Newspaper Page Text
PAGE 5 - The Georgia Bulletin, August 23, 1990
Thea Jarvis
My Friend Sam
I met my friend Sam in the parking lot of the Atlanta
Boy Choir about 13 years ago. My son was trying out for
the choir and so was Sam. It was an informal audition; the
boys were only eight years old.
Sammy had dark hair with low bangs on his forehead.
His long-lashed eyes were dark, too, and his mouth a soft
pucker of rose. My son and I talked with Sam and his
dad, Sam, Sr., and learned they had recently moved from
Fort Benning with Sam’s mom, Ann, brother, Kyle, and
sister, Joy.
Both boys were welcomed into the choir, their angel
voices joined to other youthful sopranos to produce a
sound that made strong parents weep. We saw Sammy and
his family at the Boy Choir School off Ponce de Leon in
Atlanta and at Holy Cross Church, where both our
families were, and still are, parishioners.
Over the years, the Taylors became part of the warm,
familiar, multi-faced quilt of church community we take
for granted at Holy Cross. Sam and Ann taught elementary
school religion on Sunday mornings and the whole clan
faithfully lavished time and affection on a single-parent
family of handicapped children who were part of the
parish. We’d catch up after Mass, waving hellos in the
church parking lot or learning the kids’ latest doings over
coffee in the community room.
Last summer, we called on Sam, Sr.’s engineering and
construction expertise. Taylor Construction Services
happily complied and began constructing a bathroom off
the den of lost luggage we euphemistically call a laundry
room. Sam, Sr.’s right-hand man, of course, was Sammy.
If Sam was at the Home Depot buying materials or
scoping another job, Sammy held down the fort at our
house. Having him around was a little like having an extra
child; he was welcome and familiar.
One morning, after a heady bout with a supermarket
cart, I returned home to find a sheepish Sam wielding the
remains of a cherished, wall-mounted antique.
“That’s Mrs. Murphy’s rolling pin,” I hollered. “I love
that thing. I use that thing.”
Sam was sure I had incurred psychic damage between
the lettuce and the lamb chops. “My Dad told me to find
something to flatten the flooring. I didn’t think it was
anything special.”
After a few more whines from me about Mrs. Murphy’s
friendship and the crushing loss I felt over the broken
roller, Sam smiled graciously and apologized. “We’ll fix
it,” he assured me, and the wooden treasure was back on
the wall within days, restored to wholeness by a new
dowel and super glue.
I saw the older Taylor in the church parking lot a
month ago.
“Sam’s taken over Construction Services,” Sam, Sr.
related. “I’ve gone back to working for someone else.
He’s got his own apartment and the business seems to be
Family Connections
doing all right.”
But the next news of their son put a crack in my heart.
On Aug. 1, Sammy took a test drive on a used motorcy
cle he and a friend had bought for restoration and resale.
On the darkened road not far from his apartment, he
couldn’t see the patch of gravel in his path. The bike
skidded and hit a tree. Sam was thrown, his back severely
injured. The resulting paralysis means he is unable to
walk.
Sam’s mending will not be as simple as fixing Mrs.
Murphy’s rolling pin. One delicate operation has already
been completed, fitting Sam with a rod to straighten his
back. He is now on a waiting list for Shepherd Spinal
Center in Atlanta where intensive therapy can prepare him
to function independently. His spirits are high, and he is
hopeful.
At Holy Cross, Sam’s friends have begun a fund to help
' him with medical costs, which are steep and heavy and
getting heavier. It is a way of letting Sammy know how
many people love and care about him, as well as a
practical solution to a difficult financial situation.
Telling you this story is a way for me to show Sammy
and his family how much I love and care for them too.
Thanks.
(Tax-deductible donations to defray Sam’s medical bills
may be made to Holy Cross/Sam Taylor Fund, 3175
Hathaway Court, Atlanta, GA 30341.)
Ivan J. Kauffman
A War Monster We Created
Making Peace
A few weeks ago everyone in Washington was talking
about the peace dividend and how to spend it. The Cold
War is over, people were saying, and we can take the
money we’ve been spending on the arms race and put it
to better uses.
Then Iraq attacked Kuwait and virtually overnight the
situation changed. Now instead of talking about spending
the peace dividend people are talking about the very real
threat of war and an economic depression.
How could the situation have changed so suddenly?
How is it possible that one of the world’s smaller nations
could so suddenly bring us all to the brink of war?
