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These archive pages are offered to assist you in understanding references to places of Tony's Town ... especially if you are a newcomer to our little corner of the world.

CHURCH AND STATE

This, the initial episode of "Tony's Town", introduces some of the ensemble cast and establishes the Interfaith Council as the common endeavor which brings the neighborhood together. The main purpose of episode one is to identify the numerous clergymen involved and illustrating the atmosphere of cooperation and friendship existing between them.

The idea of the contribution of church to society was a result of my irritation at an editorial arguing that churches should be taxed more heavily and completely disregarding the financial burden the charitable activities of churches everywhere lift from the backs of the taxpayer.

And, as an aside, some have questioned why there are no women clergy persons in "Tony's Town." Please do not think I am biased. In striving to be as authentic as possible, I did not want my female readers thinking, "this is just a guy writing what a man thinks a woman would say." Rest assured, many women and their contributions appear throughout the episodes.

“Good morning, your Holiness … pour me a cup, would you?”

Turning to the sound of a familiar voice, the tall grey haired gentleman dressed in black spots his friend Josh rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Reaching for a cup, he smiles to himself.

“Hey … shalom, my friend … black with sugar, right? No offense, Rabbi, but you look a little rough around the edges … not used to this hour?”

“Hour … what hour Bob? … five a.m. isn’t an hour; it’s a penance … bless me Father for I have sinned …”

Chuckling softly, the priest hands his friend his coffee.

“Penance, huh?”

“Yea, that’s one good thing about being a Rabbi, no 6 a.m. morning mass.”

“… ahhh, it’s not that bad, Josh …you get used to it after a while.”

Sipping his coffee, Josh winks at the priest.

"Yea, Bob, but I’ve gotten used to the morning paper and my wake up coffee at eight ..."

Hi, I’m Tony Baggz … welcome to the neighborhood. Dawn's breaking here on the South Side; a beautiful October morning that promises to be sunny, warm, and dry ... perfect for today’s festivities. We’re in the meeting room at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church as nine people gather around a table set with coffee and pastries. All but one are church leaders. Let’s see, there’s Temple Beth Shalom’s Rabbi Joshua Green, St. Mark’s Episcopal’s rector, Mike Daniels, Paul Jacobson of First Presbyterian, St. Katherine’s Father Bob Scanlon, Christ the Redeemer Lutheran’s John Randall, Liberty St. Assembly of God’s Billy Swanson, Mt. Nebo Baptist Assembly’s Martin Williams, Dave Walsh of Liberty Street Methodist and Dr. Norm Rogers, Chief of Thoracic Surgery at the University Medical Center. They’re the driving force behind today’s activities.

It’s the morning of the Interfaith Council of Churches’ semi-annual yard sale. A three day event, it’s become a tradition here in the city. The Council started as an effort between two Catholic churches, a synagogue, and the University Medical Center to help those less fortunate with medical expenses. It's grown every year and currently counts over thirty churches and synagogues as participating members. In ten years it’s raised over six million dollars. A lot of people look forward to this day … a lot of people need it …

In a few hours this place will be jumpin’. You see, this ain’t your Grandma’s yard sale. You can find anything here … sky’s the limit … furs, appliances, jewelry, rare coins, antiques, furniture, all sorts of collectibles, toys, clothes, knick knacks, art, used cars …and even houses. And now with rides and games for the kids, it’s taken on the air of a carnival. And the food … a magnificent smorgasbord of the best the city offers … burritos to spanokapita and everything in between ... you name it … it’s all here ... and it’s all good. Everyone pitches in; schools, civic groups, restaurants, car dealers, local artists, musicians, businesses large and small, and even the city's pro football team. The city lets the vendors use the parks, the streets, and parking facilities. And for the folks gathered around the table, therein lies the basis of their problem…

…Blowing the steam off his coffee, Mike Daniels walks over to the Baptist minister ...

…Let’s listen in ...

“Say Martin, got a minute …”

“Sure Mike, what’s up?”

“…I haven’t seen you in a couple weeks … what’s the latest on Gaffner’s lawsuit?”

“Well, as of Wednesday, it’s on the docket for early December… and he’s rounded up the usual suspects.”

“Usual suspects?” John Randall says, a wary look on his face.

“The ACLU.”

…wary turns to disgust … and I don't think it’s the coffee.

Chuckling at the look on John’s face, Reverend Williams continues.

