Wednesday, December 31, 2008

The Collaboration of Love

December 31, 2008

7:30 PM - Spanish time.

Hello all from Spain. 2008 is almost through; thank the gods, as a friend of mine would say. I am writing from the SOHO Hotel in Barcelona with about 4 and a half hours left before we ring in 2009, Spanish style. It should be a great night. Before I head out and wrap up my December post for the IMNALY blog, I wanted to send out the eulogy that my sister Roseanne and I presented for my Uncle on Monday night. I was going to wait until I got back from my trip, but my gmail was flooded with request for a copy so I thought this would be the best forum in the short term.

Enjoy your New Years Eve, be safe and be well. Thanks to all for your continued support through this difficult time. Your words and warm wishes will stay with me forever.

Feliz Año Nuevo


The Collaboration of Love


By Brendan Noone & Roseanne Noone

(Brendan’s Portion)

Good evening everyone.

On behalf of my Mother Anne, my sister Roseanne, her husband Jim, my wife Alex and our daughters Emily & Julia, I thank each and every one of you for being here with us today to celebrate the life of my dear Uncle, Father William Andrew Wright.

I personally would like to take this time, on behalf of my family, to thank the good people of St. Bernadette’s parish. For the better part of the past 25 years this parish and its loving community have embraced my family as one of its own. You have never questioned us or our presence even when we received front row treatment at certain masses; you have only welcomed us and have made us a part of your flock.

I was married in this great church, as was my sister, just a little over a month ago, by the man that we celebrate here today. My Uncle always told me that I was an honorary member of his Parish and thanks to the kindness and support of the great people of Drexel Hill, I feel like one of you today. You will never know how much my Uncle (and we his family) love this community for that.

Love - A little word that means so very much.

Love – Jesus of Nazareth, Mahatma Gandhi, Rose Ferry Wright traveling across the Atlantic with 20 dollars and a dream, a 4 year olds smile on Christmas morning, the kind of love that the prophets’ Paul & John wrote of.

The kind of Love that fills up this room - with that smile, those warm eyes and a story; a hug, a blessing, a grab of an arm, a smile again and a laugh, that laugh which would fill up this church, the endless stream of sacred heart badges, the three Hail Mary’s, a tale about Ireland, or Rome or whichever traveled land reflected that specific moment; a prayer for a sick family member, a son off to college, an anniversary, a job lost, or a father passed away. A hug again, a kiss and a blessing. Then poof, he was off. On to another person, another soul needing to be saved, another friend in need of advice, another family requesting his time for a wedding or a funeral or a 50th anniversary; always tending to his flock, to his people, to his friends, with LOVE.

See I was here for many of these conversations, waiting in the wings for my Uncle after a mass, watching as he cared for all of you. Watching as he loved all of you for 25 years of his life and how you loved right back.

We would be walking down, right here, on Wright Way, to the Rectory, and he would tell me about some outfit he dressed up in for Halloween, a bright student, a kind Parish member or how he was looking forward to our dinner tonight and I knew that I would have 5 minutes alone with him to say hi and to talk. Then, it was back to the vocation. There weren’t many places to hide. He always had to be on.

I would ask him if he would be “wearing his Superman suit tonight.” He would say no, “civies tonight”….he needed a break and wanted to relax with his family. And we would go out and have one of those infamous 6 hour meals and talk and laugh and there would be the tales of Ireland and Rome or whichever traveled land reflected that specific moment. He was always on.

See when I was little, when I was young, William Andrew Wright was an Uncle to me first and a Priest second, I always wanted him as Clark Kent, incognito, not wearing the Superman suit, “the collar” as he would sometimes call it, while we were out. That way I knew I did not have to share him with everyone else. That way he could be mine.

As I got older, those feelings never really changed. I could never get enough of my Uncle Bill and his stories and the memories that he helped to create for me.

I always respected Superman and how he would try to save humanity, but I guess I always wanted Clark Kent to talk to; to have a glass of wine with and plan the next trip with and tell him I was getting married and that I wanted his blessing and that Alex and I were having a baby and we wanted him to baptize her and that he was a “Great Uncle” and that we just wanted to spend some time with him, so we could tell him that we loved him.

