Remembering Mom

If you've known me for more than a week, you know how close I have been with my beloved mother, Frances. Sadly, she died on June 14 at the age of 98. Actually, 98.67. Mom was proud of each additional month added to her long life. Even at the end of her life, Mom was doing things on her terms. We buried her today.

On June 11, my husband Pete called me from our home in Naples, FL, to tell me Mom was lethargic and had trouble sitting up. He called her doctor, who recommended bringing her to the Emergency Department at one of our local hospitals. Her carbon dioxide level was very high and oxygen level very low. It was too late for me to get a flight that evening and the nurse told Pete Mom only had three hours to live and I would not make it in time. That nurse did not know my mother. Mom said to herself, “I'll show you.”

I arrived at 12:30 p.m. the following day and while Mom couldn't speak, when I bent down to kiss her a few dozen times, she had a huge smile and a twinkle in her eyes that told me she knew I was there. Care at Physicians Regional Hospital is top notch, but they can only treat for pain with the hope of recovery, not end-of-life palliative care. The recommendation was to send Mom to a hospice and the better choice of the two, Avow, was just one mile away and had one available bed. We were told Mom would not survive the transfer. She defied “authority” again and was cared for magnificently by the special people who work at Avow.

Mom finally took her last breath the afternoon of June 14, four months shy of her 99^th birthday. Her passing was relatively quick. When I left her on June 4, I had no idea she would be gone ten days later. I am comforted by our last conversation that day. I always kissed her on the cheek 20, 30, 40 times in rapid succession, which made her giggle. Before I headed to the airport, I told her, “I love you, my mommy.” She responded, “I love you, too, my son.” What more could I ask for when it comes to last words?

Mom had a very difficult early life. She was born Josephine Frances Detmer, though everyone called her Frances. She was the next to last of 11 children, one of whom, her brother Henry, died before Mom was born. She became the youngest when her brother James was killed in WWII. Her father died when she was 5½, leaving her mother to raise ten children just before The Great Depression. Mom didn't talk a lot about those years, other than to say she and her mother often cried themselves to sleep because they didn't have enough food for their family. She won a guinea hen at a movie theater raffle when she was 14. The bird got away from her and she chased it around the stage to catch it. She said they ate it that night for dinner.

Mom's parents emigrated from Poland. They were among the founding families of St. Joseph's Church, a Polish parish now shuttered in the City of Poughkeepsie. She graduated from St. Joseph's School, helped out in the school and rectory, sang in the choir and for community shows, and had her favorite spot in the last pew. Mom and my father, Roland, were married there in 1946, a marriage that lasted 53 years until Dad's death in 1999. All four of her children were altar boys. The Church was an integral part of Mom's life.

Many people considered Mom to be a holy woman. She often got prayer requests because everyone believed Mom had a direct line to God. Two incidents I witnessed first-hand brought that home to me. I was in Philadelphia for a conference and brought Mom with me. One night, in pouring rain, I hailed a cab to take us to a nice restaurant for dinner. The driver, who was Haitian, looked at Mom in his rear-view mirror and took us to our destination without turning on his meter. We arrived and I asked what I owed him. He in turn asked, “Is this your mother?” When I said yes, he replied, “I can't take money from you, she is a holy woman.” I put a $20 bill on his seat anyway, despite his protestations.

Another year, I took Mom to San Francisco, where I was participating in another conference. We were walking back to our hotel from a restaurant and passed a long line of very aggressive panhandlers. When Mom walked by, they stopped, took off their caps, and bowed reverently to her. Everyone who met Mom saw this profound goodness in her, a radiance that was otherworldly.

Mom was known for being a phenomenal cook and baker. Her stuffed cabbage, parsnip stew, shrimp creole, spare ribs and many other dishes were legendary. Mom's from-scratch sauerkraut with shredded pork was so popular, when she whipped some up for bingo at St. Joseph's, the ladies who played always asked, “Did Fran make the sauerkraut tonight?” If she did, they'd say, “Forget the hotdog, just give me a cup of Fran's kraut.” Mom baked apple pies for fundraisers benefitting the Dutchess Interfaith Council. It got to the point where people would call her and ask to come to the house to buy one, for a donation to the Council, so they would not be sold out by the time they got to the annual apple pie festival.

