knows all, sees all, hears all? Are we still willing to believe? “We need a hero/ We’re holding out for a hero ’till the end of our fight/ He’s gotta be pure/ And it’s gotta be soon/ And he’s gotta be larger than life”. Sure sounds like God, doesn’t it? The piercing squeal of delight woke the rest of the house. No --it wasn't from my children... it was from me. Yes, teachers enjoy the occasional freebie of a snow day as well. I could finally sleep in. Of course, once it's part of your routine to wake at a certain hour, it's hard to fall back to sleep even on those days when you really can. So it was that I got up anyhow, had my coffee and ---of course ---listened to the Son-Rise Morning show. But as the 9:00 hour rolled around, I realized that the downside to the snow day was that there was ---well --- snow to deal with. And since my husband has one of those jobs that doesn't give him the day off when it snows, I bundled up to face the crystal sheet of ice and snow that had blanketed my driveway overnight. "This shouldn't be too hard," I thought. I did, after all, have a snow blower that we had spent way too much money on three years ago and had used about that many times. But as I moved the lawn mower, trashcans, and various bicycles around in the garage to uncover the hibernating snow blower, I also uncovered the fact that the key to the ignition was not in the ignition ---or anywhere else. After somewhat of a needle-in-a haystack search throughout my garage for the missing key, I gave up and resorted to the less technically dependent and more physically laboring device: the old fashioned snow shovel. After over an hour of shoveling, my back began to hurt a bit. I think my feet were soaked but I couldn't really tell because they had gone numb about 30 minutes earlier. Then an epiphany hit me like bolt of lightening in a snowstorm. Didn't I give birth to four children somewhere in the past? And weren't three of those 4 children snug and warm inside the very house where their mother was now in the driveway in danger of losing a toe to frostbite? One simple request ---that might have sounded more like a mom mandate ---and I was back inside my arm home and my driveway was being shoveled by those more capable---or at least younger -- than I. And once my toes began to thaw out, I think I had another epiphany. My experience shoveling the snow reminded me of the way we sometimes face our burdens in life. We confidently think we are prepared for whatever may come. We are ready. But oftentimes when our problems do come our way, we soon realize we have to handle them in a more difficult, more basic way that like ---the missing key to the snow blower ---won't be as easy as we had hoped. And when we do begin tackling the problem, don't we usually try to deal with too much at once? Like lessoning the weight of the snow on the shovel, we quickly realize we must pace ourselves in order to deal with the weight of our burdens. And finally, there is always a point where we realize we cannot ---we should not ---deal with the problem on our own. At last we ask for help. And this help can come from our family and friends, making us very grateful. But the one we need to always remember to ask for help in our burdens is our heavenly Father. Truth be told, that day, had I waited, the rain would have come to melt most of the heavy ice, making the shoveling much easier. But as happens too often, I got too caught up in my timing that I forgot about God's perfect timing. We need to ask God for help with our burdens both big and small. In doing so, our worries may not simply melt away. But remembering to ask Him for help, we will certainly be in a better position to face whatever falls our way in the storms of life. That thing called love Oliver Wendell Holmes once said, "Pretty much all honest truth-telling there is in the world isdone by children." It was with this in mind, a few years ago when I walked into my son's first grade classroom prepared "Eww!" many of Mrs. Moriarty's students exclaimed when I shared with them that I was writing My first question was very simple, as I asked, "What is love?" The responses to this question "It's something that happens when Cupid shoots you with an arrow," answered another. "Love is And finally, "Love is when you just find somebody and marry them." Of course one little boy divulged he, in fact, knew what love was, but he wasn't allowed to tell me. "Will you get married one day?" I asked the six year olds next. Most of the kids agreed they would have a wedding in their future. Some, quite realistically, predicted The next first grade question was, "Do you have a girlfriend/boyfriend now?" This question was Then, there was one other young man who admitted he did have a girlfriend, but he couldn't It was then time for my final question, "What is Valentines Day?" The overwhelming response to One student summed up the meaning of Valentine's Day by observing, "It's when you share love". Now that's a truth we would all do well to remember tomorrow... and everyday. It's pure and simple. You might even say. it's elementary. Ash Wednesday Before my youngest was in preschool, he would sometimes accompany me to the Rosary at my old Now, that made me think. First of all, it made me think he was watching too many Scooby Doo Mysteries. But secondly, it made me think of the way we so often pray and also the way we too often act in our Because, I had to admit, he was right. The monotone rigidity of the speech of the holy people around me that day showed no emotion. We I've noticed this during mass as well. So much of our mass is filled with prayers that have been passed down from generations of worshipers. Unfortunately, we take these words for granted when we forget to actually hear what we are praying. So, we don't. For that reason, too often the words seem to be coming from our mouths ---but not our hearts. And the With the beginning of the Lenten season, I'm afraid this will undoubtedly happen more and more. So much of our Lent is focused on the fasting, the sacrifices and the purification, that again, our mood But still, I catch myself facing Lent with joy in my heart. I want to rejoice in the fact that I know how I challenge all Catholics to ponder this as well. Let's start this holy season off right. May this time of
