Month: November 2011

The New Mass has begun

Last night at Mass, I led the choir at Sacred Heart Church in new songs for a new Mass. For over 40 years, we Catholics have been saying the same words every Sunday. The priest said, “The Lord be with you” and we answered “And also with you.”

But now, the words have changed. We are to respond “And with your spirit.”

That is only one of many changes. The words of the Gloria, the Creed, and the Communion prayers are all different. The meaning is the same, but all over the English-speaking world, Catholics are saying different words this weekend. It’s the biggest change since the post-Vatican II overhaul in the 1960s.

Prior to Vatican II, the Mass was said in Latin, and the priest did most of the talking. The New Mass was spoken in the language of the people, and they played a much larger role, with spoken and sung responses. They held hands during the Lord’s Prayer and offered each other a sign of peace. Older people who were used to the way Mass had always been said had a hard time adjusting, and some dropped out of the church. My parents were among them.

This time, the changes are not quite as drastic, but they are profound. The church fathers have written a new translation from Latin into English which we began using this first weekend of Advent.

After Thanksgiving Mass on Thursday, parishioners took the old books out of the pews and replaced them with new ones. In the choir room, we took all the old service music out of the binders and files. Entire collections of service music are no longer allowed to be sung. We moved mountains of paper. Out with the old, in with the new.

Last night, I felt honored to be able to lead the choir for the debut of the new 2012 Mass. Some of the words are the same, but enough have changed that suddenly we have to pay attention and listen to what we’re saying. We all made mistakes. Many of the responses came out as a mix of old and new. The old words are so engrained in our minds. But I’m glad I was there.

The only “disaster” of the Saturday vigil Mass had nothing to do with the new liturgy. For some unknown reason, the ushers started taking a second collection after Communion. We didn’t have one planned. As the baskets were being passed, Father Brian stared out at the pews. “I don’t believe we have a second collection.” But it was too late. People had already put money in the baskets. Rather than take it back, they opted to give it to the local food pantry.

At the end of Mass, Fr. Brian raised his hands and said, “The Lord be with you.” Some of us, armed with cheat sheets, responded, “And with your spirit.” Others answered, as always, “And also with you.” It’s going to take a while, but the new Mass has begun.

Black Friday? Not for me

If we’re to believe what we see and hear in the media, everybody is shopping today. Stores opened ridiculously early and in some cases, they opened last night, so shoppers didn’t even have time to digest their turkey and pumpkin pie. I know people who were almost as excited about shopping today as that crazy woman on the Target TV commercials they’ve been airing approximately every five minutes. But I’m not going anywhere near a store today. I hate shopping and I hate crowds. Plus there’s a rumor the sun might make an appearance on the Oregon Coast. After this last week of wild storms, I don’t want to get stuck in a store and miss it.

Instead I’m doing some writing and cleaning up the layers of stuff dumped all over the house. I might dig out the Christmas music, and I might start the Christmas cards.  Or I might just go hang out at the dog park.

This year’s Christmas cards present a dilemma. Not everyone on my list knows that my husband Fred died in April, seven months and two days ago. I hate to break the news in a Christmas card, but I know I’m going to get lots of cards addressed to “Fred and Sue” this year, and I need to explain why my cards are signed by only “Sue.” What a downer. This is actually my third Christmas without Fred because he was living in a nursing home, so it’s not as hard as you might think, but it’s odd not being able to buy gifts for him or sign my cards with both our names. He loved Christmas so much. I know he’d be bugging me today to go get a Christmas tree. But things change and we adapt.

The other big news this year was the publication of my book, Shoes Full of Sand, in July. I like to think it honors the memories Fred and I shared of our early years in Oregon. Don’t want to fight the crowds this Christmas? Buy books. Some of my favorite bookstores are closing at the end of the year because they’re not selling enough books anymore. If you love books, support your local bookseller. Remember, books are easy to wrap and easy to mail, and they last forever.

Two weeks ago today, I had my second cataract surgery, so I’m typing this without glasses. My closeup vision is amazing. I see a lot of things I never noticed before. I’m still going to need glasses for distance vision, and I can’t order them for a few more weeks because my vision has not stabilized yet. It’s frustrating and exciting at the same time.

That’s the Black Friday news from South Beach. Happy holidays to everybody.

