“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”



I left Lincoln City Sunday morning around 9 to make it back in time to pray at the site of the murder of Richard thinking about my Bo. I was thinking of him, and about the mothers of Richard, the boy who was stabbed, and Nick, the man who is said to have stabbed him. How are they? I drove without the radio sending prayers to these nameless women -- one with a son who is dead, the other with a son in prison for murder.

I stopped once to pee at the farm-stand with the goats west of Sheridan. There was a couple there looking for strawberries but they hadn't come in yet. I smelled the peonies and looked at the poppies for a few minutes, remembering how Ed was mad that I put poppies on Bo's coffin because he died of an opiate overdose. I decided not to get any flowers for the boys.

Pulled in to downtown and turned on to Burnside just after 11. I drove past the red doors of DTC and saw the "prayers of the faithful" guy come out and take a drink from the water fountain. I was just in time. Mass was over. People were standing around in the the heat looking bleary. I could hear the sounds of the Rose Festival drifting up from the waterfront.

I walked up the sidewalk where people usually are sitting, lined up and waiting for the red doors to open. Everyone was standing today, there were about 60 people milling around, and Frs Bob and Ron were still in their vestments. Steve, the young MIT-grad- Jesuit volunteer was standing there with a red cross on a pole. I noticed Tom, another guy who had been at the poverty retreat. I waved and walked over to him. We hugged. He asked me if I was at Mass. I felt guilty when I said no. And then the guy next to him asked me what parish I was from and I said "none". Then I introduced myself to the man who no one was talking to.

The man said he had just come back to Portland -- traveling from Mexico. He is looking for a place to stay. He had been at mass, and asked me "what is everyone still standing around here for?". I told him that we were going to pray for the boy at the site where he died. A look of distaste crossed his face. "He was a skateboarder. I heard he and his friend ganged up on a homeless man. That man had a knife and stabbed him in self-defense and the police are saying it is murder." I asked him if he wanted to come pray with us anyway. He didn't say anything.

Father Ron announced that we would be obeying all of the jay-walking rules as we walked to the site. The man stayed next to me and we started along. We passed the Sisters of the Road Cafe and a row of people's shopping carts. A few folks joined us. Nobody was saying much. The sun was very bright.

I moved to the front of the line to be close to Fr Ron. He and Steve stopped on the corner of 1st and Couch, just by the Max tracks. We could hear the shrieks from the Ferris wheel and the other sounds of the amusements. We formed a circle around a spot on the ground and Ron motioned us closer. I stepped in about 3 feet from him. Father Ron started very quietly singing "Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom...." another person joined, and then another, and then I did.... and all of us were singing that Taize over and over for what seemed to be ten minutes as the Max rumbled by. I was glad I was wearing sunglasses.

Fr. Ron then started reading a litany asking God to SAVE us... against hate, addiction, the death penalty .... it went on and on. I noticed that tears were rolling down my cheeks. I could feel them dripping off my chin. Then it was over and he asked us to pray. We prayed to God that we will "never - ever" have to do this again.

Ron asked us to show each other a sign of peace. I turned around and hugged Tom. The man from Mexico hugged me. His eyes were red and sad. I heard a lady say "Happy Pentecost."

I didn't want to leave. I wasn't ready to be alone yet, so I hung back, walking with Fr Ron as we made our way back towards where we came from. I could only really choke out that this was very sad. He nodded. "This is what we do here." Father said.

When I got home, I looked up that passage where the thief asks Jesus to remember him.