“…Anyway, Nate Kramer and Judge Zaleski are working on it. Both of them have dealt with a couple of these type cases before.”

“I’m confused, Martin ... exactly what is Gaffner’s complaint?" Billy Swanson asks, joining the conversation. "After all, it's not like we're nailing the Ten Commandments to the courthouse door.”

“His argument isn’t a religious one, Bill … it’s economic.”

“Economic, how? We pay all the required licenses and fees.”

“Well, he claims we’re a commercial activity masquerading as a religious event. He says the city loses tax revenue because regular business is interrupted, sales taxes aren’t collected, and there’s no compensation for the use of city services … streets, utilities, police … that sort of thing. Economic intangibles, he calls them."

Pausing, Reverend Williams sips his coffee and nods in Reverend Randall’s direction, a mischievous look on his face.

“You want to hear something really rich, get this; he’s gone as far as claiming that Brownie Troop 25’s lemonade and jellybean stand violates code for failing to collect state and city sales tax ... says they’re no different than any restaurant.”

The sound of someone choking is heard. Heads turn in the direction of the sound, only to see coffee running down Reverend Randall's chin and onto his shirt.

“Don’t drown, John,” says Dave Walsh, laughing at the sight.

“Yea, throw me a life preserver, will ya?” the Luthern minister says shaking his head in disbelief. “For heaven’s sake, my little Rachel’s in Troop 25.”

“At least the orange prison jumpsuit will go good with her freckles, John," Doc Rogers says, a devilish grin on his face. "Who knows, maybe you can sneak a hacksaw into her next birthday cake.”

He pauses a moment … “Tell me, does she have an accounting merit badge?”

“Sure, Doc, it’s right between the ones for jacks and hop scotch … c’mon, she’s six for heaven’s sake.”

The levity of the moment lightens the mood. Smiling to himself, Father Bob sets his coffee cup down.

“Look, it’s simple … it’s an end run … a Trojan horse, if you will," the priest says. "The guy simply detests religion."

“Okay,” Mike says, “but what I don’t get is, does Gaffner understand the hit his wallet would take without the contribution of churches?”

“Sure he does, Mike. He’s an intelligent man; he just chooses to ignore it.”

“Okay, but even so, how can he ignore the benefits the city derives from just the education alone? Every kid in a parochial school saves the taxpayers, what, about eight, nine grand a year? In the city and county there are eleven Catholic schools, and seven run by other churches. We’re talking over 6000 kids. That’s what … about fifty million dollars or so? And that’s not counting the home schooled kids supported by the various churches. There’s probably another thousand kids there. And that’s just education. How about food, clothing, and medical care? Martin’s church runs a food pantry program that’s the model for the area, and we all have some sort of outreach beyond the usual Thanksgiving and Christmas programs. Now, add in everything else, counseling, legal assistance, transportation ... “intangibles” as Gaffner calls them, and I’d bet the combined efforts save the taxpayers another five million … at least. Does he understand that … sure he do. Does he care … no. The only thing people like him care about their own self-righteous indignation.”

“Well, I’ve learned never to underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups,” Rabbi Green says, sipping his coffee.

Paul Jacobson chuckles. “Or self-righteous people in groups of one.”

“So, Martin, what’s the outlook?”

“Well … Nate doesn’t see a problem at the local level; but it could get sticky in the appeals process if Gaffner pursues it. And if it were to go that far, no one knows anymore how the Supreme Court would rule.

“Well, at least they have some new blood … some younger judges, says Dave Walsh. “Maybe that’s a good sign."

Refilling his coffee cup, Rabbi Josh shakes his head slowly, a look of amusement in his eyes.

“Forget the fountain of youth, Dave; what we need’s a fountain of smart.”

“Well, it’ll all take time," Pastor Williams says, pouring himself another cup.

“Meanwhile, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” …

Someone once said that wisdom is simply common sense in an uncommon degree. Okay, so what does religion contribute to society? Want to find out? Simple, shut down the food banks, the clothing and housing assistance, the counseling services, and park every kid in a parochial school on the doorstep of the nearest public school next Monday, and you’ll get an idea. Want to see taxes go through the roof? Just let the government have to provide those services churches now do.

Do you ever wonder why, when the self-righteous scream for the elimination of tax breaks on churches, they never express their outrage at the faithful who educate their kids in parochial schools and lift a considerable burden off the taxpayer … at their own double expense? Where’s the ire when the less fortunate are fed, clothed, or provided the basic necessities to keep themselves warm, dry, and housed in bad times? Where is their indignation when churches pour money and energy into plugging the dike of human misery? Something that government would have to supply with the contents of the taxpayers’ wallet … taxpayers like Mr. Gaffner. Again, where’s the outrage?

