Breakfast 61 -- Frank Corley

          Fathers and sons,  fathers and sons,  I just saw Ramon Poncedeleon interviewed on TV.  A little over a year ago, he got a call that his son was hit by a baseball and was in critical condition.  Tonight, a dream come true, watching your son pitch in the major leagues.  And what did his son do, he pitched 116 beautiful pitches and no-hit the Reds through 7 innings.  Mike Shildt had a decision to make let the kid pursue one of the most illustrious prizes in sports or think about his long term career and "save" the kid for more down the road.  Neither of these scenarios is certain,  a year from now this kid could be great or he could be out of baseball.  He might have thrown a no-hitter or he may not have.  His father watched on as his other father "Mike Shildt" tried to make the best decision he could make.

          I once took a road trip with Frank Corley where he was trying to be the best father he could be.  I will not forget his strength and the calm he maintained on the inside, when I know he had to be just churning up inside.  In an earlier blog, I talked about the real translation of the Greek word for  compassion.  It means the same thing with an extra twist,  you literally feel it in your gut.  On that day, Frank felt something in his gut,  today for a couple of hours my father was concerned and felt something in his gut, and then I watched Ramon.  Fathers are pretty amazing.

          God told Frank Corley to be a father twice,  Frank said back to God,  "Did you mean two dozen?"   Rick and Cate and Whitney and Josie and Jimmie and Deion and Devon and Mark and.... and.... and.   Frank and his wife Teresa keep answering the call,  "Yes!"  even when no one is asking the question, they find the answer to be "Yes!"

           There are times now when I would rather talk about a math problem with Frank Corley than anyone else on the planet. Especially when neither of us knows the answer,  then it is the pursuit that is the joy and actually when one of us solves it-- the thrill is gone.  It is not like fishing, I wish we could catch and release, but our brains now know the path and so the pursuit and the fun is gone.  I italicized the word now because I think the two of us would rather talk about a math problem with our Jedi Master J Brian Barry.

          Because we are both SLUH boys, too smart and too arrogant, we have sometimes bumped heads in the past.  I do not know how Frank comes back to the middle, back to our friendship, but I know how I do.  It is Josie... and Naomi... and Pedro... and Anayadwe.   I don't know the names,  I know Frank and Teresa do,  but they would have to think about it.  They would have to remember being there as Mom and Dad for kids without for kids who needed help or needed a hug.

           The wonderful poem by Ina J. Hughes,  "We Pray for Children"

here is a taste.....

            We pray for children

who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,

Who sleep with the cat and bury goldfish,

Who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money,

Who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink,

Who slurp their soup.

And we pray for those

who never get dessert,

who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,

who watch their parents watch them die,

who can't find any bread to steal,

who don't have any rooms to clean up,

whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser,

whose monsters are real.

              Frank has been that dad for the second group.  I guess he is called a Foster Dad,  but as John Friskel's brother taught me,  I am just going to call him Dad.  I sometimes am annoyed at Frank on small things he does, the small choices he makes, or just when he was my boss.  Then I have to remember the LARGE things has done as a Dad.  Frank has come very close to perfect.  I have seen him do it.  When I think of our small quarrels,  I just remember when I have seen him close to perfect.

              Frank has many joys and many laughs,  but there have been those moments that no one should have.  When you realized you have done your best,  and there is a child out in the world somewhere who has chosen to fight monsters on their own.  Frank told me years ago when this happens I just say,  "Lord, I have done my best and tried my best,  but this one is out in your world now, so it is your turn to look after him.... her."  I was a Foster Dad for 14 months in my life.  I am so proud of that young man and hope to have breakfast with him soon.  But Frank and Teresa (sorry T this is Frank's breakfast, I love you and are equally proud of you.)

              Today they interviewed Ramon Poncedeleon and I did not hear a word.  I just thought about my friend Frank who has always been there for children.  Children who have no one else.  In today's political climate, we are debating separating children from parents. We are debating this: like there are two side.  There are not two sides,  if you think there are go talk to Frank or Teresa who have seen children cry because they feel lost and abandoned.  Those are different cries.  There is a different sound to those cries.  So here is one answer.  Compassion.  Father Boyle tells us just to assume the answer to every question is compassion. The compassion we feel in our gut.  There are two people that I know Tim Milford and Frank Corley that I have seen pick up a baby, it literally could be any baby, and they just hold on and hug them.  I have to find that picture of Tim Milford holding the baby at First Missionary Baptist of Biloxi, MS.  To show you what I mean.  But I have also seen Frank Corley hold a baby like there was nothing else going on in the world.  His focus was just on loving the child in his arms.

              So if I had my niece, Nora making this movie, we would right now show a picture of a large house drawn by a child.  It would have so many windows, and in each window there would be a picture of a child smiling or waving.  If you want to see the real house it is just up the street from the Black Thorn,  just 3 blocks?? north and make a left. 

              This is what community looks like.  Thanks  Dad.