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December 2002
While his love of water left him with fond childhood memories, thoughts of the ordeal he faced following the sinking of USS Indianapolis haunted him for years. "I spent Sunday night to Friday morning in a kapok life jacket. That's roughly 104 hours (4.25 days). I had lost consciousness and had salt-water ulcers on my legs and the back of my neck," says Dick.
During those days, Dick recalls thinking about his family and trying to keep himself and other men alive. "I prayed to God every day, asking Him to help us get out of this. I was despondent because other men were dying. With the heat and the lack of food and water, I was becoming less coherent. But I didn't forget to pray to God," Dick says. Finally, a bomber pilot on routine antisubmarine patrol discovered the men in the water and radioed his base at Peleiu, a small island in the Philippines. Later, a seaplane and a ship, the USS Cecil Doyle, rescuedthe survivors. Only 317 men were still alive. At first Dick was taken to Peleiu. Later, he was transferred to the USS Tranquility, a hospital ship in Guam whose crew tended to the sick and injured. He didn't return home to Lansing until October, several weeks after the war ended on Aug. 15. Dick would ponder the gruesome shark attacks, which today he says were the worst part of his days in the water. He would mull over the hunger, the thirst, the hallucinations, the sheer agony of his desperate shipmates. There were the ones who swallowed salt water because they were thirsty. Dick says, "If you gulp salt water on an empty stomach, you have only three or four hours to live." There were the ones who became delirious. "Thinking the ship was still there, some of them removed their life jackets and said they were going below deck to get a drink of water," Dick recalls. There was the Roman Catholic priest, a chaplain aboard ship, who swam from one man to another, asking if they were Catholic, and administering Last Rites to those requesting them. According to Dick, Fr. Thomas Conway died of exhaustion. In his quiet agony, Dick would wonder why no one missed his ship after it went down. And how many lives could have been saved by a quicker rescue? "If we had been picked up on Tuesday - as we should have - a lot of men would not have died. The remaining three days took a lot of them from exhaustion, sharks, overexposure, and hallucinations," he says.
In 1960 he and JoAnn became involved in a reunion committee for survivors. The first meeting included the ship's captain, Charles Butler McVay, III, who was court-martialed the same year the ship went down. According to Dick, "McVay was not guilty. It was a railroad deal from Day One. The ship sank July 30 and the trial was Dec. 3, 1945. Lawyers told me there was no way they could put the case together in that brief period of time. (Cmdr. Mochitsura Hashimoto), who ordered the attacks on our ship, even testified on McVay's behalf to help him out."
It was one issue to neglect the survivors for so long before they were rescued; it was still another to convict the ship's captain. All survivors united behind the captain to get him exonerated. Along with others, Dick and his wife went to Washington, D.C. twice to speak before the U.S. Congress. "I was there when they put the bill (to exonerate McVay) in the hopper," Dick says. On Nov. 24, 1999, Mochitsura Hashimoto, the submarine commander who ordered the destruction of the Indianapolis, wrote a letter to Sen. John W. Warner, chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee. The letter said, in part: "Our peoples have forgiven each other for that terrible war and its consequences. Perhaps it is time your peoples (sic) forgave Captain McVay for the humiliation of his unjust conviction." In October 2000, President Bill Clinton signed the legislation that cleared McVay. Sadly, it was 32 years too late. McVay committed suicide in 1968. Survivors have met in Indianapolis every five years since 1960. After McVay took his own life, his son addressed the reunion of the survivors. According to Dick, "His son said that every Christmas - and often throughout the rest of the year - McVay would get 300 to 400 letters from relatives of deceased sailors that said, in effect, 'If it were not for you, my husband or my son would be alive today.' His son said that really got to him. His father told him, 'I should have gone down with the ship.'" But Dick has kept busy. He enjoys fishing, traveling, playing cards, and doing charitable work. He is active in Holy Cross Parish and the Knights of Columbus. He delivers new cars for a Lansing auto dealer on a part-time basis. A retired truck driver after 44 years, he has never lost his love for driving. "You know, I always promised God that if I get out of this situation in the water, I will never stop helping people. I know I've kept that promise." Knights of Columbus The Knights of Columbus is the largest lay organization in the Catholic Church. It has been praised by popes and presidents for support of the Church, evangelization, education, civic involvement and aid to those in need. To find out more, contact your local parish or log onto the Knights of Columbus Web site: www.kofc.org Consecrated Virgin: You've probably never heard of this special vocation. What does it mean? For Susan Cummins and several other women in the Diocese of Lansing it means a joyful life of service and chastity.
