O Holy Night!

so for many, many years the Christmas song "O(h?) Holy Night" (is the 'h' in there? i vote it to be optional) has been (and continues to be) among my favorites. I can't definitively say "the" favorite because there are just sooo many awesome ones. Ironically, they are probably missing from Fr. Sibley's huge collection of (not so) fresh and funky Christmas songs. I mean, i love you, Fr., but it's about quality, not quantity...and let's face it...it's pretty terrible.

but i digress

Anyway, why do i like, nay, love! this song? (as if i needed any justification for this piece of awesomeness) because of the line: "...'til He appeared and the soul felt it's worth."

...and boom goes the dynamite.

yeah, ya know, that's, uhh, some pretty cool stuff. (feel your worth, soul, feel your worth) ...parce que, though sinners we may be, he makes us worthy to share in glory, goodness, holiness and all that jazz that leads us to that whole concept of sainthood (to which we are all called, mind you).

tonight brings the hope of salvation.

tonight bridges the gap between heaven and earth.

tonight we breathe a new breath of life.

tonight the soul feels it's worth.

so thank you, Blessed Mother, for the courage to say yes. Thank you, Saint Joseph, for your commitment.

and thank you, 8 pound, 6 ounce, newborn infant Jesus...don't even know a word yet...for allowing our weary world to rejoice.

Merry Christmas, y'all.

Daytona

faithfulness

I visited my grandparents today in Jennings (J-TOWN!). Visiting them is becoming more and more bittersweet. Sweet because they're outstanding human beings, bitter because they keep aging.

My grandpa is still pretty sharp, but my grandmother can't remember any of us. Multiple times, she asked me "Now which one are you? You're all the same to me."

The three of us visited for an hour or so and their example continues to make a profound impact on me. We talk about family, stories, news, sports...life, really. And it's always nice to gain their perspective on things.

My grandpa likes to reflect on his kids and grandkids and how they all "got good ones" (spouses). I like to remind him that it's no accident. They learned from what they experienced growing up.

We have a family tree that's produced a lot of fruit. Poor grandma can't tell apart which apple fell from which branch, but I thought it to be appropriate that she can't tell us apart because who we are and the love we give isn't ours; it's theirs. It's what we learned from the example of our parents, from their parents. So i'm okay with her not remembering my name. There are things more important things. (but she does know that it starts with "D").

The family tree keeps branching out as long it's connected to the trunk.

As i was leaving down the hall, i thought i heard my g-pa call my name a couple times. I doubled back, peaked my head in and asked if they called my name. He said, "oh i was just reminding momma (yeah, that's what he calls his wife...awesome, right?) which one you were."

So i left, sure that my name would be forgotten by the end of the next day and sure that i would visit them by the end of the next week...

...because you stay faithful to the ones you love, it's the Landry way.

Peace,
Daytona

P.R.I.D.E.

so i went to a school board meeting tonight. Exciting start, i know. long story short, the first hour i sat and listened to everything like a good student observer...then i got bored...the last relative thing i remember is the acronym

P.R.I.D.E.: standing for Promoting Rigor and Interest through Developing Excellence.

so i decided to take that and run with it...so, here ya go:

Princess
Rabalais
Immersion (for)
Diluting
Ebonics

Princess
Rabalais
Instinctively
Demolishes
Elves

Poor
Red
Indians
Dance
Erotically

Persuasive
Romans
Infiltrate (the)
Defense (of the)
Enemy

Politically
Rabid
Independent
Demographics
Excluded

Persnickety
Rambunctious
Iguanas
Deftly
Evolve

Plump
Rabbits
Infect
Dormant
Elders

Potential
Racist
Intends (on)
Dining (with)
Ebony

Principal
Rogers
Incepts
Druggie
Elementary schools

Pirates
Rigorously
Impede
Drunken
Ecuadorians

Poisonous
Rocks
Impaled
Dayton's
Elbow

Pundits
Read
Invasive
Descriptions (of)
Eggplants

Parents
Render
Icky
Dastardly
Enfants

Pragmatic
Ramblings
Indicate
Deficiencies (in)
Experience

Parlez
Ridiculement
Ici...
Donnez
Exemples (spécifique)

Prends
Roches (qui sont)
Identifie,
Donc
Exprime!

it's good to be back

patriotism...it's a work in progress.

