Once again I have taken to the skies, but this time there was only a two-hour delay, and it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t have with me my beloved New York Times crossword puzzle which, if you read an earlier column, caused me to not hear the gate change announcement, thus relegating me to an 8-hour wait for the next flight. This time I camped directly in front of my gate, ears at the ready to pick up any announcement of a change.

There was no gate change this time, just a two-hour delay due to – um – we don’t know. No explanation was forthcoming, leaving me to imagine several scenarios: 1.) The plane lost an engine on the way to Des Moines; 2.) The plane lost a wing on the way to Des Moines; 3.) The plane ran out of gas on the way to Des Moines.

When the plane finally came in, I couldn’t see that it was missing an engine or a wing, so running out of gas was a possible explanation. We’ll never know. One of our daughters was once delayed on a flight because they couldn’t find the pilot. How do you misplace a pilot?
My trip last week was to South Bend to join my sister, Sheila, for a sentimental journey to the Notre Dame campus and the N.D – University of Southern Cal game. Since our dad graduated from Notre Dame in 1926 and played for Knute Rockne, we were both singing the Notre Dame Victory March before we were three. She sang it on key, me not so much. However, what I lacked in musical ability, I made up for in enthusiasm.
Being on the Notre Dame campus is magical for both of us. We walked by Sorin Hall where our dad lived, listened to an outdoor concert by the Glee Club, followed by a short before-the-game concert by the marching band. And, perhaps best of all (okay, tied for best with the actual game) was a visit to the Notre Dame Grotto. It’s modeled after the grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes in France. I’m pretty sure even my Protestant pals are somewhat familiar with that landmark – if you aren’t, don’t worry, there won’t be a test on it.

We lit prayer candles in Daddy’s memory and for people we hold dear.

We stayed the weekend with our cousin, John, and his wife, Betsie. They were so warm and welcoming – and, an extra bit of charm, their house is next door to the house Rockne once lived in. I’m sure I caught a glimpse of his ghost there.

The campus has lots of life-size bronze statues of Notre Dame notables. The one that makes me chuckle is that of Father William Corby, who’s right arm is raised, giving a blessing as chaplain to the Union troops at Gettysburg, years before serving as Notre Dame’s president. However, his pose has resulted in his being known by Notre Damers, somewhat irreverently, as “Fair Catch Corby.” Sort of like “Touchdown Jesus,” the giant mosaic that looms over the stadium of Jesus with his arms upraised.
The happy ending to our trip was a victory for Notre Dame.
Who could ask for anything more?