I am way too fat. I don't know how fat, actually. Maybe about 250 pounds. Like, half a beef.
So, why do I eat? Seems like a simple question but it's not really. Like many people I don't only eat when I am hungry. Just watched Bear Grils eat a worm, saying, "It may taste like pus but it will give me protein and energy I need." So, from that level of eating to the eating that's really done throughout the day, there's a wide gulf.
1. I eat for comfort. Eating is psychologically and socially an intensly positive experience. We are no doubt hard coded programmed for this. But, I think this relates more to serving size. I could eat half a cup of rice, but I will eat a whole cup of rice because it makes me feel good. There is a bio-chemical reaction to certain foods that goes right to the narcotic receptors on my neurons. OK, it's a fix.
2. I eat fast food whenever I can summon up an excuse to. My day has been too hectic to take the time to get better food. Etc. etc. etc. Also, when making a meal for myself would seem too trivial compared for other stuff on my mind.
3) I eat out of fear. Ah, you weren't expecting that one were you? I've had RLS, Restless Leg syndrome for most of my life (back to early teen years). But, in my adult years it became nearly constant. It was't until about 2002 that I had medication for it. Certain cold remedies would help, that is, before I started Requip, and food was a key thing too. The family knows I used to have a late night bowl of Cheerios. This was after I feel asleep from the often high carb supper, and then work up due to the RLS. The Cheerios provided me another boost of carbs that made me drowsy, and broke whatever the brain waves were that triggered the RLS to a more wakeful pattern. So, what does this have to do with the current reasons I eat. Well, in the evening I'm sitting on the sofa, getting relaxed before bed and then some RLS twitches hit. My conditioning, given the past, is to get up and get a snack. I've moved away from Cheerios now to, oh, some cheese or an apple, but it's the same conditioning.
What other reasons do I eat? Humm, hunger is in there somewhere. Rarely is it #1. Any other ideas? I susppose there is ... because it's there, too.
So, what's up with all this? I'm going on a low carb diet to loose weight, and I thought it would help to get some of these things out. Confessions of a carb-aholoic.
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Just a blog to share our picture, activities and interests, mostly for our kids as they build their own lives, so we can stay connected.
Fr. Roger's Eulogy
Roger Joseph Ebacher, OCSO
May 19, 1919 – April 15, 2008
Eulogy
My name is Jim Ebacher, and I am Fr. Jerome’s nephew. My father was Fr. Jerome’s kid brother. They called him Bill, and we call Fr. Jerome, “Roger”, and his Medicare card calls him Joseph. It’s all kind of confusing. But, had my father lived into his old age, I’m sure he would have been here today at this lectern, also finding a way to make you laugh a little bit. So, I guess I’ll speak to you in his place.
Roger was born on May 19th, 1919, to French Canadian immigrants on May 19th, 1919, and grew up in Amesbury, Massachusetts. We trace our ancestry to one lone mercenary, a Frenchman, recruited by the Braunschweigers to fight the American colonial rebels in the war of Independence. The Braunschweigers lost that fight, but like many of those who were defeated, Jean-Baptiste Ebacher and his descendents the Ebacher and Baker families, settled in and around Quebec, Canada. At the turn of the last century many French Canadians we enticed to immigrate to Amesbury, Massachusetts to work on the new carriage factories, making the early horseless carriages. They needed skilled carpenters. Roger grew up as a boy in the Amesbury neighborhood called the “brickyard”, and as you might guess, this area was not known for its stunning views or fine homes. He was one of a family of four brothers and five sisters. Their mother died when Roger was in the 6th grade, naturally a traumatic experience which scarred Roger throughout his life and lead to his frail disposition. He has three surviving siblings; Beatrice, Margaret and Therese, all religious sisters in the order of St. Critienne in Marlboro, Massachusetts. Please keep them in your prayers.