As I look back at my life with Father William Wright in it, I now realize just how very lucky my sister and I truly are. He brought so many wonderful people into our lives. He exposed us to so many new places and things. I know my Mother Anne and my late Father Jim would not object to me saying this, but Rose and I really had THREE Parents: A Mom, a Dad and A Father.

But as my Uncle, Father William Wright knew all too well; you can not have every thing you want. You have to sacrifice. You have to do unto others first, before you think for yourself. Selfishness is not a word you should strive towards; sacrifice is the road less traveled, and it is the more rewarding one.

I now know he wore those civies when we went out, for me. He would spend an hour after a mass or a wedding, talking to his people, not because he was “the Pastor” or for his vanities sake, but because he knew he could touch someone’s spirit, connect with them and maybe bring them back into the flock.

He sacrificed his time and energy for us. He LOVED all of us. As the prophets Paul & John wrote, “…and in The End, the LOVE you take is equal to the LOVE you make….”

(Rosie Portion)

One particular story of sacrifice that my Uncle often spoke of, which became his life motto, and the topic of many of his sermons, is the story of the Amish farmers devotion to GOD, FAMILY, WORK, and PLAY. Chances are most all of you here today are familiar with this phrase because my uncle shared it with you. He had first heard this phrase when visiting me at Catholic University back in the 1990’s. He wrote down the words at that time, and began to reflect on its meaning. He explained to me the importance of keeping God and faith as the top priority in life, followed by family, work, and then play.

Uncle Bill, known to most as Father Wright, lived this motto wholly and completely. He always placed his belief in God, faith, and his prayer life at the center of everything. His devotion to faith began as a child, when, at 8 years old, he had the epiphany that the priesthood was calling. Not too long after that, he began to attend daily Mass at Most Blessed Sacrament Church in Southwest Philadelphia, and at 18 years old, he entered St. Charles Seminary where he spent ten years in study. He was ordained on May 22, 1965. For the last 43 ½ years, he never missed an opportunity to spread the message of God’s love through his words, deeds, and example.

Keeping with his motto, the next priority in his life was family. The beauty of my Uncle was that his kindness, his compassion, extended beyond our family to the larger community that he lived in and lead. Although we had a private view into his world, his public and personal personas were one in the same. The man, who was our Uncle, is the same man who was your pastor. He treated everyone he met like family, and indeed, St. Bernadette’s Church community was family to him as well.

Uncle Bill also was blessed by friends who were his chosen family. So many people called him friend; we wish to acknowledge a few today that we know well through him. We want to acknowledge Monsignor Richard Powers, Fr. James Donlon, and Fr. Alan Okon, who among other brother priests, have provided mentoring, friendship, and spiritual guidance. Thank you especially, to Fr. Dominic Tran, for his unwavering support to our Uncle, and to St. Bernadette’s Parish, and Deacon Frank Burke, in assisting the Church community, particularly during my uncle’s absence . We also want to remember, Helen Kraus, who was his right hand, his confidante for the last 20 years and his dear friend and sexton, Bill Casper. Finally, we want to thank Regina Rubbo, a caregiver and friend to our Uncle who especially aided him through his illness and struggle over the last 8 months.

The final two components of Uncle Bill’s motto – that of work and play, complete the fuller picture of the man he was. His work was directly in line with his faith and God, and so in many ways, the two were one. The final piece, that of play, speaks to the humorous and childlike part of our Uncle that made him so special and so unique.

Uncle Bill had many interests outside of his official priestly duties. He had a love of travel, as my brother mentioned earlier, and he had the privilege to visit many places around the globe. His love of travel took him 27 times to Ireland, numerous visits to Scotland, and California, where our relatives live, thus keeping the bonds of family alive. Evidence of this is here with us today, as eight of our family members are here from Ireland. Your presence here means so much to us.

From travel, another hobby, his love of photography, took hold. He was a gifted amateur photographer, and the walls of the rectory and the homes of his friends and family, are colored with the many photos he breathed life into.