A simple gold band - inscribed "beloved" - is the only outward sign of Susan Cummins' special calling. Is she a married woman? Yes, but not in the sense you'd think. This petite brunette with a warm, wide smile is mystically espoused to Christ. Susan Cummins of Ann Arbor is one of several women in the Diocese of Lansing who have forsaken family life to become a Consecrated Virgin Living in the World. Never heard of this vocation? You're not alone. Though the practice of consecrating virgins has its roots in the early Church - predating the monastic movement and the Profession of Vows of Religious - it fell out of favor during the Middle Ages. It took a monumental gathering like Vatican II to suggest the rite be restored, and another 30 years after that before it was fully integrated into diocesan life. Many cradle Catholics still aren't familiar with the calling. Like nuns, consecrated virgins dedicate themselves to a life of service and chastity. They must also profess that they've lived a chaste life before their consecration, and intend to maintain that commitment throughout their lives. And they choose to live at-large in the communities they serve, with no affiliation to any religious order. Sound like a hard and lonely life? Not at all, says Susan, her eyes shining: "I love my life, and want people to know how much joy I find in it every day." Within a year, Susan had converted to Catholicism and made a conscious decision, in her words, "to live single for the Lord." During the 1970s, Susan earned a bachelor's degree in Spanish and anthropology and, later, a master's in Spanish. With her diplomas in hand, she spent the next two decades living and working in charismatic covenant communities throughout the world, especially in Latin America. "I served in Mexico, Nicaragua, Honduras, and Guatemala," she noted, "facilitating retreats and training youth workers." Her spare time was spent deepening her faith and developing her devotion to the only man in her life: Jesus Christ. In the early 1990s, she returned to the U.S. and made a private vow of lifelong celibacy at the suggestion of her spiritual director. "He was the first person to talk to me about the vocation of consecrated virginity," she said. During this period of her life, Susan also considered taking vows to become a nun. "Every time I'd visit a monastery, I'd feel drawn to it." But those who knew her best advised her otherwise. "Every priest I talked to said I had a calling to be a contemplative 'in the world,'" she says. And, while many religious orders are actively involved in outreach through teaching, nursing, social work, and the like, she felt that none would permit her the freedom she desired. "The life of a Consecrated Virgin Living in the World appealed to me most," Susan said, "because I could continue to interact with my charismatic community, while serving the Church and Her people in a way that was most comfortable for me." In 1995, a friend from her community encouraged Susan to accompany several of Lansing's consecrated virgins as they traveled to a conference in Rome celebrating the 25th anniversary of the restoration of the rite. That gathering drew women from around the world and marked a turning point for Susan: "I knew then what God wanted me to do."