And, how does shackling the efforts of churches benefit anyone except the self-righteous … or the myopic? Where’s the sense in that? …

…Talk about “straining at a gnat … and swallowing a camel”…

… Thinkaboutit … I’m Tony Baggz…

NAMES

This episode is one of my favorites: I had fun writing it. When I went to college we all had nicknames. Out of a sense of decorum … or fear… I won’t tell you mine. And as a kid, I grew up in northern New Jersey and nicknames were common in my neighborhood. Again, I won’t tell you mine ... for the same reasons.

So, just about all the guys in Tony’s neighborhood have a nickname and most of them that appear regularly are based on personal experience. In college I actually knew a guy who would shimmy up a wall like a spider, hang in the corner, and pounce on anyone coming through the door. Of course, he spent some time in the infirmary courtesy of some of his “victims" who didn’t take kindly to his shenanigans.

And not only does this episode explain nicknames, it also answers the question why someone would address a Rabbi as "your eminence."

And it is true; names are special … and sacred … especially to “The Boss.”

“Hey, Joey, tell me something. Is Vince a ‘made’ guy … you know … connected?”

“What gives you that idea, kid?”

“…well think about it … everyone calls him “Bullets.” ... Vinnie "Bullets" ... I mean, look at him, silver grey hair swept straight back … sharkskin suit … white on white shirt and tie, Italian loafers. C’mon last time I saw someone looked like that a guy named Sonny had a bad day at a tollbooth.”

Chuckling, the rest of the guys around the table shake their heads. Seems it’s a question they’ve heard before …

… Hi, I’m Tony Baggz. We’re here at Sam’s … a combination coffeehouse, sandwich shop, and bakery. Samantha Bates and her husband Dave built the place about five years ago, but just as they opened it, she lost him … cancer. It’s the gang’s favorite morning hang out. Probably because Sam’s has the best coffee and pastries on the south side of town. Well, that and Sam is one lovely lady ... cascading strawberry blonde hair, beautiful green eyes, the voice of an angel, and a smile that brightens any room. A nicer person you’ll never meet.

This morning finds “Uncle” Joey, Sammy “Bagels”, Jack “Gumshoe” Farrell, "Mike the Russian”, “Crazy Pat” Flanagan and young Tommy McMichael sitting around the front window table. Pat's the fire chief at Southside Company Five, and Tommy works for him. Tommy’s six foot five; two hundred fifty five pounds … all muscle. He came to the University from Colorado and stayed after graduation. The guys all call him “Mountain.” Well, except for Bagels. You see, Sammy’s Jewish, stands only about five foot four, and the first time he met Tommy, he dubbed him, “the Giant Gentile.” Both of them found it funny, so that one stuck too.

In addition to his firefighting duties, Tommy attends Med School at the University. It’s a grind but Doc Rogers has arranged some scholarships and Pat lets him work his schedule around his course work. This morning Tommy has a few hours off and joined the guys for coffee. Seeing Vince walking through the door prompts his question … one I think he’s been wondering for a while now …

…let’s listen in….

“Bagels” pulls out a chair. “Hey Vince, sit down, you look tired.”

“Thanks, Sammy … I’m beat … game went to overtime last night … didn’t get home ‘til one.”

“Yo, Vinnie, you put a contract out on anyone lately?” Gumshoe says, sipping his coffee and winking at Joey.

“Why, Jack … you need someone whacked?”

“ Naah ... just that our young friend here was wondering if you’re … you know…”

Winking at Jack, Vince slowly turns to Tommy.

“Yo, Mountain, you need someone clipped?”

From the look on Tommy's face, I think he probably wishes he hadn't brought up the question.

"No, Vince ... I mean ... you know ... some people say ... you know… that you're, ... um ... ah, come to think of it, forget it.”

Amused at Tommy’s discomfort, Vince chuckles softly to himself.

“Okay, kid … it's not what you think.  The truth is I was with the Marines in Vietnam … a munitions officer. My job was to make sure everyone had enough ammunition. There was a kid in our battalion everyone called 'Montana' and he used to call me Lieutenant ‘Bullets’. It stuck.”

It's Tommy's turn to chuckle.   “Fair enough … Bullets.”