GPS and G-O-D From the time I was little, I have understood that God creates each and every one of us to possess Maturity has also helped me become acutely aware of some of the gifts I wasn't given at birth. And one My mom once noted that if you spun me around a few times, I might not be able to find my way out Okay, mom, that might be exaggerating a bit --- but I have to confess I do get lost more than the a As a matter of fact, I don't even think of it as getting lost anymore. I simply consider it taking a detour. My kids know this about me. At any point in our traveling, if I happen to turn into a gas station, And so it was a natural that this year for Christmas, someone who knew me well got me a Global Truth be told, it is amazing I didn't get a few of these from loving family members. I have to admit, I love having this device in my van. I have even named the female voice that guides me, For example, the other day, I had to pick my husband up at the airport. Now, I have been to the airport Soon however, this girl with no sense of direction suspected something was wrong. I looked at my GPS Of course, that car ride made me stop and think: Don't you suppose God wants to be the main GPS of our lives? When we let him, He gently and perfectly guides us, turn by turn, telling us where to go. But too often, Indeed, I have not been blessed with a good sense of direction. But if we can all remember that the
Mommy fish The other day, my seven-year-old son discovered something fishy. He learned a certain law of nature It all started out innocently enough. We were watching a television show aimed at kids. At one point in the show, it was discovered that Then the show mentioned that they needed to separate the mother fish from the babies for the protection My son couldn’t wait for the televised explanation of this. “Why do they have to take the babies away from the mommy?” my second grader asked about this Calling upon my knowledge of aquatic life, which basically consists of the phrase, “One fish, two fish, “Sometimes a mommy fish, if left in the same tank with her babies, will actually eat them,” I explained. While I was pleased with my explanation, my son looked aghast at the new- found knowledge, “That’s Realizing I would have to go deeper than Dr. Seuss for this one, I took a deep breath and offered, “It’s The distressed look in his eyes told me my vague answer had not satiated his quest for nautical He continued, “Do any other animals do that?” I stammered out another obscure answer, “I think some other fish eat their young… maybe some insects Suddenly I wished I had taken better notes in Biology class. “What about dogs?” my seven year old investigator continued, glancing apprehensively at his own pet, But that was not enough. We then had to go through a list of all the animals in the zoo, as I assured “What about people?” came the inevitable question. I finally promised him then that the natural instinct of human mommies is to love their babies, care for When the giggles had subsided, I turned the channel. Unfortunately, what was on the next channel was the scariest nature show of all. It was the news. The lead story was about the abortion pill RU-486 and its use in the United States. “What does that mean?” my curious son asked immediately. Remembering the promise I had just made on behalf of the law of human nature, I swiftly changed I knew, without a doubt, that announcement would simply be too bitter a pill to swallow. Brian vs. Olivia? I was trying to pray with Brian Patrick --- but Olivia Newton John kept butting in. On my way to teach at Colerain High School each day, I look forward to the prayer And so it was on this morning as I turned to get on the freeway, Brian and the Our Not wanting to miss out on this last dose of spirituality before I hit the less than I began to feel the frustration rise within me. All I was seeking was a bit of inspiration Then it hit me. Juxtaposed against one of our oldest prayers, the love song on the radio took on an "Give us this day our daily bread," I could faintly hear Brian in the background reciting. "Let me be there in your morning. Let me be there in your night," blasted Ms. Something about the two together made me stop to think. Could that song actually "Let me change whatevers wrong and make it right," Well, that certainly sounds like Jesus, doesn't it? He wants to take whatever is wrong The next line was about a great wonderland that we could share as it ended with: "All I ask you....is let me be there." As I pulled into Colerain High School that day, I had tears in my eyes. The reception And I felt such peace, reflecting on my perceived request from the Lord. Isn't that just like God: taking a moment of bad reception and frustration and turning All I ask you is let me be there. Let Him be there. Through good times or bad, he wants to be with us. And we can count on that because His is one reception that will never ever fade away.
Dance Last week, I watched a little girl learning to dance the way so many little girls have learned to dance --- And it was so right. As one dance step leads to another, that one thought led me to another thought: Our Father wants us to dance. How is it when we grow, we lose the natural rhythm of life we were born with? We suppress the Yet we've forgotten how. But our Father wants us to dance. Life is too short to sit still without rhythmic joy pulsating through our bodies. Some lucky ones seem to have never really forgotten. They are dancing the dance that brings joy to But others are not as natural. Here's the greatest part, though: Our Father wants to teach us to dance with this joy again. So climb on His feet, following where He leads. It might be awkward at first. You might even fall off more times than you can count. But don't get discouraged. Your Father is patient. He wants you to dance. He knows you can't do it on your own. And soon, without knowing exactly when it happened, you will realize that you are going where He is Because you will be dancing the dance your Father planned for you to dance. And it will be so right. Your Father wants you to dance. New Year's Celebration While celebrating the tradition of Exchange Day, otherwise known as the Does anyone know anyone who actually goes somewhere on New Year's My guess is, most of us spent the dawn of the new year like we spend Personally, my family and I celebrated the new year at a party at a Glitter. Yes, there was lots of glitter. No, most of it did not come from Drinking. There was much drinking, too. The juice was absolutely flowing. Dancing. Yes, there was dancing at the New Year's Eve celebration, too. Fine dining. All of us parents in attendance would agree that it was, Romance. Yes, when the stroke of midnight rolled around and I was For, a new year dawning definitely teaches me something and it has But for now, we choose to embrace the sweetness of the simple Like glitter from a tube and juice from a box. And a chocolate kiss at midnight.
