September 11: Any Dough, Money Problems, Tired of Worry

"I got my damn bags at the station," I said.  "Listen.  You got any dough, Phoeb?  I'm practically broke."

Holden is begging for money from his sister, Phoebe, at this point in Catcher.  He's spent all of his cash on drinks and hotel rooms and a Broadway show.  He doesn't have many options left.  He could come clean with his parents.  He could give his brother, D. B., a call in Hollywood and ask for a loan.  He doesn't do any of those things.  He turns to his elementary-school-aged sister instead.  Holden is not thinking clearly.

Well, it's Worry Wednesday, and the only thing on my mind right now is money.  Or, rather, the lack of money.  This afternoon, my phone service got temporarily disconnected because we were behind in payments.  I had to call my sister can beg for a loan.  Sound familiar?  Yes, I have become Holden Caulfield.

And now, I just got off the phone with a gentleman from church who's the chair of the committee that oversees the church staff.  He told me that my salaried position at church is going to be eliminated come January 1 of next year.  That's another $200 a month gone from my family's budget.  That's in addition to the $400 a month I lost this summer when the hospital eliminated overtime for my medical office job.  I'm literally drowning right now in my thoughts.

I've been trying to avoid writing about financial problems in my blog posts.  I didn't want to complain or whine or get mired in self pity.  Tonight, I'm smack dab in the middle of the hugest pity party in the world.  That phone call pushed me over the edge.  It was like somebody jumping out of a closet, yelling "surprise," and then kicking me in the balls.

I'm tired of worrying about money.  Really tired.  As soon as I wake up in the morning, I start thinking about the next bill that's coming due, or, more likely, past due.  I walk around all day, wondering when the next piece of bad news is going to strike.  It's exhausting.  Really exhausting.  I'm feeling pretty much like a failure at everything tonight.

Everything.

Saint Marty doesn't even have the energy to come up with a witty way of ending this post.  He's wondering if Holden's sister, Phoebe, has a spare five or six thousand dollars.

July 17: Pile of Dough, Cadillac, Oil Change

...Anyway, he gave Pencey a pile of dough, and they named our wing after him.  The first football game of the year, he came up to school in this big goddam Cadillac, and we all had to stand up in the grandstand and give him a locomotive--that's a cheer....

Holden is talking about a man named Ossenburger who donated a great deal of money to Holden's current school, Pencey.  Holden doesn't like Ossenburger, thinks he's a "big phony bastard."  But Ossenburger's a rich phony bastard who drives a Cadillac.  The world pays attention to people like him, because things like money and cars are status symbols for most cultures.

Me, I drive a 2006 Ford Freestyle that just cracked 100,000 miles.  It's a good car with plenty of space.  I've owned it for around four or so years.  It has now reached a point in its life that, every time I bring it in for an oil change at the dealership, some major problem gets discovered.  Last time, I needed a brake job to the tune of over 400-plus bucks.  I'm not Ossenburger.  I can't afford to drive a brand new Cadillac, and I don't have a pile of dough.

I'm dropping my Freestyle off at the dealership tomorrow morning for an oil change.  I'm already dreading the phone call from the mechanic that starts like this:  "Well, I've got some bad news."  I can't afford any bad news right now.  I simply want an oil change.  Period.

That's my biggest worry this Wednesday--an expensive auto problem.  I've already put off one repair until the fall.  I really don't want to go double or nothing.  Until I get the mechanic's phone call telling me I'm free and clear, I'm going to be holding my breath and saying a lot of prayers.

Eventually, Saint Marty is either going to turn blue and pass out or heave a very big sigh of relief.

This guy could ruin my day tomorrow

May 13: Magic 8-Ball Monday, Summer Schedule, Something New

Well, with only my instincts and the statistics from the good people at Blogger, I have finalized the summer schedule for Saint Marty.  Either you, my disciples, are completely happy with the current offerings of this blog, or you're totally apathetic.  Either way, it's time to shake things up a little bit.

Without further adieu, here is the new daily line-up for SMN (the Saint Marty Network):

Monday:  Magic 8-Ball Monday.  Monday posts will essentially remain the same.  I will be using whatever book is my focus for the year (for 2013, it's The Catcher in the Rye) as my Magic 8-Ball.  I will ask a burning life question, randomly flip through the book, and find my answer in its pages.

Tuesday:  Prayer of the Week.  I will highlight my prayer focus for the week on each Tuesday and compose a prayer.  Amen.

