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David Mitchell
I am reminded of two "Rosary" stories. One serious, one not so much.
As I may have posted earlier, we prayed our Rosary together often as a family. Dad even read to us from the book, "Russia Will Be Converted" aboaut the little children of Fatima and their visitations back in 1914 (or was it 1918?).
In reverse order, the serious story first:
I had just returned home from my first tour in Vietnam. It was Dec. 23, 1969 and we gathered after dinner to kneel around the living troom furniture, kneeling against a chair or couch - a routine we had practiced hundreds of times. My parents had met me at the airport and we came straigh home to dinner, so I was still in my dress uniform (jacket off) as we knelt to pray. As always, Dad would name a different special intention for each decade of the Rosary. When we came to the last decade that night, he said, "Lets offer this last decade for the Viet Cong, and ask that God will let them know that He is on their side too."
This from the most conservative man I ever knew, a former (but "reformed") McCarthy-ite, and an active (until he dramatically quite one night) John Bircher. Also a WW2 Veteran.
For one moment, I felt a sort of an emotional siezure - "what the hell, Dad!" And then again, like other times in my life, I began to see that this was just my dad, always seeing the "other side". He made that point throughout my life and I grew to admire him for that. But it was quite a shock for a moment!
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,,,,,the not so serious
We had a cottage up on Lake Erie, in a small private place right next to Gem Beach, near Port Clinton. We used it a lot and Mom and Dad let all the cousins use it plus a few friends. One family, The Crawfords (some of you will recall 6 Crawford kids at St. Michael) enjoyed a week every year. Mr. (John) Crawford was a long time friend of Dad's from back in grade school. Dad was a few years older and had "saved" little Johnny form some older boys, bullying him on the playground at Holy Name grade school back in the "teens". They became pals for life. The Crawfords had a week each summer and Mr. Crawford insisted on repaying the favor by helping us clean up and close the cottage each fall.
We also had a boat. A small "Shell Lake" 16-footer that we could use to ski and fish and take rides in. But it became a burden. My older sister Jeannie and I had to drive it for hours at a time, helping all the other kids learn to ski. And there was maintainence, and storge and hauling, etc. By this 3rd year, we had grown very tired of the boat.
We were driving home from the fall cottage closing, towing the boat behind. Dad always felt sleepy driving and would have to pull over and let someone else drive, so Mr. Crawford took th wheel. We were crossing a RR track north of Bucyrus and Mr. Crawford (less experienced at towing a boat) crossed the tracks rather fast and the boat trailor bounced hard and ripped one of the boat trailor tires open.
We had a flat and had to pull over and stop. We had to leave the boat to get us all home (it was a late Sunday night), Dad and Mr. Crawford would return the next morning to get the tire repaired and finish towing the boat home. As we pulled back out onto the road, we resumed the Rosary that twe were in the middle of. We came to the decade that Dad would often suggest we make "your own special intention". My sister Jeanie and I, sitting next to each other in the back seat, leaned over to one another and whispered our "special intention" to one another - "let's pray that the boat gets slolen."
(our prayers wer not answered, but Dad sold the boat that winter)
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