August, 2007

Friday 24 August 2007

In the fall of 2002 I had a three-hour phone conversation with Lubna Alam, who was auditing my Social Justice class. About an hour into that conversation, I had a strange and pleasant feeling of familiarity.

“Lubna, have you ever heard of the Enneagram?”

“No, what’s that?!” I add the exclamation mark, as anyone who knows Lubna would agree, that punctuation mark is ever present in her exuberant speech.

I picked up an Enneagram text from my shelf and started to read to her the description of the “3″ personality type.

“How do you know all that about me?!” She was startled.

“Lubna, as you have been talking, I have had the strongest sense of deja vu… you sound so much the way Mev did. And Mev was a 3!”

(While she was in my class, Lubna, along with her friends Zeina Kiblawi and Layla Lavasani, told me great things about the International Solidarity Movement, which they learned about at an Ann Arbor conference on solidarity with the Palestinian people that autumn. Thus, they planted a seed in me, and a year later I’d be working in the West Bank and Gaza with ISM.)

The following spring of 2003, Lubna graduated from SLU, went on to Michigan Law School, worked on the Law Review, and is soon to relocate to Washington, D.C. where she will begin work in a law firm.

I hadn’t seen too much of her in the past four years and, so, today I was delighted to have a leisurely lunch with her at Wapango in the Chesterfield Mall (how rare it is that I ever get to Chesterfield!). Although law school was surely rough, I found Lubna’s exuberance intact, as we discussed Peter Berger’s The Heretical Imperative, some current issues in Islam, and the place of prayer in daily life.

Though she will surely be busy in Washington, I hope to hear on occasion what she is thinking about and reading, as she is one of the most intellectually curious people and most ardent readers I have met in the last ten years. The Washington, D.C. community will be fortunate to have her in its midst.

Tuesday 21 August 2007

A joy of my life is taking long walks with Andrew Wimmer through Forest Park and the Central West End. I told him I should carry my tape recorder with me and capture his scintillating stream of consciousness, political commentary, theological vision, and take-no-prisoners fiestiness.

Last Thursday, the day after Dan Horkheimer’s funeral, we took an early morning walk and talked about many things. I was pleased to see some of that walk’s talk ended up in his moving piece in Counterpunch this past weekend. So many personal, communal and political themes are astutely connected in this gripping account. Here’s one passage: “Tuesday evening was Dan’s wake. My wife and I didn’t stay long, and I avoided the open casket. More grief. Many good folks. Afterward I walked over to Left Bank Books to meet Camilo Mejía and listen to him read from his book, Road from Ar Ramadi. It was strangely soothing. He was honest, soft-spoken, direct. I had taken his book in small doses this summer. It’s written with such force and clarity that I found it impossible to digest large bites. The moment of his liberation, he said, was when he was taken into custody to begin serving his prison sentence for refusing to return to Iraq. Nothing flashy. He seemed a lot like Dan. Thursday morning I talked with him briefly at the Veterans for Peace conference. I thanked him for his voice and his courage, and I told him that his father’s music had been a constant companion and sustained me when I was in Nicaragua during the Contra war years of the mid 80s. He seemed pleased to hear it.”

Monday 20 August 2007

I’ve known Julie Jakimczyk and Tony Hilken since 1999. Tony is a Rock of Gibraltar at Karen House; over the years, many of my SLU students have benefited from his savvy and guidance. Julie has been my and Joanie’s dance teacher since last October; her enthusiasm as a teacher is sans pareil.

They both loved Dan Horkheimer, as was so piercingly and humorously clear to those of us last week at his funeral. Dan was blessed to have such friends. And their sense of blessing is revealed in this eulogy from August 15th.

May we treasure our friends–daily.

Julie: Here’s our best attempt at a goodbye to our best friend.

Tony: We think the closeness we felt to you, Dan, correlates strongly with the number of nicknames we had for you. For example, Danno, Danorama, Book ‘em Danno, Booksie, Wooksie,Wooksie Rungie, Runge…Thanks for answering to all of them.