Mom also had a profound sense of social justice. We grew up on the corner of Garden and High Streets, a neighborhood in which our family was the minority. Mom was loved, protected and respected by everyone and never spoke ill of anyone. All were welcome in her home. Mom and I were the only two Caucasians on a bus that took us to a civil rights March on Washington in the early 1980s. Mom never put up with intolerant talk, including alleged “jokes.” After my father died and before Mom moved in with Pete and me, the Rastafarians who lived next door would ask how Mom is doing. They told me not to worry about her because they'd take care of anyone who even thought about doing any harm to her. Another neighbor, Rhonda, once literally threw out a huge guy who tried to enter Mom's house claiming he worked for Central Hudson. She told the perpetrator Mom was her mother and he'd better leave before she took care of him. Another neighbor, Louis, plowed Mom's sidewalk after snowstorms.

Mom enjoyed travel. I took her on as many trips as I could. She came to visit me in 1987 while I studied in Rome. It was her first time on an airplane. We made other trips to Italy, Germany, Belgium, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, England, Las Vegas, Hawaii and other places in the U.S. She loved each location, though Rome and Hawaii were her favorites. In London, she was the queen of The Ritz, where staff members all welcomed her by name whenever they saw her and she enjoyed high tea in the Palm Court. In Rome, she hobnobbed with cardinals and bishops and didn't accept pretension from anyone, no matter how high up on the ecclesiastical food chain. She also maintained a quick wit right up until the last weeks of her life. For the past four years, she also loved spending winters at our home in Naples, where she would sit by the pool, watching the multitude of birds flying overhead or landing on the lake behind the house.

In December 2016, Mom suffered a debilitating stroke, which left her paralyzed on her left side, unable to open her eyes or speak. Pete was with her when it happened and his quick action and the amazing work of the EMTs in Naples and the doctors and nurses at Physicians Regional saved her life. Therapists restored her hands and arms to relatively full functioning. Mom was confined to a wheelchair since 2015, but she had a strong will to live. This past April, she underwent double cataract surgery, which improved her quality of life, taking her from 20/200 vision, meaning she was legally blind (though she never told us she couldn't see things) to about 20/40. She even had her own personal therapy dog, the beautiful golden retriever Redwing, whose parents, Chuck and Liz, are our wonderful next door neighbors in Naples.

I am grateful to my brother Gregory and his family for his frequent visits with Mom in Poughkeepsie. He cooked for her, sat and talked with her for hours, and even used his vacation time to stay with Mom when she was still able to walk so Pete and I could get away for time with each other. He called often, sent cards and flowers, and when he was with her, he was never in a hurry to leave.

Pete and I are also grateful to everyone at Physicians Regional Hospital and Avow Hospice, and to Rose Clarke, who, for the last few months, visited twice a week to help Pete with showering Mom. They developed a close relationship in a very short time.

A special thank you goes to my husband Pete, who was Mom's 24/7 caregiver for a decade. He did the same for his mother, Marjorie, for 13 years. Pete's Mom and my Mom were buddies, taking vacations together to Cape Cod and the South Shore of Boston and acting a bit like Thelma and Louise. Mom said she had to remind Marj 95 was the Interstate number, not the speed limit. What a blessing it was to have them both live with us for so many years. When Pete's Mom died on Christmas Eve 2013, he said he would take care of my mom in the same manner in which he took care of his, at home, never in a nursing home. He gave up his career and pretty much every aspect of his life to care for both moms and he loved mine as much as he did his own.

Any caregiver who visited Mom following a hospital stay remarked at how well she was cared for and it was easy to tell she was deeply loved. For the last three years of Mom's life, Pete carried her everywhere: from the bed to the wheelchair, to the bathroom, to the dinner table, to the car, to anywhere else she wanted to go. It took a physical toll on him, with damage to his neck and arms, which we will now be able to address. He bathed Mom, cut her hair, salved her wounds, fed her when necessary. Mom often said to me, “Peter's my angel.” He is, and a saint. He has to be. He's married to me.

While Pete and I are so profoundly sad at the loss of Mom, we are comforted by many wonderful memories of our decades together. Thankfully, today's phone cameras helped us capture many more moments than we would have 30 years ago. Eventually, when we think of Mom, we will laugh more than we cry. How grateful I am to have had Mom in my life for 60 years.

My mother made me the man I am today. She taught me about unconditional love; respect for everyone, regardless of their background; hard work; expressions of appreciation; social justice, especially for those who had less than we did; standing up for your beliefs; and humility. OK, I'm still working on that last one. I am so grateful to this strong, loving, beautiful woman, whom I will miss every day but whose life will inspire me for all my remaining years.

One last thing...Folks invariably ask what they can do in a time like this. One way to perpetuate Mom's memory, if you are so inclined, is to make a donation to the J. Frances Massie Memorial Scholarship at the Culinary Institute of America, 1946 Campus Way, Hyde Park, NY 12538. The CIA established a tribute page to Mom where donations can be made online: www.ciaalumninetwork.com/JFrancesMassieMemorialScholarship.

