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Every July 4, we join with our fellow citizens throughout this great country to celebrate the freedom that we enjoy because of the vision and sacrifice of the Founders of our nation. We cherish our freedom. The idea of living anywhere else on this planet where our rights and human dignity would be restricted is for many of us unfathomable.

Permit me to expand on my homily from Respect Life Sunday, as reported in last week’s account of that Mass in these pages.

In the old days, there were ‘pen pals’ – people we wrote to, but rarely, if ever, saw. With the advent of voicemail, I have discovered ‘voice pals’. Because of my eyes, e-mail doesn’t work me, leaving voice messages does – which brings me to the reason for this column. My best ‘voice-pal’ just died.

I grew up Jewish. (I say that facetiously.) My German, trilingual mother spoke her third language, Yiddish, so fluently that she was often absorbed into the local Jewish community for discussions and advice. Surrounded by Orthodox Jews in our small Midwestern town, she was able to clear up our confusion regarding the two religions, Judaism and Roman Catholicism. Our Judeo-Christian faith fit neatly into my young ideas of God and religion. I grew up knowing the fierce loyalty of a Jew to his religion.

I have suffered with asthma for most of my life and know all too vividly the horrible sensation of not knowing if I will be able to take another breath. As a child with asthma, the feeling was particularly awful, especially when acute episodes or attacks of asthma would make me feel as if I were suffocating.