Reading Scripture

My congregation on Staten Island has committed itself to reading the whole Bible in a year.  Many of us purchased the "NRSV Daily Bible" and began our reading on New Year's Day 2015.  In two days we will have read from Genesis through 1 Samuel. We sit and discuss it either on Wednesday evening through Lent or on Sunday morning during Coffee Hour.  You can imagine the dedication of this group of readers who give up most of coffee hour and the socialization that it brings, to sit around a table and listen to others discuss and dispute the meaning of these ancient texts. 

Genesis and its two versions of creation was mulled over for its poetic repetitions in the creation story: "And there was evening and there was morning..." and the wonderful metaphoric descriptions of creation followed by the ordering of the animals, noting the sudden switch of voice and point of view, "...then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being". Powerfully written stuff, we all agreed, but how factual? Hum...

We milled over the biblical stories of brothers: Issac and the half sibling Ismael,  Jacob and Esau, Joseph and his many brothers, Moses and Aaron, Aarons sons: Nadab and Abihu who foolishly offered "unholy fire" and were destroyed and the remaining sons, probably traumatized for life:

David and his lyre

Eleazar and Ithamer, the corrupt sons of the prophets Eli and Samuel, and David and his older brothers...talk about sibling rivalry! They are all here; the good the bad and the very ugly, fraternal disputes and possible fratricide, good deeds and deceptions, appetites and ambitions. And we noted over and over again the theme of "...and the last shall be as the first."



Leah and Rachael

And those women, at least the ones we meet up close and personal, they are certainly both memorable and formative!  Sarah must have been quite a beauty if her husband tried to pass her off as his sister to avoid being killed by rulers and reckless men desperate for a night of her charms.  And of course, the lesser sister, Leah, whose beautiful eyes are mentioned as her best asset; she is certainly the more fertile of the sisters, although we know her husband, Jacob, preferred her younger sister Rachael. One has to admire the tenacity of Moses mother, Jochebed  and his brave sister, Miriam, although her treatment in the book of Numbers seems rather harsh. She and Aaron have decided that their little bro was getting a bit too big for his britches, and wondered aloud why he got to go and commune with the Almighty. So what happens?  She gets stricken with leprosy for seven days, and Aaron is left crying  and making atonement for this sin in his priestly role! Of course we get to read about Deborah, one of the wisest judges of Israel and the lovely heartfelt story of Ruth and Naomi.

We have read about some memorable men: Abraham, of course, the father of nations, but also Esau, the cheated brother and Ismail, the deserted son, and Boaz the loving second husband of Ruth and savior of her mother-in-law Naomi, and finally Jonathan, Saul's son and confidant of David, doomed to neither rule or thrive. Saul and David and Isaac and Jacob may get the big press, but the lesser guys of Scripture have quite a lot to offer us in learning about human nature, ambition and loss.


I will say that I have found the  readings to be both phantasmagorical and extremely bloody, but some are surprising to me.  I had always thought David killed Goliath with his blow to the forehead.  I was wrong.  In reality, the slingshot stone knocked him out and the stabbing into his back and the beheading really done Goliath in.  It makes sense to read the whole account and not just the abbreviated Sunday morning version.


So we will continue on our reading journey, and I suppose, I will be musing more on this as the year goes on.  If you want to join us, we are about to begin 2 Samuel in a few days.

Ole Blue Eyes

I recently heard on NPR ( National Public Radio) that we are fast approaching the centenary of the birth of Frank Sinatra. Francis Albert Sinatra was born in Hoboken, New Jersey on the 12th of December 1915. His impact on American popular music and the canon that is referred to as the Great American Songbook is immeasurable.

Frankie actually had a connection to my family.  My mother's first cousin was a classmate of Frankie in elementary school.  It seems the teachers loved to have young Francis sing the opening songs at every school assembly.  His peers, at that time, were not so supportive, and Mom related that her cousin and her pals would roll their eyes and snicker that he was the "teacher's pet".  Now since all involved are no longer with us, it is difficult to prove the provenance of this family folk tale.