Roger began his religious life at the minor seminary of Our Lady of LaSalette, in Enfield, New Hampshire. There, he was schooled in High School subject matter and in the languages of Greek, Latin, French and English. After LaSalette he explored his vocation with the LaSalette fathers, and I believe was quite close to ordination with them, when he felt called to the Trappist community at St. Joseph’s Abbey in Spencer, Mass, which he then joined. While at this Abbey, he lost all his collected poems as the result of a fire, something he quietly grieved his entire life. He was part of the original foundation to Pecos, New Mexico, and he studied at the Vatican for a short time. He was with the community when they moved to this location in 1955. My apologies if I have any of this wrong.
In his final days, Roger told me quite often that he felt on the whole quite blessed in this life. He also expressed regret that he did not have a stronger prayer life and that he wasn’t a very good monk. The rule of St. Benedict has the motto Prayer and Work. Roger’s work was teaching, which he did as novice master for many years, painting, and his duties as Mass Secretary, and finally keeping everything tidy in the Sacristy. He believed all priests should be grounded in the classical philosophical thoughts of Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas, as well as the 20th century writings particularly of Whitehead. During the 1970’s Roger embarked on a systematic study of modern science, reading Biology, Physics, Anatomy, Psychology, and finishing with what he came to believe was the basis of all understand of matter, Quantum Physics. Naturally, there were few he could knowledgeably discuss these pursuits with. At the same time he began a study of painting with a teacher in McMinnville, a pursuit he dedicated a number of years to. Roger didn’t think he would live to see the new church, but he did, and he liked it very much, although he has his doubts when it was being planned. He expressed his appreciation for the love and support of Abbot Peter often to me, and enjoyed a warm fraternal relationship with Dom Bernard.
Roger was nervous and frail for much of his life. He was very conscious of his weak voice. He had a touchy constitution and generally kept only a few close friends in the Abbey. He had a number of secular contacts; men and women who came to him for confession and who enjoyed discussions of philosophy. These visits were uplifting to his spirits. I don’t know anything about most of these relationships, but I’m sure their stories will be told and we will learn new things about Fr. Jerome.
He was a philosopher. His writings represent a body of concise thought about the nature of existence. And, in his later years he felt that it was quite complete, that he has said all he wanted to say, even if it sadly may never be read and understood by another human being. In his final years, he often spoke of how he felt a peace with the completeness of his writings. The only spiritual connection he ever spoke of to me was with ST. THERESE OF LISIEUX, a doctor of the church, known as the little flower. He had an old black and white photograph of her in his room, and he often spoke of feeling her personal presence with him.
Roger was a beloved uncle to me, and like a grandfather to my children. Maybe this is an odd thing for a monk. I don’t know. It seems quite natural to us. My relationship began the year before my father died, when I spend January term here, having come by Greyhound bus from Minnesota. Some of you here today remember this. Roger returned my visit by officiating at our wedding in Minnesota just 4 years later. He gave First Communion to our four children, and no matter how noisy and rambunctious they were, always received them with love and joy. Like us, he rejoiced in their achievements and growth. Over the past few years he often spoke of his longing to be with God in eternal life. He was impatient with his existence and not at all sure why he was still hanging around. Roger was my father surrogate, and although I miss my father very deeply, I have always felt he was actually still with me, not at all gone. And now, I grieve the loss to me of both of these gentle men who have given me so much.
His last coherent words to me were that when it gets down to it, it’s really all about the Father Almighty. Just the Father, at the center of it all. And I will leave you with that mystery. It might be an unwritten coda to the symphony of this one monk’s life of seeking an understanding of existence. Roger felt he had come to some measure of Truth in his thoughts and writings, and also felt the presence of the devil who was trying to shut him up. I believe Roger has finally won his struggle; his struggle with life and Truth.
When we come into the world we proclaim our arrival with loud cries and complaints. When we go, life just sneaks out of us. Somewhere between, if we are lucky and we put for the effort to find it, one can find a measure of revelation. This is what I’ve learned from my dear uncle.
