A Day for the Irish and Then Some

Happy St. Patrick's Day! No, I'm not going to blather on about what he did and all that. I'm just glad I'm Irish--I don't have to wear green.

Have I ever told you that I make great corned beef and cabbage? My beef, carrots and potatoes came out phenomenally awesome. But... well, yeah... I kinda forgot the cabbage part... it's sitting in the fridge. What am I going to do with it?

Yes, I am a slacker.

No, it's not that I'm not paying attention, or haven't dreamed up posts. They're still sitting in draft form... on paper. And they're humdingers. And they're still in the trunk of my car with the bodies... er.... yeah.

It's already 95 degrees here in Phoenix. I mowed the lawn today and it was gorgeous, but by 11:30 it was time to head inside. WAY TOO EARLY--go away, high pressure system!

The Franciscan portion of this post will consist of the alert that Tony's Tuesdays--if one is observing the 13 week novena--starts this Tuesday, the 20th of March. So get thyself to Mass and go from there. There are several novena prayers... pick one, and have at it! Anthony is my best friend lately, because I have lost my mind. Help!

(yes, I suspect I was in the sun a bit too much today)

I would ask that you keep in your prayers two people: the first is Deacon Phil Simeone. He is doing much, much better but is still facing surgery. He and his wife are some of my very favorite people, and I wish him a continued, speedy recovery.

The second is someone who I haven't seen since December 10, 1997, at the Incident Command post for a rather graphic plane crash recovery in Lytle Creek Canyon, but who in succeeding years was never far from my affections, and was always on my short list of people I wanted to see again someday. This old pal is a fellow Irishman, so I figured that St Patrick's day would be appropriate to post about him.

Mike Fogarty died last week, former prevention officer on the San Bernardino National Forest, most recently in the aviation ops department, an aviation fan extraordinaire whose passion for helicopters was well known. While he wasn't popular with some folks (popularity being something he never gave two pins for), he was always extremely kind to me, and was always my "Brother Eurotrash." I can still see his swagger and clearly hear his smartassery in my mind's eye, that glimmer in his eye when he was particularly amused, and recall the many amicable chats we had and the good advice he gave me in my tour there on the Forest. It was Mike who brought me home from the burn ward back in 1995 in his patrol truck; he popped his head into the barracks to check on me while I was off duty and afterwards when I on light duty.

He died much too young, and his passing has greatly shocked me. I prayed for him at Mass on Wednesday, and it was then that hit me like a truck--gadzooks, who would have thought that Mike would be gone at such a young age? How tragic. My condolences go out to Mike's son and his family and friends.

It was a hard week for the Berdue last week: not only did they lose Fog, but also Charlie Stump and Larry Smith, the latter two after long illnesses. As was exclaimed to me last week, "What next?"