In the years that followed, she actively prepared for her vocation by participating in the diocese's growing group of consecrated virgins and by witnessing the founding of the United States Association of Consecrated Virgins (USACV), an organization for women who either have received or are considering consecration. "What an exciting time that was," she remembers. "We sponsored the first national retreat of the USACV in Lansing." Susan also petitioned Bishop Carl Mengeling to be considered for the rite. Finally, on June 24, 2002, all the years of praying for guidance and contemplating her true calling came to an end - Susan was formally consecrated to Christ, joined with Him in a spiritual marriage at St. Mary Cathedral in Lansing. During the rite, the bishop presented Susan with the outward sign of this blessed union: "Receive the ring that marks you as a bride of Christ. Keep unstained your fidelity to your Bridegroom, that you may one day be admitted to the wedding feast of everlasting joy." Then, a second gift passed from his hands to hers: "Receive the book of the Liturgy of the Hours, the prayer of the Church; may the praise of our heavenly Father be always on your lips; pray without ceasing for the salvation of the whole world." Her response, in song, was pure poetry: "I am espoused to Him whom the angels serve; sun and moon stand in wonder at His glory." (Check back soon to this Web site soon to find the complete Rite of Consecration to a Life of Virginity for Women Living in the World.) Because she lived a kind of consecrated life even before her consecration, you might wonder what has changed for Susan since that momentous summer day. Her simple answer? "I feel blessed ... fulfilled ... privileged." That's not to say she doesn't also feel the challenges of her calling. "There's beauty and wonder in this life," explained Susan, "but also a personal responsibility to support yourself financially, to make your own way." On a parish level, she volunteers as a lector and Eucharistic minister at St. Francis of Assisi Parish. And, privately, she engages in a rigorous prayer life that includes daily Mass, praying the Liturgy of the Hours, and participating in Eucharistic adoration. She's also working on a second master's degree - in theology, with an emphasis on spirituality - at Sacred Heart Major Seminary. For support, Susan draws on a number of sources, including her spiritual director and Bishop Mengeling. "We are so blessed to have him in Lansing," she explains. "He really understands the vocation and appreciates it." Then there's the diocese's other consecrated virgins. "We get together regularly," Susan said, "for food, fellowship, and prayer." But nothing compares to the comfort she draws from her Bridegroom. She shares everything with Him - her joys and sorrows, her pain and pleasure - and believes in Him with all her heart. "I am my beloved's," she says simply, quoting from the Song of Songs, "and my beloved is mine." Consecrated Life:
Read Vita Consecrata, the Apostolic Exhortation of Pope John Paul II, On the Consecrated Life and its Mission in the Church and in the World. If you're interested in more information about the vocation of Consecrated Virgins Living in the World, please contact Sr. Carla Moeggenborg, OP, of the diocese's Office of Vocation Services at (517) 342-2506 or cmoegg@dioceseoflansing.org. Or visit the Web site of the United States Association of Consecrated Virgins located at www.catholic-forum.com/usacv Still known as "Boysville": Holy Cross Children's Services still treats and educates boys ages 12 to 18, but times and situations have changed. The diverse needs of Michigan's adolescents have grown. The Brothers of Boysville
Those are the words of Dr. Eugene Hausmann, a deacon in the Lansing Diocese and the director of pastoral services for Boysville. Deacon Gene, as he is known, related the example as just one of many success stories that have come from Boysville's 54-year history as a refuge for homeless youth and helping troubled kids lead more stable and disciplined lives. It might be hard to believe that such a story would have a successful ending, but it did thanks to the spiritual care the boy received. According to Deacon Gene, the boy showed no progress for many months, despite efforts to communicate with him. Then, one day his chaplain and spiritual advisor got him to agree to make amends with his father. The chaplain and the boy worked on a letter to his father. The boy explained why he killed him and expressed sorrow for having done so. The boy read the letter at his dad's grave site with his mother present. "That was the turning point. He started working in a program and was released a few months later. He and his mother reconciled, and she took him back," said Deacon Gene. Founded as an orphanage in 1948, the Brothers
of the Holy Cross have made Boysville a major focal point for housing
and educating male youth. But times and situations have changed,
along with the diverse needs of Michigan adolescents. So the directors
of Boysville have changed its name to Holy Cross Children's Services.
Its main campus on 360 acres in Clinton is still known as Boysville
and still treats and educates boys 12 to 18 years. But all 20 of
its schools and housing centers carry the new name.
