
‘Brother, Where Is Your Coat?’
GUEST COLUMN
When I about five years old in 1930, my Dad’s cousin, Brother Aloysius Gilmartin, would come down on the train to Altoona, Pennsylvania, from St. Francis College in Loretto to visit us. He would get off the train and walk half a block to Westfall’s Men’s Store where Dad worked. Dad would usually bring him home for lunch. He enjoyed our big family so much. And we all loved Br. Aloysius too; he was such a gentle and humble man.
One day it was bitter cold, about zero degrees, when he came to Dad’s store. Dad was shocked to see that he was not wearing an overcoat.
“Brother, where is your coat? It’s freezing out!” my Dad exclaimed.
“Oh, Frank, I don’t have one,” he replied. The monks of the Order of Francis take a vow of poverty and do not personally own anything, even their clothes.
You May Also Enjoy
Unless a speaker is actually advocating violence, we can't simply equate speaking with violence. Speech doesn't become violence simply because one disagrees with it.
Our rewriting of the great drama of life, which should proceed like a mysterious tale full of wonder and engagement, is a sad soliloquy.
A poor woman I knew regarded herself, when pregnant, as the recipient of a gift from God. For me, the matter was at once abstract and circumstantial.