Today is a yearly reminder that if I don’t get my shit together, eternal peace won’t be part of my story. Instead, I’ll end up in a place the Catholics call purgatory—an eternal detention hall. I’ll still get to write on a chalkboard every morning, but I’ll be stuck in perpetual JUG. (If you didn’t go to Catholic school, that stands for 'Justice Under God.')Only instead of my usual chalk musings, I’ll be writing "Hail Mary's" on repeat ...every day... until the gatekeepers of heaven decide I’ve atoned for my sins. Why does today hit me so hard? Well, first of all... because today is the day a skinny Jewish kid got nailed to a cross so I could have a shot at getting into His Father’s kingdom. Second, because there’s still hatred festering in my heart. Yeah. No shit. A guy nicknamed JumboLOVE has hate in his heart.My Black friends are scratching their heads.My Jewish friends are ducking for cover.My gay friends feel betrayed.My Latino crew is probably cussing me out in Spanish. But it’s not you. It’s not any of you. You might ask, “How can you hate one group and not another?” You can’t. Hatred is hatred. ....And that hatred? That’s what’s gonna keep me locked out of heaven and stuck in detention with a piece of chalk and a pile of regrets. Some of you Chalkheads might feel betrayed reading this. “This guy prays for me every morning… and he’s got hate in his heart?” Yup. Ninety-nine percent good doesn’t erase one percent evil. And here’s the kicker: I’m not going to tie this Chalkboard up with a punchline about ketchup on a hot dog or using your turn signal. Nope. Today, I’m admitting my flaw. I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.I have a problem with islam. I can’t even bring myself to capitalize it. Same with nazi. No caps. No respect. It started with the hostages in Iran, November of ’79—right after Willie Stargell and the Pirates won the Series. That was the last season I felt innocent. Then it sat in the background until a Tuesday morning in September, when a plane sliced through a kid’s trading desk. A kid I knew. Motherfuckers!!! And yeah—I know it wasn’t all of them. “They’re not all terrorists, John.” I hear it. I get it. But it doesn’t change what’s inside me.You might see me at a pride parade.You might see me dancing at a bat mitzvah.You might see me handing out turkeys at a Baptist church on the South Side or playing Santa at a migrant shelter. None of that gets me into heaven. I told a priest once, in confession, that I hated muslims. He nearly shit himself. You might be doing the same now. My LibLab friends probably just crossed me off the cocktail invite list. Why admit this? Because maybe—just maybe—by bringing this darkness into the light, I’ll have a chance at redemption. This isn’t “torch the mosque” kind of hate. It’s more like, “I don’t trust that guy in the turban” kind of hate. Still ugly. Still wrong. Jesus and his crew have every right to be pissed. A few months ago, I held the door for a woman in full muslim garb. I even smiled.My son George looked at me and in his autistic logic asked, “Don’t you hate people like her, Dad?” I said, “I do, son… but I can’t be an asshole to her.” My Old Man watched from heaven, not sure whether to clap or shit himself. .... And here I am again, on Good Friday, wondering why a crucifixion happened… for me. A guy who can’t even follow the one damn instruction Jesus gave: Love everybody. If I end up in purgatory, my parents are gonna be pissed.My Old Man’s gonna grip those bars and say,“I told you, Moose. We’re all just one forgiveness away from eternity… and you blew it.” So how can I call myself a Catlick if I can’t do the main job I was asked to do? That’s the cross I carried today.Take today’s Chalkboard however you want.Maybe my confession helps you face your own.Maybe you’re floored I came out of the hatred closet.We all carry something heavy. Down in the grabber section is a bit of Latin:“Forgive them.” That’s what Jesus said to his Old Man right before John Wayne muttered, “Truly, this man was the Son of God.” ...And remember what Don Shepley always said:“We are ALL one forgiveness away from being together forever. Stop hating each other in life so we can enjoy peace as one after death.”
Today is a yearly reminder that if I don’t get my shit together, eternal peace won’t be part of my story.
