It began as the GODFATHER OF MATH, evolved into the GOODFATHER OF MATH. Now this. Go figure...

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The kind of humor I like is the thing that makes me laugh for five seconds and think for ten minutes = G. CARLIN...Stain glass, engraved glass, frosted glass
–give me plain glass = JOHN FOWLES ... Music is the mathematics of the gods=PYTHAGORAS ... Nothing is more fluid than language = R. L. SWIHART
I cannot live without the oxygen of laughter = DAWN POWELL ... !!! ... But laughter cannot survive without the hydrogen of gravitas = PAUL OLIVERIO
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Thursday, August 18, 2016

Never Again Will I Call Him Father Filibuster

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The joke was probably
originated by his sister
(my Godmother)
or his brother
(my namesake).

But when Father Frank
was featured at an Oliverio
Sunday dinner, he would talk about
those rare sermons where he would
drone on endlessly until he counted
at least ten sleeping parishioners.

The church in the image below
was never graced by
the physical presence
of my Uncle but
  –psychologically–
he was present
at the last church service
I attended in Westchester County.



Personally, I prefer 
weekday Church service
because no basket is passed
for donations and it was only
a venial sin to photograph
the room without
express consent
of the pastor.

But the Sunday Mass,
three days after this venial photo
was taken, was standing room only!

A very special guest from Sri Lanka
was the celebrant.

His sermon, however, had only
tangential connection to
the very brief Gospel.

His sermon named
five European countries
and ten American cities
where he personally
presided over...

He was a traveling 
man of the cloth 


One of those churches was in  Tuckahoe
but–like at least a dozen parishioners–
I had dozed off when he mentioned
that funny sounding hamlet
where Monsignor Oliverio
had reigned immediately before
his "retirement."

At the ceremonial hand-shaking
that followed the Mass, I asked
about his Tuckahoe experience.

I swear on a stack of Bibles
that the Sri Lankan priest
mentioned "Monsignor Oliverio"
before I told him that
Father Frank was my Uncle.

Then began a parade of strange looks
from countless local Catholics because
Father Christopher's attention
was intently focused on the nephew
of the priest responsible
for the Sri Lankan's
introduction + itinerary
in the United States.

I am grateful that none
of the parishioners present
derailed the "very special guest"
from his homage to the man
I called Father for longer than
I called his oldest brother–
a/k/a my actual FATHER–
by the same name. 
      
Father Christopher is featured
in slide two/three of the last hyperlink.


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Footnote
Along with his three brothers, (my namesake)
is featured in the lead photograph
of the WALL-2-WALL gallery. 
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