"Amo, Amas, Amat..."

The word "amateur" is derived from the Latin noun amator for "lover," and/or the Latin verb amare, which means "to love."

Now, when you put it that way, it's not nearly as bad, is it?

There is nothing wrong with making a living writing about one's Faith. Most of those who do so aren't exactly making a killing at it (unless you're promoting every would-be Marian apparition under the sun, but that's another story).

The problem has arisen from expecting this technology to be the level playing field, only to learn that every professional piece ever written on the subject of "Catholic weblogs" describes the same few people who probably don't need a weblog for the world to have heard of them. (That's what publishers are for.) So, given that scenario, what's the difference with opening the medium to the average Joe? Where's the "value added," as they say in the corporate world?

Answer: there isn't any. Hence the collective "begging to disagree" during the recent "Catholic Blog Awards." The status quo can assure us it's "all in fun." Well, fortunately there's no monopoly on fun yet, so if there's room for one more...

My name is David Lawrence Alexander, the author of the weblog man with black hat. I'm a fifty-one year old graphic designer working for the Federal government. I have a little townhouse in the south of Arlington, Virginia, across the Potomac River from what is politely referred to as "the Nation's capital." My twenty-year-old son Paul (from a previous life) lives with me. My companion "Sal" hangs out on the weekends. (No, we are not living in sin. Like I'd go broadcasting that here, right?)

My roots in the southwest quadrant of Ohio date back over a century and a half, at least five generations. The majority of my ancestors came from the Alsace-Lorraine region of what was sometimes Germany, but what is now France. I was born in Cleveland, Ohio, just three days after Christmas, and the worst time of the year to have a birthday. My parents have always sent me a card, if no one else did, and if only out of guilt.

When I was still in the cradle, we moved to a village just east of Cincinnati (and closer to our "kin and ken") known as Milford, where I lived until I moved to DC in 1980. The oldest of four -- boy, girl, boy, girl, in that order -- I attended Catholic grade school and high school. From there, I earned a Bachelor of Science in Design from the University of Cincinnati. After two years of various studio assignments, I got the big break from my rich uncle. (Sam. Maybe you know him.) I have been on his payroll every since. To this day, I am the only member of my immediate family to have left the Cincinnati area. I sign all my letters home, "Your long lost son..."

Along the way, I learned to play both the guitar and the banjo (the latter in the old-time mountain style; I don't do bluegrass), and can fake my way through several other instruments laying around the house. I've also been known to sing. In addition, I have been an avid folkdancer for nearly a quarter century. My favorite genre are zydeco (the music and dance of the Creole people of southwest Louisiana), Swing, and Latin (you know -- salsa, merengue, that sort of thing). Thankfully, Sal loves to dance, and as we say back home, she "cleans up real good."

At 11, I became an altar boy (and I'm into Latin there too); at 17, an Eagle Scout; at 35, a purple belt in karate. I still claim all three titles.

In addition, I'm working toward a degree in multimedia and web design at the Art Institute of Washington. I also spend a few hours a week as a Boy Scout commissioner (because there's something about a man in uniform...).

I read too much for my own good, which was enough to make me think I should never have an unpublished thought -- hence the entry into blogdom nearly four years ago. I suppose it was inspired by something Thomas Storck wrote in The Catholic Milieu: "Our entire daily lives cannot be occupied with purely religious practices; all of us have to eat, and most of us have and want to do many other activities besides. So though we cannot always be religious in this sense, we can always be Catholic, that is, the round of our daily activities can be conducted in such a way as to express and be in harmony with our Faith. And [this] can involve more than avoiding sin and exercising virtue..."

In other words, it would seem that the way in which I was raised was ultimately more than a religion, in terms of pious practices and trying not to have too much fun. It is, rather, what the Greeks called a phronema -- that is, a "mind set," or a "way of looking at things." Those expecting a warmed-over catechism lesson aren't going to get it from me. I'm not that good at playing a "pious Joe," and besides, there are others who do it much better. And get paid.

I sometimes do write about "religious stuff," usually folk customs with Catholic origins (like the true meaning of Groundhog Day, or why St Paddy's Day is not just for the Irish), or arcane subjects like that whole "Latin Mass" thing that people stage Catholic jihads over. But in the end, if one can tell by my writing, that a Catholic wrote it, without my ever mentioning religion, then I've succeeded.

It can happen. As I always say in my e-mails, "Stay tuned, and stay in touch."