Chapter II: Genesis
I inherited a home from my father in 1989 and a substantial amount of cash. I was doubly blessed since I not only had a great father but he was my Best Friend and had often said to me, “Son, if you ever have the opportunity to begin your own business and work for yourself, do it! You will never be happy working for someone and if you have the chance to go into business for yourself do so.” My father passed away in November of 1989, leaving me with a home and a sizable cash reserve in the Bank so I decided to follow his advice. I must be honest and say that after I had made a nice contribution to our Church, to provide for a monument for my parents, I turned my back on the good Lord who had made me such a fortunate young man. I wasted a fair amount of money on good times and women and thought that the good times would never end. Though I had relied on the Church for food and solace my new found wealth caused my devotion to vanish. Though the Lord had always been at my side, I turned my back on Him. Despite a diligent five year effort at establishing a business, along with tens of thousands of dollars that were wasted, this fateful decision did not work out and I lost it all.
My father, George M Weinert Jr. was the best friend I had ever known. I was a welcome surprise since my late mother, Josephine (Nee Prangl) only had one ovary and the chances of her conceiving were slim indeed. This did not stop my father from trying, and six years after he returned from the offices of General Douglas MacArthur in the Phillipines Little Georgie came into the world at 5:45 AM on June 15, 1951. The loss of my mother in 1981 had been an earth-shattering experience but the loss of my father in 1989 was devastating, especially since he died in my arms. I was completely lost and had nothing at all to hold onto. My father had been diagnosed with lung cancer, but I only found out a week before he passed away.
As my father lay dying in the Emergency Room of Belmont Community hospital the only thing to read in the waiting room was a Holy Bible. I read a Chapter of Genesis and then was told that my beloved Father had passed away. I went in to sit with him for a while and buried him in the next days. I was devastated but soon found Mother Angelica and the Eternal Word Television Network
[1] while channel surfng one night. I was amazed and comforted to see a group of Catholic praying the Holy Rosary. I knew that I was facing a real crisis and realized that the Lord would be my refuge so kept watching. I returned to EWTN and that Rosary again and again in the next few weeks and finally learned how to pray the Joyful, Sorrowful and Glorious mysteries which 9 years of Catholic Education had never taught.
[2] At the same time I came across one of the Bibles we had used in Grammar School and began to find a new beginning as I read:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.
Though I had plenty of money, a house, a car and a lot of promise I still had an awful feeling that Disaster was approaching and felt there was no way to stop it.
In the house were the books and all of the texts of my Catholic Education. I searched most and began to re-educate myself about the Faith of my fathers. These precious texts and the words of EWTN would bring this lost soul back the Love of God that was lying dormant but I but had no idea that I was about to embark on a three year journey Though the Valley of Death.
The reader may wonder why a life-long Roman Catholic did not turn to his church – it’s a very long story, but suffice it to say that 39 years of experience with the parish I war born into told me that this would be a total waste of time. This is indeed a sad commentary on some Catholic parishes, but it is the truth.
Six years later in 1995, my nascent business attempt failed and my cash reserves were exhausted. Attempts to secure full time employment proved fruitless: I was over-qualified and middle-aged which is a fatal combination in the contemporary job market. At this point I applied for Government Aid and found out that the only help I could hope to get was in the form of $159.00 per month in food stamps. This I gladly accepted and realized that any viable help was not to be found at the Illinois Department of Public Aid. It was a real shock, but I was just the wrong color and the wrong age.
After explaining what was becoming a truly desperate situation to the folks at Public Aid, I was stunned to find that the “social workers” I had so diligently described this dilemma to did not seem too concerned. Having been fortunate for most of my life, the experience of abject poverty was a shock to my middle class psyche, but at this West Side office the majority of the clients seemed like old pros. Though I naively assumed that acute poverty, lack of employment and the potential loss of a home that I was experiencing was a big deal, the professionals I met at the Public Aid Office on the West Side seemed to view my plight as routine. After some initial queries regarding potential employment the possibilities indeed seemed dim, since my musical, computer and academic background would not prove particularly propitious considering the janitorial, phone sales and security guard positions that seemed to be available. I concluded that this office was not a viable option for potential employment. Here I was flat broke and desperate but still overqualified!