“How ‘bout the rest of you?" he says turning to the others. "Mike, why ‘Mike the Russian’?”

“Simple. My great grandfather came from Russia. Family name was Rustakovich … he shortened it to Rust … guess he thought it sounded more ‘American’.”

“Jack ... why ‘Gumshoe'?”

“Well kid … like Vince, I was in Vietnam … Naval Intelligence. When I came home I started a detective agency. Gumshoe’s a slang term for a detective.”

Tommy looks at his friend nibbling on a blueberry scone.

“Sammy, why ‘Bagels’?”

“Hey, every Presbyterian kid loves bagels, right?”

“Before or after the 10 a.m. Sunday service?”

Sammy chuckles at the remark. “Actually, Mountain, I was the only Jewish kid at St Ed’s. One weekend I went home and brought back a sack of bagels. These guys looted the bag and from then on, voila, ‘Bagels’.”

“How about Mr. Kossarides … 'the Human Tarantula'? … where’d that come from?”

“Again, college,” laughs Sammy. “Nick would shimmy up the walls in the dorm like a spider and pounce on whoever walked through the door … scared the pants off everyone at one time or another.”

“Lucky, he didn’t end up in the hospital the night he pounced on Marilyn,” Mike says, sipping his coffee.

“You know Mike, he wanted to do it again at your wedding,"  laughs Gumshoe. " I was going to let him, but Joey talked him out of it.”

“You’re kidding …seriously? … then I woulda’ whacked him.”

“Let it go Mike,” says Joey, laughing at his friend’s irritation.

Tommy looks at his boss. “Why ‘Crazy Pat’?”

“Well, there are people who've called me crazy for some of things I’ve done on the job.”

“Yea, Tommy, that man’s so crazy he’s saved at least a dozen lives in the past ten years," Joey says, nodding in Pat's direction. "Your boss is a red, white, and blue hero in this town.”

A look of admiration crosses Tommy's face. “I didn’t know that.”

He pauses for a moment ... “how about the others?”

“Well Bobby Prestrelski is “pretzels," Gumshoe says, "… that one’s obvious. Jerry Gordon is “fog” because he’s always walking around in one … at least according to his wife, Holly. Then there’s the Spinelli brothers. We just call them one, two, and three … in order of age. Carmine is one, he’s the oldest, Vito’s next, number two, and Nunzio’s the youngest … number three.”

Gumshoe sips his coffee. “Who else, Mike?”

“Well, Walt Robinson is ‘hammer’ ... he’s a carpenter by trade. Darryl Martinson's ‘ace’ … he was a fighter pilot in the service. And then of course there’s ‘Floater’, ‘Ski’,   ‘Barracuda’, ‘Fabian’ and a few others … you’ll meet ‘em all sooner or later.”

“How about the clergymen … any of them have nicknames?” asks Tommy, pouring himself more coffee.

“All of them,” says Bagels. “They use them among themselves but out of respect we don’t. What we will do, though, is mix up their titles … they get a kick out of it. We’ll call Father Bob, ‘Rabbi’ … Pastor Randall, ‘padre’ … Rabbi Green; ‘your eminence’ … Mike Daniels, ‘preacher’ … things like that.”

“My favorite was Pastor Swanson’s reaction when Bagels first called him, ‘your holiness’," Joey says, laughing softly to himeself. "Guess it was a little too Catholic for him. Everyone got a kick out of it … even Billy finds it funny now.”

“But just to satisfy your curiosity …” says Mike with a grin.

“… Reverend Jacobson is called 'Jake'. Again, obvious. Then there’s Fr. Bob. He’s 'Riff'.”

Tommy starts to ask why, but Mike cuts him off …

“... I know, why Riff? Well, as a teenager back in the sixties, before he became a priest, Fr. Bob belonged to a gang in the Bronx. Riff is one of the characters in the musical, West Side Story ... it's about a couple of gangs in New York City ... and the guys hung it on him...”

“... Rabbi, Green?”

“’Shecky’, from an old time comedian named Shecky Green. Josh knows his way around a one liner.”

“Reverend Williams?”

“Darth Vader.”

Tommy chuckles. “Let me guess … his voice … like the character in the movie.”

“Exactly,” says Bagels, “can’t get anything past the Giant Gentile.”

Shaking his head, Tommy grins at his diminutive friend. “How about Pastor Randall?”

“ ‘Railbird’. John loves to watch horse racing … he’s been know to wager a few bucks on the Derby. He doesn’t go to the track often, though … guess he thinks it would be a bad example.”