There is no dispute that Sinatra was the singer of his generation.  My parents preferred the music of Glen Miller, but Frank was a constant presence on New York radio through out the 50s and 60's.  Frank's voice failed him in 1950; he hemorrhaged his vocal cords while singing at the Copacabana and did not sing for over a year. His comeback was bolstered by his appearance in the Burt Lancaster-Deborah Kerr film, "From Here to Eternity" for which he won an Academy Award as Best Supporting Actor.  Trivia note here: When Turner Classics decided to colorizer this classic black and white film, their colorist gave Frank brown eyes, a faux pas that was quickly corrected.

Everyone has their favorite Sinatra song or two. I do like his ode to lost love and lost time, "The Summer Wind" and am hoping to have it played as I am laid to rest. I have heard it was also one of Frank's favorites. It always takes me back to my summers in Connecticut with my family and summertime friends. It brings back memorable days past and love unrequited.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TIltgDzgvk8


Others may prefer one of his saloon songs.  He did those quite well. This is probably one of his most memorable: "One for My Baby"....of course, nowadays...he would not be driving after having one more for the road; hopefully the bartender would be calling him a cab.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m121tmJzcAc


Another Sinatra classic has to be "All the Way"...it sort of sums up his work in the decade between 1950 and 1960. He had fabulous breath control. He developed this as a young man by conscientiously swimming laps to learn how to control his breathing and making a breath last longer to hold the notes steady and clear. He was a true craftsman at his art.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4LiAfyQ0TE&feature=youtube_gdata

In the sixties Sinatra succumbed to some questionable musical decisions, but, hey...it was the 60's. But I wonder who convinced him to actually record this one, and it's on his own label!  I don't get it now, and I didn't understand it then. Everybody may have been twisting, but Frank, you did not have to sing about it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDCjBC6DvqE&feature=youtube_gdata


Perhaps his finest hour in in later career was his ode to living ones life in a manner true to one's self.
I remember a priest that I know told us that he was taken aback when one of the blue-haired ladies, a stalwart of his urban church community, had this anthem of fully living life played as she was taken from the church to her final resting place.  Got to admire her chutzpah.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=egY8rUpxqcE


But the one Sinatra tune that always brings a tear to my eye is a tune penned by Eubie Blake in the 1930's.  When I hear it I can close my own baby blues and with my mind's eye, see those who have gone before dancing to this classic...and the metaphor of "...a rosary of tears" is such a touching phrase.  Enjoy Franks striking version of "Memories of You", and another sweet interpretation from Bette Midler:
Frankie first: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UkKeUiaji3o&feature=youtube_gdata
Then Bette's: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQ726TMtRHY

Musings on a winter's day....

There is nothing like nursing the flu on a Sunday morning in the dead of winter in the Northeastern part of North America.  The snow on the ground and on the roof deck  is in layer upon layer like a crazy iced Napoleon pastry, and is now slowly melting to reveal the wet and glistening surfaces beneath.. The ice floes from the upper Hudson have broken up into frozen chunks of ice melting as they slip into more and more salted waters. The Sanitation Department has plowed my surrounding streets, but the traffic has been slow and sparse. The gulls have returned to the air, scouting the  left over remains in the parking lot of a nearby brewery/bar where young revelers partied into the wee hours last night at a hot rock concert on a rather frigid night.  The cab company and the local train system carried most of them away before I awoke this morning. 

So it is pretty quiet here in St.George.  Even the normal gathering of freighters and tankers has diminished greatly due to the freezing water temperatures and the dangers of swiftly moving ice. The only real movement on the harbor appears to be the ferry as is plies its way from here to Manhattan with it's plaintive foghorn announcing its departures and arrival. I am keeping warm drinking hot tea and wearing my sweats seated with the ever-ubiquitous box of tissues at hand to assist with the occasional bouts of sneezing that comes with this year's flu taking some time to think about my past week and the juxtaposition of events and occurrences that meld in my mind.

Now, normally I would be away this week enjoying someplace somewhat warmer than here.  Over the years I could be found cruising to  Bahamas, Jamaica or Mexico along either the Pacific or the Gulf Coast.  One year we sailed out of New Orleans and spent time in the tropical lands of Belize, Costa Rica, Mexico and Guatemala.  I have stayed with friends in Cancun several times. Or I have flown  across the Atlantic to Ireland, London, Paris or Spain. This was done mostly while I was employed full time at the New York City Department of Education.  Those week long trips during Presidents' Week were hard earned and most needed.  There is nothing that even compares with the long school stretch between January and Spring Break in April.  The early darkness and bone-chilling cold of New York can bring on the seasonal depression of anyone who is genetically disposed to it...such as those of us descended from Northern European stock.  There is a reason the suicide rate in Scandinavian countries rises in mid-winter. Now, that I am no longer working full time, I can afford to travel in the off-season, which I do. 