The Dyson Foundation generously funded this scholarship on Mom's 85^th birthday. It has helped pay the tuition of men and women intent on entering the culinary field, many of whom are non-traditional-age students embarking on a second career. Mom enjoyed meeting those students, attending their graduations and hobnobbing with famous chefs and other leaders in the hospitality industry at the lunches that followed commencement. The scholarship melds Mom's love of people, her desire to help others, and her enjoyment of cooking. Thank you for your generosity.

8 Tips for Getting the Most Out of Class

In 24 hours, my Marist College class covering journalism, PR, social media and life will meet for the first time this semester. With the new academic year now underway, here are some thoughts for students on what makes for a great classroom experience.

First, show up. Yes, my class meets at 6:30 p.m. and continues until 9 p.m. and I do not take a break in the middle. However, in all likelihood, you won't be too tired to go out after my class lets out. Heck, at 9 p.m., your evening is barely getting started. I put a lot of effort into each of my class sessions and I expect students to do the same.

Second, pay attention. That means not checking your email, looking at Facebook, or drafting your next tweet, unless it's about something going on in class. It's easy for me to find out whether or not you're paying attention. Just one example. You ask me a question about something someone else just asked and for which I gave a five minute response. There are other ways I know you're not paying attention, but I won't divulge those.

Third, following up on the point above, ask questions or give an opinion. I do not necessarily have to agree with you. We can have an honest discussion and perhaps learn from each other's point of view. However, be prepared to back up whatever point you're making. Your future bosses will expect that, too.

Fourth, hand in assignments on time. Hundreds of students over the past 20 years will tell you that I do not accept an assignment even one second late. A deadline is a deadline. If your boss asks where your work product is and you say, “Oh, I went out last night and didn't get home until 4 a.m.,” have your resume updated. You'll need it.

Fifth, get to know me and allow me to get to know you. You cannot ask me for a reference and I cannot recommend you for an internship or job if you are just a name on the roster, sit in the back, never look up, never speak, never offer an opinion, never answer a question in class, never even say hello or goodnight, or in any other way show you care about what you're suppose to learn in class.

Sixth, do a little bit extra. Are you involved in a club or organization? Write a story for the school paper or write a news release to send to the media. Attend meetings of PRSSA and the student chapter of SPJ. It's not just to pad your résumé. It's an opportunity to give me something to talk about should I get a phone call from a former student to whom you have applied for a job...and whom you don't even know is my former student. And yes, she or he will call me if they even suspect you are or were in my class, whether you list me as a reference or not.

Seventh, when I bring in alumni or bring you to places where alumni work, dress appropriately, show interest, ask questions, network, say thank you at the end and follow up with a handwritten note or an email. I have brought my students to dozens of PR and ad agencies, corporations, newspapers and magazines, even the headquarters of Major League Baseball. When the presenters, nearly all of whom were my students, finish their presentations and ask you a question, please don't just sit there staring at the floor. I'll let you in on a secret. They're evaluating you as prospective new employees. One of them could offer you a job. Treat this as an opportunity to meet an advocate for your hiring and get the inside scoop on a possible employer.

Eighth, stay in touch. I have placed more than 200 students in internships and jobs over the years. I understand I may not be your favorite person. However, if I don't hear from you for three years and you send me an email that only says, "Can you review my résumé?" I will be less inclined to respond as quickly as I do to those who keep in touch with me on a regular basis and don't just write to me when they need a favor.

Are there other suggestions professionals in the field would recommend to current students? Please feel free to comment below.

One last thing...I am so grateful to my former students who approach me with job openings for current students or recent grads as a way of saying thank you for helping them. Students who graduated 5, 10, 15 years ago are now in positions where they can hire and they remember when someone helped them. Now they want to pay that back. I tweet those openings and put them up on LinkedIn and Facebook. Some draw a lot of attention while others are ignored. Whatever the result, I ask my former students to keep sending those openings to me. You know I will only send and recommend someone who has done the things I mention in this post, those whom I know will succeed and not disappoint you. Thanks for giving back to your alma mater and those who follow in your footsteps.

Finding a Solution to a Criminal Justice Problem

Dutchess County (NY) Executive Marc Molinaro recently appointed me to be vice chair of an advisory committee to review plans for the development of the new Dutchess County Justice Transition Center in Poughkeepsie. The chair is former State Senator Steve Saland.