“And Reverend Daniels?”

“Professor.”

“Yea, I can see that one … Pastor Swanson?”

“'Walk off'.”

“Walk off?"

“Well, when he was a kid, Billy played pro baseball in the Yankee farm system … got to Triple A ... could have made it to ‘the show’ … he was that good. But he tore up a knee and that ended his career. He told us once his biggest thrill was a Spring training exhibition game with the big club and hitting a ‘walk off’ home run in the bottom of the 11^th to win it. So … walk off.”

Tommy shakes his head. “You guys would give God a nickname.”

“We have … we call him ‘The Boss’,” says Bagels.

Looking over at Vince, a playful grin crosses Jack Farrell's face.

“That reminds me, Bullets, you need to talk to Springsteen about changing that nickname of his.”

Everyone grins as Jack lowers his voice to an ominous tone....

“… and make him an offer he can’t refuse …”

…“I have called you each by name.” The words of a hymn, and a psalm. So, what’s in a name … I mean, beyond just a word? Well, names are sacred … especially to God. Not only His, but ours. Names are to be revered … to be honored; so much so that two of God’s laws demand just that. One; that we keep God’s name sacred … another; that we accord the same honor and respect to the names of others. And our own. Why? Because mankind is made in God’s image … an image that demands we recognize in everyone the same dignity and honor we see in God, and ourselves.

Every name is sacred to God. Ask yourself, in your daily comings and goings, by your words and actions, do you insult the names of others … bring dishonor to your own … and offend God Himself? ...

...Thinkaboutit ... I'm Tony Baggz ...

THE FIRST STEP

A poker game at a minister's house? I know, right now you are wondering, "isn't that a bit over the line?" Actually, I have some experience with this as several clergyman I know regularly do get together and play a little nickle and dime game. It's all in good fun, a reason to get together and let off some steam ... and sometimes, solve some common dilemmas and compare notes. No serious money ever changes hands. And to be aware of the sensibilities of people of all denominations, I've not included ministers of those denominations having a particularly strong aversion to gambling in any form.

Oh, and before I wrote this, I asked the Rabbi at the local synagogue if it would be in poor form to include Rabbi Green in the game. "Not at all," he replied. Then he winked and said, "Just don't have the game on Friday night after sundown."

“Six… no help ... three diamonds … possible flush ... king … pair showing.”

Eyes sparkling behind his black bushy eyebrows, Rabbi Green’s face lights up.

Father Bob laughs and shakes his head.

“Josh ... that just might be the worst poker face this side of Deadwood …"

Hi, I’m “Tony Baggz.” It’s the Wednesday evening Interfaith Council finance meeting. Oh, and if you’re wondering from the conversation you just heard, you’re right; it’s also a poker game. It floats from house to house and tonight the game is at Reverend Daniel’s home. Okay … I know what you’re thinking … a poker game in a minister’s house ... a bit sacrilegious don't you think? Don’t worry; it’s just a nickle and dime game ... an excuse for friends to get together. No serious money ever changes hands. A big pot is forty cents, and losing ‘five large’ might be five bucks … and most times it's more like fifty cents. And since the winner has to bring the food the next time, winning here is like making a hole in one … winner pays. So, it all evens out. Its good food, good fun, good friends … just an all around good evening.

Uh oh, game's heating up. Rabbi Josh just tossed a nickel into the pot ... the man's serious ... I mean Josh has been known to fold three of a kind ... must have a good hand ... yea, he's got that look ...

Let’s listen in….

“Raise you five,” says the rabbi.

“Call … why I’m sticking around, I don’t know,” says "Bullets", matching the Rabbi's nickel.

“Three diamonds showing and one in the hole, Vince? ... darn good reason I’d say,” says the Rabbi."

Bullets grins at his adversary as Father Bob shakes his head ... another great poker face.

“You guys in?” asks Pastor Randall, gathering up the cards. He folded two cards ago.

“Fold”, “Fold”, “Too rich for me”, “Adios” come the replies.

Carmine Spinelli laughs, “Down to just you and Bullets, Rabbi … it's showtime."

The dealer flips each man his last card. “Last card down … and …”

“It’s not fair!”

The plaintive wail of a young girl's voice shatters the quiet, startling the players … seems someone’s upset.

Reverend Daniels looks in the direction of the kitchen where the cry originated only to see his teenage daughter walk through the door.