Wednesday:  Worry Wednesday.  These posts will stay the same.  I like being able to vent or bitch about my life at least once a week.

Thursday:  A Piece of My Mind.  I took a class in high school called Current Events.  Every Thursday in that class, we chose a topic from the news or popular culture and talked about it.  That's what Thursdays will be this summer.  I will be giving everybody a piece of my mind, for what it's worth, about some current event.

Friday:  Fairy Tale Friday.  Every Friday, I will write a new fairy tale.  I wrote a fairy tale a little while ago, and it was really popular.  Plus I had fun doing it.  Stay tuned for more "Once upon a times..."

Saturday:  Beatnik Saturday.  I will publish an original poem every Saturday, as well as my weekend installments of the Confessions of Saint Marty cartoon strip.

Sunday:  Classic Saint Marty.  I've published over 1300 posts on Saint Marty.  A few of them have to be worth reading again.  On Sundays, I will choose some of my favorite posts (classics) and re-post them.  To tell you the truth, I don't remember half the stuff I've written.

So there you have it.  That's what you have to look forward to for the next four or so months.  If I eliminated one of your favorite Saint Marty features, let me know.  I'm always open to flattery and cajoling.

My question for Magic 8-Ball Monday today is:

Will this summer schedule bring a lot of readers to Saint Marty?

And the answer from the book of Salinger:

"...The whole arrangement's designed for men who, at some time or other in their lives, were looking for something their own environment couldn't supply them with.  Or they thought their own environment couldn't supply them with.  So they gave up looking.  They gave it up before they ever really even got started.  You follow me?"

I'm not sure if that answer means that I should give up before I even get started with this new plan or that I should move forward with it, unlike the guys who surrender so easily.  I think I'll go with the latter interpretation, since I've never been much of a quitter.

Now if Saint Marty can just come up with a catchy logo for the SMN.

I think this one's already taken

January 9: Jane Gallagher, a Dancer, a Daughter

"She's a dancer," I said.  "Ballet and all.  She used to practice two hours every day, right in the middle of the hottest weather and all.  She was worried that it might make her legs lousy--all thick and all.  I used to play checkers with her all the time."

Holden has just found out that his roommate, Stradlater, is dating a childhood friend of Holden's.  Jane Gallagher, the girl Holden will obsess over for the rest of the novel.  Jane comes from a broken home.  If I remember correctly, her father is an alcoholic and gets a little physically violent with her.  But Holden's relationship with Jane has a purity to it.  Two kids from broken families who play checkers together during the long summer months.  The fact that Jane is Stradlater's date drives Holden crazy.  Stradlater is a womanizer, and, even though Holden hasn't seen Jane in quite some time, he wants to protect her from his roommate's attentions.

Today is Worry Wednesday, and I have a big worry.  My daughter is attending her Winter Formal Dance after school today.  It is also formal day at her school, so, when I dropped her off, I saw all these middle school girls trying to look like high schoolers.  The guys were slinking around in dress pants and ties, looking like they'd rather be running laps in gym.  My daughter looked gorgeous, all grown-up with eye shadow and blush and pink lipstick and curly hair.  I didn't want to let her get out of the car.  My only consolation is that there aren't too many Stradlaters in middle school.  She's safe.  For the moment.

I know I can't stop my daughter from growing up, just like Holden can't stop Jane from hooking up with his phony bastard dorm mate.  My daughter will get crushes.  She will go out with boys.  She will do things I don't want her to do, and it won't involve playing checkers with the neighbor boy.  She will have her heart broken.  I won't be able to stop that from happening.  (Unless she joins a convent. I can always hope.)

At the moment, the best I can do is take pictures of her in her Winter Formal outfit and hope all the boys are too chickenshit to ask her to dance.

Saint Marty is standing by, ready to pick up the pieces of his daughter's broken heart.

My little Jane

December 26: Life after "A Christmas Carol," Holden Caulfield, Another Useless Poll

It seems strange not to be starting this post with a quote from A Christmas Carol.  After a year of combing through that novel every day, I sort of feel like I’m bringing my cocker spaniel to the pound and leaving him there, hoping he’ll be adopted by somebody else.  There’s much to be learned from Ebenezer Scrooge, and not just about Christmas spirit and generosity.  I discovered passages that spoke to me when I was worried about finances, concerned for my daughter’s happiness, and anxious over my wife losing her job.  This fall, when I was celebrating getting a raise at the university after ten or so years, I had the Ghost of Christmas Present and Scrooge’s nephew, Fred, to make a toast with me.  And, if I got too wrapped up in my own selfish problems, I was confronted with passages about stark poverty, Tiny Tim with his little crutch.  This book kept me honest on many levels.

