The Mind of Tom - Very, Very Strange

I can't explain it.
I'm just reporting.
Late Saturday. March 7, 2009.
   This afternoon I saw the Clint Eastwood movie Grand Torino. Lots of violence. Great profanity. Politically incorrect. Some foreign language spoken WITHOUT subtitles. In the end, a guy is killed by gunfire - lots of gunfire. He was shot maybe 200 times. It was wonderful.
    I fell asleep upon returning home and dreamed of riding off with Dirty Hairy into the Colorado Rocky Mountains. We were in a streaky-green Hummer. I think we shot a Sasquatch wearing a Rockies cap.
   Woke up at 6 p.m., having missed my 5:30 meeting. No guilt about that. Clint showed enough of that character trait in the film.
   An hour and a half later I found myself sitting in the Ninth Avenue United Church of Christ watching a performance of The Longmont Chorale. They sang some stuff by Franz Joseph Hayden ... celebrated his being dead 200 years.
   The highlight was a performance of "Missa in Angustiis" (the Lord Nelson Mass). For the most part it was sung in Latin. I cried a little. I have not heard a Mass sung in Latin for 55 years ... about the same time as Clint Eastwood's Grand Torino character was fighting in the Korean War.
   I was not in Korea - I was in Miss Craig's Latin class learning the language and getting subliminal instruction in how to become a good Catholic.
   My friend Sally got me a ticket to the Chorale performance and overall, it was great. However, they put her on the riser behind a woman with a tall blond wig. Sally could not see the faces I made at her. Silently I prayed that Clint Eastwood would come along. He'd known some cool stuff to do about the blond.
   About 9:15 my mind started really acting up. I imagined that the Grand Torino foreigners were yelling at Clint in Latin. I became convinced that the old lady sitting beside me had died. (It was just past her bed time.)
   Before I crossed that invisible line beyond which psychotherapists are needed, I heard their singing of Dona nobis pasem! It was the final stanza of the performance (and rightly it means "grant us peace.")
   It was a wonderful event. However, the whole day was very, very strange. As I go to sleep, I pray that God doesn't waste his time explaining the diversity of my entertainment to me. Don't want to hear it ... might have something to do with the word "nuts."

With Respect & Gratitude,
Tom
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