“Jennifer, what’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“Nothing dad … sorry.”

“Come on Jen, something’s wrong, I know that tone.”

Jennifer Daniels, Mike's sixteen year old daughter, walks in and plops down next to her dad. Waving to the players, an apologetic look crosses her face.

“Hi everybody ... sorry about that.”

Putting his arm around her, Mike pulls his little girl close.

“So, what’s wrong?” he asks.

“It’s my friend Alex, Dad. Her father left them last year. Now her mom’s sick, they’ve lost just about everything, and her boyfriend just broke up with her; says she doesn't spend enough time with him. Dad, a year ago they lived in a bigger house than ours, and now they’re in a tiny apartment and they're about to lose that. According to Alex, they're almost on welfare and she doesn’t know what to do. Her mom tries to work but she just lost another job because she has to go to the doctor all the time. People treat them like lepers. Alex says her mom won’t give up and I want to help but I don’t know what to do?”

“Just be her friend, sweetheart,” says her dad. “Right now that’s about all you can do.”

“That’s not enough, dad.”

Carmine looks at Bullets. “Sound familiar?”

Reaching for his drink, Vince nods.

“What are you talking about Mr. Spinelli?” asks the teen.

“Well, last week in adult study we were talking about a situation just like you describe … a woman back in Jesus’ time. She had a problem like your friend’s mom.”

"How?" asks the young girl.

“Well, for twelve years she was sick, she had a condition that left her what they called ‘unclean'. She couldn’t go to the market, the temple, public places … anywhere really. She was at the end of her rope … a total outcast.”

Carmine pauses a second.

“Rabbi, have I got that right?”

“You’re doing fine, number one … sure you’re not Jewish?” chuckles the Rabbi, studying his cards.

“Maybe on my mother’s side, padre."

"Ah, that would be the 'sainted' side of the family I take it," Josh says, a mischievous grin in his eyes.

Carmine laughs softly to himself, shakes his head, and continues.

"Anyway, this woman was sick, she'd lost everything, had nowhere left to turn, and her situation looked hopeless. And then she heard Jesus was coming through town.”

“Sure, Mr. C, I know the story,” says the young girl.

“Okay, so what happened?”

“Well, she touched Jesus and He cured her, right?”

“No.”

“No? … but I thought …”

“No, Jen, Jesus didn’t cure her. She did ... she cured herself. She had faith and she acted on it … she took the first step."

The young girl frowns. “... so what you’re saying is just have faith and everything will be fine? Sorry, that’s too simple … life doesn’t work that way.”

Sipping his coffee, Father Bob looks at the young girl and nods in agreement.

“You’re exactly right, kiddo, it doesn’t," says the priest. "And that’s the point Carmine's making ... that people have to act on their faith. The woman in the incident realized she couldn’t sit still any longer ... waiting for someone else to solve her problem wasn’t the answer ... it hadn't worked in twelve years. She knew she had to act ... and she did. Sure, the healing came from Jesus, but it was she who acted to take her life back. Carmine’s right ... in a very real way, she cured herself.”

Reverend Daniels strokes his daughter's hair and continues.

"Maybe right now their situation isn’t the best, Jen. Life’s like that sometimes. And as much as you care, you have to understand that Alex and her mom have to take that first step and refuse to quit ... you can't do it for them."

“Call” says the Rabbi.

Bullets turns over his cards ... four diamonds ... and the three of clubs … “Kangaroo straight,” he says, shaking his head.

“No magic on the last card, huh Vince?" chuckles the Rabbi.

“Fraid not ... "

“Pot’s mine, all forty cents." Rabbi Green says, raking in the nickels and looking over at the priest.

“Bob, maybe we can help," he says, a mischievous twinkle in his eye … " I mean ... hey ... I have this windfall ...”

"A twenty four karat heart of gold ... that's you, Josh," Father Bob chuckles as the others laugh at the sparkle in the Rabbi's eyes.

“Jennifer, it sounds like Alex’s mom's trying her best to keep things together ... am I right?”

“She’s trying everything she can, Father B, but she keeps getting knocked back down. It’s like dad says sometimes, if she didn’t have bad luck she wouldn’t have any luck at all.”

“Sounds to me like they’ve already taken that step, Bob,” says Reverend Randall, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Gathering the cards for the next hand, Vince looks over at the priest.