Which brings me to my worry for this Worry Wednesday.  Now that I am leaving Charles Dickens and company behind, I’m a little panicked that I may run out of things to write about.  See, another thing A Christmas Carol did for me was provide something to write about every day.  If I came to the blog well and found it dry one day, I could always flip open the book, put my finger on a page, and find a subject.  There was something very comforting about having Scrooge in my corner.

I’m actually considering choosing another book to focus on in the coming year, the way I did with A Christmas Carol.  I’ve been thinking about it for a few days now, but I can’t come up with a book that really appeals to me.  It would have to be a book with which I’m already familiar.  A book my disciples would know a little bit about, too.  I thought about another Dickens novel, but I’m not sure I could spend a year with Oliver Twist or David Copperfield.  Plus, I’m not as familiar with their stories.  I could go down the Mississippi with Huck Finn, but I get seasick really easily.  I thought about a collection of poems from one of my favorite poets, Sharon Olds or Donald Hall or Phil Levine.  None of those ideas really intrigued me enough.

The one book that I know well enough that sort of interests me is J. D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye.  I’ve been reading that novel since I was a teenager.  Holden Caulfield is one of my favorite characters in literature.  I must admit, my feelings toward him have changed through the years.  When I read the book the first time, I remember responding to his unrequited love for Jane Gallagher.  As a teen, I carried around a lot of unrequited loves.  When I was in college, I loved Salinger’s style of writing, his use of profanity and voice.  A year or so ago, I read the book again.  I found myself a little irritated by Holden.  I wanted him to get his shit together and buckle down.  I think that’s the parent in me now.

I’m still not sold on The Catcher in the Rye.  I would like to ask you, reader, for some other suggestions.  However, I never get much response when I put questions out there.  I tried a poll on favorite Christmas movies a week ago.  Nothing.  I’ve run contests with prizes and gotten no entries.  It’s a little depressing.  But, ever the optimist on this Worry Wednesday, I will ask:

Do you think I should choose a new book to focus on for 2013?  If so, what book do you suggest?

Saint Marty knows he’s not going to get any answers to this query.  He’ll probably end up with Holden Caulfield.  However, he’s open to any and all possibilities, short of a Nicholas Sparks novel.

Do you want to spend a year with this guy?

November 28: Powerful Speaker, Parliament, Worry Wednesday

"...You're quite a powerful speaker, Sir...I wonder you don't do into Parliament.."

Yes, Scrooge admires his nephew's facility with words.  Fred can talk.  He gives good speech.  In some way, I think Fred is closest to Dickens' real voice and ideas.  Certainly, Fred eloquently points out the shortcomings of Scrooge's beliefs about Christmas.

Public speaking is the number one fear for almost everyone on this planet.  Given the choice between death and talking in front of a group of strangers, the "normal" person would select the grave.  That's a serious fear.

I have never had a problem with speaking.  I've been doing it for so long that it simply doesn't phase me any more.  There is only one time of the year when I have an issue with opening my mouth and talking.  Tomorrow is that one time.

I finished my Christmas essay the day after Thanksgiving.  Now I have to go to the local Public Radio Station and record it for a series of Holiday Readings that's going to air in December.  In the past, I've been able to complete this task in one take.  I have never had to repeat my performance.

However, when I sit in front of that microphone, I get a little anxious.  Actually, I get a lot anxious.  I only have one hour to accomplish this feat this year.  I scheduled my recording session for 2 p.m.  I have to teach at 3 p.m.  That doesn't leave a whole lot of wiggle room for making mistakes.  I've practiced and rehearsed.  I've read the essay twice aloud without stuttering or swearing.  That means absolutely nothing.  I've also read it three times, messing up the same sentence each and every time..

That is Saint Marty's worry this Wednesday.  He wants to sound like Fred the nephew, not Porky the Pig.

Th-th-th-th-that's all, folks!!

October 31: Happy Halloween, Facetious Snowball, Worry Wednesday

My son's pumpkin

For, the people who were shovelling away on the house-tops were jovial and full of glee; calling out to one another from the parapets, and now and then exchanging a facetious snowball--better-natured missile far than many a wordy jest--laughing heartily if it went right and not less heartily if it went wrong...