Fortunately I inherited a home filled with almost all of the goods that my family had acquired since first purchasing it in 1954. (my father joking referred to this as “a lot of old s**t’) My sainted and dear mother, Josephine had grown up as the daughter of a poor German immigrant family during the Great Depression and had decided to “Not throw it away, you may need it someday” and over the course of many years, I discovered that she was right. The family treasure was relegated to our shed or attic, where they hibernated until their eventual edemption. Since this was usually a long time, we had a lot of old junk in these areas. The sale of these items, 10 to 20 dollars at a time was sufficient for purposes of food and smokes but payment of the utility bills proved impossible. Selling these prized items that my parents had assembled over the course of a lifetime and had entrusted to me for posterity was heart breaking and I actually cried on a number of occasions but had little choice. Since my father had often spoken of having a garage sale, this seemed much the same, only this event was simply extended over a 2-3 year period and allowed me to retain the truly irreplaceable family items until the bitter end. By this time, I had begun attending Mass again, though not on a regular basis to supplement my daily rosary and litany. The Lord was once again trying to send me a message but I was not yet prepared to listen to His words. I tried to console myself with the words of Matthew 6: 19 "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth,where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. I knew that my treasure was slipping away but had not yet committed to my Treasure in Heaven. It almost cost me my life.
The winter of 1995-1996 arrived and there was no money left to pay the Gas Bill so the heat was shut off. Since I awoke early I began to attend the 7:00 AM Daily Mass at our church for comfort, solace and sometime just a place to get warm. Fortunately, this winter was rather mild, and though living in a home with no heat or electricity in the dead of winter proved a formidable task indeed I had the good fortune of remembering my good friends at Alcoholics Anonymous, Logan Square Group #5 only a few blocks from my home, This is where I would go to get my morning coffee, socialize and attend AA meetings, stay sober (I am an alcoholic who was in dire danger of a slip after 4 years of sobriety) and stay warm enough to live through another day. When darkness fell, I would walk home, crawl in a cold bed under all the covers I had been able to find, with my Little “Meow” and gratefully sleep through the coldest part of the day. Meow thought this was a pretty good idea and the only problem was getting to sleep despite her purring. I was aware of the gangs and drugs that were all around me and realized that I would be walking through all of this but had no choice. Just for a lark, on the first day I walked the mile to Logan Five I wore a 10 gallon cowboy hat that my father had purchased out of the Sears Catalogue when I was 11 years old. I continued to wear it, and suddenly found that my Latino neighbors were accepting me as one of their own. I also found my old Spanish phrase books and began to Learn Spanish – pero solamente poco a poco a primiervo. (but only little by little at first) The cowboy hat became a permanent part of my wardrobe and I shall always wear one.
This was my first experience with what has come to be known as ‘street smarts’ - the intuitive ability to survive and potentially fatal dangers on the streets of the city. I spent all of my college years, those in grad school and teaching walking from the house to the garage and no further due to a very real terror of street crime. This was constantly re-enforced by the plethora of reports of crime that fill the news media nightly. The gang members on the corner had a reputation for not only drug sales, but as a very violent group, so avoiding them became a high priority and it stayed that way for many years. Since I had no choice when the cars finally were gone, walking was necessary so I just pressed on and prayed that I would be safe. The words of the 23rd Psalm, “Yeah, though I walk through the valley of Death I will fear no Evil” kept running through my mind as I began to realize that death was all around though I remained miraculously safe through it all. My guardian angel was always with me.
