What inspired this website

In search of freedom, there has always been a tendency for mankind to test the boundaries of his own autonomy. It has always been the loving will of God to reveal to man that his greatest freedom lies in being bound God's divine self, who is Truth, Love, Mercy. Perhaps in our present age, understanding this truth is most urgent.

The Most Blessed Sacrament, which is the source of everything that is good reveals the most fundamental truth of life. In the celebration of the Mass we gain intimacy with the source of life because The Lord Jesus offers himself to us by offering himself to God for us. The incarnation of Jesus also reflects this truth. There, the Most Blessed Virgin offered herself to God, and through her pure offering of herself to God came Jesus who is God's offering of everlasting Life to us. Through the pure offering of herself to God, she also was offered by God to us as Mother. So, as we interact with each other it is best that we act from the realization that we belong firstly to God and not primarily to each other. Any human fraternity which is attempted without God's predominance, or any attempt to create a kingship of man over his own self has no chance of lasting success.

                            Our story

How prepared can a man be to suddenly find himself widowed with 5 kids aged 10 years to 6 days old? My concerned siblings (God bless them) considered raising a few for me. Knowing my unusually strong paternal instincts they quickly realized that idea had no chance of survival, but I am grateful to them for keeping the kids the first couple of weeks, which gave me time to grieve the loss of Michele, and to plan a way of negotiating our family’s life without her.

The new baby boy attracted most of the attention of family and friends. Sporadically in between the times he was at home with us my mother would take him for a few weeks. Or sometimes his godmother had her turn. My sister-in-law who semi-adopted him probably looked after him as much as I did during his first two years. Even today, my son and she remain very close. However, it still amazes me how so much love could have a dark side; the continual changing of temporary caregivers was a danger no one imagined. Our beautiful baby seemed different to the others and in a disturbing way.

I alone sensed a subtle deficiency in his ability to empathize with his siblings although I doubted myself at first. How can I know his innermost soul? Then the day his kindergarten teacher related an incident where he took an item from another child and showed no sign of remorse even when that child cried, I knew for certain that something was wrong. It was as if the crying child did not exist to him. From the kindergarten I drove directly to Mt. Hope hospital. I cried on the way; I could not hold back my tears. Entering the psychological clinic, I half sobbed “Something is wrong with my son.”

The psychologist was most reassuring, but things could have developed disastrously if I waited a year or more before seeking help. After learning my baby’s history, the psychologist explained something so simple yet so very important that I wonder why in heaven’s name it is not taught in schools. There is one thing young children require more than love, and although my baby was inadvertently being deprived of it to some extent, if I supplied it now the malady would simply disappear. My baby needed stability, an environment where he could connect with at least one face, one person he knows who he can rely upon to always be there. The psychologist explained that it is actually better for the development of empathy, to be raised by one scoundrel who is reliably present and with whom a child can meaningfully connect, than to often move the child from one loving environment to another loving environment with totally different people. It is not a problem if the place changes, as long as at least one person is reliably there. I always wonder how many social problems might be caused on account of parents not knowing that simple fact.

I imagined it would have been a little difficult telling his aunt that my boy would not be kept by anyone other than myself for the next two years, but she loved him enough to let him go. And for that I feel a special love for her. During the following months I noticed a remarkable change in our son. Today his kindness is remarkable. (And yes, I say “our” son because his aunt is so much a mother to him.)

When their mother died, I thought that the most important things needing attention were the practical stuff, like learning how to style the girls’ hair. (That’s a skill I never came close to mastering and will forever be grateful to my neighbor who often helped with it). But it slowly became apparent that the most important thing for us to survive and thrive was not the practical chores but the way we had to relate with each other. I would have to be much more a team manager than an authoritarian figure. We all had to work together and to look out for one another. I sometimes bought a treat for one at random and gave it with the instruction that he or she may consume it all or share it with siblings. It was completely their choice. The children helped plan meals, wrote grocery lists, helped with cleaning and washing.

I remember Kara, my eldest daughter when she was 9, telling me about some mischief her sister did, anticipating some punishment to be given to her sibling. After finding out that she witnessed her sister’s misdeed without intervening, I asked her what punishment her sister should receive. “2 lashes on the palms, (with my first and second fingers)” was her recommended sentence. “But she would be sad and cry,” I explained. “And I know you love your sister, so would you take one lash for her?” She reluctantly agreed. I gave her one sharper lash, and a very soft one to her sister. She looked at me puzzled. I instructed her to try and stop her sister from doing wrong things in the future, and that if successful, I need not know.

I suppose stress is an integral part of life, and with a bit of luck a person might only be capable of choosing one type instead of another. My doctor suggested that the accumulated effect of sleeping less than 5 hours a night for over a decade was the cause of my acquired illness. When Kyle, my eldest child was in first year Law school, I developed torticollis, (and probably a Parkinson type of disease), and was unable to support the family. Without complaint he assumed control of my maxi taxi, studying while waiting on the stand and supported us all. I feel as if I failed them too. Yet today, 25 years after their mother died, the youngest is in university. The 4 others have their degrees and are happily married. And I have never been happier. My 4 grandchildren are the joy of my life, and I mostly forget that I still suffer from some neurological disease.