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The Georgia Bulletin
October 23,1980
The Boycott Ends
The Bishops said it best. The end
of the J.P. Stevens boycott brings a
"sense of real satisfaction.” This well
known Southern textile company and
its workers have reached a settlement.
The workers may now unionize if
they so wish.
It is as it should be. Employees
must enjoy the right to organize in the
marketplace. Often, as history has
demonstrated, the strength behind the
push for justice at the workbench lies
in the unified voice of those who
work there.
Boycott is a drastic measure. It
means all other reasonable avenues of
dialogue have closed. The vicious rule
of unjust landlordism was broken
ultimately, in other societies, by the
bitter call to boycott rents. The
support given to the boycott of the
Stevens Company by the Catholic
Bishops was reluctant but morally and
ethically necessary. Without any sense
of victory, but rather with open
salutes to those on both sides who
worked for a settlement, the Bishops
happily watch the confrontation end.
Both workers and management
must now toil earnestly for the
establishment of solidly stable
relationships. Let the new worker
organization represent all employees
and encourage on the job
responsibility. Let the Stevens
Company give the new organization
room to grow as a proper and peaceful
instrument of the worker community.
May we indeed look down the road
of productive relationships leading to
prosperity for all.
-NCB
One Vote To Cast
This election campaign, so slow to
start, is wrapping up into a hastily-tied
package of cynicism, disenchantment,
and an 11th hour backlash from the
rest of the political spectrum to the
moral messages from the right.
A last-minute debate between
Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan
shows how many votes still hang in
the balance. While some see a clear
choice on moral issues, polls reveal an
unusually high number of people who
find the waters so muddy they can’t
decide. They may choose to stay
home.
Voting on the basis of slogans and
voting absentee from the armchair
show that the country’s power still
outruns its political maturity.
American elections cause more alarm,
stir more interest, prompt deeper
debate in countries around the world
that will be affected by the outcome
than they do at home. The power of
the president and his advisors to direct
foreign policy is appreciated in
Europe and Latin America, but seems
to be lost on those who are wondering
this year whether it’s worth the
trouble to go down to the polling
place. By contrast, in West Germany’s
recent election, 90 percent of the
registered voters went to the polls.
The powerlessness of
disenfranchised voters is stark in
America’s ghettoes where children
grow up and see no change as election
' years come and go.
Each year Americans are urged to
vote, and each presidential year the
Bishops urge us to cast a fully
informed ballot of conscience. This
year especially their words seem
appropriate. Beyond political
image-making, and claims that choices
are simple or gloomy, is a complex
effect that American elections have,
not just on the voter, but on the
voteless who live here and abroad. A
vote is not just "for me”, but "for
us.”
-GRK
The Children
The eyes of Atlanta are on its
children.
The senseless murders and
disappearances of 14 children and the
tragic explosion that rocked the
Bowen Homes Day Nursery have
riveted our attention on our young
people.
It’s about time.
Ours is a society of the quick and
ready answer and the children are the
first to know it.
If the kids are too noisy, turn on
the television and let them sink into
mindless euphoria. If the pregnancy is
unwanted, hustle down to the
neighborhood abortion clinic.
Sibling rivalry? Buy each one a
pair of designer jeans and watch them
smile. Discipline difficulties? Let the
teachers handle it in the classroom.
If you’re bored with the ho-hum
routine of family responsibility, take
off for the lake. But leave the kids at
home - they’re so much trouble.
Children are the last priority of an
adult populace too insecure to give
them the time they require to grow
and mature. The vicious cycle of
ego-feeding adults bearing confused
and uncertain offspring can only be
halted by a steady crack at the core of
the problem - selfish indifference.
An 11 o’clock curfew now guards
our children against the dangers of the
night. Citizen watches have been
carefully organized. Door-to-door
questionnaires keep our
neighborhoods buzzing. Government
officials, religious leadership, police
and fire departments as well as the
ordinary citizenry are now rallying to
protect our young.
May the children continue to enjoy
such concern when the crisis is over.
As we care for them, so do we care for
our future.
--TKJ
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A Song Of Joy
Teresa Gernazian
To try to understand Cody Jennings’
dying words: “My mission here on earth has
been completed,” let’s go back a bit.
Sitting in the Jennings’ dining room, I
couldn’t believe the steady lines of Cody’s
sketch of Our Lord with a little lamb done
an hour before her death. She had even
signed “by Cody” at the bottom. The
treasured sketch hangs in the Jennings’
home ... a visible sign for all their visitors
that God had allowed something
supernatural to fake place in Cody’s last
hours on earth.