The DCJTC consists of the County Jail and other facilities and programs that provide alternatives to incarceration and help with the transition back into the community. 

Our group met on the evening of August 12 to get to know one another and learn what is expected of us. We were also presented with information about our role. We were unanimous about having our monthly meetings in the evening and open to the public. They will be held in the County Legislature Chambers on the sixth floor of the County Office Building at 22 Market Street, across from the Bardavon. A meeting schedule is being developed and will be publicized. The County will develop a Web site to keep the public informed and I will post information on this blog. All of us seek feedback from residents of Dutchess County, particularly the City of Poughkeepsie. Feel free to post a note here or at the end of other DCJTC blog posts.

There are several issues that need to be addressed. With an inmate population of 292, the current County Jail is full. The County spends more than $8 million a year to house additional inmates in other counties’ jails. Pods capable of housing an additional 200 inmates will soon be installed at the jail complex in the City of Poughkeepsie. Yet, that is still not enough to meet the need for the number of people currently incarcerated for anywhere from a few days up to just under a year.

This out-of-county housing of inmates, as much as four hours away, has additional costs, including transportation, staffing, scheduling issues with the courts and attempts at rehabilitation, and difficulties for family visits.

The current configuration of the County Jail is severely inefficient, cobbling together several buildings, including one with a zigzag design that caused the County to hire an inordinate number of corrections officers (COs). In Dutchess County, $27.5 million of the $40 million jail budget is spent on personnel. There are 223 COs, which equates to a ratio of 1.2 inmates for each CO. Warren County in Upstate New York, has a ratio of 3.4 to 1. At a typical cost of $110,000 per CO for salary and benefits, those expenses add up quickly and are borne by County taxpayers.

Our committee will review siting and design to provide adequate inmate capacity and address special populations, balancing the needs for incarceration and rehabilitation. This must be accomplished while ensuring public safety and enhancing the surrounding neighborhood. That last point is of particular interest to me, because I grew up and lived around the corner from the jail. The property under consideration includes the original site on North Hamilton Street and additional land along Parker Avenue near the Walkway Over The Hudson. This property is important to the city and we should think outside the box to incorporate open space and retail along the streets that serve as the gateway to the Walkway, which annually attracts 750,000 people from all over the world.

Another advisory group is looking at “special populations” housed at the current jail and how both physical space and programs, particularly alternatives to incarceration, can address them. A third committee was appointed by the County Legislature and will serve in an advisory role to them. This is why the new facility will be called the Dutchess County Justice Transition Center, because it will be more than a traditional “jail” in both construction and program.

I appreciate Marc's confidence in our panel and his desire to have wide-ranging input on such an important issue. We have a lot of work ahead of us over the next several months. Together, we can and will change the criminal justice system in Dutchess County and make it a model for New York and the nation.

LinkedIn Etiquette: Woo Before You Pop the Question

It's again time for college seniors to send out résumés as part of the great job search. My most recent Marist PR class focused on branding oneself on social media. A student in the Marist PRSSA chapter, Tatiana Miranda, attended a talk I gave to the college's Emerging Leaders program a couple of months ago and asked me to expand on one of the areas I covered -- LinkedIn etiquette -- for the Marist PRSSA chapter's newsletter, "esPResso." Since I provided Tatiana more than she could include in her Real Advice column, I will share my thoughts on that topic here.

Think of LinkedIn as Facebook for professionals. That starts with your photo. It should be a head shot of you, professionally dressed. It should not be you at a party with your arm around a boyfriend or girlfriend, or worse, holding a beer. Your profile is your first impression upon a prospective employer. Think of yourself as a brand. What image do you want to project? Your name is your brand name. Your appearance, not just physical, but also written and photo representations, are your packaging. Always remain a professional.

You are transitioning from your current brand as a Marist student to what you want it to be: an account coordinator for a NYC PR firm, a cyber criminologist, or a media relations professional representing a nonprofit organization. Use your summary for that. That summary doesn't have to be in great detail, but it should create that bridge from your studies and internship experiences to the job or career you want after your graduate.Stay away from jargon and buzzwords. Be yourself. Again, remain professional.

Don't treat your LinkedIn updates like Facebook updates. Share information that is valuable and informative, not that you went to a great party or ate a bagel for breakfast. Have you read a blog post about job searches that you found was very helpful? Share it. Was there an article in the NY Times online that is in your field of interest? Share it. Are you attending an event that allows you to network with others in your field, or are you speaking at a workshop? Share that info. Don't just mention things, share links. People look at posts that include links more than they do when you just write a short statement.

