JPII

(Note: This column appeared in The Herald the day after John Paul II died. It lacks the familiar curmudgeonly sarcasm, but I'm posting it because response to it from readers was amazingly heartfelt.)

The pope was in town, but it was the nuns who made an impression on Sept. 17, 1987, in the Carmel Mission Basilica.

The cloistered nuns from the Carmelite Monastery south of Carmel and the Order of Poor Clares in Aptos had been given special permission to appear in public, specifically to hear what Pope John Paul II might say during his visit to the mission.

It was a special day. The pope was visiting the United States. And he selected Monterey as a stop because he wanted to visit Junipero Serra's final resting place at the altar of the mission.
Over the years, dignitaries of all stripes -- from presidents to bad actors to both -- have come to Monterey County to gape at the scenery or to play golf. We even managed to get Oprah to drop in last year.

But John Paul II was the leader of the Christian world, a descendant of Peter himself. And he didn't have time for golf. God's own representative was here to see us.

The Big Event would take place at Laguna Seca Recreation Area, where tens of thousands of pilgrims would gather for Mass and the pageantry and the fellowship and a glimpse at the ''popemobile.''

(The day was ruined for many, however, by an Act of God. The state Department of Forestry was forced to commandeer hundreds of chartered buses to rush firefighters to a huge blaze in the Sierra Nevada, stranding thousands of pilgrims who had planned to come to Laguna Seca.)

Before heading out to Laguna Seca, the pope scheduled a visit to Serra's grave, where he would also speak of Serra's "heroic spirit and deeds."

By luck of the draw, I was selected to provide The Herald's coverage of the pope's mission appearance and I joined several hundred others who managed special invitations to witness the papal appearance.

Born and lapsed a California Catholic, I understood the significance: A Papal Appearance. In the Carmel Mission. Where the original Father of Modern California is buried.

But I never could have imagined how personally meaningful the event could be to those who filled the basilica.

The invited attendees were required to show up two hours before the pope was scheduled to arrive. We were told the early arrival was necessary for security purposes and to help keep traffic on the county's roads flowing. But it turned into a perfect time for prayer and reflection, as the sun poured through the stained-glass windows.

Across the aisle, the nuns from the Carmelite Monastery sat placidly with their rosaries.

From on high, suddenly, the whop-whop-whop of the pope's helicopter broke the solemn silence. The bells of the basilica chimed and the celebrants broke out in cheer.

Then, finally, the door opened and a long procession of bishops, priests and altar boys marched down the center aisle.

And in walked the pope.

"He's got an irresistible face," said Laurence Horan, a Monterey attorney and parishioner of the mission church who was among the invited guests. "It radiates. It's amazing."

The nuns across the aisle dropped their rosaries and jammed toward the center, climbing over one another to catch a glimpse of the pontiff.

And when they saw him, they squealed with excitement. They hopped in place, wept and called out, "Papa! Papa!" As John Paul approached, they reached out to touch him. He stopped to touch back, speaking softly and calmly, blessing them.

Sister Mary Trinitas of Poor Clares, a handicapped holy woman in a black and white habit, handed the Holy Father a single red rose. He accepted the bloom with a kiss to both cheeks, a squeeze of the hand and a whispered "God bless you."

In that moment, I witnessed the truest form of genuine bliss. In the innocent exuberance of cloistered nuns, I saw God.

THE GREAT DIVIDE

One state.
Two state.
Red state.
Blue state

Red state, blue state
Culture class.
Effete snobs
And poor white trash
One state, two state,
Resolute.
Just one land
In full dispute.

One state George,
Two state John.
Red state Christian,
Blue state non-.

Blue state gay,
It's plain to see,
A big and happy
Marriage spree.

Red state values
Family life:
Guys are guys
and wife is wife.

Blue state spends
On poor and needy;
Red state knows
The poor are greedy.

Red state hunts,
Blue state doesn't.
Red state marries
Second cousin.

Blue state soaks
In big hot tubs,
Hangs around
In wierd sex clubs.

Red states know
They are square shooters,
Spend their time
At local Hooters.

Blue state torn
On immigration:
Needs cheap work,
Wants deportation.

Red state sees
A NASCAR race.
Ernie Irvan:
Red state grace!

Blue state shuns
The word of God;
Watch out for
That lightning rod.

Red state claims
The right to life;
Forgets the kids
Who live with strife.

Blue state has
Its Darwinism.
And don't forget
Its socialism!

Red state lives
by Golden Rule,
Unless you're one
Of them godless fools.

Blue state house
Slides into ocean;
Earthquake causes
Big commotion.

Red state hit
By hurricane;
Mobile homes
In field of grain.

Blue state smokes
That marijuana
Eats raw fish
at Benihana.

Red state drinks
A cold Bud Lite,
Eats red meat
'Most every night.

Red state, blue state:
Culture clash.
Effete snobs
And poor white trash.
One state, two state,
Resolute.
Just one land,
In full dispute.