Terry gave me a copy of the sketch, plus
a copy of the dedication page from the 1980
Oakcliff School Yearbook with Cody’s
picture on it. “Lovingly dedicated to Cody
Jennings,” it reads. “Petite and pretty,
Laughing and loving was she, A fragile gem
among us for a short time, Who taught us
how to love life and each other.” (Written
by her teacher, Mrs. Betty Rogers.)
Cody had allowed her life, crossed by
daily suffering, to inspire family, friends
(especially Dawn and Gail), parishioners and
schoolmates. Life can close in on anyone
with cystic fibrosis because of the difficulty
in breathing it causes and the susceptibility
to other illnesses. It’s the number one
genetic killer among American young people
and the average patient dies before his 19th
birthday. But in spite of many missed days
of school, Cody made great grades and used
her artistic talents to the fullest degree.
Every day Cody received two to three
hours of respiratory therapy from her
mother (other family members subbed when
Mom was ill or away). Therapy hours were
offered for various intentions: the Church,
The Holy Father, souls in purgatory, in
reparation for abortions, for priests, for
people with illnesses or problems or for the
starving children of the world. These hours
Working Women
Sheila Mallon
A young friend recently had her first
child. The costs of having that baby have
devastated the family financially.
The doctor’s bill was $650, hospital costs
for the birth of the baby and for her care
were over $900. Since the baby was
premature and had to spend almost a month
in an incubator in the premature nursery -
the cost was $1800. The pediatrician’s bill
was $400. A total of $3750 even before they
got to take the baby home.
Rita’s husband is a construction worker,
he had no hospitalization. They had saved
$1500 so that they could have this happily
awaited child - it was all they had. They have
borrowed the remaining $2200 and are
repaying it at the rate of $150 a month.
People frequently say these days that
they don’t know how their children will ever
be able to afford a home. For those whose
jobs pay them just enough to be above the
poverty level and who are unable to obtain
group hospitalization - there is a more
pressing problem. How to afford to have a
family!
This and other problems were addressed
recently at a seminar on the “Pregnant
Woman and Her Infant - Our Community
Responds.” It was an interesting day and I
came away with a very positive feeling about
the efforts being made in our community to
aid the pregnant woman.
The Conference was sponsored by Better
Infant Births (BIB) of the March of Dimes.
The stated aims of the conference were to:
1) understand why some pregnant women
are not receiving the prenatal and nutritional
care they need - or why they are not aware
that those services exist; 2) to develop means
to bring women and services together; 3) to
encourage core groups to assess resources in
their areas; 4) to initiate action and an
agenda for the future; 5) to build a
well-informed, ongoing, public information
network.
I think the day succeeded admirably in
most of its aims. We learned that many
women are simply not aware of the NEED
for prenatal care - for others geography and
a lack of transportation are the problem, still
others just don’t know that the care exists
and a fourth category - those who fall into
the “working poor” classification are not
eligible for “free” care and cannot afford the
other. The latter problem was addressed but
certainly there were no hard and fast
solutions offered - other than to suggest that
there was a need for a national health
insurance program or that doctors should be
asked to lower their charges for people who
fall into this bracket.
The need for more nurse practitioners
and midwives who might be able to fill in, in
many areas was stressed.
Several speakers addressed the problem of
teenage pregnancy. I have just received some
figures which were released by the Dept, of
Human Resources on this subject recently.
They are frightening; for instance in 1978
there were 1106 pregnancies for girls under
14 in this state. In that year there were 20
births to children 10 to 12 years of age and
596 births to girls 13 to 14 years of age.
Tragically there were also 490 abortions to
girls 14 and under.
Although a couple of speakers stressed
the need for sex education (and there are
substantial numbers of people who feel that
certain forms of sex education are
contributing to the problem: Dr. Mildred
Jefferson said recently that the “cooking
class method of sex education has the same
effect as a cooking class. People want to try
out the recipe and the equipment.”) this was
not the main thrust of the conference.
To me it seemed that the speakers were
emphasizing that prenatal health care needs
to be made available to everyone, that easy
access to that care is important and that
education, in the schools and community,
about the importance of nutrition and the
damage done by bad diet, drugs and alcohol
to the growing infant be a priority.
I found it rather surprising that the main
pause of infant deaths is low birth weight.
Obviously the importance of good nutrition
for a developing baby needs to be a priority
in all our educational programs.