We had an AA “Old Timer” at Logan Square, Group #5 AA by the name of “Big Ray” who I had known since the mid 1980’s and would often discuss various matters regarding my struggles with him. One day I mentioned all of the walking and he ridiculed my minor complaints as he informed that he often would walk halfway across Chicago just to get to a meeting at our Club. He noticed that I was obviously lost and searching for something so the subject of prayer came up. Big Ray told me that he PRAYED while he took these long walks and I must admit to a degree of shock. Ray was a huge man and had a reputation as a real tough guy but he understood that protection came from God. I immediately adopted this habit, even after I had passed the gang members on the corner. I had frequently prayed the Holy Rosary in the years after my father’s death and now, with the aid of EWTN, had discovered it once more
[3] and soon found that ten Hail Mary’s a block got me to Logan so this liturgical formula worked just great. After daily Mass in the morning, at 7:00 AM I could say a Rosary on the way to the club, and another on the way back home when I left in the afternoon. I concentrated on the Sorrowful Mysteries.
I THANK GOD FOR MY GOOD FRIENDS AT LOGAN SQUARE group #5 for all of their help.
I THANK GOD for my adorable little Meow with their her body heat of 102 degrees who helped me by snuggling close to generate enough heat to live the night. I didn’t realize that everyone was not sympathetic to my dire plight and an attack soon came that I never expected.
I have been a life long Catholic and was baptized, attended school and received all of my sacraments at St. Philomena Catholic Church on Chicago’s Northwest side. My parents were married in this parish, and were both buried there. Their parents were also married and buried in this parish, dating back to 1900.
My grandfather was an usher in the same parish for 50 years, Aunt and Godmother had been a stalwart in the Legion of Mary for 25, my father and mother had both been active parish members since the 1920’s and when both died, sizable monies were donated to St. Philomena for masses and contributions. My grandfather, aunt and parents attended Sunday and at times daily Masses at this church and were always generous when the collection basket came around. There is today a chalice at this church, which is inscribed “In Loving Memory of George, Josephine and Marie Weinert” for which I donated $1,000.00 in order for one or our new priests, Rev. James Heyd to have his own chalice to celebrate mass. The reader will understand, I trust that why I went to this church as a life-long member in distress desperately seeking some sort of aid. I had been taught since an infant that my church and its priests were pastors, guardians of the flock to whom we could go to seek refuge and help. Sadly, this was not to be the case.
My taxes were also not being paid and I realized for the first time that I was in danger of loosing the home I had lived in all of my 46 years so in 1996 I took my plight to the Pastor of St. Philomana Parish, Rev. Robert Coleman. I made a special appointment with Fr. Coleman in which I detailed my desperate situation and explained my dire fear of loosing the home. When I asked Fr. Coleman if he could direct me to some help, or if he knew of anyone in the Church, the Archdiocese of Chicago, in our parish, or in our ward (31st Democratic) he coolly looked straight at me an said, “No”. I thanked him, put on my coat, walked the two blocks back home and crawled under the covers with the kitties to try and live another night. “So this is the help I well get from the Church that has been telling me all of my life that I can come to them for help eh?”, I reflected the on the way home through an already blustering and biting Chicago October night. Little did I know that this same Holy Roman Catholic Church would later reach new depths of spiritual bankruptcy in their hypocritical treatment of this poor and soon to be homeless man;
During this time I began to spend a half hour daily in our “Chapel of the Holy Rosary” which was open and also had heat which was welcome since I had none at home-the ‘chapel’ could only be entered with a password and some of my fellow parishioners and life long friends had supplied me with the code. Within a month I was informed that “you are not welcome here” by a Ms. Norma Rivera, the Parish Secretary. When I protested that I had been baptized, had all my sacraments at St. Philomena, Ms. Rivera. informed me they would simply change the code and thus deny me entry. They abruptly did this and a few days later and an old friend of my late father, “Louie” gave me the new code so I continued to visit the chapel and pray the rosary. Within six weeks, the episode was repeated, the code was again changed and once more my friends supplied with the new entry code so I could continue to join them in prayer and worship.