I want to thank you all for coming today and letting me speak briefly with you. I want to express to all of you the gratitude for the prayers that made Jerome’s passing a smooth journey, and supported us throughout the vigil and his illness these past many months.
I want to close with a poem Roger wrote a long time ago. It’s called “Imaculata”.
IMMACULATA
She rests in the clean dawn, my white-
winged Dove, in the clefted reef, cooing,
wooing the Rising-Sun.
Mine is the Morning-Glory, bright
in twilit brittleness,
lipping,
lapping the soonest Ray.
She is a Forest-Virgin, awed
to tremor and hush, yet
dancing,
clapping her atom-hands.
Mine, this clearest fountain, with
trembling sparks in glee,
leaping,
telling of full-day’s Flame.
James Joseph Ebacher
Read at Roger's Funeral Reception
4-19-08
May 19, 1919 – April 15, 2008
Eulogy
My name is Jim Ebacher, and I am Fr. Jerome’s nephew. My father was Fr. Jerome’s kid brother. They called him Bill, and we call Fr. Jerome, “Roger”, and his Medicare card calls him Joseph. It’s all kind of confusing. But, had my father lived into his old age, I’m sure he would have been here today at this lectern, also finding a way to make you laugh a little bit. So, I guess I’ll speak to you in his place.
Roger was born on May 19th, 1919, to French Canadian immigrants on May 19th, 1919, and grew up in Amesbury, Massachusetts. We trace our ancestry to one lone mercenary, a Frenchman, recruited by the Braunschweigers to fight the American colonial rebels in the war of Independence. The Braunschweigers lost that fight, but like many of those who were defeated, Jean-Baptiste Ebacher and his descendents the Ebacher and Baker families, settled in and around Quebec, Canada. At the turn of the last century many French Canadians we enticed to immigrate to Amesbury, Massachusetts to work on the new carriage factories, making the early horseless carriages. They needed skilled carpenters. Roger grew up as a boy in the Amesbury neighborhood called the “brickyard”, and as you might guess, this area was not known for its stunning views or fine homes. He was one of a family of four brothers and five sisters. Their mother died when Roger was in the 6th grade, naturally a traumatic experience which scarred Roger throughout his life and lead to his frail disposition. He has three surviving siblings; Beatrice, Margaret and Therese, all religious sisters in the order of St. Critienne in Marlboro, Massachusetts. Please keep them in your prayers.
Roger began his religious life at the minor seminary of Our Lady of LaSalette, in Enfield, New Hampshire. There, he was schooled in High School subject matter and in the languages of Greek, Latin, French and English. After LaSalette he explored his vocation with the LaSalette fathers, and I believe was quite close to ordination with them, when he felt called to the Trappist community at St. Joseph’s Abbey in Spencer, Mass, which he then joined. While at this Abbey, he lost all his collected poems as the result of a fire, something he quietly grieved his entire life. He was part of the original foundation to Pecos, New Mexico, and he studied at the Vatican for a short time. He was with the community when they moved to this location in 1955. My apologies if I have any of this wrong.
In his final days, Roger told me quite often that he felt on the whole quite blessed in this life. He also expressed regret that he did not have a stronger prayer life and that he wasn’t a very good monk. The rule of St. Benedict has the motto Prayer and Work. Roger’s work was teaching, which he did as novice master for many years, painting, and his duties as Mass Secretary, and finally keeping everything tidy in the Sacristy. He believed all priests should be grounded in the classical philosophical thoughts of Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas, as well as the 20th century writings particularly of Whitehead. During the 1970’s Roger embarked on a systematic study of modern science, reading Biology, Physics, Anatomy, Psychology, and finishing with what he came to believe was the basis of all understand of matter, Quantum Physics. Naturally, there were few he could knowledgeably discuss these pursuits with. At the same time he began a study of painting with a teacher in McMinnville, a pursuit he dedicated a number of years to. Roger didn’t think he would live to see the new church, but he did, and he liked it very much, although he has his doubts when it was being planned. He expressed his appreciation for the love and support of Abbot Peter often to me, and enjoyed a warm fraternal relationship with Dom Bernard.