Julie: Personally, I have to mention that Dan and I were very often teased for how similar we were-–certainly not in a way that was meant to compliment either of us, but secretly, I was always very flattered by the comparison.

Tony: We had such deep respect for you, Dan. You struggled along with us trying to make huge life choices.

Julie: Like what IS the right thing to do?

Tony: What is peace?

Julie: What can we do that would actually be fun?

Tony: You and Courtney were so much fun for us. We loved to laugh with you.

Julie: And I loved you for being one of the few people, unlike my husband, who actually laughed at ALL of my jokes.

Tony: We know you were the butt of many of our jokes –

Julie: Whenever anything went wrong with the two of us and Courtney and Dan, we blamed Dan.

Tony: Though, really, it was because you were so intentional and deliberate, we knew you were the least likely of the 4 of us to have fumbled.

Julie: We will miss you so much!

Tony: We couldn’t possibly explain in these 5 minutes all that we will miss about you – But we will at least list a few:

Julie: Your concision. Dan could say more in one syllable than the rest of us could express in a week.

Tony: Your horrendous phone skills–and late nights with Larry Chapman.

Julie: Drooling over plants and garden design books with you.

Tony: Hearing how you saw the world.

Julie: For reminding us that “No one’s too cool for safety.”

Tony: Your unrelenting gentleness.

Julie: Hard labor –besides laughing – it was what the 4 of us did best together.

Tony: Your bad posture.

Julie: Your ridiculous laugh.

Tony: Your love for natural beauty.

Julie: I’ll speak for myself on this one – Worrying, Dan and I were great worry buddies.

Tony: Your quietness–even though we were always pushing you to talk more.

Julie: That you were our young-un.

Tony: Your genuineness – if only everyone could be so real and genuine.

Julie: And your rational, thoughtful outlook on both the beauty and the horrors of this crazy world.

Tony: Dan, we are so sorry we never took you clubbing!

Julie: I think we all knew Dan best by his actions.

Tony: So, we know how much Dan cared about us by how much he was a part of our lives.

Julie: The absurd idea of a home that we managed to conceptualize would never have been realized without you, Dan.

Tony: We already had so many plans that we didn’t get to fulfill – meeting up in Boston, Winter Park, A LOT more work projects – and . . . exit strategies –just in case. We looked so forward to sharing our future with you and Courtney.

Julie: We planned to grow old with you, Dan, and we are devastated that you were stolen from us. You leave us with immeasurable gratitude for your friendship, support, laughter, and example.

Tony and Julie: We love you.

Wednesday 15 August 2007

First memory: It’s late 1998, I’m sitting outside of McGee’s, a local bar with Courtney Barrett. McGee’s is in Forest Park Southeast where both Courtney and I lived. What I remember about that night was Courtney announcing—without any doubt whatsoever—perhaps the only time in her life she’s been adamant about a subject—that she would never, EVER, waste a second on boys, dating, romance. There were more important things to do, like envisioning the Catholic Worker Health Clinic for the poor, and doing the work of hospitality at Karen House.

Second memory: A few months later, April 1999, some Saint Louis University students are doing a benefit concert at Laclede’s Restaurant near campus to aid Kosovar refugees who have been coming to Saint Louis. I am enjoying the music, when Courtney comes up behind me and whispers in my ear: “I’ve got a crush on one of your students.” Startled, I said, “Who?” She pointed to him over in front of the Pax Christi table: It was Dan Horkheimer, who was then taking a Social Justice class with me. I had the good sense not to remind Courtney of her ardent avowal not too long before, about wasting her precious time on a guy. It seems that she had a change of heart.

