The Pope and a heat wave trigger some fond memories

I’m having one of those weeks that we all experience from time to time.  Nothing is wrong, but everything seems askew, right?  Almost like the feeling you get when you’re trying to remember a person’s name, and you KNOW it as well as your own but can’t quite get it.  Or when you know you put something somewhere familiar but you can’t find it.  Or when you’re looking for something for so long you forget what you were looking for. Or knowing a date is important, but you can’t remember why.  It happens to all of us.  For me, it’s been happening all week.  In fact, it usually happens twice a year for me and when I finally figure it out, it’s like finding the Holy Grail!

What two weeks are those, you might ask?  The week just before Christmas is one of them—December 20^th to be exact.  The other week is the last week of July.  July 27^th is a day I don’t think I’ll ever forget.  And yet I do.  Sometimes.  Like this week.  Until today.  What triggered my sudden realization?  The heat. I’m working in Ridgecrest California this week where the temperatures have not been less than 105 degrees . 

 

And the news about Pope Francis during World Youth Day.

 

So what did I forget and how did the heat remind me?  I forgot the anniversary of my dad’s death (or as I like to think of it—his “feast day”).   It was on July 27, 1970 that he passed away on a pretty hot day in Northridge California.  He and Mom had spent the day at my brother Bob’s house visiting and—to  hear my brother tell it—laughing and chiding him while he mowed his lawn in the heat! 

Heat also reminded me of Dad this week when I was trying to cool down and couldn’t, no matter what I drank or how I dressed or what kind of air conditioning was present.  I thought to myself, “Dad would have a hot cup of coffee right now!” 

I remember asking him one time during a heat spell how he could drink hot coffee when it was so hot outside.  He replied “I get the temperature inside my body to match the outside of my body and I don’t notice the heat so much.”  I laughed at him then, and I still laugh when I think about it.  You know what?  His reasoning was a bit off, but his advice was scientifically correct!  But that was my dad.

The other reminder I had was thinking about what Pope Francis means to me.  He reminds me a lot of Dad.  His gentleness, his kindness, his humility, his simplicity.   Always there to help someone in need without asking for recompense.  He lived the Gospels.  As Pope Francis asked us all to do last week in his speech to the youth of the world, Dad “put on Christ.”   He was certainly an example of  loving one’s neighbor as self.  I can only strive to be as good a man as he was.

By the way, the other date that really triggers my memories of Dad?  His birthday, December 20^th.  I mention this because I may need someone then to hit me upside the head again.  Maybe the Pope will say something. 

Belated Happy Feast Day, Dad.