Uncle Bill’s greatest talent, I believe, was that of humorist. He could tell a joke better than anyone, no offense Father Donlon. He looked forward to every March 17th so that he could dress up like an Irish leprechaun, or to Halloween when he could become a clown for the day. These kinds of actions brought great joy to the children at school, to his co-workers, parishioners, and friends. Uncle Bill loved to play, he lived to play, and exuded a wonderment that allowed the rest of us to feel less stressed, more joyful, and at ease in his presence.

Many of us here today are in grief, wishing that Father Wright, Uncle Bill, could be with us again, telling us a joke, or a simple story. Let us look back on all of the cherished memories as comfort, knowing that God had a larger plan for the little boy who survived polio, and we are the beneficiaries of this plan. Thank you Father Wright, thank you Uncle Bill for the memories and for your love…we will carry them with us forever.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

The Best of What's Around - 2008

December 30th, 2008
Tuesday Morning - 7:30 AM

Now for something completely different....

When I started this blog I promised that I would discuss - family, the arts and anything that came to my mind on that specific day. Due to circumstances outside of my control, this blog has had a much more auspicious beginning then I would have imagined. Things happen, life comes and life goes, and some times it makes you stop, take a breath, regroup and focus. Deaths unforgiving touch can play with many a mans mind and emotions. Hence, why "I May Not Always Love You" started off on a darker path.

Well, I am here to try and change all of that. In about 11 hours I am boarding a plane in Newark heading for Barcelona, to celebrate my wife's 40th Birthday and to ring in the New Year with style. Taking the red eye, first class, with my new Bose headphones, my iPod and this new end of the year collection of my favorite songs from 2008. See, every year I put together a little year end mix for family and friends. These tracks probably aren't the best song of the past year, but for me they are the tracks that resonated the most with me. They represent a certain time, or taste, or touch, or moment that stuck with me all through out the year.

So from me to you, here is my annual "The Best of What's Around - 2008" song list for you to download and share. Happy New Years everyone, let's make it better then the last.

1) You Can Do Better Then Me - Death Cab For Cutie
2) Sequestered In Memphis - The Hold Steady
3) Don't Hear A Single - The Major Labels
4) The World We Live In - The Killers
5) Viva La Vida - Coldplay
6) American Boy (featuring Kanye West) - Estelle
7) I Kissed a Girl - Katy Perry
8) The Weight of Her - Butch Walker
9) Without You - The Feeling
10) White Winter Hymnal - Fleet Foxes
11) On Your Birthday - Jim Boggia
12) Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? - She & Him
13) Great DJ - The Ting Tings
14) Beautiful Beat - Nada Surf
15) Crack the Shutters - Snow Patrol
16) Sex On Fire - Kings of Leon
17) Something Is Not Right With Me - Cold War Kids
18) Wilco The Song - Wilco
19) Heaven - The Swimmers
20) Free Coffee - Ben Folds
21) How the Day Sounds - Greg Laswell
22) Make You Feel My Love - ADELE
23) Yes We Can -

Sunday, December 28, 2008

A Song for Dad

December 28th, 2008
Evening - 9:15 PM

Tuesday we bury my Uncle, William Wright. I would like to take this time to honor one of his friends that could not be with us here today, my father James Patrick Noone. On June 5th of this past year my father past the mortal coil that he inhabited for close to 67 years. On June 12th I presented this labor of love to the people that joined us in Drexel Hill, PA for the celebration of his life. I feel confident
enough to say that I did him proud that day.

I will be presenting my second eulogy in 6 months for one of my greatest friends and mentors tomorrow. Thank you all for your support and well wishes for me and my family; it means a great deal. As a reflection to the year that was, and in preparation for another emotional "prayer of life", I present to you, my
fathers eulogy. All I ask is for Big Jim to watch over me and provide me the strength I will need to make it through tomorrow.

The Photo: The last we have together as a family. Taken on May 31st, 2008 at the Capitol Grille in Philadelphia, PA (from left to right clockwise: James Noone, Alex Noone, Brendan Noone, Jim Muscarella, Roseanne Noone Muscarella, William Wright and Anne Noone).


