Dear everyone

It’s been 82 years now, since my Baptism. Over 50 a Redemptorist Catholic priest,- known as ‘the slum priest, or the Catholic slaughter house priest,’ an honorable life-time in the Buddhist Klong Toey River Slum of Bangkok. Walking carefully on rickety wooden walk-ways hopefully showing honor & dignity to all I meet, as I think Jesus & His Mother Mary would. Me, a stranger, not born here,  accepted, tolerated, by the Buddhist & Catholic  poor, where I have stumbled along those slum walk-ways & through the Slaughter House. A salvage place drenched in mercy where only the lowest level of Thai society lives and works. Where our Catholics butcher pigs & water buffalo.  

The only way I saw possible to show that honor & dignity.  As our Blessed Mother, Mother of Jesus also told the children of Fatima, was: ‘go learn to read and write.’ Go to school.

So how to do that with slaughter house children, whom everyone looked down on – avoided. There were no schools available for ‘un-washed’ children and their ‘un-clean mums & dads.’ 

Not send the children away.  We didn’t have any money anyway.  So…start school right then & there. Yes, why not.  Clean the place up.  Move the pigs out.  Move the kids in.  Began a school in an open pen beside the pigs & water buffalo.

Everyone agreed.  Who needs to ‘go up-town’ to a nice government or rich Catholic School.  Be scorned & bullied  because they ‘dress poor, talk poor slum talk. We don’t need money. We don’t need ‘permission.’  We just need kids who want to learn, & moms & dads who want a future so their own children don’t have to grow up butchering pigs and water buffalo. 

The solution was easy.  Almost.  Use a pig pen.  A couple mums could read & write.  They would be our teachers.  So we began.  And in a week:  Our Slaughter House kids have their own place to read & write & pray.  Everyone in the slums agreed.  No loss of face.  No loss of dignity. It’s been that way, now, it seems, forever.  Fifty thousand kids have ‘graduated.’

Now, it’s the poor – who have taught me to be a proper priest/ someone whom they, our slum Catholic & Buddhist & moslems neighbors can ‘show off.’ Be proud of – tell their friends about. 

To be both dad & mum; “Uncle Father Joe” to all the children, especially those who have made  the street, under bridges, abandoned buildings,  their homes.   

And we always say:  that’s okay, but only for a while  Let’s go to school first. 

And now on my 82 year, all of you have given me the greatest of all birthday presents: You  have said… once again   ‘Uncle Father Joe You are welcome.’  And to quote from that movie:  Tea is at four p.m. and the door is always open & you need not knock.’  

And so this short note to all of you.  I thank you for being part of our family.  The greatest gift I could receive, I have been given. “We love you Uncle Father Joe.  We will always take care of you, as you have taken care of us “  and the sound of that six year old boy still is music in my ears.  An orphan of so many years ago:  “Uncle Father Joe.  I can write my own name.”  

Amen  p.s. I am sending along some pictures … they kind of show once again what we  are all about..

So…. That was yesterday.  Today is exciting.  We all look forward to tomorrow.  My birthday present has been the best anyone could hope for.  You, the  kids, so many of you now grown up all come back home to the Slum where  you began and say:  Uncle Father Joe.  We love you.  We have come home to you.  We are always here for you when you need us.

Happy Birthday Blessings to you all.