Post-cataract: writing without glasses

I’m writing this without glasses, and I can actually see what I’m writing. That’s an amazing thing for someone who has worn glasses or contact lenses full-time for 40 years. I keep raising my hand to adjust my glasses and discover they’re not there. Just before I turn out the light at night, I go to take off my glasses, and in the morning, I reach for my glasses on the nightstand. They’re not there. And I don’t need them.
I had my second cataract surgery a week ago today. It had been almost a year since the first surgery. That surgery on my multi-troubled left eye increased my distance vision but decreased my close-up vision. I still needed glasses to function. We waited a year for the cataract in the right eye to progress enough to qualify for insurance coverage. By October it was there.
I reported for surgery early on 11-11-11, which seemed like an auspicious date. The process was familiar, as were the scrubs-clad folks in the surgery department at Samaritan Pacific Community Hospital in Newport. Inevitably, I run into people I know from church, music and writing groups, all doing their day jobs. Lots of smiling faces.
They led me to the bed fully dressed, covered me with a warm blanket, put a blue bonnet over my hair, took away my glasses, hooked me up to monitors and an IV, put drops in my eye and asked me many times who I was and which eye they were doing. Dr. Haines came through and wrote his initials in blue ink under my right eyebrow.
With my right eye taped shut and wires running all over me, I signed a consent form and waited for my turn. Dr. H. does cataract surgeries all day on Fridays, one after another. Now that I couldn’t escape, several people warned me that this time I would be more aware of what was happening. I knew that technically they didn’t put us all the way to sleep, but I didn’t remember being aware of anything during my first cataract surgery, and I didn’t want to know what was happening this time either.
They were right. I was considerably more awake but sedated enough not to be afraid. I don’t remember everything, but I do remember being wrapped up like a chimichanga. I remember Dr. Haines coming in. I remember seeing bright lights and what looked like blue and red squares. Then I remember Dr. Haines telling me it was over and I had done well. Thank God I don’t remember them removing the old lens and inserting the new one.
Afterward I was up and eating a cinnamon scone in no time. My friend Pat drove me home, where I started the laundry and took a nap, then woke up and started seeing what I could see.
The bad news is that I still need glasses for distance. I’m less nearsighted but not nearly enough to drive or watch TV. But I can read, play the piano, work at the computer, and tool around the house minus specs. I haven’t been able to do that since my teens. Colors are brighter, and I can see things like little scars on my hands and dirt around the bathtub that I didn’t know were there. It’s fascinating.
I won’t be able to order my new glasses for a few weeks because it takes the eye time to adapt to the new implanted lens. That part is frustrating. Also, I have had to go without makeup for a whole week now. Talk  about revelations. But when I wake up in the middle of the night and the numbers on the clock are clear, I think it’s pretty cool.
Annie the dog is confused. To her, my glasses were as much a part of me as my nose or ears. She keeps staring at me with a look that says, “What happened to your face?”

Autumn reflections in Scottsburg

Driving along the Umpqua River between the coast and I-5 last weekend, I just had to stop and take pictures of the fall colors. Where I live in South Beach, recent storms have already wiped out the red and gold leaves, but here, 20 miles inland, I found a glorious multi-hued patchwork of trees reflected in the water.

This was taken at Scottburg Park, a boat launch and picnic site about 2 1/2 miles west of the tiny community of Scottburg. Founded in 1950 by Levi Scott, it was once a bustling shipping port. The advent of the railroad and bigger ports took business elsewhere, but it’s a still a sweet little river town with one market, one restaurant, a bait and tackle shop and an “elk crossing” sign.

copyright 2011 Sue Fagalde Lick

The Glamorous Life of the Writer, Again

So here I am in Medford, OR, wearing nothing but my bathrobe because my clothes got all wet between the exhibit hall at the Expo Center and my car. But I kept my books dry, of course. The plan was to not have any books left over, to go home with a lot more space in my car, but no, this fair was a bust. In fact, we quit two hours early, and by then a third of the authors had already packed up and left.

Wouldn’t you know I’d try the Oregon Book and Author Fair on its first year at the Expo Center? The previous venues, hotels and libraries in town, not only attracted crowds, but they were actually warm. We had been warned about the heat being inefficient in the exhibit hall, but actually it was nonexistent. It was about 50 degrees inside, colder and raining outside. The concrete-floored hall was vast and ugly.

We were arranged at long tables with dozens of authors, who gamely put out books, postcards, brochures, bookmarks, pens and candy. One guy, who writes haiku books, wore a clown hat. Another wore a sweatshirt that said, a “Ask me about my book.” One author brought a model of a spine for her book on scoliosis. Another had model wagon trains. One had balloons.

All to no avail. There were no customers, except the authors themselves. I did my part; I bought five books and a hot dog. But I did not sell a single book. Even the one lady who assured me she would buy a book failed to show up at my table.

I did trade one of my books for another woman’s book. There was a lot of that going on. And I made some good contacts, I think. This Portuguese woman promises to get me on her TV show. Another author plans to invite me to her upcoming book fair, which she promises will have a lot more going on.

My tablemate, Jim Henson—not the Muppet guy—is a delightful man, full of jokes, stories and encouragement. We made plans to meet in Newport for the open mic at Café Mundo.

It’s not all a loss, unless you’re counting dollars. Let’s see, miss a weekend of work, drive 500 miles, pay for the dog to stay in the kennel . . . no, it doesn’t pencil out. But if you think of it as a life experience, it’s not so bad. I talked to lots of people, got to see the fall colors here in Medford, and I’m still enjoying the amenities of a really great hotel: giant-screen TV, microwave popcorn, pool, spa, fitness center, hot buffet breakfast, free newspapers, a heavenly bed, and an escape from the responsibilities of home. Of course, I have to eat breakfast with strangers, and the clock radio suddenly burst into loud music at 4:10 a.m. And there was that flat tire near Roseburg, but hey, it’s an adventure. I’m writing, I’m reading, I’m swimming, I’m watching TV, I’m going out to dinner. And I have a new badge that says I’m an author.

Anybody want to buy a book? Or two or three? Christmas is coming. Visit https://www.suelick.com–or the back of my Honda.