A Song for Dad 6/11/2008

by Brendan Noone

Good morning everyone. On behalf of my Mother Anne, my sister Roseanne, my wife Alex, our daughters Emily & Julia, my future brother-in-law Jim, my father’s sisters, Fran, Annette, Marge & Mary Jo and my beloved Uncle Bill, I thank each and every one of you for being here with us today to celebrate the life of my father.

James Patrick Noone was born on August 18th, 1941, the first and only son of Irish immigrants Dominic and Mary. He was born 4 months before the “date that lived in Infamy”; he was born between the “Greatest Generation” and the “Baby Boomers”; he was a War-baby, even before there was a World War II. He was born in the middle of the last century of the millennium, the middle boy of four sisters and even the house he grew up in was located in the middle of 56th Street in Southwest Philadelphia. He was a first generation American with one foot firmly placed in the city of our Independence and another in the home of his parents, Mayo, Ireland. He was named after his father’s brother, Jimmy.

Jim grew up in a vibrant household. By the late 1940’s 56th Street was like Little Ireland. Teams of Irish flooded the North East of America in search of Freedom, Work, Happiness, as well as, Equality. His parents met here in America, not in Mayo. They created a little piece of Ireland in America as their foundation. My Dad’s father Dominic worked at the Oil Refinery for Atlantic for 47 years and his Mother Mary raise Jim, Fran, Annette, Marge and even his cousin Mary Jo (who Dad always called his sister). Oh yeah, there was one other person that lived in that Row-home, the first true character in my fathers life, Mary Jo’s father, my Dad’s beloved Uncle Steve.

See when you grow up in the middle of a family, of a block, of a century, you need to view things differently; you need to look at life from a certain perspective. You need to see things from all angles; you need to become a good listener; speak when spoken to and you better make sure that when you do speak, that it actually means something.

When you grow up in a house full of woman, you need perspective and most importantly you need to learn basic survival skills. You just can’t go running down the streets of Little Ireland screaming “its here, its here, its here…..” Dad wisely assessed the situation and realized that in order to survive Uncle Steve would need to become his Best Friend (which Steve Murphy was for nearly 30 years).

From what I heard, Mary ran a tight ship. The smell of food was constant in the household. Dominic and Steve worked shifts and their shifts changed from week to week, Mary had to be prepared to feed and take care of her little Army at all hours of the day. My father would fondly talk about what a warm home his parents and sisters created for him. He was always loved.He would talk to me about the sheer volume of kids there were to play with on the block, all the dinners they had at the house, all of the Irish people that would come in and out and most influential on my Dad, all of the music they would sing. According to Dad’s memories, the late 1940s and the 1950s were a great time to grow up in the middle.

47 years to the day that my father was admitted into the hospital this past week, June 3rd 1961, Jim Noone went out on his very first date with Anne Wright of Frasier Street. They went bowling and played mini-golf. My father’s sister Fran had a hand in the pairing; always telling my Dad “you should take out that nice girl, Annie Wright.” See Fran was good friends and classmates with Annie’s older brother Billy Wright and they both thought highly of the others siblings. Why not? Jimmy thought. Plus at that time my father suffered a terrible baseball injury, running into the outfield wall and breaking his jaw. His mouth was wired shut. Annie was safe and Jimmy needed the morale booster. The first date went well. It must have, for the second date Jim took Annie to see Alfred Hitchcock’s romantic comedy, Psycho. That little devil; he must have though - “if I can’t get a hug tonight, then I never will.”

Hitchcock led to trips to the “shore” and trips to the “shore” lead to getting to know the family and being made fun of by Uncle Steve; “Queen Anne” was her nickname, but that’s OK Dad said: “That means he likes you”. 5 years later, the two wed and Jim had a new best friend for life.

During this time my father started to shuffle his feet. One foot became planted in Fox Chase (where Anne and Jim had their first apartment together) and the other in Delaware County (where his parents and most of his family moved to). Jim and Anne moved to follow Dad’s career and his interest. Dad’s intense love for history led him to look into working for the Gov

ernment and the State department.