In the next six months this scenario would be repeated five times. Though I was attending daily morning Mass at 7:00 AM certain members of our primarily Mexican Parish Community seemed to feel that I had committed some sort of crime by being poor and was not welcome in this chapel (I was also a WHITE MALE who had been resident in this parish for many years so I was viewed as an “Anglo” and hence an alien – in my OWN HOME PARISH!) . In February of 1997 on a cold blustery late afternoon I ran into one of these self-appointed guardians of the chapel as I was going in to say my prayers; she angrily informed me that I must leave, brushed me aside and slammed the chapel door in my face leaving me out in the alley in the middle of a cold icy snowstorm. This banal hostility was inexplicable but I was not aware that a few of these “Good Catholics” were spreading VICIOUS AND MALICIOUS RUMORS alleging that I was a DRUNK (who was poor because I was always drinking) and often came to church INTOXICATED (though I always visited the “Capella de Nuetra Senora”(Chapel of Our Lady) on my way home from Alcoholics Anonymous meetings).
One Tuesday afternoon in May of 1997 I was quietly sitting in the chapel praying the rosary when Ms. Rivera. entered and rudely ordered me to leave or she would “Call the Police”. I told her to “Go Right Ahead”, and left to sit on the church’s front steps and finish my rosary. The Police were summoned and when they arrived were somewhat confused and embarrassed (Since I knew the offices that had shown up from AA where we occasionally had to summon the Police due to some AA Members who were NOT SO SOBER) but advised me to leave. I did but returned the next day to find the code had been changed once more. Within two weeks some of my old friends from our Sunday Mass had given me the new code yet again and I resumed visiting the chapel to pray the rosary further arousing the ire of the “Chapel Police” who had decided that I NO LONGER BELONGED In “Their” Church. Within a month the Police were once again summoned to eject me and prevent this heinous crime of Rosary in the First Degree and within a few weeks my friends for decades had supplied me with the new code for the fifth time.
I knew that the personnel at St. Philomena felt that I was a penniless bum and that it was their right to treat me in whatever way they so wished but after 47 years In that parish, and 90 years of my family’s active involvement I had no intention of allowing them to get away with this sort of hypocritical and TOTALLY un-Christian conduct WITHOUT it becoming widely publicized. I have been active on line since Christmas day of 1981 so wrote the account of this episode up, went to the Library to get on line and then proceeded to plaster this story all over YAHOO GROUPS at the Large Catholic Forums and included the names, address and phone of St. Philomena Parish. I found out a while later that when people (including the Cardinal’s Office whom I had also contacted) called Ms. Rivera. told them “He is drinking in there so we had to throw him out” – which was simply incredulous and a heinous lie. The FUNNY PART OF THIS story is that a year earlier, Rev. Robert Coleman (our former ‘pastor’) had announced that he WAS AN ALCOHOLIC from our Pulpit and was going to a hospital in Minnesota for “Treatment”-which was even FUNNIER since the OLDEST AND LARGEST AA CLUB IN CHICAGO was only six block away and I was going up there daily. I told “Reverend” Coleman about this a few times, but he was not interested since he viewed me as a “bum” who was broke and jobless. I understand that “Reverend” Coleman dried out and pray that he can keep the plug in the jug. In retrospect, I really am now grateful for this experience – St. Francis had to pray for suffering and persecution and I got all of mine Free of Charge! I had not been re-introduced to the Holy Man of Assisi at this time, however so took a bit of a different approach to the dilemma.
