Remembering Brother Joe

Joe in orchard 2Today, the monks of St. Procopius Abbey say “Bon voyage!” to their confrere Joseph Vesely, O.S.B. After 92 years on this planet, Brother Joe goes home to the Father’s house.

Ever since I began my association with the monastery as an oblate, I always looked up to Brother Joe. He was not very talkative, but always wore a placid, welcoming smile on his face. He was not highly educated, in a worldly way, but you sensed that he carried within himself a deep knowledge of God. He was my picture of a “true monk.”

Some years ago when he had one of his many leg surgeries—his knees were replaced and then broke his leg in an accident—he found himself more or less confined indoors. Being an active man, serving in the carpentry shop, managing the refectory and the apple orchard, Brother Joe loved being outside and doing things. I visited him during his convalescence and gave him a book entitled Scratching the Woodchuck, a charming little collection of reflections and observations of life on an Amish farm. I thought it would transport him outdoors, if only in his imagination. I saw him at an oblate meeting shortly afterward and he told me he enjoyed reading the book, but it was going slowly because he couldn’t neglect his lectio divina. Brother Joe always had his priorities straight.

Fr. James Flint O.S.B., in his eulogy, emphasized a constant theme: Brother Joe always wanted to “learn more and pray better.” He said this:

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Palate Cleanser

Doughy, nonathletic nerds rejoice! Oh sure, your mom derided you for all the time you spent playing video games. Little did she know, you were in training.

Slowly, methodically, you refined your fine index finger-thumb control so that one day you could dominate your sport!

Hoyven glaven!
h/t Ace

What Do You Do When You’re Broke?

Simple: You borrow 100 meeelion dollars! Good gravy! The thieves civil servants at piggybankCity Hall are going to purty-up the river from Wacker to State Street on YOUR dime dear fellow-taxpayer.

On behalf of the panhandlers, clockers, and bond traders who frequent the riverfront, I say thank you. Will the last person in Illinois please turn out the lights when you leave? Thank you.

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The County Towed My Van!

So I come home after a long day of black market kitten peddling, I mean, writing, and my van’s gone! I hitch a ride with this dude who shares the same dumpster as me, and we go down to the impound lot. The man at the county impound says I was parked illegally.

When I say, “No way! There’s no sign by the river says I can’t park there!” He says, “Park district regulations prohibit loitering, camping, or other misuse of public land.” I told him I wasn’t camping, I was living there, and he told me to get out of his office…and while I was at it, to get a life.

Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise, cuz when the spring rains come, it’ll give new meaning to “I can’t move because my house’s underwater.” Anyway, I need $150 to get my van back. So do me a solid and buy something at the Chewing Glass General Store, huh? Thanks! Maybe I can return the favor some time.

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