There was indepth discussion of the need
for a change in societal attitudes toward the
young unmarried pregnant woman. All of
the speakers emphasized that we must
change this sense of condemnation. There
was discussion about the need for facilities
and funds to care for these women before
they reach their seventh month. It was
brought out that because of society’s
attitude, teenagers and young unmarried
women are the last to seek care during a
pregnancy. It is usually the fifth month or
later before they are examined by a doctor
or trained medical personnel.
Charlotte Wilen, a member of the Select
Panel for the Promotion of Child Health,
gave what was to me the most compelling
talk of the day. She spoke of the progress
that Georgia has made in this area and of the
tremendous needs still unmet. She
challenged those present to make those
needs a priority.
Mrs. Wilen spoke of the value of the
unborn child and its mother to society and
society’s obligation to provide the best care
possible.
As she ended her presentation she made
the point that BIB has always considered
that the child was just that (a child) from
the moment of conception - and that when
the child is born it is really nine months old.
A beautiful affirmation of the right to
life.
Father Brendan Could Let His Hair Down
Dave McGill
Which wanders away from the
truth.
’Twas on the brig of the Rigagagig,
’bout a mile and a half to sea,
When Cap’n Snook, with a troubled
look, he come and he says to me,
‘‘Oh Bos’n Smith, make haste,
forthwith, and hemstitch the forward
sail.
Accordion-pleat the dory sheet, for
there’s goin’ to be a gale.”
I straightaway did as the captain
bid, and no sooner the job was
through,
when the north wind (WHOOOF)
bounced over the roof, and murderin’
lights she blew!
She blew the tars right off of the
spars, and the spars right off of the
mast.
And sails and pails and buckets and
nails flew by on the wings of the blast.
And ’fore we could look, she blew
the cook right out of the porthole glim
And pots and pans and kettles and
cans went rattling after him.
She blew the fire from our gallant
stove, and the coal from our gallant
bin,
She whistled apace past the
captain’s face, and BLEW THE
BEARD OFF OF HIS CHIN!!
“O wizzle me dead,” the Captain
said, and the words blew out of his
mouth,
“We’re lost, I fear, if the wind don’t
veer, and blow for a while from the
south.”
And Wizzle me dead, no sooner
he’d said these words that blew from
his mouth,
When the wind turned ’round with
a hurricane sound, and blew
STRAIGHT IN FROM THE SOUTH!!
She blew the tars back onto the
spars, and the spars back onto the
mast,
Back flew the sails, the pails and
the nails, which into the ship stuck
fast.
And ’fore we could look, she blew
the cook right back in the galley coop,
Back flew the pans, the kettles and
When we knew him, Father Brendan
Downey was pastor of a small parish at the
University in Lawrence, Kansas. While there,
he had baptized our middle child, Gayle, and
had taught us much about life and
perseverance and, most of all, about Christ.
He saw that in his flock were many young
married couples who were from all over the
country, and were therefore alone except for
each other. He responded to our need for
friends by forming a discussion group to
help us get to know one another and to
share common problems as well as joys. I am
sure that much of what we learned from
those couples and from that brilliant priest
helped us through some hard times and kept
us off the rocks.
Father Downey was a no-nonsense
homilist; he had studied English and
literature at Oxford and his messages were
always well-written and well-delivered. In
the discussion group meetings he was again
serious, and though he smiled and laughed
some, he mostly wanted us to appreciate the
seriousness and importance of the
commitments we had made as spouses and
how much Jesus was involved in our union.
When the group of discussions ended, I
got the surprise of my life. Father Brendan
threw a party for all of us, and that evening
he was like a different person. He sang songs,
accompanying himself on the guitar, and
even danced an Irish jig for us. And as if that
wasn’t enough, at one point in the evening
he recited a poem. It was done with such
feeling and enthusiasm that, even though the
whole poem is a big lie, you believed the
story was happening as he told it. Years
later, I wrote to him and asked if he would
jot it down for me, because I wanted to
memorize it and recite it to my kids. Months
later, I thought he had been too busy to
respond, but then one day the mailman
delivered a typed-out copy of the poem. I
don’t know the author or even the title, but
I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Before you start,
you need to know that a “tar” is a sailor.
Here it is:
I’ve seen some sights that would
jigger yer lights,
And they’ve jiggered me own in
sooth;
But I ain’t worth a darn at fellin’ a
yarn
brought mother and daughter closer
spiritually.Terry would often prop up her
worn and well-marked Bible, to be marked
and worn some more, and read Scripture.
