Month: August 2021

How many of us remember taking the cellophane off the Beatles White Album and hearing the first track, Birthday, on Side 2?

You say it’s your birthday
It’s my birthday too, yeah
They say it’s your birthday
We’re gonna have a good time
I’m glad it’s your birthday
Happy birthday to you (Birthday, Lennon and McCartney)

This iconic song was memorably covered again in the John Hughes movie, 16 Candles, as Farmer Ted, a freshman geek (played by Michael Anthony Hall) sings it to Samantha Baker, a sophomore girl (played by Molly Ringwald) whose 16th birthday had been forgotten by her family. He sings it to her in the shop classroom during a sock hop at their high school.

Why this musical/cinema trip down memory lane? Well, today IS my birthday. How old am I today? To quote Bill S Preston, Esquire and Ted Theodore Logan from the movie, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, “69 DUDES!” Though in this case the number 69 takes on a completely different context than the one to which Bill and Ted were referring. Why the big deal? Well, starting today, I am closing out another decade of my life. About this time last year, with the pandemic cutting a swathe through our nation and the world, I wondered whether I was really going to make it to my 69th birthday.

WHY THE BIG DEAL?

My 69th birthday is somewhat of a milestone for me this year. Most birthdays, especially as we get older, end up being just another day. In reaching this day, I am now the longest living of my siblings. Mary Ruth died at the age of 42 years, my older brother, Bill, died at the age of 68, two months prior to his 69th birthday.

Over the span of these 69 years, I have come close to dying 4 times. The first, shortly after my 25th birthday, when I experienced my first supraventricular tachycardia. A trip to the emergency room and treatment gradually brought my heart rate from 200 beats a minute back to 70 beats a minute.

The second, on my 40th birthday, when I had a tachycardia that was very difficult to stop, and I was transferred to a heart hospital in the Twin Cities for multiple tests. From my birthday that year to mid-January, I had to make multiple trips to the ER to get my heart to slow down. Typical conversation to the ER doctor on these trips, “Don’t give me 12 millograms of Adenosine, give me 18 millograms of Adenosine.” Then I would wait for my heart rate of 260+ beats a minute to suddenly be reduced to 60 beats a minute, with the impact of getting hit by a truck, and gasping for air. After an episode like that, you feel like you have run a marathon race. Fortunately, i had a new experimental procedure done, developed by the Mayo Clinic, called Radio Ablation, done in January. It was a seven hour procedure in which cardiac surgeons seek where the short circuit is in the heart that sets up the tachycardia and then cauterize it.

The third, a head-on collision in March 2002, in which I suffered a very high femur break, and spent a week in the trauma center of North Memorial Hospital. Eight weeks later, I overheard my surgeon telling another surgeon, “We thought we were going to lose him. Many people die from that high a femur break.”

And, the last, when I came very close to dying from an allergic reaction to vancomycin, an antibiotic used to kill MRSA, that dropped my blood pressure to 60 over 40 and shut down my kidneys. After spending August 10th and August 11th in the ER, on my birthday, the surgeon removed my MRSA infected artificial left hip, and I spent the next 6 months without a left hip while infectious disease doctors tried to find an antibiotic that would kill MRSA and not kill me.

So this 69th birthday is significant to me.

WHAT HAVE I LEARNED OVER 69 YEARS?

1. I am still learning. There is always something new to learn even when the ability to be mobile has limitations. Travel is not confined or isolate to meaning only going to some place from home. Travel becomes more inward as I explore more deeply who I am in relation to the world and to God.
2. The gift of being grateful. There is much I once was able to do that injuries prevent me from doing today. However, I am grateful for the abilities I once had and experienced. It is true that as some doors close for us, new doors open for us. Reminds me of a seen in the movie, Little Big Man, when Dustin Hoffman, visiting his Cherokee grandfather hears his grandfather thank the Great Spirit for his blindness. His grandfather found that when his physical sight ended, his ability to psychically see expanded. While it sounds rather odd, I am grateful for my cane (my third leg as I call it), that helps me get around on my lower limbs, that seem to be held together by bubble gum and bailing wire (and a lot of other metal).