Let's just say i'm no Lee Greenwood. I've taken issue with the military life for a while now. And it wasn't until recently that i addressed these issues to myself and said "alright, Dayton...since you say you have a problem with these military folk, let's get it out. Let's get down to some understanding. After all, your grandfather and uncle are veterens."

So i did exactly that. I had a knock-down, drag-out bash fest on the military. And here are some things i came up with:
- it's outstandingly expensive to maintain
- for as much discipline people develop in training it sure seems to be poorly managed
- it desensitizes humanity
- recruiters are annoying...there's a line between not taking no for an answer and not listening.
- being in active duty and married seems really selfish. you can't be in Asia and small town U.S.A and effectively raise a family. i just don't get how you can do that to a family.

"Alright, Dayton." i said to myself, "let's understand it." So i tried to make some counter points:
- to borrow a quote from john lennon (yes, John Lennon), "it's less expensive than one human life." yeah he was talking about other things but let me have this one.
- so is the Church
- there's a certain admiration in persistance. it took Mr. Thomas Alva Edison thousands of tries before the light bulb responded positively (ha, positive electrical current).
-

I couldn't come up with one. I was stuck in my little bubble of narrowmindedness until i found a video that a friend of mine (Miss Kasey Chaumont) posted on her facebook. Now, the video isn't originally her's, so don't everyone go break down her door trying to pat her on the back...not for that at least...she says she likes to make sweetly baked delicious tokens of awesomeness...but that's TBD. I'm trying to find out first hand but i don't have a birthday coming up. I need to find some excuses to get a cake (or cupcakes! i've explicitly stated that they are an acceptable alternative).

So i'm a guy that goes on a tangent about cupcakes. You can see why i've been apprehensive about embracing military concepts. It's just how i've always seen the world. I've always thought a better alternative to bombings is air raids with cupcakes, droppin' all kinda cupcakes out of the sky on unsuspecting civilians would do much more in terms of diplomacy than blowing up stuff. People work hard on those buildings. Maybe they could use cupcake drops as a warning then the next time through pass by with bombs...i mean...if i were to get bombed later, i'd sure appreciate a cupcake now, just sayin'.

But i digress.

This video is a montage of a bunch of soldiers surprising their loved ones in an unexpected return from a "tour of duty" (still have a problem with it being termed a tour). So i started watching it and almost immediately i felt like a moron. It's like a little light bulb tapped me on the brain and said, "hey, idiot, look over here...at the screen. you were wrong." Aaaannnndd i was wrong.

These men and women are anything but selfish...some the most selfless people you and i will ever meet. Then i realized that my negativity was a twisted version of the admiration i have for these guys. These men and women aren't leaving their families; they're serving them by their commitment to keep our country free from harm (no matter how much we abuse it). It'd been a while since i'd been humbled, and it came at the right time in an appropriate manner. Inspiration is a powerful thing. It can take you from apprehension to appreciation in the matter of seconds. So i'm going to try to put this link up. I hope you can follow it one way or another.

click video link

And so Thank you, all you men and women who serve. And to the families, you are in my prayers.

Peace,
Daytona



"To live without faith, without a patrimony to defend, without a steady struggle for truth, that is not living, but existing." - Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati

Roller coasters...

Hello.

Contrary to their names they typically don't take you on a gentle, sweet little coast around the park. They're typically for those thrill seeking individuals who wouldn't mind seeing the theme park corn dog and funnel cake from earlier that day (they're also not mobile cup place mat devices used to keep condensation off of a typically wooden surface...though few make that comparative error...but now that i think of it, there may be an untapped market for coaster afficionadoes out there...but then again, i suppose the proper term for my idea would be 'rolling' coasters).