Follow companies, agencies or organizations that are of interest to you. There are many, many groups of interest to public relations students and professionals. Connect to them. There is a PRSSA group, a Marist PR alumni and student group, and groups that discuss areas of personal interest. There are "influencers" you can follow. They often post great tips for students and people working in their fields of interest. For your first post in any group, start with a very brief introduction so others get to know you.

Link to classmates and friends outside of Marist. Link to alumni in your field. Link to people at companies or agencies or organizations at which you'd like to work. For some of these, you can connect because you share a common connection. For others, explain who you are and why you'd like to link to someone. People like to be flattered, but don't go overboard. Explain to your prospective connection that you are about to graduate from Marist and would like to expand your network of professionals to learn from practitioners who have become successful in their careers. If you have no connection to a person but are friends with someone who does, ask that friend to offer an introduction on your behalf.

Once you follow someone or some group, don't jump in right away. Observe before you participate. Get a flavor for the conversation before you join it. Share and be helpful before you ask for something. I'm pretty liberal about accepting requests for connections. However, if after accepting you start pitching me business or asking me for a job, I will delete you immediately. You don't introduce yourself to someone by asking him or her to marry you. You have to get to know someone first before you take the relationship to the next level.

Your profile will be viewed. With each passing day, LinkedIn becomes an increasingly valuable form of networking and job searches, not just for individuals, but for companies that look to hire people. Remember that your digital footprint is forever, so think before you post. Make sure there are no typos or grammatical errors. Ask yourself, would my boss -- or my grandmother -- be OK with what I wrote? One bad tweet, Facebook post, or LinkedIn update can undo years of image building and personal branding or destroy a career. Don't believe me? Google Justine Sacco.

One last thing...My husband Pete and I thank all who made donations to the Alzheimer's Association in memory of his mother, who passed away Christmas Eve. The national organization and local chapters, particularly the one in the Hudson Valley, report receiving thousands of dollars to support their work. We also received many letters and emails from friends who told us how their families have been touched by Alzheimer's. Together, we carry on and support those who will one day find a better way to treat, or better yet, prevent this dreaded affliction. Again, a deeply heart-felt thank you!

Remembering My Mother-In-Law

On this day after Christmas, my husband Pete and I laid to rest an incredible woman, whose accomplishments as a wife, mother and early pioneer for women in law were overshadowed the past 13 years by a long struggle with Alzheimer’s. Pete’s mom, Marjorie Clark, died Christmas Eve at age 96. For those 13 years, particularly the past four, Pete devoted his life to the care of his mom in selfless service that exemplifies a love that I doubt many others would endure.

Marj was born in the Chelsea section of Manhattan. Her father ran a feed store that served the horses in New York before automobiles and mass transit overtook the streets and subterranean tunnels of the City. She graduated from Hunter College, where she was the center on the women’s basketball team, then studied law at NYU. She wanted to become an attorney. The passing of her parents halted those plans, but not her love of the law. She was hired by the former Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court, Charles Evans Hughes, as a legal assistant at his law firm, Hughes Hubbard, and became the chief assistant to his son-in-law, William Gossett, general counsel at Bendix Aviation, then general counsel and executive vice president at Ford Motor Company. 

In the 1940s, Marj was often mistaken for Katharine Hepburn. Her beauty led to her being asked out on dates by well-known figures in the New York of that day. She enjoyed riding horses in Central Park and adored dogs of all types. She loved the color red, swimming in the cold waters off Cape Cod in September, and an occasional gimlet. Her smile lit up the room and it was easy to make her laugh. She married Joseph Clark, whose first wife was killed by a drunk driver, leaving him to care for five children. Pete was the only child from their marriage, but his step-brothers and sisters always considered him to be a "full sibling" and his mom as their own. Pete's father died in 1972, leaving Pete the "man of the house," a role he took on for the next 41 years.

Marj continued to work at law firms in Manhattan and in later years, New Jersey, retiring after a fall that broke her hip at age 84. Even then, she bounced back quickly, befitting a woman who worked out daily in the gym, lifting weights, swimming and running around the track.

We noticed Marj was starting to get a little forgetful, nothing serious at first, but we believed it was time for her to move in with us. For decades, Pete would travel to New Jersey to help his mom. Having her move in with us simplified that travel schedule, but the long decline in Marj’s physical health and cognitive abilities had already begun, each stage bringing its own fears and concerns.