WHAT IS THE GREATEST GIFT I HAVE EVER RECEIVED?

That is easy. The day when Ruthie first told me that she loved me. Followed by the day she told me that, yes, she would marry me. Followed by our wedding day. Followed by the births of each and everyone of our children.

I told Ruthie that having her by my side is the greatest of all gifts. Just being with her is everything I have ever wanted in life. After over 30 years of me working church hours, and Ruth working full-time night shifts to survive and provide of our family, we finally have the great joy of actually sleeping together again. I have no desire to travel to faraway places. I am where I really want to be … with her.

GREATEST COMPLIMENT I EVER RECEIVED IN MY LIFE?

Hearing from my cousin, Kathy Deister Donahoe that my Dad once told her, “Bob is my exact double.” The greatest man I have ever known has been my Dad. For my Dad to think me as his double is the highest form of praise I have ever known. Of course, I am not even in his league. My Dad, is the wisdom figure of my family and extended family. People would always call my Dad when they needed counsel. I remember sitting by my Dad’s body, just after he died and thinking, “Oh my God, the wisdom figure of the family has died. Now I am suppose to be the wisdom figure. Boy are people really SOL (shit outta luck) now!”

Oddly, the only compliment I receive, albeit backhanded, was given me by Auxiliary Bishop Bill Campbell, when I was president of the Deacon Council. As I was preparing to assist him at a Confirmation at the Cathedral of St Paul, he asked me, “What trouble are you causing the Archdiocese now” I demurely told him I was behaving myself while thinking, “Well, at least I am not a horse’s ass wearing a miter.” (a sentiment that a number of people had about the auxiliary bishop at the time).

MY GREATEST LEGACY

Easy, in the order they were born, my son, Andy, my son, Luke, my daughter, Meg, and my daughter, Beth. In relation to them, my grandchildren (in the order they were born), Alyssa, Owen, Aidan, Sydney Jane, and Oliver (or Ver as he likes to be called today).

FINALLY THE MUSIC

When I was twelve years old, practicing piano, I knew I wanted to compose music for the piano. I composed a rudimentary piece for piano, which is now long lost. I knew music was going to be my vocation. When I told my high school counselor that I wanted to major in music, he did what he could to dissuade me from making that choice. I majored in music, anyway. Amazingly, of all the other guys in my class who majored in music, I was the one who actually made a living in music.

Over the time since my graduation from the College of St Thomas, I have been a music educator, teaching classroom music and directing school choirs from 1975 to 1988. At the same time, I was also actively engaged in church ministry, being the director of music and liturgy at St Wenceslaus (1977 to 1984), St Hubert (1984 to 1997), and St Joseph’s, Waconia (2007-2008). During that journey, in order to be a better church minister of music and liturgy, I worked on and received a MA in Pastoral Studies with a concentration in music and liturgy. Being in church ministry, I found myself also acquiring other ministries in addition to my primary ministry. Hence, I did pastoral ministry (which became my primary ministry following ordination), administration, and, spiritual direction. However, in spite of all these activities that took up so much time in my life, and my family’s life, deep down, I still only wanted to compose music.

I have composed around 30 choral motets, one of which I composed specifically for my ordination to the permanent diaconate.

Any number of junior high musicals, composed for my students (With names like, Across the Raging Main, Gunstroke, Medighoul Center, etc), and a countless number of piano compositions (numbering around 160 compositions). Most of these compositions were composed as gifts to people I loved and admired, or composed in memory of those I have loved and admired. There are only two that I have claimed or dedicated to myself.

To conclude this reflection on my birthday, these compositions are those to which I have a strong attachment.

This first composition was composed early on as an undergraduate in music at St Thomas. I had a particular liking for Paul Hindemith, hence, the tonality of this song.

This second composition was composed as a gift to a good friend and a family friend, Eleanor Campbell. When she moved from Chicago to Billings, Montana, she spoke of enjoying enormously the song birds in the area. I tried to incorporate bird song, a la Oliver Messiaen, in the song I gifted her.