HCCS supports the needs of pregnant girls, children who have been sexually abused or are chemically dependent, teen sex offenders, the developmentally disabled, and the families of all at-risk children. According to Bro. Francis, the Samaritan Center, on Detroit's east side, is the largest faith-based social service center in the country. It, too, is part of HCCS, which is owned by the Catholic Church of Michigan. Bro. Francis cites the wide variety of services the institution offers to boys, girls, and their parents at Samaritan: "If mom needs transportation to work, health care because she has no insurance, a place to stay, job training, counseling or day care, it's all at Samaritan. The center has everything you can imagine that's needed for a parent to raise a child." Meanwhile, HCCS also educates the children, who are tested for competency and placed at the appropriate grade level. Often, says Bro. Francis, they are at a second grade reading level. Building on the child's skills, the organization stresses reading, writing, and mathematics. A large percentage of kids, he adds, may never graduate from high school. However, in a 10-week pre-vocational program, kids are introduced to electricity, wood shop, food service, landscaping and computers. Only about 10 percent of the more than 3,000 children helped on an annual basis are Catholic. Those who live on HCCS premises are required to attend Sunday Mass. Each child is assigned a spiritual advisor and may take Bible classes or make annual retreats. They also work in communities whose people are even less fortunate than they are. Deacon Gene wrote his doctoral dissertation on the correlation between the children's contact with chaplains and their status after leaving their individual programs. He received his Doctor of Ministry degree from the Ecumenical Theological Seminary in Detroit two years ago. "In a nutshell, the more frequent the contacts, the better the results for 825 youngsters, 80 percent male and 20 percent female. After three months and 12 months following their release from Holy Cross programs, they were still living at home or in their home-like settings," Deacon Gene explained. He added that the one-on-one contacts were very important to the children's spiritual development. "Many of these kids are ignorant of religion, but they are curious, he said. "I had a kid in one group who was never raised religiously at all. A foster home introduced him to the Bible. He started reading it on his own and became a Bible scholar. In our Bible study groups, he could answer phenomenal questions." In further explaining the role of HCCS, Bro. Francis said, "Jesus was big on widows and orphans. Today, we have single moms replacing the widows and homeless kids replacing the orphans. In the name of Jesus, we must carry out the mission of supporting those kids and their parents." And so they do. Your Help is needed how to make a rosary out of roses
Chop rose petals into small pieces. Put the pieces
into a saucepan or skillet and cover with water, simmering for an
hour. Add a bit of rose oil to the pot and simmer for an hour 4
or 5 times in one day until the petal mixture begins to look like
clay. When it reaches a clay-like state, squeeze as much moisture
as possible out of the mixture and save the rose liquid in a small,
covered container.
Add a bead tip to the end of your cord. String on
10 medium beads, knotting between each one. String on one large
bead and add a knot. Repeat the previous two steps three more times
and then string on the final 10 medium beads and knot between. Finish
off with another bead tip. Where to find rosary parts Nylon cord and bead tips are available in craft and
bead stores, but you may have to check other sources for center
pieces, crosses, and crucifixes. Here are five Web sites that specialize
in rosary parts.
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On
July 30, 1945, starting at 12:14 a.m., a Japanese submarine twice
torpedoed the Indianapolis in the Philippine Sea, midway
between Guam and Leyte Gulf. The ship sank in less than 12 minutes.
Of the 1,196 men aboard, some 300 died instantly. About 900 men
were left floating in shark-infested waters with no lifeboats, food
or water. Some didn't even have life jackets. They were able to
retrieve those from a canvas bag tied to a turret floating at sea.
Dick Thelen is among the survivors.
As
a kid attending Holy Cross School in Lansing, Dick loved being around
water. He had a passion for swimming, and in his teens he became
a member of the swim team at Lansing Technical High School. That
school no longer exists, but Dick still has fond memories of childhood
aquatic workouts. So it's not surprising that he enlisted in the
Navy at 17, rather than wait for the Army to draft him. He just
had to be near the water. 
Once
home, Dick would think about the horrors following the destruction
of the Indianapolis. His were private thoughts, never shared
with family, friends or anyone else. In fact, he wouldn't articulate
what happened after the ship sank for 13 long years - not even to
his wife, JoAnn, whom he married in 1951.
