A Weblog

On Moving the Site...

I've decided to go ahead and move the site to: www.fatherallen.net.

Not terribly creative... but it will have to do for the time being. Hope to see you there!

Paz, Fr. KA

The Birds

I've always wondered what birds do during hurricanes. One would think they would evacuate.

Yet during Katrina, I remember what the birds did; as I ran over to the Church to say Masses for their intentions, amidst the winds and rains.

They would sit along the edges of the buildings away from the windward sides. When you ran by, they would hunker down with a look of protective ferocity, or fly off into the winds with an expertise in aerodynamics which landed them God knows where, but probably precisely where they wanted.

But there was one bird, a large white one, which sat in front of the Rectory the whole day long, during the howling winds and rain. It would claw into the edge of the parking lot to hold on in the gusts; it would shrink down into nothingness to shaff the winds; it did anything to avoid blowing away.... a beautiful and triumphal symbol of nature's defiance of nature's ways, for over at least ten hours of labor.

I have many provocative memories of Katrina, yet I do not want to forget the memories of the bird sanctuary in which I lived.

Labor Day Picture

Since you asked.... here I am on Labor Day in New Orleans. Just another ordinary day in the life...

Another One Bites the Dust!

Marina hosted we seminarians several times in her beautiful home on Audubon Place, seen here burning to the ground after the power was restored, from behind amidst the plumbago(?). She and her husband had a fantastic collection of Russion Icons... Everything, all gone.

Prayers your way Marina, Michael and family.

(Photo credit to the Times-Picayune.)

That was Then...

In the life goes on department...

That was Then...

It's remarkable how life changes.... either slowly over time, bit by bit, until one day you begin to realize that something has changed. Or sometimes it happens in the twinkling of an eye, as a last breath exhaled, a pit bull named Sweet Pea walking through a ruined paradise, or pleasant new growth on a tree which was supposed to be chopped down three weeks ago.

The tree comes down tomorrow. Finally.

It's Sunday Night

Note this link: Louisianian Erosion Continues Unabated.

I also find I must apologize to several reporters who asked me about my story, as it seemed interesting. I said (unbelievably) "Just read my weblog, it pretty much tells it all."

Now anyone who reads this with any frequency, or who happens upon it at a glance knows that my weblog is about as boring as they come. I say almost nothing in it. Maybe I have just become to busy to blog.

I pray Steve and Barbara are well. I hung out with them one day after cleaning our home out for hours and cleaning the local Church out for hours and cleaning friends's refrigerators out for... well, not hours.

In retrospect with them I was concerned about getting back for curfew... stunned by the sights, and simply exhausted and speechless.

One day I will have a decent weblog... but for now, it is still pretty boring. The future dawns bright... as brightly as the stars over Metairie the night after Katrina.... ever more brightly.

The Katrina-Rita

For those of us who did not have to evacuate, and who did not flee away on gay larks to Ireland,,,

there are remnants of normalcy in this Homeland of ours.

The Sun-Ray Grill off of Metairie Road is offering the Katrina-Rita... a Kat Five margarita.

Molly's on the Market has never closed, since they never close and have no locks on the doors.

If no pictures of me as a Priest survive, some photographer has a shot of a Priest in a bar in New Orleans during the hiatus. At least there was still a priest in New Orleans. Yep, saving souls since 1793 we have been.

I've decided to stop posting pics here... they will be on separate pages.

And that damned tree will be removed this week, at the price you would expect it to be. There's a reason this is called the biggest disaster in the history of our Arhdiocese, of our City, and even of our Nation.