This third composition was composed as way of dealing with the grief I experienced when our 6th grandchild died as a result of a miscarriage. I composed it as a lullaby for the child I never knew.

This fourth composition was composed in two parts, at two different times years apart. The first melody (fast and loud) was composed in 2018. The second melody (slow and quiet) was composed in 1975 as a choral motet. I composed this as a gift for Carol Weiers, a friend.

This fifth composition was composed in memory of Paul Lambrecht, by whose side I ministered as he was dying from cancer. On the day of his death, I composed this as a memoriam to him and for his wife and young children.

This sixth composition, I just composed in honor of the Holy Spirit.

Canticle In Praise Of Her, Psalm Offering 10 Opus 15 (c) 2021 by Robert Charles Wagner. All rights reserved.

The seventh composition is one I composed for myself. I want this song played as the last song at my funeral (note this kids). It is called For the Conversion of Human Hearts.

Last but not least, the eight composition is one I consider the finest piece of music I have ever composed. It comes as no surprise that I composed as a gift for Ruthie.

It seems that when I examine my life, all things return to the one I love the most, Ruthie. When I was attempting to fight the MRSA infection, just sitting around hoping that the final and latest regimen of antibiotics would finally kill the infection, and I could get another hip replacement, I started writing poems about my history with Ruth throughout my life. I continue to add poems to that history (up to five volumes now).

Today, I am so thankful for all the wonderful people who have shaped my life. Ruthie and my children, from whom I learned how to love. My Dad and Mom. My sister, Mary Ruth, who taught me perseverance in the midst of obstacles, and my brother, Bill, who often taught me what NOT to do. Dr Maurice A Jones, my professor, my friend, my mentor. Fr. Mike Joncas and Dr Scapanski, Fr Jim Notebaart, and Dr Art Zanoni. Blanche Schutrop. Fr Barry Schneider OFM. Deacon Len Shambour, Deacon Bob Conlin, Trish Flannigan, Mary Kay Mendinger, Deacon Dick Barrett, Deacon Tim Helmeke, and, of course, my diaconal class of 1994, who have been as close to me as my family. Dr Carl Burkland (who medically saved my ass so many times). Fr Larry Blake. Fr Kevin Clinton. Dan Westmoreland, Bev Cote, Linda Melchior, just to name a few people, and the many communities of faith with whom and to whom I have ministered over the years. You have shaped my life, supported me as I have stumbled along in life, and appropriately challenged me along the way.

Fr Henri Nouwen, in his book on death, “Our Greatest Gift”, stated two years before his death, that the number of years ahead for him were far fewer than the years behind him. As I close this decade of my life, I do not know how many more years are ahead of me. My Dad died of heart failure at the age of 89 years. My Mom died from pneumonia at the age of 97 years. Given my present condition, I think it a bit of crap shoot to prognosticate as to how long I will live, especially with the Delta variant hospitalizing and killing people all over the place, that the brain dead unvaccinated still defying medical science and infecting people left and right.

I think that when that time comes when I leave this life for that which awaits me, the proper epitaph for me is this poem of one of my favorites poets, William Butler Yeats.

The Fiddler Of Dooney[1]

When I play on my fiddle in Dooney.
Folk dance like a wave of the sea;
My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,
My brother in Mocharabuiee.

I passed my brother and cousin:
They read in their books of prayer;
I read in my book of songs
I bought at the Sligo fair.

When we come at the end of time
To Peter sitting in state,
He will smile on the three old spirits,
But call me first through the gate;

For the good are always the merry,
Save by an evil chance,
And the merry love the fiddle,
And the merry love to dance:

And when the folk there spy me,
They will all come up to me,
With “Here is the fiddler of Dooney!”
And dance like a wave of the sea.

[1] The Collected Poems of William Butler Yeats, © 1983, 1989 by Anne Yeats. Macmillan Publishing Company, 866 Third Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10022.