Yes, I am writing about snow this Halloween morning.  That's the reason I chose the above passage from A Christmas Carol:  it's about snow.  I woke to a couple inches of snow on the ground and my car.  Thanks to Hurricane Sandy, it will be a white Halloween in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

I have nothing against snow.  If I did, I would not live in the place I live.  I would live somewhere warmer and less cold and white.  Like Grand Rapids or Kalamazoo.  No, I like this kind of weather, when it comes after October 31st (preferably after Thanksgiving).  However, since my daughter was born close to twelve years ago and I joined the ranks of trick-or-treating parents, I have frozen my candy corn off every Halloween.  It never fails.

Thus, my Worry Wednesday is about cold, heavy, wet, white precipitation.  The precipitation of which we dare not speak.  It is going to be a miserable night for candy begging.  We will make the neighborhood rounds, whether rain or sleet or snow.  Nothing will keep my children from their appointed duties of collecting as much free candy as possible for me...I mean, for themselves.  I have explained the Daddy tax to my daughter.  That's the portion of Halloween candy that fathers are entitled to collect on November 1.  In past years, that tax has been 20%.  This year, due to the economic volatility in Greece, the Daddy tax has been raised to 22.5%.  I haven't broken that news to either of my children yet.  It's the least they can do, considering the cold work ahead of me this evening.

I have other worries this All Hallow's Eve Wednesday.  The presidential election.  The devastation on the East Coast caused by Hurricane Sandy.  The Milky Ways I bought for the trick-or-treaters tonight (I don't want to surrender my Milky Ways to the grubby little goblins).  These are important issues, as well.

But Saint Marty's biggest worry is that stuff he shovelled off his windshield a couple of hours ago.  That stuff is going to make Saint Marty's evening pretty miserable.  As Tiny Tim says, "More snow?!  Jesus!"

October 29: My Plans, Oprah, "Carol" Dip Monday

OK, so last week I wrote about reinventing Saint Marty.  This morning, when I logged on at 5 a.m., I only had 64 page views.  I need to do something about this situation.  I therefore have decided to impose some structure on my posts.  Each day, I will write about a generalized theme.  I have come up with a tentative schedule.  Think of it as the TV Guide for this blog.  Here goes:

Monday:  Carol Dip.  (This day will change once my year with A Christmas Carol is over.  Perhaps I'll do Bible dips instead.  We'll see.)

Tuesday:  Saint of the Week.  Yes, I am returning to the roots of this blog.  If you look at my earliest posts, they all concern various Catholic saints and how they relate to modern life.  I will be revisiting this feature on Tuesdays.

Wednesday:  Worry Wednesday.  Instead of writing about all my fears and worries all week long, I will pile them on this day.  It's the middle of the work week, so it seems like a good day to fret about things a little bit.

Thursday:  Blessing Thursday.  I will follow up my day of worry with a day of blessings.  I will discuss one thing in my life for which I'm grateful.  Just to balance things out.

Friday:  P.O.E.T.S. Day.  That stands for Piss On Everything Tommorow's Saturday.  On this day, I will unveil a new poem I've written.  I call myself a poet.  Therefore, I should be writing poetry.  This day will keep me writing and experiencing incredible guilt when I don't get something written.  That's for the Catholic boy in me.

Saturday:  Good Reads.  I will discuss books, short stories, authors, poets I like reading.  Think of it as Oprah's Book Club for this blog.

Sunday:  My Favorite Things.  Yes, I'm stealing another page from Oprah.  On Sundays, I will talk about something I love.  Anything goes on this day, from books to movies to foods to vacations to people.

There you have it.  That's what you can expect on this blog in the future.  Of course, this schedule is not Stonehenge.  Nothing is made out of stone here.  I will deviate for special occasions--holidays, birthdays, elections, when something pisses me off.  For example, I will be posting a Halloween special on Wednesday.  I've already got the graphics for it.  And, not to worry, I will still be fulfilling my promise of focusing on Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol for an entire year.  I do not go back on my word.

We'll see how this new schedule works out.  I may be adjusting things.  Even the television networks cancel programs and bring in mid-season replacements.  For now, this is what you can look forward to.

Now for the Carol dip.  My question this morning is simple: 

Is my new blog schedule going to get me named a Blog of Note by the good people who run Blogger?

And the answer from the great Dickens is:

Scrooge, having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said, "Bah!" again, and followed it up with "Humbug!"

Well, that's not the answer I was hoping for, but I'll take it.

Saint Marty isn't going to argue with Charles Dickens or Ebenezer Scrooge.

I won't be giving away any cars, folks!