William Reardon’s Blog

I scored a 53% on the “How U of C are you?” Quizie! What about you?

I think I lost points for having left Hyde Park, been in a fraternity, and not being an asiatic ethnicity.

I don’t remember much of Pope John Paul’s 1993 visit to Denver for World Youth Day, but I do have rough memories of its opening. The Pope, probably one of the most solemn & most revered dignitaries in the world, came forth in the stadium saying softly and gently “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit I say to thee…”, then in a sudden boisterous roar “GOOD MORNING!”

Of course the crowd went nuts, the Pontiff looking & smiling down upon them.

Having been barely five years old on his election, Pope John Paul II was the only Pope I really can say I knew. I know that within a few weeks the Cardinals will have signaled the selection of a new Pope through the message of white smoke from the Sistine Chapel, that we should celebrate his life here on earth and his life now in the Kingdom of God, but still there remains the grief & sadness for having lost the man who has taught me so much.

And taught not just through words but through actions.

To love thy neighbor. Love thy enemy. Forgiveness. Embrace each other. Seek understanding. Compassion. Judge not. Value life. Help those in need. Protect those who cannot do so for themself.

To do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Thank you, John Paul, and God Bless.

May we be able to pass on to our fellow a man an ounce of what you passed on to us.

At first, as more & more of your friends blog, you start to think it’s pretty cool. Cool that you can stay up with what’s the latest with them, cool you can hear about random tidbits, cool you hear about funny stories. Cool.

That is, until you do some incredibly embarrassing.

Embarrassing, but admittedly funny.

The kind of story that you know will come out a year or so latter, at a camping trip or what not, everyone around the fire, the Johnny Walker wisdom running high… that’s to be expected.

Which is fine. Enough time has passed to overcome your embarrassment and it’s unlikely to go beyond that small group of people. People you would presuppose to call friends, but if they where really friends these bastards wouldn’t be telling people this shit. But I digress.

So when this or these embarrassing-but-funny event or events happen, you’re left to silently hope & pray that they don’t blog about it. Of course, you can’t ask or tell them not to do that. That’s asking for it.

So you silently hope, a hope shortly shattered as the suddenly realize how funny a blog post would be. For your shame to be public. On the Internet. For the world to see.

And glee fills their black little hearts.

Then you know you’re screwed.

Then you’re left to wait.

Wait, wonder and watch, checking their blogs, to see if your shame will be exposed for all of the Internet to see.

Welcome to my Friday.