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Feast days are assigned to saints on the day that they died. While on the official Catholic Church calendar, today is the feast day of Lawrence, Deacon and martyr (he gave new meaning to the word barbecue), I celebrate instead today the feast day of my sister, Mary Ruth.

Mary Ruth was 42 years old when she died of Crohn’s disease on this day in 1997. Ruthie and I our daughters, Meg and Beth, my mom and my dad, and Mary’s great friend, Dr Bob Conlin were present when she died very early in the morning at St Joseph’s Hospital in St Paul, MN. She suffered for many years from Crohn’s, probably had 20+ surgeries over the 20-25 years she had the illness. She almost died any number of times from it. Yet, she continued to travel, continued to work as an OT, until her illness forced her to retire, and was working on a doctorate at the time of her death. She had drive. She had moxie, and she inherited the tenaciousness and stubborness from her Polish ancestry (in my opinion). She knew more about Crohn’s than her internist.

Dad was devoted to her care, preparing her bag of nutrients every day for hyperalimentation (the only way she could receive nutrients intravenously). After her death, he felt great loss … not only because he lost his daughter, but from the moment of his retirement, his life was focused on caring for her (Mary and Dad had a great bond of love for one another).

In 2005, about a year after Dad died, Mom related a dream she had about Mary that eased her mind greatly. She said that in the dream, she found herself at the door of a house. A very beautiful woman opened the door and welcomed her and invited her into the house. My Mom asked if she could see Mary, and the beautiful woman told her she could, but to wait where she was. When the woman returned she led mom to a room that had a window upon which my Mom could see Mary. Mom said Mary looked so healthy, so happy as she played with little children on the floor of the room. Mom said there was a young bearded man standing in the room, smiling as he observed Mary. The beautiful woman led mom back to room she had been, when Mary came, hugged my Mom, and said, “Don’t worry, Mom. I am so happy!” Mom told me that then the dream ended, and she felt completely at peace. She said that the dream was so real that all her senses were engaged. She concluded by saying, “I think that the beautiful woman was the Blessed Mother, and the young bearded man was Jesus.” I affirmed Mom’s experience.

A dying nun, who had befriended Mary during her illness, once expressed to my sister, several years, earlier, “Mary, when my body dies, the cancer also dies. But, I will continue to live.” How true! When our bodies die, we do NOT die, but continue to live more fully than ever before. As a near-death survivor once expressed to me, “Our bodies are like space suits in which we are able to interact and live in this world. Like space suits, and all things, they wear out. However, we do not die but move on to a whole new existence.”

Mary Ruth has never left me, nor has my Mom or my Dad, my brother, Bill, Ruthie’s mom, Rose, her Uncle Harold and Aunt Ev, and so many others whom I have loved. They are here with me, all the time. This is was marvelously attributed to by my own sister two days before she died. Mom and I were with her in hospice when Mary suddenly began to greet many of our dead relatives in the room. She turned to mom and I and said, “They are playing my song. I’m not ready to hear it.” She was right. She still had two more days before she joined in the song.

SONGS FOR MARY

Over the years, I composed three songs for my sister, Mary Ruth. The first two were gifts to Mary Ruth on her birthday.

Song One

This song was composed for Mary in the mid to late 70’s. I had just begun to compose in earnest, and was still exploring my skills as a composer.

This second song was composed as a birthday present for Mary Ruth in the early 90’s. I taped a rudimentary recording of it for her, and gave her the original music I scribbled on music manuscript paper. I made a photocopy and put it in a file. In 2016, I had wanted to publish it and could only find the first page and the final page. I still had a copy of the cassette tape. So I played it over and over again, and painstakingly recreated all the music on paper to get the complete song. I then, re-recorded it for the album.

The third and final song was composed as a memorial to my sister, Mary Ruth, following her death. It had begun as a setting of a Psalm used on Good Friday, “Into your hands I commend my spirit.” I had dedicated the original choral anthem to my sister. In 2018, I decided to recompose it as a piano song in her memory around this time of the year.

God bless you Mary! Happy feast day!