“You know, I have a friend going to Europe on business for two years. He’s looking for some good people to house sit. He doesn’t want to rent it out and come home to a burned out shell. Alex’s family sounds like they might be a good fit. Let me make a phone call ... see what I can do.”

“We’re looking for a part time waitress and hostess at the restaurant,” says Carmine. “We could probably work something around Alex’s school schedule. Maybe the two of you would like some part time work?"

The teen breaks into a big grin. "I would ... and I think Alex would too."

Fr. Bob looks at the young girl. “I’ll talk to Doc Rogers, Jennifer. The Council was established for just this type situation. We probably can help if Alex and her mom want it. And if they do, tell Alex to have her mom call your dad.”

... a young girl smiles ... and a room lights up…

Our redemption is a free gift of God; a debt paid once and for all on a cross at Calvary one Friday afternoon a while back. Our salvation, though, is a different story. That we must work out day by day, in fear and trembling as St. Paul said. Each of us must take that first step; we cannot wait for someone else to do it for us. Taking responsibility for our daily needs here on earth is mandatory. It is just as true in our relationship with our God.

…Faith is needed for salvation. True. But faith works best when put into action. There’s an old saying; “pray like everything depends on God, and work like everything depends on you.” It’s a good thought. Faith isn’t some spiritual talisman that makes everything all right if one just wishes on a star…

... or a God…

... Thinkaboutit ... I'm Tony Baggz ...

The Repair

This episode is the orignal one that introduced "movie night." It started with a couple of the gang getting together to watch an old comedy flick and quickly became a monthly event. It's not always the same people and depending on the movie, it could be three or four, or two dozen. Different guys will host it and they gather to enjoy the movie, share a meal, and sometimes exercise the grey matter ... although not tonight. After all, what could possibly be profound about Bluto, Otter, Flounder, Pinto, D-Day and the rest of the crazies at Delta house?

“It’s a little tricky, but I can fix it for you, Alicia. It’ll be ready Saturday … is that okay?”

“That would be great, Mr. Joey. Reverend Williams says you’re the best … thanks … see you Saturday.”

The shop door closes behind the last customer of the day. Locking the door, Vinnie "Bullets" chuckles.

“C’mon Joey, let’s get a move on … the guys are waiting. “Pretzels” is coming and you know what that means.”

“Walnut fudge,” says ‘Crazy Pat’ in a tone bordering on reverence. Then again, the mention of Bobby's wife’s fudge has that effect on anyone who’s ever tasted it.

Shaking his head, Pat looks at Joey as he’s emptying the showcases and putting the merchandise in the safe.

“Why do you want to waste your time on something like that, Joey? That thing you just took in is barely more than costume jewelry … bad costume jewelry at that.”

“Pat, when you’re right, you’re right … it isn’t worth much," says Joey, smiling to himself.

"But the lady wearing it is.” …

Hi, I’m Tony Baggz. It’s a little after five, the sun is sinking behind the mountains to the west … the business day is over and we’re in “Uncle” Joey’s jewelry shop. Pat’s been waiting for about fifteen minutes, and ‘Bullets’ just arrived after closing Gino’s. Tonight is movie night. Joey, Vinnie ‘Bullets’ and ‘Crazy Pat’ Flanagan are headed for Rabbi Green’s house. Movie night started a few years back with a couple of guys getting together occasionally to watch some old classics. But now it’s a once a month thing, sometimes twice … another reason to get together and enjoy good food and good friends. Tonight’s feature is Animal House and I heard Vince say that Josh expects about twenty guys.

Joey’s the best jewelry craftsman on the South Side. Not only is he an expert gem cutter and metalsmith, he has a wall full of awards for his designs. The quality of his work keeps him in demand and right now he has several months’ worth of work backlogged. So I can understand why Pat would wonder why he’d take on some discount store trinket. Of course, knowing Joey he has a reason. And, knowing Pat, he’s going to try to talk him out of it.

… Let’s listen in…

“So tell me, since when did you become the repair monkey for the Mega Discount Closeout Warehouse? Why do you want to waste your time on something that came from a jewelry case next to the pet food aisle? It was probably sold by some kid with two hours experience selling jewelry who’s now back stocking grocery shelves.”

Nodding his head and smiling gently, it’s obvious that Pat’s rant isn’t lost on Joey.

“Yea Pat, the work might seem a waste of time. But like I said, the person who owns it isn’t.”

“Okay, but this is beneath your talents. You’re always saying you have to slow down some, yet you keep taking on things that aren’t worth the effort. And heaven knows they can’t be worth the money.”