For the next month I MADE SURE that every Catholic Forum and BBS I COULD FIND HEARD ABOUT THIS: I had been THROWN OUT OF THE CHURCH I ATTENDED FOR 40 YEARS AND THREATENED WITH ARREST TO BOOT – and when Ms. Norma Rivera was confronted with it, SHE LIED AND ST. PHILOMENA PARISH LIED WITH HER ABOUT THIS SHAMEFUL EPISODE! – the ‘Priest’ who ordered her to do this (Fr. “Scott”, who was acting as the “assistant pastor”) later went to study in Rome as well so that’s how much the Cardinal cared about the needs of his “lost sheep”. Even today a friend of mine on the Net still has a copy of some of the Messages detailing this DEPLORABLE CONDUCT BY A CATHOLIC CHURCH. Ms. Rivera went on to other things and got her sister the job she was doing – did someone say “Nepotism”?
ONCE A RUMOR BEGINS (especially in a community that is largely illiterate and uneducated as our Mexicans at St. Philomena were) it is quite difficult to counter and takes on a life all it’s own. I also could not fathom how these supposed “Catholics” could adopt an attitude of exclusion since I had been taught that “Catholic” Means UNIVERSAL but the Mexican Community (who is poorly educated and largely illiterate) had decided that the Church I had spent over 45 years in now BELONGED TO THEM and any “Anglos” were to be forced out by any means necessary and our “Clergy” supported their efforts. As they did this, they sanctimoniously continued to parade to church, pray to the Virgin and seemed totally oblivious to the hypocrisy that they were guilty of. I recalled Christ speaking of the Pharisees so often in the New Testament and began to understand what he meant when he spoke so harshly of these fraudulent ‘believers’. So the CATHOLIC CHURCH I had belong to all of my life and my family had been with for 90 years NOT ONLY CALLED THE POLICE ON ME and had me thrown out but also LEFT ME TO FACE THE LOSS OF MY HOME AND ALL ELSE ALONE – and LIED TO PEOPLE ABOUT IT AS WELL! I eventually contacted the Cardinal’s office and the “New World” but they apparently chose to side with the liars and frauds at St. Philomena in order to save any ‘embarrassment for “Mother Church” so I was forced to abandon the battle (and in fact was threatened with physical violence at one point by another “Good Catholic”) but resolved to MAKE THIS VILE HYPOCRISY KNOWN WIDELY when time. I choose to relate this not for ‘revenge’ but to teach, as Jesus did – there are many false Christians and we must always look at their deeds, not at appearances and mere words.
This rejection was devastating, especially since I was in such a desperate condition. I understood that JESUS would scold these types of polyester Christians with the same, “Woe unto You, Ye HYPOCRITES – Snakes, serpents, brood of Vipers” that he had used on the Pharisees in Matthew Chapter 23 so though my ANGER (actual rage at this time) at the CHURCH festered my Faith in the Lord remained unshaken. “Priests” and Lay Church Personnel are HUMAN and MAY (And often do) SIN and in fact BLASPHEME The Church (look at the continuing problem with “Gay” Clergy and the ongoing child abuse scandals for an example) but FAITH in Our Lord can transcend these mere mortals. I remembered Hebrews 13:6 and knew that “The Lord is my Helped, what can man do unto me?” I continued to pray my rosary and visit this same chapel until they finally installed a new security system which required a special card (just to ensure that I would be locked out) but CONTINUED To visit the Chapel on Sunday before Mass when it was open to the Public.
ALMIGHTY GOD DOES NOT CARE WHERE YOU PRAY (though I’m fairly sure that he draws the line at urinals) or HOW YOU PRAY (though many Christians would vehemently dispute this) – HE WANTS YOU TO WORSHIP, THANK AND PETITION (Talk to) HIM and KNOW that HE is the one in charge of things. Recall the Lord’s answer to Job when he said, “Now gird up your loins. I shall ask you questions and you will answer if you can. Tell me, where were YOU when I created the heavens and earth?” – (see the Book of Job, Chapters 38-41).
[4]I really did not know where to turn now so the day after I had met with Fr. Robert Coleman saw a trip to the offices of Alderman Ray Suarez of the 31stt Ward to seek some form of emergency aid in dealing with the loss of heat. The workers at the ward office told me about the CEDA Program which is designed to offer financial assistance to the poor in meeting energy bills and directed me to the Northeast Austin Organization and Mr. Tom Hose who was a seeming angel but would blossom into a true Devil.