Only One Christmas Someone once stated, "There has been only one Christmas---the rest are For me that truly highlights the impact of the day---the realness of that I have to confess when I was little and would think of that special day in "Away in a manger, no crib for a bed." For me it was a day about a special child coming into the world. It was Through the years, other symbols have played a part in my Yuletide "Hark the herolds, angels sing. Glory to the newborn king." "We three kings of Orient are bearing gifts we travel so far." "Star of wonder, star of light, star with royal beauty bright.." This year, though, something specific has gotten my attention. Yes, I remember being so anxious when my first child was born---so very And after the miraculous birth, what did she think? What was Mary's But then I realize that is just what we are all being given the chance to To truly remember that one Christmas so very long ago when a baby was Happy Anniversary, everyone. Christmas Countdown Now, I have been spotted in the mall before on the day after Thanksgiving, I understand that the number of shopping days before Christmas has I started to think of all this while I was, indeed, in line the day after But not everyone was smiling that day; or even trying to. The Christmas Later that night, seeking the sanctuary of internet shopping, I was "I promise you have time," I assured him. "But I need to go today," insisted the ten-year old consumer. "and I dont "I love cross necklaces," I answered, as I continued on with my e-bay "Can I get on e-bay when you're done?" he persisted. No sooner had I surrendered the computer to him than he began typing "You know how to spell it" I answered. "C-R-O-S-S?" "Exactly," I assured him, as he typed away. And that's when it hit me. All the hustle and bustle to buy the best And for heaven's sake, smile. Maybe we just need to stop long enough to ask ourselves the simple,
Thanksgiving "If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." I couldn't help but to think of those words of Mother Teresa last week as I was hanging my flag for Veterans Day. And I couldn't help but to think of the sea of red, white and blue we have witnessed since the war began. Never in my life have I seen such a display of patriotism. Never has there been so much American pride. Never have I seen so many signs proclaiming, "God bless America". And that is good. I love the thought---but I have to wonder, "Why stop there?" At a time when there is unrest in so many parts of the world both far and near to home---shouldnt we be praying for God's blessing on the whole world? The great Spanish cellist, Pablo Casals, said this best when he observed, "The love of country is a splendid thing---but why should love stop at the border?" Maybe Mother Teresa was right---we have simply forgotten that we belong to each other. We could learn so much from our little ones about this. Have you ever noticed very small children playing on a playground? When two children who have never before met first arrive at a play area, there seem to be borders around them. Each is hesitant to join in and play with the child they dont know. But they watch each other---sometimes subtly, sometimes blatantly. And invariably, what happens is before too long, the two children who have never seen each other before break through those borders and slowly gravitate together. They will share a smile, a giggle, and then, perhaps even a toy. How does this happen? But, being the adults, we soon teach our children to fight this natural urge. And this too, is done in both subtle ways as well as blatantly. Strangers are bad. People are different. And if people are different from us, how could we possibly trust them, let alone love them? At the beginning of the war, as I hung my flag on the flagpole , I was praying prayers for peace on earth. But my thoughts and prayers were centered on a far away land where there was unrest. I could not even envision the human form hatred had taken. But this week, as I hang my flag on my flagpole, I reflect on the headlines that have been splashed across our newspapers over these last years. Headlines that tell us sad stories of our world, our city, even our Church. Perhaps such a lack of love is not as foreign as we would like to think. And today as we prepare for a day of Thanksgiving, as my flag billows in the breeze, I again pray for peace on earth. But this time it is not a faceless earth that I pray for. It is an earth made up of the rainbow of faces of God's children. And I pray that each of us may rediscover that pure heart of a child that we may have come to deny. Maybe then we will once again remember that we belong to each other. The Rock It has been said that you can learn a lot about someone by going through his trash and seeing what he has chosen to throw away. I hold to the belief that the opposite is also true. I think you can learn much about someone by seeing what he believes is important enough to save. Of course, in my case, that would be just about everything. Yes, I am a packrat. I had to confront this reality the other day when a sock drawer in my bedroom would not close. It was then I realized that drawer contained everything, but socks. And so, in my orderly way of cleaning, I dumped all the contents of that drawer on the floor. I was amazed at what the drawer had held. Thus began my unexpected trip down memory lane. Some of my drawer discoveries were sweet. I found little notes each of my kids had written displaying various stages of their penmanship. I discovered photos, long believed lost. I even found a few baby teeth that the tooth fairy must have dropped in my drawer on her way out the window. Some findings were simply ridiculous. There were tags off old outfits, receipts from groceries purchased four years earlier, and stale sticks of gum. Still, some discoveries reminded me I was getting older. I actually found a crumpled piece of paper with an au |