Roger was nervous and frail for much of his life. He was very conscious of his weak voice. He had a touchy constitution and generally kept only a few close friends in the Abbey. He had a number of secular contacts; men and women who came to him for confession and who enjoyed discussions of philosophy. These visits were uplifting to his spirits. I don’t know anything about most of these relationships, but I’m sure their stories will be told and we will learn new things about Fr. Jerome.
He was a philosopher. His writings represent a body of concise thought about the nature of existence. And, in his later years he felt that it was quite complete, that he has said all he wanted to say, even if it sadly may never be read and understood by another human being. In his final years, he often spoke of how he felt a peace with the completeness of his writings. The only spiritual connection he ever spoke of to me was with ST. THERESE OF LISIEUX, a doctor of the church, known as the little flower. He had an old black and white photograph of her in his room, and he often spoke of feeling her personal presence with him.
Roger was a beloved uncle to me, and like a grandfather to my children. Maybe this is an odd thing for a monk. I don’t know. It seems quite natural to us. My relationship began the year before my father died, when I spend January term here, having come by Greyhound bus from Minnesota. Some of you here today remember this. Roger returned my visit by officiating at our wedding in Minnesota just 4 years later. He gave First Communion to our four children, and no matter how noisy and rambunctious they were, always received them with love and joy. Like us, he rejoiced in their achievements and growth. Over the past few years he often spoke of his longing to be with God in eternal life. He was impatient with his existence and not at all sure why he was still hanging around. Roger was my father surrogate, and although I miss my father very deeply, I have always felt he was actually still with me, not at all gone. And now, I grieve the loss to me of both of these gentle men who have given me so much.
His last coherent words to me were that when it gets down to it, it’s really all about the Father Almighty. Just the Father, at the center of it all. And I will leave you with that mystery. It might be an unwritten coda to the symphony of this one monk’s life of seeking an understanding of existence. Roger felt he had come to some measure of Truth in his thoughts and writings, and also felt the presence of the devil who was trying to shut him up. I believe Roger has finally won his struggle; his struggle with life and Truth.
When we come into the world we proclaim our arrival with loud cries and complaints. When we go, life just sneaks out of us. Somewhere between, if we are lucky and we put for the effort to find it, one can find a measure of revelation. This is what I’ve learned from my dear uncle.
I want to thank you all for coming today and letting me speak briefly with you. I want to express to all of you the gratitude for the prayers that made Jerome’s passing a smooth journey, and supported us throughout the vigil and his illness these past many months.
I want to close with a poem Roger wrote a long time ago. It’s called “Imaculata”.
IMMACULATA
She rests in the clean dawn, my white-
winged Dove, in the clefted reef, cooing,
wooing the Rising-Sun.
Mine is the Morning-Glory, bright
in twilit brittleness,
lipping,
lapping the soonest Ray.
She is a Forest-Virgin, awed
to tremor and hush, yet
dancing,
clapping her atom-hands.
Mine, this clearest fountain, with
trembling sparks in glee,
leaping,
telling of full-day’s Flame.
James Joseph Ebacher
Read at Roger's Funeral Reception
4-19-08
3 comments:
Well, Jim...sounds like you have at least identified the majority of the reasons for the behavior...is the end result of being less fat the reward you think will reduce the intake and maintain the loss? Might want to consider some other rewards as incentive to not only loose the weight, but also keep it off. Once you loose it, if you regain it, the physiological changes your body goes through may be more harmful than gradually changing your diet and philosophy over a long time. Be careful. We love you. Jon
Way to go dad, good for you!
What a timely post, I just got done reading: "Eat by Choice, Not by Habit" by Sylvia Haskvitz. I found it very inspiring and have already found myself looking at food different (and my own reasons for eating). Jim - this is a brave post, and a great first step towards change.
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