The Northeast Austin Organization was located in the basement of St. Peter Cannisuis Roman Catholic Church, the next parish to the west which the folks at St. Philomena and Fr. Coleman did not bother or did not wish to let this life long parishioner know about but there was to be much more to this story in a few years. I had asked if anyone knew of a sources of help but was now being ignored.
Unbeknownst to me, The Northeast Austin Organization with Mr. Tom Hose and Mr. Ricky Carter worked to STEAL THE HOMES OF THE POOR via predatory lending practices (as they did with mine) in cooperation with GREENTREE MORTGAGE but the ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH simply looked the other way (or bothered to check the sincerity of the Northeast Austin Organization) and MADE MONEY on this human misery as well. I would discover this awful truth far too late but had been left with no choice at all.
Tom Hose seemed very helpful and got me the proper forms and seemed quite interested upon learning that I owned my home wholly and had no outstanding mortgage. He strongly urged me to consider taking out a “Home Equity Loan” using the House I owned as collateral. I did not understand this at the time, but Tom Hose was acting as a front agent for a shady finance company, which trapped poor homeowners into short-term loans at exorbitant interest rates and often was able to foreclose on the property as well (today we call this ‘predatory lending’) and his somewhat mysterious enthusiasm regarding a ‘loan’ was actually in envisioning the considerable profits he knew that he could easily make. Since I had never borrowed any monies, had been taught since youth that this was a bad idea and also understood the danger of loosing the house I decided this was a last resort. Within two weeks I had the money, the gas and lights were back on and Meow and I had survived the winter of 1995-1996, Praise God.
The summer of 1997 was promising and some employment as a PC Consultant did materialize but was tragically short lived. I wear glasses, and mine had broken during the winter and there was no money for a new pair. While driving to this job on the second day, I was almost involved in serious accident so that put an end to that dream. After that, the old jalopy I was driving experienced serious difficulties and I junked it. With no auto, no telephone, no email or fax job hunting became nearly impossible.
The summer passed without any serious crisis but by this time I was running out of things to sell, and my friends at AA were really tiring of my “Can ya spare 75 cents?” line so feeding myself along with Meow created an additional concern as fall inexorably approached. My good friend Phil at the St. Philomena Food Pantry (who was a long time parishioner and had resisted the Mexican invasion of our church) proved an invaluable help in this need with their bi-weekly food pantry and supplied many cans of tuna and pink salmon for my hungry little Meow. It was a strange situation where Norma and the Mexicans seemed to despise my presence while the older Europeans who had live there for life understood and helped all they could. The wildest part is that these were the same women always parading to the Chapel to show the world how Holy they were! I began to understand how Jesus felt about the Pharisses.
The fall of 1997 was a repeat of the last year with the loss of heat and electricity. CEDA once again came to the rescue in the form of emergency energy assistance and thus provided the last family Christmas I was to enjoy in my home. When I once again saw Mr. Tom Hose at NAO and he again urged me to get a ‘loan’ on the home and I once again declined due to my fear of loosing the largest (and only) asset I still had. By the end of Jan. the heat and lights were once again off and I could only hope and pray that God would keep Meow, the kitties and I alive and somehow find a way out of this awful mess. While waiting for assistance with the utilities at a CEDA office in the loop, I recognized Bob Petty of Channel 7 Eyewitness News and briefly spoke with and was stunned later in the day when the ABC TV Channel 7 truck pulled up in front of my unlighted and unheated home. I was using an industrial kerosene tube heater that my next door neighbor had lent me to warm the house so the photos they took, along with a brief interview to illustrated the plight of those with no heat
[5] made the 6:00 PM Eyewitness News. To my amazement, though the plight had been well documented the only help that materialized were a few small checks from my few surviving relatives (and may God Bless them for that) but nothing really changed and it seemed that the dye was cast for ultimate doom with no way out. I had no one to turn to got solid advice and nowhere to get it, so was essentially at the mercy of anyone who claimed to ‘offer help’ out of this dire predicament. Since the phone had been disconnected months before, and I was normally broke, my only means of communication was via the internet and at AA. If I could not walk there seeking any assistance proved beyond reach. Most of the folks at Logan were helpful, but none had been home owners and few had anything above a high school education. I had nowhere to turn for help.