Four years ago, Pete got laid off by his employer, Clear Channel, ending a 35-year full-time career in radio (he is still on air part-time at another station). While he is now a licensed real estate agent, his real job was being the 24-7 caregiver for his mother. I will spare you the details, but the physical and emotional toll was tremendous. He carried Marj from room to room, cut and styled her hair when she could no longer go to the salon, cleaned her, brushed her teeth, fed her and more. He constantly hugged and kissed his mom, telling her, “I love you,” dozens of times a day.

We both learned a lot about caring for someone with dementia. For example, winters were rough because of decreasing sunlight, so we put bright lights in fixtures that could accommodate them. When she became depressed, we’d sing to her, simple songs like, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.”

A woman who worked with the powerful in courts and commerce eventually became a dependent, confined to a wheelchair and a hospital bed at home. Her interactions became limited to the point of just looking at us longingly but blankly, until the warmest of smiles creased her lips and she said, “I love you.” She’d reach out for Pete or me and we would melt in her arms, smothering her in hugs and kisses. We didn’t want to let go of one another, knowing the day would come when we would no longer be afforded the privilege of being Marj’s caregivers and comforters. That day came the morning of Christmas Eve, after a very difficult last couple of weeks. Marj’s passing that day was her way of giving us a gift – the knowledge that she was no longer suffering and was finally at peace.

Seeing Pete turn his life over to the care of his mother confirmed something I’ve known for 33 years. I am married to the most loving, wonderful human being in the world. We’re not done with our caregiving, as my mother has lived with us for six years, too. At 94, she is in relatively good shape, physically and mentally, but Pete and I know the time will come when we will go through something like this again with my mom. We were fortunate “the Moms,” as they became known to our friends, were as close as sisters. My mother is in mourning, too, but already, Pete’s inner caregiver has come to the fore, showing my mother the same love and compassion he did with the woman who gave birth to and raised him.

I am grateful for the best Christmas present I could ever receive – a loving husband and partner, talented in so many fields, universally loved and admired by friends and clients, a model of patience and devotion, someone with whom I long to grow old and, in the paraphrased words of “our song,” I love more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow. Thank you, Marj, for the most wonderful gift of your son. We will always love and remember you. Rest in Peace.

One last thing...If you're looking for a cause to support, especially a last minute, end-of-year financial gift, please consider your local chapter of the Alzheimer's Association. With advancements in healthcare and medicine, longer lives now bring the prospect of millions more people like Marj suffering this affliction. The Alzheimer's Association supports research and families who endure this long goodbye. 

Addendum: To read Pete's wonderful reflection on his mom, please visit his new blog.

A Catholic Cardinal's Lesson on Chutzpah

Here's a definition of chutzpah: during an interview on Meet The Press, New York Cardinal Timothy Dolan claimed the Catholic Church has been“outmarketed” on marriage equality and the Church has been “caricatured as being anti-gay.” Cardinal Dolan, as he often does, tries to have the Church portrayed as “the martyr,” attacked by the evil forces of Hollywood, politicians and “some opinion-molders.” Dolan claims, “We’re pro-marriage, we’re pro-traditional marriage, we’re not anti-anybody.”

Dolan's attempt at spin is easily shot down with examples of anti-gay animus too numerous to mention in one blog post, though I will list a few.

Let's start with 1986 and the paternal-sounding “Letter to the Bishops of the Catholic Church on the Pastoral Care of Homosexual Persons.” It written by Cardinal Josef Ratzinger, then Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, who 19 years later became Pope Benedict XVI. That document reaffirmed another from 1975 that called homosexual acts “intrinsically disorderd.” The 1986 Letter did not stop at sexual acts in and of themselves. “Although the particular inclination of the homosexual person is not a sin, it is a more or less strong tendency ordered toward an intrinsic moral evil; and thus the inclination itself must be seen as an objective disorder.” Ratzinger further declared that when “they engage in homosexual activity they confirm within them a disorderd sexual inclination which is essentially self-indulgent.” (emphases mine)

Ratzinger and the Church equation of LGBT people as being objectively disordered is an assertion as ancient and not based in fact as the Church's once-held belief that the sun revolved around the earth. His belief, and thus the Church's, is that the only purpose of marriage is procreation. The Ratzinger proclamation shockingly declared, “when homosexual activity is consequently condoned, or when civil legislation is introduced to protect behavior to which no one has any inconceivable right, neither the Church nor society at large should be surprised when other distorted notions and practices gain ground, and irrational and violent reactions increase.”

In other words, LGBT people who seek to achieve any form of dignity, human rights or equality should not be surprised by violence toward them because they bring it on themselves. Such an assertion is despicable and encourages attacks, including physical ones, against LGBT people.