This past week marked the beginning of the penitential season of Lent, the time of fasting and preparation for Easter.   Tuesday of this week is known as "Shrove Tuesday", "Fat Tuesday" or Mardi Gras in the European tradition that sees revelers tossing beads, dancing and parading in the streets of  places as far apart as New Orleans and Rio de Janiero. One year I was in Athens  for this reveling week, and can attest to the fact that the Greeks are no shrinking violets when it comes to celebrating on that night. Dancing on tables and throwing plates were important components of the event.  We, thankfully, sat on a balcony watching the activity at a safe distance. On this past Shrove Tuesday, we rather sedate Episcopalians settled down to an annual Pancake Supper event where we eat pancakes and sausages, drink tea and coffee and imbibe in a sherry or two.  We then burn left over palms from the previous year's Palm Sunday and crush them into a fine powder to use on the next day, Ash Wednesday.

For the third year in a row, I have trudged down to the ferry terminal at 7:00am and placed myself in front of a coffee shop located in the terminal and distributed ashes to folks heading into Manhattan to get to work. This was the first year I worked in tangent with some of my Lutheran colleagues who were on the opposite side of the terminal. We were there for two and a half hours and distributed ashes to 503 people.  Now, this practice is not universally embraced by clergy.  Some of my colleagues have strong feelings about distributing ashes in a non-liturgical setting, and I understand both their concerns and respect their opinions. But, I would invite them to try it once.  Many of the folks who stopped by thanked us for being there so early, and for giving them  an opportunity to get ashes before they go to work.  Others asked if this meant they did not have to go to church, to which we answered resoundingly "NO. If you have the opportunity to go to a service, do it."  Still others asked us to pray with them, which we did on an individual basis

Now I know I probably picked up my current flu from someone on Wednesday, but...that's life. I think I will survive...just have to keep drinking more tea.


Some other winter musings from Mama Cass and Co.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3kcmwXUdDCE

Passing of the mantle

In last Sunday’s Old Testament reading we witness the changing of the guard as Elijah is taken up into heaven as his devoted student and witness, Elisha, remains behind to carry out the work of his master.  The reading, as it is presented to us in our Lectionary, ends with the twelfth verse, which is a  shame, because the thirteenth sort of sums up the action pretty well: “He picked up the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and went back and stood on the bank of the Jordan.”

That mantle had played an important role in the story, Elijah used it to strike the Jordan allowing them to walk across it on dry land.  It fell from the older prophet as he was taken up into a fiery whirlwind into heaven, and came to rest the feet of the younger man.

Now a mantle was an important possession.  It was usually made of wool or goat’s hair tightly woven and waterproof.  It was a kind of  cross between a hooded cape and a blanket, and was used as such by the early inhabitants of the Middle East  In the time of the writing of the Book  Of Kings, travelers were shown hospitality by hosts who provided them with mats upon which to sleep, but without blankets.  Your mantle was your personal overcoat and blanket rolled into one; it was an important piece of personal couture.

Since Elijah and Elisha the “passing of the mantle”, has been repeated innumerable times and in great variations. It reinforces the basic truth of life that generations stand in line with each other, the older folk ready to relinquish, and the younger ones eager to step up and assume responsibilities.

I remember my first year of teaching full time when I was struggling to figure out successful classroom management strategies and lesson planning.  I would close my eyes and think of successful teachers I had seen in the past and would think about adapting things that worked for them.  I imagined myself putting on the mantle of the teacher, an image that stayed with me throughout my career.  And when I moved out of the classroom to become mentor to new teachers, I would use that image with them again and again in order to build confidence and grit in their teaching performance.

This process of “passing of the mantle” also happens in ministries. Before my ordination to  the Diaconate, my husband and I coordinated parish groups and clubs to cook and serve at the Soup Kitchen in Stapleton on a monthly basis  After I was ordained, I knew I had to give it up, and I had groomed a married couple to take over for us.  The surviving spouse still does, but she is now ready to pass mantle on to the next generation and has wisely groomed her successor Have seen this process happening in our midst.  Younger parishioners stepping up into leadership roles. I can remember two members of our Vestry as Sunday school students.  We send off our older acolytes to college and younger Intermediate school students step up to replace them. The infants who were baptized in what seems like yesterday, are today in Godly Play and Rite 13 classes. Where does the time go?