So as fact would have it, whether it be in a theme park or sliding your drink to the other end of the coffee table, roller coasters pique excitement! They go hand-in-hand...like fish in water. Well, maybe Louisiana and good food, seeing as fish don't have hands (just lucky fins), but the point remains. Roller coasters are exciting.

They're a lot like this wonderful thing we call life. How? I'm so glad you asked. A few come to mind:

- You're not in control. Sure you can lift your hands, tuck in your feet, close your eyes and other things to make the ride more (or less) interesting, but (unless you designed the track) you can't control where it takes you. There's a track operator who gets to call all the shots...you can ask him about it when you get to the end.

- You get out what you put in. Say you strap yourself in with a grumpy attitude, all sour and laaaammmeeee. What's your summary going to be like when the ride ends? "It was terrible! We kept getting thrown around from side to side and going upside-down. Half the time i didn't know which way was up! Grumble, bumble, grumble." (translate: i'm going to do everything i can to keep from enjoying life). Now, say you attack it with an enthusiasm unbeknownst to mankind. What's your summary going to be like when the ride ends? "It was awesome! We kept going back and forth from side to side and going upside-down. Half the time i didn't know which way was up! Happy, happy, happy." (translate: i'm going to embrace the unknown and make the most of it).

- It teaches us lessons. More specifically. It's best if you live in the moment (don't do it, Eve!). Now, don't get me wrong...the past is important, and the future is too, but all we have is now to do what we do...(i couldn't resist the rhyme. deal with it)...

- It's more memorable when you have people to share it with.

- You're gonna call on God...one way or another.

- It may terrify you, and that's okay. Fear isn't a bad thing, it's what we do with it that shapes our character.

Now, i'd like to call upon my good friends Robyn Rihanna Fenty and Clifford Joseph Harris, Jr. to help bring my point across. Thank you.

Cardinal Directions

Hey! So it's been a while, eh? I was noticing that my last entry was April 11 (Happy b-day dad and AMP) and much has happened since then (mostly in order): Finals, Mother's Day, CANADA! (bonjour a mes amis canadien), Father's Day, mah B-day, Independence Day, Dane's B-day and weddings, so many marriages (the magnificant matrimonial moments they are).

Hopefully i'll be able to recollect some more things from other moments, but here's a little story from our time away from each other:

Sometimes we ask for prayers to be answered. Other times we are the answer to someone's prayers. Sometimes, it's as easy as wearing a baseball cap...

This summer i had the wonderful opportunity to go to a french immersion program at Universite Sainte-Anne in Nova Scotia, Canada. It was awesome. I recommend it to any and all who want to learn and develop their french skills (and have fun doing it, too!). But this story isn't about la belle vie de Sainte-Anne. It's about the flight leading up to it....

I flew up to Canada on May 15. On the final connection flight, i was seated next to a younger-middle-aged woman (i'd say late 30's, early 40's). Prepared for cooler weather, i was dressed in pants, a hoodie and my St. Louis Cardinals baseball cap (it helps with the wind when you don't have much hair). Throughout the duration of the flight i noticed the lady near me sketching various things. At the time i wasn't feeling too conversational so i kept to myself, minding my business, listening to my iPod, occasionally secretly glancing at her sketches.

After a couple hours of my 'social hermit' session, the time came for the captain to ready his passengers for landing. Those who have flown are familiar with the routine: "Please fasten your seatbelts and return your trays to the upright position. Also, if you have not already done so, please turn off all electronic devices." Compliantly (as we remember that obedience is the quickest way to heaven), i followed orders.

Noting that we probably had about 20 minutes left on the plane, i thought this to be a good time to affirm the woman in her sketching abilities (figuring it'd give me just enough time to have a light conversation, say our goodbyes and not have to deal with any lame post-plane-conversation awkward/forced moments..."how about those peanuts, eh? talk about dry roasted."...none of that). So i did just that. I affirmed her and noted that my brother was an artist as well. So we spoke a bit of her career as an illustrator of childrens books, then inevidably wound up talking about the travel plans of each other. So she tells me that she's going to visit her parents and siblings that she hasn't seen in 15 years! My stupid mouth let out "Wow, it must be a special occasion!"