In 1971 they moved to the North East and found a new roommate, Mom’s Father William Wright. The respect and love for family that Dominic displayed in helping Uncle Steve during a time of loss was revisited when Anne and Jim offered to have Willie Wright move in with them after Rose Ferry Wright passed away that February. A year later and after close to five years of trying to have children, Anne and Jim had another new roommate, (ME) Brendan James Ferry Noone.

I had a wonderful childhood. I remember laughing and singing and rides in that great big yellow Ford LTD visiting Mom-Mom and Pop-Pop and having a 70 something chain-smoking, golf-loving Scotsman, Pop-Pop Wright as a Nanny for the first 10 years of my life. How do you top that? Most of all I remember my Dad being there every step of the way. Playing with me all the time, telling me elaborate stories (like how his car could fly but the electrical wires above the road would never let him get a clear take off) and sharing with me his love for sports, history and music.

See I always thought my Dad would have made a wonderful history teacher; being his first student and all I should know. He truly missed his calling. In hindsight, Dad’s professional life just never found the footing that his personal life did. My father never made a six fig

ure salary, he never drove a fancy European car, and he never belonged to a Country Club. My Father found comfort in other things. I always thought he spent his time in 3 different worlds:

THE PAST: Where he would escape into the Civil War, 18th Century Ireland or 56th St.

THE MOMENT: Where he was focused on Annie and the kids and the day to day.

THE FUTURE: He was always reading books on Science, things like String Theory or the Big Bang. He always had that sense of wonderment.

It all goes back to that perspective he taught himself all those many moons ago; how to always look at things objectively, starting at the middle, then from all sides and then make sure that before he opened his mouth to speak about something, that he knew the fact. His books and the knowledge within them helped my Dad overcome his fears and insecurities; it gave him confidence and offered escape.

Being his first student I wanted to share with you some moments my Dad shared with me that I think about everyday and things I am thankful for:

I am thankful that Jim loved my Mother so much.

That he gave me a baby sister when I asked for one.

That he taught me how to throw a baseball and as important, how to catch one.

That he kept me out of school and took me to the Phillies World Series parade in 1980 (even though Sister Virginia gave me detention).

That he was there for me to explain how in the world Darth Vader could be Luke

Skywalkers father.

That he took me to see Citizen Kane on the Big Screen.

That he taught me the Beatles.

That he told me to read Yeats.

That he made Rose and I visit Yeats grave in Sligo even though we would rather have had a PINT of Guinness instead – “Cast a cold eye on life, on death, Horseman pass by!”

That he made sure I knew the sacrifice that Michael Collins made for his country.

That he helped me remember Spiro Agnew’s role in Nixon's administration.

That he told me that Bobby was truly the brains of the operation and that he was the best President we never had.

That he taught me who Joshua Chamberlain was and how important he was to Pickett’s Charge and our Freedom.

That he taught me it was ok to cry during the Quiet Man.

That he taught us to love Ireland and to find it on our own terms.

That I got to see him sing and dance with the Wolfe Tones in Killarny.

That he sent Rose and I to 32 years of Private Catholic Education.

That he always accepted my friends and treated them like Men and Woman, even when some of us weren’t.

That he let Rosie and I marry outside of the Irish family.

That he accepted Alex and her family from Day 1 and understood when I would take the family to Milan for holidays.

That you taught my wife how to drive.

That he called me on 9/11 to thank me for bringing Rosie home safe and that he told me that all will be ok.

That he had the chance to spend a year & a half with Rosie’s Jim. He had a chance to know him, talk to him, educate him and love him.

That he loved my little girls more then words could say.

That he always told me he loved me and that he was proud of me.

That he sang

Some of these might seem trivial, but I swear to you they mean everything to me and these little moments helped to make me and my Sister the people we are today. The Teacher helped me more then you will know….

The last day I saw my Father, a Saturday ago, we were celebrating my Uncle Bill’s 43rd Anniversary at the Capitol Grille in Center City. As many of you know my dear friend Uncle Bill has been battling with his own illness. (I hope you feel the love today Uncle Bill and it makes you stronger.)