The “Passing of the Mantle” is as old as time, and will go on through time. And like Elijah and Elisha, we need to know ourselves when the time is ripe for us to pick up the mantle and put it on, and when to remove it from our shoulders and put it down.  People’s interests, time constraints, familial and work commitments change, and these turns of events can affect the time and talent we are able to give to our church, and putting down the mantle can be as rewarding as picking it up.  As Elijah, one needs to groom others in the task at hand and be ready to let go to see the work brought to fruition, and like Elisha, others need to be at the ready, prepared and watchful to move the work forward.

May the Lord grant us the wisdom and wherewithal to know when to do each.  Amen

Seasonal Candy

Chocolate covered Oreos

Once or twice a month I do some work for my former employer, the New York City Department of Education, at their human resources building located at 65 Court Street in what we call "downtown" Brooklyn.  I put "downtown" in quotes, because if you look at a map of Brooklyn , this building located at Court and Joralemon Streets is really located in the northwest sector of Kings County, otherwise known as Brooklyn. The only real "downtown" that is near to it is a subway stop away in lower Manhattan.
On my way to the office is a interesting store that only sells seasonal candies.  It is called "It'Sugar", and it is always packed with kids and adults who line up every day to satisfy their "sweet tooth". The window displays are the real "eye candy" in the neighborhood, and the window-dressers do a meticulous job in creating temptingly delicious theme windows for every season. From January through December, they feature a candy or two for each season.  



Necco Sweethearts

   Having worked yesterday, I noticed that the February flavors of the month have arrived. Frilly heart-shaped red and pink boxes of hand-dipped chocolate covered Oreos sit nicely next to the classic Necco Sweethearts with their greetings: "Be Mine", "Kiss Me", "Call Me", "Let's Get Busy", and "Miss You".  If you are so inclined, you can get these in Spanish under the brand name "Hola!".  These candies have a long history as they were first produced in their present format in 1901. The company tried making them with "all natural" ingredients a few years back, but sales dropped and they are back to their original recipe.

Original Peeps

As a "thank you" gift from my granddaughter, I recently got an early supply of "Peeps", a classic

Easter candy of marshmallow shaped chicks encased in crystallized spun sugar.  Their classic color is yellow, but you can now get them in green, blue, pink and purple.  They are also making bunnies in Easter colors, but the chicks are still the benchmark as far as I am concerned.  In the past, they had a limited shelf life, and I have been known to freeze them.  I also admit to a penchant for slightly stale, and thus a bit hardened, Peeps.  I understand they have recently added ingredients to extend their shelf life and have new packaging.  I hate it when folks tinker with a classic, don't you?

My beloved Cadbury Eggs

And I am sad to say that this year a beloved Easter candy will NOT be in any Easter Basket at any of the Swanson-Redden clan households.  Those wonderful "Canbury Eggs" that we have looked forward to every year will no longer be available in the format we have come to love.  A rather large American candy manufacturer, Hersey's, to exact, has actually used the United States Court system to block Cadbury products from the US saying their products can be confused with Hersey's.  Well, gentleman, that is just not true.  Cadbury milk chocolate actually has more milk in it then do yours, and thus have a smoother and purer milk chocolate taste that is far superior to those made on this side of the Atlantic. Some of the Cadbury Eggs available in the US are made by Hershey, but in the NYC area, we can buy the British version at various Irish, English and Scottish purveyors who specialize in overseas comfort foods.  They will no longer be permitted to stock the Cadbury products made in Britain. I guess I will have to wait for later in the year when I am going to Europe; I believe I may have a lay over in Heathrow...you know what I will be buying!

During the summer months, especially at ball games and county fairs, cotton candy is indeed king!

This magical finely spun pink sugar confection is like eating clouds on a summer afternoon....absolute pure joy! It brings back lovely summer time memories just thinking about it!

Cotton candy is made by heating sugar and then spinning the liquefied sugar out through tiny holes where it re-solidifies into strings of sugar glass. Machine-spun cotton candy was invented in 1897 by a dentist (interestingly enough) and confectioner. It was first introduced to a wide audience at the 1904 World's Fair.  There is even a National Cotton Candy Day in the United States on December 7th.