By opposing marriage equality, the Catholic Church seeks to impose its narrow definition of such unions on all human beings, regardless of one's belief or no belief at all. Yet, not all religions share that narrow definition of marriage. In the United States and many other countries, marriage is a civil institution, a legal contract providing protections for and placing responsibilities on two people committing to one another with absolutely no requirement or promise of bearing children.

The hierarchy of the Catholic Church has spent millions of dollars and exerted significant pressure on political bodies in state capitals, Washington, DC and the United Nations to halt any advance in LGBT rights, believing any LGBT right relates back to marriage.

Five years ago, the Vatican vehemently opposed a UN resolution endorsing a universal declaration to decriminalize homosexuality. The Church, through its UN envoy, claimed discrimination – not against LGBT people, but toward the Church and countries that do not allow same-sex marriage. The Vatican was particularly opposed to any mention of “gender identity.” To the Catholic Church, punishment for being gay in 76 countries, five of which include the death penalty, is preferable to any attempt to decriminalize homosexuality because such decriminalization could be used to push for marriage equality and threatens "religious freedom," which has become code for the ability to discriminate on the basis of personal religious belief. The UN eventually adopted its first resolution in support of LGBT rights in 2011, but without Vatican support.

The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) is opposed to any immigration reform that includes legally-married gay couples. For the Catholic Church, the inhumanity of keeping a binational gay or lesbian couple separated or living outside the United States is morally acceptable.

Millions have been spent by the Catholic Church and Catholic organizations like the Knights of Columbus in attempts to halt civil legislation in every state that has had a ballot measure on marriage equality. In 2009, the Diocese of Portland, Maine took up a second collection that raised $80,000 in what was then a successful attempt to overturn the state's marriage equality law. In 2012, another collection was taken up by parishes and congregations across Maine – on Father's Day no less – to oppose a ballot measure legalizing same-sex marriage. That attempt failed and Maine was one of three states to approve marriage equality last year.

Providence Bishop Thomas Tobin forbade Catholic family and friends from attending any same-sex marriage ceremony. “Catholics should examine their consciences very carefully before deciding whether or not to endorse same-sex relationships or attend same-sex ceremonies, realizing that to do so might harm their relationship with God and cause significant scandal to others.” In other words, going to your son's or daughter's or classmate's wedding will bring you a step closer to hell.

Minneapolis Archbishop John Nienstedt mailed 400,000 anti-gay DVDs to Minnesota Catholics in 2010 and went so far as to tell a mother that she had to reject her gay son or risk going to hell. “I urge you to reconsider the position that you expressed in your letter. Your eternal salvation may well depend upon a conversation (sic) of heart on this topic.”

Bishop Thomas Paprocki of Springfield, IL, conducted an exorcism at his cathedral, not far from the state capitol, “in reparation” for the legislature passing a marriage equality law. He also went the eternal fire and damnation route, telling a reporter, “If you're voting for someone because you have the intention of trying to promote something that is gravely sinful then you are putting your salvation in jeopardy.”

Dolan's list of anti-gay actions and rhetoric could fill a book. He was co-host of an anti-gay, anti-same-sex-marriage forum in my city of Poughkeepsie in September 2011, shortly New York State's marriage equality law took effect. This past September, Dolan emceed a conference at Columbia University on The Manhattan Declaration, which calls upon “people of faith” to oppose all laws that offer marriage equality, likening same-sex marriage to “polyamorous partnerships, polygamous households, even adult brothers, sisters, or brothers and sisters living in incestuous relationships.” (pages 4-7 of link)

Dolan refused to speak up during last summer's LGBT bashings in his city and the death of Mark Carson, murdered solely because he was gay. Rather, as violence was being perpetrated against gay residents, Dolan, in his role as president of USCCB, was instrumental is providing anti-gay-marriage prayers and bulletin inserts to every Catholic parish in the country in advance of the U.S. Supreme Court rulings on the Defense of Marriage Act and California's Proposition 8.

There are many examples of Catholic and non-Catholic employees of parochial schools and programs who were fired, providing them with no income or health benefits, solely because they are gay, or supported or sought the protection of civil marriage for their long-term, loving relationships. Some of these dismissals followed cowardly acts of unsigned complaints, including one that led to the firing of a beloved teacher whose mother's obituary listed her daughter's partner.

I have said it before, but it bears repeating. Cardinal's Dolan's claim of religious liberty does not trump an LGBT individual's or family's claim to civil rights and common human decency, including the protections offered by civil marriage. To say you are against my marriage and the protections it offers, solely on the basis of my sexual orientation, IS anti-gay, despite any spin by the Cardinal that denies it. Fortunately, the people in the pews ignore his protestations, as a majority of Catholics support marriage equality.