Over this past month and a half our immediate family has been spending every weekend together. Mom, Dad, Rosie, Jim, Alex, me and the Girls, we have been eating, drinking, laughing, telling stories and reflecting. Most of all, we have just been there for each other. All along I thought we were there for Uncle Bill, when it fact it turns out all along we were there for Dad; another Billy Wright miracle I guess.

May 2008 was a special month for our family and one I will cherish forever.

That night at the Grille, Dad was in a jovial mood, he had a lot to say and share. It was a magical night. Uncle Bill sat at one end of the long table in a private room and Dad at the other. Dad came to the dinner that night with a mission to share. He gave a gracious toast to my Uncle calling him the “brother he never had.” He gave a generous gift to Rosie and Jim to help them plan for their wedding; he complemented Mom on her great legs and gave me a Boston Globe article to read about a Mayo family that recently lost their Father.

The last moments I spent with my Dad were outside of the Capitol Grille on Broad and Chestnut. It was a clear, cool, spring night. We took a moment to stare up at Billy Pen together; admiring the restoration. I said it hasn’t looked this good since

when he took me to see the Phillies Parade in 1980.

My car pulled around and we shared a hug. He told me how proud he was of me one more time…..I collected my things, got the girls in the car and waved goodbye to Dad as he stood there with help from his cane.

One foot in Philadelphia and one in Mayo, one foot in the Greater North East and one in Delaware County, one foot in Feasterville and one in New York, & Hoboken & Washington DC & Basking Ridge….it’s been an amazing journey bud.

The journey came full circle on Thursday the 5th at 5:10 pm. We received a call from my blood brother Martin Ferry who lives in Donegal, Ireland. He called to pay his respects and to tell Dad to hang in there and be strong. One last sign from the Ireland; one last call to say – its ok, it’s time to come home Jim….. My father died at 5:15 pm.

I truly know my Father is in a better place. As Rose said the moment that he passed, “there will be no more suffering Dad.” While I would love to have you here with us today, I don’t think I could bear to see you in more pain. Those days are over, Dad.

I do have one wish that I pray could be granted; one last dream from a Son to a Father.

Dad - I wish you could stand up next to me here today, stand up straight

like you did when I was 6 and you were 36, I wish you could take a clean healthy breath, a full breath, the kind that make one smile after you exhale. I wish you could clear those lungs and fill the room

with a Song. Sing whatever you want Dad, sing “The Homes of Donegal”, sing Fats Domino, sing “There’s a Moon out Tonight”, sing “Hey Jude”, sing Rebel Songs, sing “A Nation Once Again”, “The Boys of the Old Brigade”, sing “Lady of Knock”. Sing whatever you want Dad.

Sing for the Past – for Mary and Dominic, for Uncle Steve, for Aunt Deedee, for Willie Wright, for Rose, for Peter Ferry, for Maggie, for Marietta.

Sing for the Moment – For Annie, for Uncle Bill, for my sister Rose, for your sisters, for their husbands, for all your nieces and nephews, for all the people here today honoring you and your life.

Sing for the Future – Sing for my little girls – Emily and Julia so that your song will carry them through life with the same opportunity you provided for me. For baby Ciera, for baby Sam, for baby Marisa,

Sing for Rosie and Jim so they can hear your warm, beautiful voice guide them through November 21, 2008 and on to their future together.

Most of all Dad, sing for yourself. It is when you were truly most happy, when you were the most inspired, most confident. It brought you joy; it brought a smile to others and it made Annie proud. I swear I can hear you now….

Bye bud. I love you – Always have, and I always will.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

The Road

December 25, 2008
Wednesday Night/Thursday Morning - 12:43

The Photo:

Alex Noone (left), William A. Wright (center) & Brendan J. Noone (right) in Drexel Hill, PA, January 2007.

My Uncle Bill passed away tonight. Right around the time that he would have been participating in the Christmas Eve Service (8:00 PM), he gave up his fight and he began a journey down a new road; the road which none of us truly know what is on the other side. He left us in peace, with family & friends by his side.

I spent the past Sunday and Tuesday with my Uncle. The difference between the two days was extremely dramatic. On Sunday, he was vibrant, alert, witty and honest. He told me he was ready for what was next. He said he was ready for the unknown, and that he was ready to embrace it. I personally had the type of conversations I needed to have with my Uncle. I felt that I heard what I needed to, to let him go.