She shared a favorite verse which means so
much to the family: 1 Peter, Chap. 4,
“Think of what Christ suffered in this
life . . . anyone who . . . has bodily suffering
has broken with sin, because for the rest of
his life on earth he is not ruled by human
passions but only by the will of God.”
When Cody was three years old, she told
her mother one morning that the Blessed
Mother had looked down upon her in a
dream and smiled. Several months before she
died, Cody had told her mother and father
that earlier in her life, Jesus had revealed to
her that “something was going to happen to
her that would make her holy and then she
was to become holier still and then she was
to go up a step higher and become a saint.”
Last year after the Holocaust special,
Cody was in a room by herself and thinking
about the play, became frightened. She
started praying the rosary. She told her
mother, after the incident was over, that
Jesus appeared at the door. Becoming more
scared, she prayed harder and the harder she
prayed the closer He came. Then she became
calm and peaceful. By the time she finished
the Our Father, He was standing right next
to her face. Then He disappeared. Shortly
before her death, she told her mother it was
o.k. to tell others about these things, she had
not wanted them revealed before because,
“people might not understand.”
When Cody was little and during the
summer, she would go with her mother to
daily Mass and stay for the rosary
afterwards, which Terry has led for many
years. Cody would take her turn in leading a
decade.
Her funeral -service at Holy Cross,
attended by an overflow crowd of people,
had a delightful addition for Catholic
funerals - the reading of the 23rd Psalm first
in English and then in Hebrew by Cody’s
physician, Dr. Dan Caplan. Father Peter
Gerhard, O.P., in delivering a wonderful
homily, delved a little into Cody’s
mysterious words: “My mission on earth is
completed.” He said her mission was to be
loved - that she was given to the Jennings
family - a special family - to be loved. She
was given into their parish and community
to be loved. He expanded on this and
concluded, “Her mission was to teach us by
her life in her family who we are and what
cans, WITHOUT EVEN SPILLIN’
THE SOUP!!
She blew the fire back into the
stove, where it burnt in its proper
place . . .
AND ALL OF US CHEERED AS
SHE BLEW THE BEARD BACK
ONTO THE CAPTAIN’S FACE!!!
Now I’ve seen some sights that
would jigger yer lights,
And they’ve jiggered me own in
sooth,
But I ain’t worth a dam at tellin’ a
yarn
Which wanders away from the
truth.
After reciting the poem. Father Brendan
told us it was important as Christians to
know how to let your hair down. That night,
as usual, he practiced what he preached.
In 1973, Father Downey became Abbot
of St. Benedict’s Abbey in Atchison, Kansas.
He wrote us several letters, and we always
hoped someday to see him again; we
especially wanted him to meet the teenager
he had baptized as a baby.
Each month, Carolyn and I eagerly
opened the little newsletter from the Abbey
to read the column he faithfully wrote. It
never failed to inspire or to challenge. But
when we opened the issue of August 1980,
the inspirational column of the brilliant
priest-friend wasn’t there. Instead, his
picture appeared beside the headline: “Heart
Attack Takes Life of Abbot Brendan
Downey.” He had gone to let his hair down
for good; I will not be surprised to learn that
he danced an Irish jig on his way through the
gates.
Eulogized as “one who stood among us as
a worthy shepherd,” Father Brendan also
knew how to have fun after the sheep were
secure.
Correction
A photo caption in last week’s
edition of The Georgia Bulletin
incorrectly identified the place of a new
church dedication. The church is St.
Francis of Assisi in Blairsville.
God asks of us.”
To that beautiful message, it could be
added that she has fed many of us spiritually
with her perfect example of a life of
reparation for sin. A Dominican priest and a
Benedictine nun have taken Cody for their
patronness in the coming year. St. Theresa’s
Circle in Immaculate Heart of Mary has
invited Terry to speak to them about Cody.
Cody patterned her life after St.
Bernadette, who suffered physically all her
life, and that of St. Therese. Her ready smile
and twinkling eyes told a busy, selfish world
- “Hey, look, there’s more ... there’s so
much more . . . Stop a while; laugh a little;
love a little. I know I won’t be here as long
as most of you but I’m not afraid . .. The
Good Shepherd is leading me, his little lamb,
into green pastures . . . my cup overflows.”
This year the Oakcliff School sponsored a
talent show and gave the proceeds to the
Cystic Fibrosis Foundation in Cody’s
memory. “Each of us has his own music
within,” Terry said in thanking the school
for the honor. “Cody had her own music
within and voiced that music in her own
little way . .. She let the melody in her heart
be treasured and captured by all who loved
her.” Indeed, her life was a song of joy.