I was prepared to tough it out until the weather improved as we had the year before but received a Tax Sale notice from Cook County due to my non-payment of City of Chicago real estate taxes and realized the situation was desperate. A few friends and ads suggested that filing Bankruptcy would provide a way out and save the house so I bummed some change and called a few legal offices only to be told that since I was unemployed I would have to find a way to come up with a small deposit of only $1,000.00 to begin the proceedings: of course this proved impossible. Facing the choice of loosing the home, or somehow filing bankruptcy I re-doubled my efforts to find employment with a lot of walking, but it was a waste. I tried Macdonald’s, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Walgreen’s, Jewel, Osco and every other place I could walk to or email. I was running into the “Overqualified’ brick wall wherever I went and if that did not prevent consideration. I tried the “Earn Fare” project of the Illinois Department of Public Aid. When it became obvious to me that they were NOT AT ALL interested in my 18 years of computer experience and Graduate Degree and coursework I knew that program was a total waste. I continued to send out resumes at the Library via EMAIL and got plenty of return calls but none led to a job. My CHURCH had turned its back on me (Though they continued to allow me to go to their “Food Pantry” for my hungry kitties) felt hopeless.
I didn’t understand what was happening or why but knew that the Lord had a reason for it all. I remembered that the good Sisters of St. Francis used to tell us that we should ‘Offer your suffering up for Jesus” when I was in grammar school so prayed and did a lot of ‘offering up’. My earliest memories are of my father reading me Bible stories before bedtime, and I often thought of the stories of Jonah in the Wale and the 40 year wandering in the desert that led Moses into the promised land. My faith was growing stronger by the day and helped to keep me sane.
By Feb of 1996 the City of Chicago was suffering a bitter cold snap, with temperatures well below zero and my greatest fears began to materialize: the water pipes in the house began to freeze and then burst. It was at this point that I realized the ‘loan’ which had been proposed to me was the only viable choice so I returned to NAO and Tom Hose to make the necessary arrangements. Frankly, I was terrified at the thought of loosing the home but knew that the Lord would see me through whatever was to come and remembered the words of St. Paul in Romans 8:31What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? I knew that the Lord was with me so did what had to be done, hoped and prayed.
Though I had an easy time getting the Title to the House, other documents would be required for the loan, such as Employment verification and tax returns. These were non-existent since I had been unhappily unemployed for a number of years. Mr. Hose informed that this major concern was ‘no problem’ and could be handled as a part of his services for arranging this loan. How he intended to do this I could not imagine, but he assured me that “everything would be handled” and all would be well. The water pipes continued to freeze and burst nightly at my home as I continued to spend my days attending daily mass and in AA meetings and with friends at Logan Square, Group 5. I had the City come out to turn off the Water at the “Bungle Box” but they could not find it and said they would return – they never did. One terrifying night in mid-February of 1996 the main water pipe burst around two in the morning. This caused a torrent of freezing water to pour into the basement where I was snuggled up with my little Meow and her nascent litter.