Well, it was special, but not the happy kind of special. Turns out her mom was diagnosed with cancer and was given only a few months to live. Then, understandably so, she became a bit emotional. We spoke a bit of her family and how it was comforting to have each other around to lean on in difficult times.

The plane landed and we exchanged pleasentries. I let her know i would offer prayers for her family and she thanked me. She apologized for her emotions and took her luggage to walk away. Before she turned away she said to me:

"You know, it gives me the chills to think about it, and it's the strangest thing...but ever since my mom's diagnosis...the family's symbol for strength and hope has been a cardinal. One way or another they seem to show up when we most need it...Thanks."

She then gave me a feeble smile and walked out of my life as quickly as she came in.

Now every time i put on my Cardinals hat i think of her family and the strength that is required in painful situations. It's funny how we're used sometimes.

Peace,
Daytona

Can i see your ID?

"Losing yourself to do the will of God and taking on a new self completely...yeah...I'd say awesome realization..." - B.S.

So, i have a special thank you to send out to Miss Brittany Soileau tonight. BS, thank you for sending your guardian angel to help keep me from getting into an accident on the way home while i deliberately broke the law. Way to be an accessory. Perhaps we should try the more legal "hands-free phone call" method next time.

I would like to justify my actions by saying that i rarely look at my phone while texting and there were stretches of miles and miles where i saw no other motorists on the road.

Now that we have my conscience out of the way...i'd also like to thank the one and only Holy Spirit for guiding our conversations instead of punishing me as a sinful man and disobedient rebel. >:-)

Somewhere between discussing the names of guardian angels and the coziness of blankets there was a conversation point about identity. This is where i tell a story:


See, the other day i was at a BBQ my friends' house. The meat was taking a while to cook so we decided to test their little girl's skills at naming things around her. Her mother would say,
"where's mommy?" (child points to mother).
"where's daddy?" (child points to father).
"where's dayton?" (child points to not me, someone else, then points to me).
"where's aunt kay?" (child points to her aunt).
"where's the priest?" (child points to priest).
Through my embarrassment of not being able to captivate a 15-month-old child enough to remember who i am, i decided to start picking on the priest because apparently his name was "the priest" (i figured this to be the best outlet for two reasons, because a. i didn't particularly feel like permanently damaging the child's image of me...i plan on seeing her again, and b. priests are called to forgiveness...as we forgive those who trespass against us, son!). I said something to the tune of his vocational duties superseding his personal identity, all she sees is the collar, so on and so forth. This all in good nature, of course. I love priests. I've often thought of becoming one. We were having fun.


I told BS of the aforementioned story tonight and it wasn't until retelling it and her reply of "Ha, hey, it's so true" i found the beauty of the story. It doesn't matter what Fr. Long's name is. He's a priest. His vocation isn't to be Nathan Long; it's to be a priest. His name is just an identifying factor, not THE defining factor. What he now is and who he's to become is a person of Christ, a successor to the apostles, a consecrater of communion, a minister of marriage, a ballin' baptizer, with power to trump transgressions...get the point? Far more important than a name. And yes, it is taking everything i have not to go back and requote Romeo & Juliet.

Then, after thinking about it a little more (and passing an 18-wheeler) i realized that, it wasn't just "the priest" that is subject to a loss of his parent-given name...the same happens with "mommy" and "daddy", too. They die to their former selves and take the name of their vocation. Mommy and daddy clothe, feed, bathe and change diapers (a lot, too). Mommy and daddy put the child ahead of them. It's not about Michael and Nichole anymore. It's about Sopapilla T-Rex. Their vocation calls them to be daddy and mommy.

And it's not that they become something totally alien. It's quite the contrary. In dying to self and going head on into their vocation they aren't losing their identity, they are fulfilling it. Just a little realization i thought i'd share.

And in case you're wondering, yes, we all share a vocation to love and serve. Love. Serve. Do it. I dare you.

Peace,
DJL

Harry Potter, Harry Potter, unh!

Sometimes reading Harry Potter is a lot like looking at baby flamingos (aww, it's just so cute). Sometimes it's a mystery.