Joey opens a showcase to empty it for the night. Thinking for a moment, he turns to his friend.

“You have a point. The thing is, Martin Williams sent her to me. She told him that she didn’t know who to trust. So, if a person respects my work and recommends me, I have to honor that."

"Okay, but still, it’s barely more than costume jewelry."

"You’re right. But to her it’s a treasure. No, it’s not worth much and deep down inside I think she knows that. But to her, its meaning goes way beyond its monetary value. So, should I see it any other way? Should I only work for people based on how rich or good looking they are … or how important their jewelry is?”

“Why not, seems everyone else does these days.”

Taking the last tray of engagement rings out of the showcase, Joey heads for the back room.

“Martin told me about her. Last Saturday was her birthday and she told him it was the first piece of jewelry anybody ever gave her. Before Saturday, she was just another lonely lady working for little more than minimum wage at a convenience store. Someone for whom romance happened only for other people. Today she has a boyfriend who buys her a treasure and makes her feel special. Should I treat her differently?”

“Commendable, my friend. But you’re not in the business of making sacrifices.”

“You’re right, no good businessman is. And it would be a sacrifice if I hated doing the work. The thing is … I don’t. Matter of fact, I get more satisfaction working on something like this, for somebody who really appreciates it, than I do making a piece that costs fifty times as much for some guy to give to his lady … a lady who happens not to be his wife.”

“Well … if you put it that way …”

“Pat, this woman just trusted me with maybe the most important thing she’s ever gotten from someone other than a family member. I have to look at it this way … the dignity of the work is directly related to the person requesting it."

“… and to the person performing it.”

Both men turn to the sound of Bullets’ voice.

“I know where Joey’s coming from, Pat," says Vinnie. "Last month Martin sent a young man over for a suit. Martin said his church would foot the bill … just asked if I could give him the best deal possible. The kid was down on his luck ... and down to his last few bucks, but he had a job interview and needed to look good. He was a nice kid and while it wasn’t the most expensive suit I’ve ever sold, I put something extra into it to make it look sharp. Martin called to say thanks … and the kid stopped by a couple days later … said he got the job and was going to be able to keep his family together. I didn’t make a whole lot on that suit … actually when you figure in the time I put into it, I probably lost money … but those are the times when work feels good … when it’s more than merely a way to pay the bills.”

Pat shakes his head and chuckles. “You two … you guys are way too easy…”

“Yea right … and you run into burning buildings for what …. kicks … just to make a buck? Come on, admit it, you do what you do for reasons that go way beyond the money.”

Pat shrugs his shoulders and laughs quietly to himself. “Okay, I give … you guys win …”

Bullets winks at his friends. “Hey, let’s get a move on; I hear a plate of fudge calling my name ….”

Joey locks the safe and closes up the back room. Walking out he tosses his friends two white bed sheets.

“Here you two, put these on … there’s party at the Rabbi’s place tonight.”

Looking at the sheets and then each other, Pat and Vince laugh, and in unison a chant is heard …

“… toga … toga … toga …”

Two stonemasons were working in the afternoon sun. A passerby stopped and asked what they were doing.

“Laying bricks,” said one.

“Building a cathedral,” said the other.

Aahhh … perspective.

Work … we spend half our lives at it. So, what does work really mean? Well, if man is made in the image of an intelligent, creative, and productive God, then work is our tangible expression of our God-given abilities and talents … part of our purpose here on earth. Seen in that light, work is sacred.

Jesus Christ was a carpenter. A working man. It isn’t hard to picture Him and Joseph working side by side, father and son … well, step father and son ... sweating in the hot afternoon sun of the Galilean countryside. And coming home tired in that good way one feels after a honest day’s work. One can only believe Jesus worked with a scrupulous honesty and a meticulous dedication to His craft … he embraced His responsibility to provide for himself and his loved ones. And that he made a fair and honest profit for His products and His labor. We can believe nothing else.

Or can we? Do you think Jesus picked His customers based on how attractive, important, or rich they were? Did He produce second rate products … provide second rate services … use shoddy materials, cut corners, and over charge for His work? Did He pad His invoices … charge for time spent elsewhere, or on other jobs? Did Jesus consider Himself the “carpenter to the stars” and everyone else got what was left over? In the course of a day’s work, do you think Jesus ever uttered the words, “close enough for government work”? …

… Should you? …

…Thinkaboutit … I’m Tony Baggz ...

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