A Friend of Mine

June 16th, 2024

“We need to overthrow this rotten, decadent, putrid, industrial capitalist system.” – Dorothy Day, founder of the Catholic Worker movement.

A poster displaying this quote and a picture of Dorothy Day hangs on the wall of Brian’s farmhouse. Brian and his wife, Betsy, are Catholic Workers and quite proud of that fact. Brian and Betsy live in an old house on a small parcel of land in the rolling hills of southern Iowa, only a few miles from the Missouri border. The two of them are my age (old), and they care for goats and chicken, along with a flourishing garden. They are remarkably self-sufficient. They are devout Catholics who practice what they preach, which is something that is both commendable and rare.

I will attempt to very briefly explain who the Catholic Workers are. It’s hard to describe them with any accuracy, but I will try. The Catholic Workers were started in NYC in the 1930’s by Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin. Day was at one time a communist and also an anarchist. She eventually found her home in the Catholic Church, which despite all evidence to the contrary, can be very radical about certain issues. Catholic Workers are essentially Catholic anarchists. That sounds like an oxymoron, but it’s not. They believe in the Beatitudes, and they act on that belief. Because of that, they are peace activists and advocates for the poor and outcast in our society. They live simple lives with a minimum of material goods. Their community has no hierarchy. I cannot call the Catholic Workers an organization because everybody somehow does their own thing while working toward the goal of world that is without war and without poverty.

Brian is a friend of mine, which seems unlikely almost to the point of absurdity. He is two years older than I am. While I was a cadet at West Point, Brian was starting his career path in NYC in a Catholic Worker house. Brian actually had the chance to meet and speak with Dorothy Day. Hanging on another wall in his house is a framed letter from a bishop asking Brian to testify in the process of her canonization by the Catholic Church. As I went on to be an Army officer and a helicopter pilot, Brian became an outspoken antiwar protester. Brian also has in his home a photo of himself carrying a sign that reads, “Support the Troops! Bring them home!”.

I met Brian first in 2014. I joined him for a 165-mile-long peace walk. Later, I was with him for a demonstration against drone warfare at Creech AFB in 2017. We both got arrested at that event. I saw him this week for the first time since Covid hit. Karin, my wife, and Asher, our three-year-old grandson were with me. I had never been to his home before. Karin commented later,

“The house seemed kind of messy.”

Then she added, “But I’ve never been in a Catholic Worker house that wasn’t messy.”

Oh, so true. There are numerous books piled everywhere, along with projects begun but not yet completed. Icons and religious pictures cover the walls. Honestly, Brian and Betsy’s house is no messier than our own. Especially since Asher became part of our household, our home is just barely controlled chaos. I don’t mind a house that is disarray, because often it means that the place is alive with activity. I am always suspicious of homes that are immaculately clean.

Karin and Betsy connected quickly. They are both fiber goddesses. Betsy had two awesome floor looms for her weaving. She and Karin had a lot of shop talk.

Brian and I know a lot about each other’s lives. His father was in the Army when Brian was very young. Brian knows that our son, Hans, fought in Iraq. Somehow, the two of us connect.

Brian and I had long, freewheeling conversations, which for me was the whole point of the visit. Betsy and Karin sometimes joined in. One time we were all sitting outside, Asher included, at their picnic table, eating a delicious meal prepared by Betsy. Brian shared some locally brewed beer with the adults. Betsy asked me about West Point. She had lived in the Hudson Valley for a while. Then she mentioned something unexpected,

“We know a woman who graduated from West Point. She was in the first class with women.”

That got my interest, since she is a classmate of mine.

Betsy continued, “She is a nun in the convent nearby. It was strange, she said that she knew she had a calling, even before she became Catholic. She was only in RCIA at the time. (RCIA is the Rite of Initiation for Adults). I can’t remember her name. It was something Polish. Did you know her? She retired from the Army and then decided to become a sister. Doesn’t that seem odd?”

I don’t know who this classmate is. I told Betsy that it really wasn’t all that strange that this officer would become a member of a religious order. After World War II, the monasteries were overflowing with veterans who wanted to become monks. Those men had seen the worst of what our fallen world could offer, and they just wanted some peace. They were used to following orders, so the discipline involved was no obstacle to them.

Betsy asked me if it was horrible at West Point. I had to think for a while. Finally, I said, “Yes”. Some grads are nostalgic about their USMA experience. I’m not. It wasn’t all bad, but some of it sucked mightily.

Then I said, “If I hadn’t gone to West Point, I would have never met Karin.”

Betsy smiled and agreed.

I added, “And Asher would not be here.”

Brian chimed in, “And you wouldn’t be at this table either.”

Brian and Betsy were good with Asher. They loved him. Betsy enthusiastically read a Dr. Suess book to him. We slept overnight at their house. Brian made us eggs for breakfast. They have plenty of eggs. We talked for a while. Asher didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to either, but we had to move on.

We said our goodbyes. Brian gave me a big hug.

I told him, “I love you, my friend.”

He replied, “Thanks for coming. I value your friendship.”

I admire Brian and Betsy. They have integrity. They are as dedicated to their cause as much as any soldier is to theirs. They have devoted their lives to creating a peaceful and just world. They may never live to see it, but they have faith that someday someone will.

I am proud and grateful to have Brian as my friend.