How
long could Dick maintain his silence before these horrible events
broke his spirit? In a May 2000 account by the Lansing State
Journal, his wife JoAnn explained: "He got a letter in 1956
from a man who was writing a book on the Indianapolis, asking for
information. He threw it away, but I fished it out of the wastebasket.
When the book (Abandon Ship) came out in 1958, I was reading it
and would ask him if certain things were true. He would usually
answer, 'Yes' or 'As far as I know.'" In time, Dick started
to open up about the incident.
According
to published reports, McVay's defense counsel was given notice of
the charges against him only a few days before the trial. These
included failure to issue timely orders to abandon ship (though
the Navy knew the torpedo attacks knocked out the ship's electrical
system), and failure to zigzag in good visibility, thereby haphazarding
the ship. Hashimoto testified that he would have been able to sink
the ship, whether it had been zigzagging or not. Nothing mattered.
McVay was found guilty of haphazarding.
Since
the start of his personal narration of events in 1958, life became
easier for Dick Thelen. He and JoAnn became the proud parents
of six children. "For years, we took the kids to the lake every
weekend and I taught them how to swim," Dick recalls. They
are Mike, Larry, David, Barbara, Cathy, and Karen, ranging in age
from 31 to 50. Sadly, Dick lost JoAnn to cancer on Jan. 27, 2002,
after 50 years of marriage.
And,
of course, Dick tells his World War II story to kids in schools,
Rotary and Kiwanis clubs, even the Michigan Senate. "I'm not
doing it to brag about what I went through. I'm doing it so kids
and others today will know what war is all about. I tell kids that
I was 14 when World War II started, about the same age you are.
Since 9-11, we've been in a different war, and you could be in it.
Susan's
Unique Marriage
Interestingly,
Susan wasn't even raised a Catholic. But her strong religious
beliefs led her, at the age of 21, to join a charismatic renewal
group. "That's when I met other single men and women who'd
dedicated their lives to Christ," she explains. Though ecumenical
in nature, the group was inspired by Catholic teachings and gave
the young woman her first exposure to the Church's 'states of life':
laypersons, consecrated persons such as brothers and sisters, and
the clergy. "I was also drawn to the Eucharist, and God's presence
there," she added. 
Additionally,
consecrated virgins must find their own ways to serve. Susan naturally
gravitated toward working with youth. Besides her experience
in Latin America, she spent several years teaching at St. Alphonsus
High School in Dearborn. With that background, she recently accepted
a senior staff position with University Christian Outreach at the
University of Michigan.
In
part, the renamed institution embraces the many services Boysville
has offered to girls since 1984. Also, the dramatic increase in
services needed by both boys and girls has enlarged the number of
facilities. Administrative and program locations across Michigan
include Alpena, Buckley, Cadillac, Clinton, Detroit, Ecorse, Frankenmuth,
Grand Rapids, Grayling, Kalamazoo, Lansing, Lewiston, Manistee,
Onaway, Owosso, Rapid City, Redford, Saginaw, Traverse City, Wellston
and Ypsilanti.
Funding
for programs, facilities and personnel comes from public sources
(federal, state and counties) and private ones, including corporations,
foundations and organizations like the 70,000 Michigan members of
the Knights of Columbus, each of whom contributes to help support
the children and their families.
When
she next appeared to Juan Diego, she asked him to pick roses on
Tepeyac - an odd request given that roses were not known to bloom
in December. But, when he arrived there, he found it covered with
flowers and gathered many in his tilma, or cloak, to show to the
bishop. Once in his eminence's presence, Juan Diego unwrapped the
cloak, spilling roses on the floor and revealing an image of his
Mary - La Virgen de Guadalupe - miraculously imprinted on
the fabric. The bishop is said to have fallen to his knees before
it.
Rose
Petal Beads
Rose
Petal Bead Rosary
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