Jim Mayzik SJ Blog

I think I was on my third or fourth ravioli and the bread was great and the wine was better and we were having a good conversation about some movie, my friend and I, and of course I secretly harbored the opinion that my celluloid observations were far more brilliant than my companion's because after all I am the filmmaker, am I not, but anyway the dinner was, as I said, going down well in this quiet little restaurant, until this... disturbance began.

Nothing. When we realized you weren’t here
we sat with our hands folded on our desks
in silence, for the full two hours

I was in the Tivoli diner, down the street from the church, and I was with one of my former students.  He’s struggling with questions about his career.  He’s not sure what he wants to do anymore: what direction to take in a job, where he should live, even whom to love.

A few years ago at the university where I lived and taught, as I was saying my prayers on Ash Wednesday Eve before I went to bed, I decided that I would really do it up on and for Ash Wednesday.

I have always been drawn to the night sky and the immensity of the cosmos of the Creator, but this…this was the first time that I felt I was a part of that spectacular creation.  

Give up sitting dutifully at your desk. Leave
your house or apartment. Go out into the world.

If you’re like me, I see the advent of Uber and Lyft cars in the city as a very mixed blessing.  On the one hand, they are very convenient, no doubt. On the other hand, they are definitely clogging up our streets and slowing down traffic immensely.

You may have seen the previews for a film that came out around Christmas, and is still in theaters tonight.  It’s called They Shall Not Grow Old.

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

My sister reminded me today that we had an Aunt who shared a birthday with a famous person on February 12th.  Remember when every American knew who was born on February 12th?

I went to a restaurant the other night, and on the way in, a guy accidentally bumped into me.  “Sorry, dude,” he said, and I thought dude? I’m a dude? Maybe I’m THE dude!.

This is the story of a woman named Donna, and her husband John, the story of what happened to them on the Eve of the New Year.  It’s a true story, or at least I believe it to be true, as true as any story you could tell me about someone you know. 

I was on Prince Street, and it was 4:45 in the morning.  Dark, of course. It’s a good time to be walking the streets of our city. It’s quiet. You can walk down the middle of the street without fear of being run over by an Uber or a delivery man on a silent bicycle.

Did you ever notice that every family has a particular smell to it?  When you visit their home, are invited into the apartment, the first thing that hits you is the smell of them. It's hard to describe the particular smells of a particular family, the only thing you can say is, it smells like, like, well, like the Mayziks, or the Tituses (which of course includes the smell of Murphy the dog). 

Probably as in your life, things have been a little crazy here in the last week or so as we approach Christmas.

AN ADVENT STORY.

When you are young and healthy and the future lays before you like a golden road of adventure and opportunity, you don't think much about obstacles or potential problems or calamities that might come your way. You are hopeful when you're young, you are hope-filled, time seems endless and you feel immortal, and there is so much to do with your life at times you just don't even know where to begin.

If you wanted to sum up the meaning of Advent, this beautiful and haunting season of waiting, you could do it with just one question: What are you waiting for? 

I was standing out on the plaza, right by the sidewalk yesterday morning, waiting for some people to show up to help me set up the Christmas Tree Forest of Love.

 It was Thursday, and traffic was down, the streets relatively clear--everywhere but on Brian’s route.  Brian’s bus traveled a route right through the center of the island, and on Thursday that route was jammed with cars and trucks and taxis as far as the eye could see.   It was the stupid parade, every year the stupid parade was a massive headache for Brian, who drove that giant, articulated, double bus on the M7 route.