Third memory: Six months later, I am taking the Friday night house shift at Karen House and Courtney is assisting me with calming down a new guest who will sleep on the emergency couch for the evening. Her name is Hela, and she is from Tunisia. Somehow, the subject of Courtney’s sweetheart comes up. Dan is spending the year abroad, studying in China. Hela is a very curious woman. “Tell me about your man, Courtney.” “What do you want to know, Hela?” “Everything, Courtney, tell me everything. Is he tall?” “Yes, he’s tall.” “Is he big, Courtney, I like a big man.” “No,” she laughs, “he’s quite thin, I like thin men.” Now Hela gets a little too close to Courtney, I sense her personal space is being invaded: “Courtney, tell me about his eyes…” “His eyes? Uh, he has nice eyes.” “And his nose?” Courtney is chuckling, embarrassed and unaccustomed to having to give a public accounting of her affections. “Yes, he has a lovely nose.” “But Courtney, what about his mouth, his lips, tell me, Courtney, about his lips.” Thankfully, it was late, and time for bed, and Hela’s interrogation would have to resume at another time.

[Courtney Barrett and Dan Horkheimer, Karen House Food Storage Room, circa 2003]

As I was driving 2000 miles from the San Francisco area to Saint Louis these past few days, a couple of lines from an old Rolling Stones song has been playing over and over in my mind. Mick Jagger sings, “You don’t want to walk and talk about Jesus/You just wanna see His face.”

I know, Courtney:

You don’t wanna hear me talk about how Dan was a perfect combination of the best qualities of Alyosha and Ivan Karamazov.

You don’t wanna hear me gush about how he was such a promising young Chomskyan intellectual.

You don’t wanna hear me exclaim what a cool Zen Gardener he was.

You don’t wanna hear me speculate on what a great landscape architect he might have become.

You don’t wanna hear me describe how Dan was such a mensch.

You don’t want my shmaltzy memories and these words that can never console you.

You just wanna look into Dan’s eyes, you just wanna rub your nose against his, you just wanna kiss his lips.

You just wanna see his face.

–Dan Horkheimer was shot and killed at his and Courtney’s home in North Saint Louis on Saturday morning 11 August. He was 29 years old. Courtney and Dan were married on October 4, 2003. The lines above were shared at Dan’s funeral at Saint Pius V Church on South Grand on August 15.

by Dan Castillo

Mark,

Thank you for your book. It was very human and beautiful. Your and Mev’s struggles with faith, with learning to love each other, and with solidarity with the poor resonated deeply with me. I found myself both consoled and challenged. It has given me much to think about. One particular theme that stood out for me was encapsulated in a Clodovis Boff quote from his interview with Mev; he said something to the effect of “You need to enjoy the beautiful things in life. Now I drink tea and practice yoga. A few years ago I would have considered those things so bourgeois. But they really are good!” Throughout your book, it’s clear that you and Mev struggled not only to live in solidarity with the poor but also to enjoy the beauty and good in this world. This was good for me to read. I’m glad that Mev loved ice cream! I’m glad that you got your PhD! I struggle with this greatly, as I’m sure everyone who is conscientized does to some degree. For me, I’m findng that this struggle is rooted in my not knowing who I am or to Whom I belong nearly well enough. As a result, I tend to want to reject anything that is good so that I can live in poverty and be the “best catholic worker” or Christian, or whatever. But I’ve found that it can be largely just a show to prove to others that I’m “good.” What a silly way to live! I often think of Paul words in 1 Cor. 13 about “giving up his body to be burned and gaining nothing.” I do hope to be able to live more in solidarity with the poor. But I’m finding that if it’s not rooted in love then it can be simply a self serving and impotent solidarity. The inner pagoda that Thicht Nhat Hahn tells Dan Berrigan we all need to build if we are to protect anything in this world needs some work in my being.

Anyway I hope that that made some sense, I find myself wanting to make three clarifying statements to every sentence I just wrote but that would take far too long. The bottomline is that I am gratetful for the extent that you have been able to enjoy the beauty in life and for Mev’s capacity for joy as well. I know that sometimes joy can be a struggle in this world. But it is so very important. Graditude is such a necessity! Thank you for sharing some of joy and pain of your life with Mev. I feel honored to have read the book.

Dan is a former community member of Karen House and is currently a graduate student at the Washington Theological Union in Washington, DC. He and his wife Erika just returned from a month’s honeymoon in Spain.