Instead, I’ll end up in a place the Catholics call purgatory—an eternal detention hall. I’ll still get to write on a chalkboard every morning, but I’ll be stuck in perpetual JUG. (If you didn’t go to Catholic school, that stands for 'Justice Under God.')
Only instead of my usual chalk musings, I’ll be writing "Hail Mary's" on repeat ...every day... until the gatekeepers of heaven decide I’ve atoned for my sins.
Why does today hit me so hard?
Well, first of all... because today is the day a skinny Jewish kid got nailed to a cross so I could have a shot at getting into His Father’s kingdom.
Second, because there’s still hatred festering in my heart.
Yeah. No shit.
A guy nicknamed JumboLOVE has hate in his heart.
My Black friends are scratching their heads.
My Jewish friends are ducking for cover.
My gay friends feel betrayed.
My Latino crew is probably cussing me out in Spanish.
But it’s not you. It’s not any of you.
You might ask, “How can you hate one group and not another?”
You can’t. Hatred is hatred.
....And that hatred? That’s what’s gonna keep me locked out of heaven and stuck in detention with a piece of chalk and a pile of regrets.
Some of you Chalkheads might feel betrayed reading this.
“This guy prays for me every morning… and he’s got hate in his heart?”
Yup. Ninety-nine percent good doesn’t erase one percent evil.
And here’s the kicker: I’m not going to tie this Chalkboard up with a punchline about ketchup on a hot dog or using your turn signal.
Nope.
Today, I’m admitting my flaw. I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.
I have a problem with islam. I can’t even bring myself to capitalize it. Same with nazi. No caps. No respect.
It started with the hostages in Iran, November of ’79—right after Willie Stargell and the Pirates won the Series. That was the last season I felt innocent.
Then it sat in the background until a Tuesday morning in September, when a plane sliced through a kid’s trading desk. A kid I knew.
Motherfuckers!!!
And yeah—I know it wasn’t all of them.
“They’re not all terrorists, John.”
I hear it. I get it. But it doesn’t change what’s inside me.
You might see me at a pride parade.
You might see me dancing at a bat mitzvah.
You might see me handing out turkeys at a Baptist church on the South Side or playing Santa at a migrant shelter.
None of that gets me into heaven.
I told a priest once, in confession, that I hated muslims. He nearly shit himself. You might be doing the same now. My LibLab friends probably just crossed me off the cocktail invite list.
Why admit this?
Because maybe—just maybe—by bringing this darkness into the light, I’ll have a chance at redemption.
This isn’t “torch the mosque” kind of hate. It’s more like, “I don’t trust that guy in the turban” kind of hate.
Still ugly. Still wrong.
Jesus and his crew have every right to be pissed.
A few months ago, I held the door for a woman in full muslim garb. I even smiled.
My son George looked at me and in his autistic logic asked, “Don’t you hate people like her, Dad?”
I said, “I do, son… but I can’t be an asshole to her.”
My Old Man watched from heaven, not sure whether to clap or shit himself.
.... And here I am again, on Good Friday, wondering why a crucifixion happened… for me.
A guy who can’t even follow the one damn instruction Jesus gave: Love everybody.
If I end up in purgatory, my parents are gonna be pissed.
My Old Man’s gonna grip those bars and say,
“I told you, Moose. We’re all just one forgiveness away from eternity… and you blew it.”
So how can I call myself a Catlick if I can’t do the main job I was asked to do?
That’s the cross I carried today.
Take today’s Chalkboard however you want.
Maybe my confession helps you face your own.
Maybe you’re floored I came out of the hatred closet.
We all carry something heavy.
Down in the grabber section is a bit of Latin:
“Forgive them.”
That’s what Jesus said to his Old Man right before John Wayne muttered, “Truly, this man was the Son of God.”
...And remember what Don Shepley always said:
“We are ALL one forgiveness away from being together forever. Stop hating each other in life so we can enjoy peace as one after death.”