By the time I reached my Uncle on Tuesday, he was already unconscious and at the end. Each breath he took was deliberate. He looked like he aged 20 years between the 2 days that I saw him last. For the 6 hours I was with him, the only movement he made was for his breath. I left last night knowing that I said goodbye to my dear friend Bill; probably the toughest goodbye I have ever had to say.

On the ride home I thought of one of my favorite books that I read this past year, Cormac McCarty's "The Road". I thought of one of the last couple of paragraphs which brought me to tears on the day I finished the book. When I read this specific paragraph I immediately thought of my Uncle Bill and the end of his journey:

The woman when she saw him put her arms around him

and held him. Oh, she said, I am so glad to see you. She

would talk to him sometimes about God. He tried to talk

to God but the best thing was to talk to his father and he

did talk to him and he didnt forget. The woman said that

was all right. She said that the breath of God was his

breath yet though it pass from man to man through all

of time.

I believe that Bill is currently being helped at the end of his of his journey, just like 'The Boy' was being helped by strangers at the end of "The Road". All of the people that he touched in his life, through his vocation, are returning the kindness he displayed and they are helping him right now. We, the ones still present that he so immensely impacted, have to make sure that we pass his breath, stories and memories, from man to man, through all of time, keeping his goodness and his humanity, alive.

Goodbye my friend.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

And so it begins.....

December 21st, 2008
Sunday Morning - 10:06 AM

Today is the day I start to create.

Welcome to "I May Not Always Love You...."

Sunday mornings have always been my favorite part of the week. There is a clarity to Sunday mornings that I do not feel at any other time during a week. Maybe it stems from the rituals of my youth; breakfast with my family, going to church and then watching football with my father. Now, 30 years removed from those memories, Sunday Mornings seem pure and raw. It is the perfect time of the week to channel my thoughts.

I love the way the sun light hits my little world on those random Sundays, the way my mind reflects, the reward of a completed week, the promise of a new one, the New York Times, Meet the Press, coffee & a kiss from Alex, my daughters voices, football some Sundays, basketball some mornings, not much worship, and music always playing in the background. I can't think of a better way to start a day.

What a better way and day to start my blog - "I May Not Always Love You."

Why that title? Well, first it is the first line from my favorite song. A peaceful and perfect song about imperfect love. Second, it is frank and direct at its core. It evokes a history to that love, while also knowing that nothing, no matter how hard we try, last forever. Third, I always found that line as one that can catch you "off-guard". It commands attention. It can also lead to so many more question and answers; it forces dialog.

And that is what I want this blog to do and offer.

I am not sure how often I will write on the blog. I hope to start off a couple of times a week. The purpose, at this point, will be to share a little part of me, my interests and my life.

This Sunday, on the shortest day of the year, the Sunday before Christmas, I may be saying goodbye to one of my dearest and oldest friends. It will be a difficult day. I would like to find a way to say goodbye, but I doubt I will. I guess we never really want to.

My dear Uncle is at the end of a long and incredible journey. He is fighting. He is fighting it mentally and physically. He is fighting to come to terms with the why's and how's that the end of life always bring; all the unanswered questions that he will never have answered. The questions we all desire to know answers to.

Everyone in his world is fighting his end at this point, in their own unique way. But this morning I made a promise to myself. I won't be fighting it today or anymore. I will embrace this end to the best of my abilities. I will thank him for his love and wisdom. I will watch his smile. I will listen to his stories. I will spend the last remaining hours with my dear Uncle Bill and I will cherish "the moments".

My goal for this blog is to share "the moments" with you.......

God Only Knows
by: Brian Wilson/Tony Asher
I may not always love you
But long as there are stars above you
You never need to doubt it
Ill make you so sure about it

The Photo: Brendan J. Noone (left) and William A. Wright (right) sitting at Anchor Inn Pub in Falcarragh, County Donegal, Ireland, January 2007.

The Music: The Beach Boys - "God Only Knows" (see below)