But it's funny how your perspective can shape the words you read. In case i've seemed a little tired lately, i started rereading The Adventures of Harry Potter. Why reread HP when such amazing sagas like Twilight have been written? ...because sagas like Twilight have been written. If that sounds spiteful toward vampires and discombobulated vampire lovers, it is. It almost crosses the barrier between an insult to itself and incredibly spoof-worthy...almost...but i'm not going to bash Twilight for 3 reasons. 1. it does a pretty good job itself, 2. it's not worth my time, 3. the more attention i bring to it the more i keep it 'alive' (ironically enough)...like racism...or vampir-ism?

But back to HP, perspective, and an all-around happier world...

Year One. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. (a note to those who haven't experienced HP): I won't give anything away, promise. But if that's your main concern...goodness...it's been 13 years. Get with it. And i mean that in the kindest possible way. I want this for you.

In Chapter 4, Hagrid comes to get Harry for his first year at Hogwarts. All he was assigned to do was come in and pick up Harry and pretty much say, "let's go get you wizarded up." Little to his knowledge, he was to become much more than a chauffeur. Hagrid finds out that Harry not only doesn't know that he's a wizard, but that his auntie and uncle totally misinformed him about how his parents died and what he meant to the wizarding world. Aghast, in disbelief, frustrated with a little bit of amazement sprinkled in, Hagrid tells Harry who he is...

...and it wasn't until this time around that i thought about it from a Christian perspective. I tend to believe that most of the eyes that fall upon these words belong to people who are called to be parents and/or guardians of future generations. What a wonderful responsibility this is! But also, how many parents totally ignore their role as being, as the CCC puts it, the first educators of children...(please, read that link...it's beautiful).

For those who chose to disregard this responsibility, i'd like to think God could be a lot like Hagrid was in his Ch. 4 admonishing of the Dursleys in their failure to teach, or at the very least inform, Harry on his identity of being a ::ahem:: wizard. Look at it from the eyes of the One who is written on our hearts, especially now in this time of Easter...

His death expired our sins. His resurrection redeemed our lives...(so wouldn't we be, like, coupons?)

So i guess there are 3 things to do:
1. if you had responsible parents, be thankful. Thank them.
2. if your parents lacked in this department, forgive them...there's no use in holding grudges
3. keep this in mind for when you have kids and you get them to read the HP books. :-p

God desires us to know him. You are loved.

Peace,
DJL

Le premier fois!

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name not smell as sweet." - Juliet
...
"By a name
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee.
Had I it written, I would tear the word." - Romeo

I've wanted to start a blog for a while. The one thing that's kept me from going about it is that you have to come up with a name before you write anything. If you know me (which you probably do if you are taking time to read this) i tend to be a bit all over the place. That doesn't necessarily mean that i have organizational problems (i'm getting better, mom!), it just means that there are many, many things i intend to include. I thought and thought about what to name my blessed little seedling, (Pooyah, I tried and tried, cher!) but nothing fit the bill. I tried working in words like 'myriad', 'concise' and others that tend to have a recapitulative meaning, but i suppose they were not meant to be.

My only promise was that i wouldn't further commit the crime of abusing the words "random" or "awkward". They've fallen to the lowly "vocabulary crutch" position on the linguistic totem pole. Sad day. I consider it my duty to equate other's overuse of them by not EVER using them.

If you hear me commit said crime, you have permission to punch me.

So I ended up choosing Extrospective Retrospectives (isn't it obvious why?). For one, it sounds cool. For two...it sounds cool. For three, i'd like to think of it as a reflective view on things that are beyond or outside my "spective". Introspective is a well known word. It's done it's due diligence to the English language. It's important, nay, essential! In no way am i saying introspection is bad. I am saying, in a sense, that a well balanced equation has more than one element. If all there is to do is to be introspective, then how are we to look beyond ourselves? If i'm always looking to figure out the inside, how can i see the beauty of the outside?

So i guess that's a little set up to what i'm hoping for.

...alas, extrospective retrospectives is born.

peace,
DJL