Peace be with you, dear reader, and also with whoever owns this particularly breezy café I am currently writing from in what I am told is called Brooklyn. May the Lord smile upon the marketing team that approved these heavy metal ice trays, and may they find peace in their work. I, your humble Pope, was asked by our editor to look into this matter of a young graphic designer named Marcus Vance, who has spent forty-eight dollars and fifty cents on what the internet calls an aerospace-grade stainless steel ice cube matrix. I must confess, when I first read the report, I thought it was a new kind of snow shovel, which would make complete sense given the winter weather we sometimes experience in the courtyard near the Swiss Guard quarters. But no, my child, this is for drinks. Specifically, to secure autonomy over what the article cleverly terms beverage thermodynamics.
As Saint Paul said, or possibly Saint Barbara, I forget which, man cannot live by bread alone, but apparently, he can find a great deal of comfort in very expensive ice cubes. I read about this in a newsletter I received—or perhaps it was a Groupon, the digital world is a marvel and a mystery. The young man, Marcus, is attempting to heal his inner child through the purchase of this gleaming metal contraption. I do not know this inner child personally, but I am sure he is a lovely boy who simply wants a cold glass of lemonade on a warm afternoon. The wifi here, as we say, est terribilis, but my heart is warm. This whole affair reminds me of the time a cardinal and I got lost in an IKEA in, I believe, Frankfurt, looking for a simple wooden chair and somehow emerging with three potted ferns and a very confusing set of Allen wrenches. We did not need the ferns, my children, but possessing them brought a strange, fleeting joy to the Vatican hallway, much like this heavy steel matrix brings joy to Mr. Vance.
It is easy to smile at these modern coping mechanisms, but we must look deeper, with the eyes of faith. The world is a complicated place, full of late-stage systemic collapses and other alarming things I mostly skim past while looking for the crossword puzzle. If a hand-forged cube of frozen water helps a graphic designer feel a tiny spark of control in a vast universe, who am I to cast the first stone? Or the first ice cube, as it were. God has placed this story before me, and who am I to look away. A very nice Protestant gentleman in the gift shop explained the concept of treating oneself to me twice, and while I still believe a simple rosary is the best way to center the spirit, I will not begrudge anyone a square of aerospace-grade refrigeration. May Marcus find his beverage thermodynamics wholly satisfying. May his inner child finally stop crying and enjoy his chilled water. And may the CFO of whatever company makes these gleaming metal boxes find their receipts, because accountability is next to godliness. Pax vobiscum.