Miraculously, the bed was situated in the front of the basement and the pipe that had burst and was gushing freezing waters was in the rear and I still had 35 cents in my pocket, which was an unusual occurrence during these desperate days. Though it was after 2:00 AM, the Good Lord was with me as always and I found a rare public telephone in a tavern (the others on the street had all been removed to prevent their use by our local drug dealers) and desperately called the Water Department, praying that someone would answer in this dire emergency at this late hour. My guardian angel was really with me and I was able to reach the Water Department almost immediately. Miraculously, a city truck from the Water Department was only a few blocks away since it had been a very busy night for frozen pipes: they came over within five minutes and immediately found the water shut off valve that the workers from the city had not been able to just a day earlier. They then shut off the water at the ‘bungle box’ and ended the torrent of water flooding the basement. I climbed back under six covers with my Little Meow and thanked God for our good fortune. There was a lot of water in the rear and I felt somewhat like Noah climbing into the Ark with his animals but it soon froze over and we finally rested. Now there was no gas, electricity of water at all in the home that I slept in at night but I thanked God that He had kept us all safe. The words of Psalm 103 and these Reasons to be Thankful echoed in my soul: Praise the LORD, my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. Praise the LORD, my soul, and forget not all his benefits
The next morning, I hiked back out to NAO (a two mile walk through the ice and snow) to inform Mr. Hose of the latest developments. Upon hearing of this close call with disaster, the proposed loan was somehow ‘accelerated’ and within another two weeks I was told the ‘Closing” was imminent and I’d have the needed funds. I understood the dangers of losing the home so had agreed to all in the hopes of a new beginning. Two weeks later, I hiked back out to see Mr. Hose and was summarily informed that I could only get a Seven Year “Home Equity” loan at 13.99% due to my credit history, I was then introduced to a “Ricky” Carter who would help finalize the deal. Something really smelled here but what choice was there?
Faced with the potential of a new start, and considering the needed repairs of the house in combination with the forthcoming tax foreclosure, there was no choice. The rejection of these terms, though they were obviously predatory would have resulted in:
· Loss of my home and remaining material goods
· Loss of a place to sleep and live
· Loss of a home for my beloved MEOW
· Loss of all hope and acceptance of total defeat
Upon considering these life-or-death decisions and with about a minute to decide, I signed the required forms. I was driven out to the “Finance Company” which would finalize the details and present the check. I sat silently and prayed the Rosary kept in my tattered coat pocket.
After half an hour, and a good deal of officiousness, I was presented with a check which was around $38,000.00. Mr. Hose was a bit perturbed since a separate check had not been written to him and another set of arrangements were made, resulting in another check that was a few thousand dollars less. We drove back to the NAO offices and I was informed that Mr. Hose had not yet gotten his ‘Percentage” (cut) which would require that I write yet another check: in order to complete the ‘deal’ I recall laughing, leaving his offices and then walking the two miles in the dark through the ice and snow back to the house and my anxious kitties while fully expecting to be shot in the back.
The kitties and I were living without any water, electricity of heat. I had been in touch with a company named Chicago Heating that had cared for our heating needs and immediately contacted them and had them come out to the home to determine what repairs were needed to the radiators and plumbing. Since they were regular advertisers in our Church bulletin and my father had used their services often I assumed that they would provide a fair job at a fair price. I was wrong
I was told that the home would require a TOTAL rehab for plumbing, and a new heating system thus replacing the now cracked pipes and radiators with a forced air system the bill would come to around $23,000.00. Since the only choice seemed to be death in the cold I signed the contract and gave them a $5,000.00 deposit to begin the formidable task. When I related the story to a friend of mine at AA who was in the Heating and Plumbing business a few days later he informed me that the job in question could be done for about $8,000.00. By then I had already signed the contract and the rehabilitation began.
The Lord had brought us safely through the storm His word had provided salvation and I remembered John “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.” I knew that He would be with me always and now we had a new beginning.
[1] http://ewtn.com/
[2] Thank Vatican II for that one
[3] http://www.ewtn.com – Eternal Word Television Network - Catholic Cable Television
[4] All references are to the New American Bible, standard Edition
[5] It was the week before Christmas, so People Gas was making an extra effort to get the heat back on for people wherever possible
Provided
by 