Candy Corn

Into the autumn and winter new seasonal candies emerge. Halloween at the end of October, is kind of a candy free for all, and anything goes, but come November the one constant in the candy business has to be candy corn. Found in the United States and Canada, this three-colored candy – a broad yellow end, a tapered orange center, and a pointed white tip – mimic the appearance of corn kernels. Each piece is approximately three times the size of a real kernel from a ripe or dried ear.

Candy corn is made of sugar, corn syrup, confectioners wax, artificial coloring and binders.  It was never one of my favorites, but I guess it has its fans.


And of course, during the Christmas Season the candy cane rules. According to legend the candy cane was invented around 1670 in Cologne in present day Germany.  The choirmaster at the Cathedral, wanting to eliminate the noise caused by children in during the service on Christmas Eve, asked a local candy maker for some sweet sticks for them. In order to justify the practice of giving candy to children during services (!!..things do not change much, do they?), he asked a local candy maker to add a crook to the top of each stick, which would help children remember the Christmas shepherds. In 1957, an ordained a Roman Catholic Christian priest, Gregory Harding Keller, whose family was in the candy business, patented his invention, the Keller Machine, which automated the process of twisting soft candy into spiral striping and then cutting them into precise lengths as candy canes eliminating a 20% loss of the final product that had plagued his family's company for years.


In a few weeks it will again be Lent, a time when many of us attempt to "give up" something in order to prepare for the great feast of Easter.  This is something that Christians do as part of their spiritual practice.  Now I know that many of us would rather add something to our practice instead of  denying ourselves, but maybe a few less sweets is not a bad thing.  I would also commend to you all a bit of "Lent Madness", an interesting Lenten discipline that melds the lives of the saints with football brackets. Take a look here: http://www.lentmadness.org/about/

Mark 1:14-20 Fishers of Men

“…I will make you fishers of men”

As I have said before, I live in an archipelago, that is, according to Wikipedia, my personal quick go-source for basic information on anything, a group, cluster, chain or collection of islands. Now, I know it is sometimes difficult to have this constantly in our heads, but those of us who have the need to get to that other island in this group…you know, the one we refer to as “the city” (NYC), will often find ourselves at the ferry terminal waiting to board a boat to take us there.  The closer one lives to the extreme edges of this island, the more one becomes aware of our status as a place completely surrounded by water, often at the mercy of the same in ways those who live further inland…like in Kansas, have no personal experience with.

On my side of the island, I can see the commercial heart of this city: freighters, barges, tugs, tankers and huge container ships pass us by even as we drive along familiar streets like Bay, Richmond Terrace, and Father Cap Blvd. It seems as we cruise along these roads; we are sharing the space with these massive ships as they pass us on parallel liquid lanes of shipping traffic.  And the sounds of foghorns seem as usual here as the chirping of the sparrows in springtime.

Also, the history of this place as a spot for oystering and fishing is an historic memory, of sorts.  But there are still places here where one can indulge in the simple joy of fishing. Various piers along the shoreline provide ample space for serious anglers to try their hand at salt-water fishing.  Persistent local fisherman have favorite spots where with others, or solo, with rod and reel, they cast into the unknown of the ocean to tempt a curious fish or two to fall for their bait or lure.  If one prefers fresh water fishing there are several local ponds and lakes that provide the same excitement for those who prefer a quieter, gentler kind of fishing.  But the process is persistent and repetitive: cast out the line, send out a lure, wind it back in,  again and again, to attract the unwary.

This idea of using an attractive “lure” to basically engage others is also definite tool of evangelism.

Now, I am not suggesting that we go out and snare folks using hooks, worms and lures, but I think we have some better ways of attracting others to Christianity.

Let me give you a concrete example.  Our Community  Steel Drummers took a hit last year when a few our most experienced drummers went to intermediate schools and could no longer make rehearsals.  Over the summer I thought about working with the local housing authority activity centers to see if we could recruit more students through them.  After a conversation with the director at the Center in Stapleton, we were convinced to co-locate our group with them.  We had the financing, the drums and the teacher; they had the children.  So with some real soul searching, fear and trepidation, we decided to make the change of venue.  I will not say this was easy, we lost several members and potential members due to the switch, but I am glad we did it. 