One last thing...While Pope Francis told his hierarchy a few months ago to stop obsessing on gays, abortion and contraception, last week he came out with his “Apostolic Exhortation” “Evangelii Gaudium.” While much of the media focus has been on Francis' call for greater social and economic equality, the document also reiterated the Church's stance that marriage's chief purpose is procreation. Those hoping for change in this area are in for a tremendous disappointment. The fight for LGBT rights must continue, without – and often against – the leadership of the Catholic Church. Dolan's assertion that the battle is not over, comparing the ongoing fight against the Supreme Court's Roe vs. Wade decision, shows that the Cardinal and others in the Catholic hierarchy are in this for the long haul. So are we, the people on the right side of history.

Well There's No Place Like Rome for the Holidays

Twenty-eight years ago, I departed for studies at the Gregorian University in Rome, Italy, living in an American compound, the North American College in Vatican City. I was 27 years old, but had never been away from home for more than a month, and that was five years before when I studied in China. It would be two years before I could come back to the United States and unfortunately, I started out counting down the days until then, rather then throwing myself into the opportunity of a lifetime -- living abroad on someone else's dime, as I was there on the equivalent of a full scholarship, including room and board.

The first big test of homesickness would be Thanksgiving. In Italy, it was just another Thursday. In our five-story, walled-in hectares of America, it was a time of celebration. The fact that we had no classes on Thursdays (but did have them on Saturdays) helped start the day with that holiday feeling. While we were blessed to have an incredible house chef, Giovanni, we longed for the comfort foods with which we had grown up. It's amazing what you can whip up on a hot plate. Guys in a particular hallway would chip in. My parents once sent over bagels. The following year, I had access to the PX at the American Embassy because I had enlisted in the U.S. Air Force Reserves and served that summer as an officer with the 36th Tactical Fighter Wing in Bitburg, Germany. So, that meant buying Pop Tarts, "real" bacon (pancetta just didn't go well with eggs), American coffee (though nothing will compare to cappuccino from Tazza d'Oro), and tea (which you could then only get at Babbington's Tea Room in the Piazza di Spagna).

We'd gather for lunch in the refectory, properly dressed in suits and ties or high-end clerical garb, for a feast of roast turkey with all the trimmings and pumpkin pies baked over a 24-hour period by one of my classmates, Chuck, from Pittsburgh, who had graduated from the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, NY, about a ten minute drive from where I live now in Poughkeepsie. We had other American guests join us, from ambassadors to students, and always started with three toasts: to the president, the pope, and the college. We would gather a couple of hours after the big meal for the annual "Spaghetti Bowl," a football game pitting the "new men," or first year students, against the "old men," or the rest of the house. The game featured live play-by-play. After I returned to the States, I recorded some radio commercials, including jingles,  for the college store -- KNAC -- and sent them over. I'm told they used them for years.

At night, after a VERY light dinner, we gathered in the magnificent auditorium, designed by MGM, to watch the original print of the film Ben Hur. Arrangements for much of the Rome-based filming were smoothed by the then-long-term-rector of the NAC, Archbishop Martin O'Connor from Scranton, PA. The viewing experience was a mix of Rocky Horror and Mystery Science Theater 3000. Some guys came dressed up in period garb, and we all shouted out commentary -- from the comedic to the sacrilegious. Then it was time for expensive calls home. We paid by the "click" -- a counter on the switchboard that went in intervals of ten seconds, which meant bills that could range from $25 to $150. I smartened up after getting some huge initial bills and would call my parents or Pete and ask them to call me right back, since it was much less expensive to call from the States. Even that brief call would be about $1. Remember, this was well before cell phones and global service and payment plans.

It was an opportunity to bond, to shorten the distance from home, and for some, to keep them from leaving because they couldn't deal with being away from family and friends. There would be other holidays that posed homesickness difficulties, most notably Christmas, but there was at least a festive air for those celebrations. Thanksgiving is a uniquely American (U.S. in November, Canada in October) holiday, and when you live in community with 150 countrymen, that shared experience bolstered morale and helped us march on toward exams, work, and travel.

I wonder if the students I've known from my 19 years at Marist (I still teach there) or other colleges and universities felt that same homesickness and how they dealt with is. Perhaps some will let me know in the comments section at the end of this post.

One last thing...I know I haven't posted in awhile, but I hope to be back tomorrow with another entry to reflect on Pope "Frankness" -- a man who is breaking the papal mold and is not afraid to challenge leadership in the church, in nations, and in corporate culture.