2008 Woodie Awards
fish and bicycles
Papists on Wheels!
Alice Price
Issue date: 3/1/02 Section: Opinion
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Before I begin this week's jumble of words, let me clarify a couple of things. First of all, I do not hate Christians. I love Christians. I am a Christian, and I'm not so much of a hypocrite as to despise my own religion.
Secondly, I do not hate Catholics. I am not making fun of Catholics. I love Catholics as I love all Christians; I can even trace my love of Catholics back to my first-grade days. Enamored with the big hat and the Catechism, I read and reread "Pope, the" in my 1987 World Book Encyclopedia, even after I realized that, due to gender restrictions, I could not become the Pope.
Now, let's get on with today's collection of satire and sap.
In Italy, road bicyclists are venerated as folk heroes. They get nicknames like "Super Mario" (I am not making this up) and are cheered on by thousands of noisy fans lining race routes. Not so in America – most people consider those goofy people in Spandex, funky-looking helmets, and shoes that can't even be walked in to be some kind of cultural cyst.
Being a "roadie" myself, I understand the value of the above accoutrements. I admired Lance Armstrong's Lycra-clad legs long before the rest of the world knew he had only one testicle. But even after the success of the Postal team and the emergence of the yellow jersey on ESPN, there still isn't the appreciation for cyclists here like that which exists overseas.
However, through the magic of the Internet (http://www.catholic-forum.com/saints/mary0004.htm), aided by a little bit of my own imagination and artistic license, I, as a cyclist, have found my true spiritual home – a hilltop on Italy.
On this special hilltop, a roadside chapel exists that is dedicated to the Virgin Mary. As medieval legend tells it, the Count of Ghisallo was traveling along the road when vicious robbers attacked him. He sought refuge inside the chapel and was miraculously protected. The villagers learned of this miracle and continued to take part in the chapel's upkeep and maintain the story of the Virgin's miraculous intervention to save the Count.
Secondly, I do not hate Catholics. I am not making fun of Catholics. I love Catholics as I love all Christians; I can even trace my love of Catholics back to my first-grade days. Enamored with the big hat and the Catechism, I read and reread "Pope, the" in my 1987 World Book Encyclopedia, even after I realized that, due to gender restrictions, I could not become the Pope.
Now, let's get on with today's collection of satire and sap.
In Italy, road bicyclists are venerated as folk heroes. They get nicknames like "Super Mario" (I am not making this up) and are cheered on by thousands of noisy fans lining race routes. Not so in America – most people consider those goofy people in Spandex, funky-looking helmets, and shoes that can't even be walked in to be some kind of cultural cyst.
Being a "roadie" myself, I understand the value of the above accoutrements. I admired Lance Armstrong's Lycra-clad legs long before the rest of the world knew he had only one testicle. But even after the success of the Postal team and the emergence of the yellow jersey on ESPN, there still isn't the appreciation for cyclists here like that which exists overseas.
However, through the magic of the Internet (http://www.catholic-forum.com/saints/mary0004.htm), aided by a little bit of my own imagination and artistic license, I, as a cyclist, have found my true spiritual home – a hilltop on Italy.
On this special hilltop, a roadside chapel exists that is dedicated to the Virgin Mary. As medieval legend tells it, the Count of Ghisallo was traveling along the road when vicious robbers attacked him. He sought refuge inside the chapel and was miraculously protected. The villagers learned of this miracle and continued to take part in the chapel's upkeep and maintain the story of the Virgin's miraculous intervention to save the Count.
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