So, how did we get the present complement of 12 participants?  We lured them in and got them hooked. On the first night we only had two returning drummers, so we set out five drums in the lobby of the center, and the two students and their instructor began to play. Soon we had a crowd around us and several children asked if they could play.  The instructor gently showed them how to play two notes and then incorporated their playing into the songs the group already knew. Some of the parents were stopping by to pick up their offspring, and asked for information about the group.  Within three weeks we had 12 students and 10 drums. The lure worked, and now this group is learning how to work together to make music.

So, what is to be learned from the persistence of fisherman and the lure of music on children? Well, if you have an honest and worthy message, folks will listen and be curious about why you are persistent in your attempt to spread good things with them. Last week Father Howell talked about the importance of getting the message of our presence out in our community.  Today I am urging each one of you to think about what “lured” you into this place, what piqued your interest or caused you to walk through the doors for the very first time. Unlike the apostles in today’s Gospel, who each had a personal call from Jesus to begin their journey of faith, we only have our own voice with which to continue to call others to share in the life of this faith community.

We each need to think of ways to share Christ’s message of good news with others. Ask a friend to join you at a parish event; share information of programs others might benefit from; bring someone to church for a special occasion; invite a co-worker or neighbor to worship with us on Sunday morning. Don’t be afraid to share your faith and your commitment  with others in your circle who may be in need to prayer or spiritual support. That is what we are here for, and we need to let as many who need the support of a faith community to know we are here.  Amen

 

Courtesy, Honesty, Integrity

As the dawning days of a new year are upon us, I could not help but reflect on the direction our society as a whole is heading.  I live in a part of the world that has been greatly influenced by Western Society, resting comfortably in the lap of the middle of that culture for the last fifty years.

But over the past ten years or so I have wondered where exactly the center of that society is now residing because I do see a real lack of courtesy, honesty and integrity in the public lives of those who appear to hold roles of leadership throughout the Western World, and in folks who often respond "from the lip" to what they read in the online media or view on video in any of its many current forms.

Currently in New York City, the police department has unnecessarily placed itself at odds with the mayor in an obvious power play by their union leadership.  They feel he is not supportive of them, in fact, he has the utmost respect for what they do everyday.  He is just not in favor of a policy put into motion by the former mayor that unduly targeted certain members of minority groups.  He expressed his feelings as the father of a mixed race adolescent boy and took more flak than he should have from the PBA leadership. The rank and file decided to follow the instructions of their union leadership and turn their backs on the mayor at several recent functions including the funerals of two slain officers.  This is adolescent behavior at its most destructive. The mayor was elected with 73% of the vote. He was duly elected on a progressive ticket.  Policies will change, but the office of the mayor remains the same.  He deserves courteous treatment whether you agree with him or not.  Now, I know I will hear from colleagues, family and friends who may disagree saying he does not respect the police officers.  Well, he still deserves to be treated with courtesy, as he is treating the police department.  Grow up, boys and girls, and put on the big pants and be polite like your Mama taught you. Don't you know you can catch more bees with honey than vinegar?

And how about expecting honesty from our elected officials?  Is this something that has gone out the window with being courteous to each other? I am currently residing in the Eleventh Congressional District, the only congressional district without a representative.  Why? Our Congressman pled guilty to several counts of Federal tax evasion.  During his recent election  campaign, he kept repeating that he was innocent and was a victim of a "witch hunt" by federal prosecutors who were following instructions others high in the presidential office who were out to get him. The opposing party did not offer a strong candidate, and our protesting congressman won re-election only to cop a plea to a felony and resign from Congress yesterday. Now, why could he have just been honest with us at the very beginning? Instead we got to watch "Mikey Suits"...his congressional nickname... shoot off his mouth trash talking about the other party's leadership and lying to his constituents. Now we are waiting for the governor to call for a special election, and several local politicians and former allies of said congressman are lining up for a chance at the seat.

Our governor has suffered a personal loss the week.  His father, a three term governor himself and, considered by many across party lines to have been a man of great integrity, passed away on the very day the son was sworn into his second term. Hundreds of regular New Yorkers stood in line for hours in the bitter cold and wind to pay their last respects to him. I am hoping that our present governor, our new house representative, whoever that might be, and the rank and file of the PBA decide to honor our former governor by following his example and learn to walk in courtesy, honesty and integrity while serving the folks in this city and state.