One reason is that although Iraq is relatively small it
has one of the largest armies in the world. It has over a
million soldiers, and they are armed with the latest
weapons-jet aircraft, guided missiles, helicopters, tanks,
artillery-as well as the deadliest chemical weapons.
How did Iraq’s dictator get his hands on all these
sophisticated, modem weapons? The answer is very
simple: we sold them to him. During the past decade
everyone from the United States to the Soviet Union has
been selling Iraq as many weapons as it wants.
And how did Iraq pay for all these weapons? Once
again the answer appears to be very simple: we gave Iraq
weapons in exchange for oil.
In a very real sense the world created the monster
which now threatens to plunge us into a bloody war whose
outcome no one can predict.
During the years we were busily arming Iraq we told
ourselves we could sell them weapons-despite their
terrible human rights record, and despite the fact that Iraq
is ruled by a military dictatorship-without having to worry
about their ever being used, at least not against us.
Apparently we thought we could manage events so they
would come out as we wanted. But the belief that anyone
can manage events-above all warfare-is contrary to
events in the real world.
When millions of weapons are manufactured there is a
high probability that at least some of them will be used
for the purposes for which they were made. And when
those weapons are sold to a military dictator, who has a
record of using poison gas against his own people,that
probability becomes a virtual certainty.
In the case of Iraq that means our weapon sales will
result in hundreds and thousands of people being killed-
very possibly including some of our own sons and daugh
ters.
The world’s governments are now trying to control the
monster they have created by means of an economic
embargo. It may work, but in the process millions of
innocent women and children will face starvation, and
thousands of American hostages will undergo months and
possibly years of suffering.
It may yet be possible to solve this terrible dilemma
with skillful diplomacy, but regardless of its outcome Iraq
has taught us all a painful and sobering lesson-that the
only way to have peace is to outlaw war.
For thousands of years the conventional wisdom has
been that the way to secure peace is to prepare for war.
But during the same centuries the Church has been
pointing out that this approach to peace doesn’t work in
reality. What the Church has said in varying ways over the
centuries is that if you prepare for war you will get war.
“Those who live by the sword will die by the sword,”
Jesus told St. Peter just before he went to the cross, and
with increasing clarity the Church has been repeating that
message in recent decades.
Now events in the world have demonstrated once again
the practical truth of Jesus’ words. It’s time to take a new
approach to national security.
Father John Catoir
Hope Is
Here is my favorite quote from Pope John Paul II: “If
we look only at ourselves,with our own limitations and
sins, we quickly give way to sadness and discouragement.
But if we keep our eyes fixed on the Lord, then our hearts
are filled with hope...We cannot live without hope. We
have to have some purpose in life, some meaning to our
existence. We have to aspire to something. Without hope
we begin to die.” (Message to the youth of America,
delivered in Los Angeles, Sept. 15, 1987).
Hope is an inner power which gives us “confident
assurance that what we hope for will come to pass.”
(Hebrews 11:1) Starting with the promise of heaven this
is good news indeed.
Having a purpose in life can help stabilize a person in
all kinds of circumstances. Without a sense of direction,
Contagious
it becomes so easy to sink into self-pity. Those who have
a sense of mission usually find the courage to carry on.
J. Copeland Gray lost his sight at the age of 60. It took
time before he found his purpose, but he surely did. He
decided that, instead of brooding, he would make a
positive contribution to the world. He began visiting a
veterans hospital in Buffalo with the goal of giving as
much hope as he could to the lonely patients. Going from
ward to ward, he persuaded the men to channel their
energies constructively and count their blessings.
This very act of seeing himself as a healer instead of a
victim made all the difference. His life became a joyful
adventure and his good example gave the vets the boost
they needed. Many began to become healers themselves.
Light One Candle
“You help yourself when you reach out to help oth
ers,” said Gray. He grew in self-esteem and self-confi
dence, forgetting about his disability. “I know I’ve done
a good job when they ask me to come again.”
What J. Copeland Gray learned was that little acts of
kindness done for others can awaken life-giving hope in
them. Hope is contagious. No wonder the Lord said, “Let
your light shine in the sight of all, so that seeing your
good works, they may give praise to your Father in
heaven.” (Matt. 5:16)
For a free copy of the Christopher News Notes, "The
Fruits of Hope," send a stamped, self-addressed envelope
to The Christophers, 12 East 48 Street, New York, NY
10017.