Meet Matthew Lickona, a thirty-something wine columnist, sometime cartoonist, avid moviegoer, fan of alternative rock, and wonderfully talented writer. He is also a devoutly religious young man (“I am a Roman Catholic, baptized as an infant and raised in the faith, a faith which holds the exemplary and redemptive suffering of Jesus Christ at its core.” ) who fasts during Lent, leads his family in prayer every day, and wears a scapular—a medieval amulet said to protect the wearer from harm. In Lickona’s “true confessions,” we are introduced to a unique and singular voice, but one that is emblematic of a new generation of believers who combine a premodern faith with a postmodern sensibility. Swimming with Scapulars is a modern-day, Catholic, coming-of-age story that takes its author from the austere Catholicism of his Irish-French family in upstate New York to the exotic spiritual tapestry of Southern California. It is the story of the formation of an ardent young believer who is painfully honest about his spiritual shortcomings (“In times of suffering, I look first to myself. God is the backup, to be called upon when I find myself insufficient.”), yet who finds consuming joy in receiving the Eucharist and embracing “the ancient treasures of the faith.” Lickona doesn’t mind that many of his secular friends and acquaintances regard him as a religious fanatic. As he writes, “Perhaps, coming from a fanatic, the message of God’s love will regain some of its wonderful outrageousness. ‘Listen. I have a secret. I eat God, and I have his life in me. It’s the best thing in the world.’” He plays alternative rock. He draws offbeat cartoons. He writes about wine. He wears a scapular. Meet Matthew Lickona, a thirtysomething wine columnist, occasional cartoonist, avid moviegoer, fan of alternative rock . . . and devout Catholic who wears a scapular, a small woolen garment traditionally worn by monks and said to protect the wearer from harm. Lickona is a unique and singular voice of a new generation of believers who combine a premodern faith with a postmodern sensibility. His spiritual coming-of-age story reveals him to be a prodigiously talented writer who embraces much of modern culture yet finds consuming joy in celebrating "the ancient treasures of the faith." "Readers will find themselves captivated by this winsome story of a soul." --Publishers Weekly "A chronicle of both the questions he has had about his faith and the joy and sustenance he derives from it." --U.S. News & World Report "Lickona writes in precise, sometimes rollicking language that is charged with a taut energy." --Image Matthew Lickona is a staff writer for the San Diego Reader. He lives with his wife and five children in La Mesa, California. Visit his Web site at www.matthewlickona.com. He plays alternative rock. He draws offbeat cartoons. He writes about wine. He wears a scapular. Meet Matthew Lickona, a thirtysomething wine columnist, occasional cartoonist, avid moviegoer, fan of alternative rock . . . and devout Catholic who wears a scapular, a small woolen garment traditionally worn by monks and said to protect the wearer from harm. Lickona is a unique and singular voice of a new generation of believers who combine a premodern faith with a postmodern sensibility. His spiritual coming-of-age story reveals him to be a prodigiously talented writer who embraces much of modern culture yet finds consuming joy in celebrating "the ancient treasures of the faith." "Readers will find themselves captivated by this winsome story of a soul." --Publishers Weekly "A chronicle of both the questions he has had about his faith and the joy and sustenance he derives from it." --U.S. News & World Report "Lickona writes in precise, sometimes rollicking language that is charged with a taut energy." --Image Matthew Lickona is a staff writer for the San Diego Reader. He lives with his wife and five children in La Mesa, California. Visit his Web site at www.matthewlickona.com. Matthew Lickona is a staff writer and sometime cartoonist for the San Diego Reader , a weekly newspaper. Born and raised in upstate New York, he attended Thomas Aquinas College in California. He lives in La Mesa, California, with his wife Deirdre and their four children.   preface Christmas Eve of 1992 found me just off the coast of Florida, getting pounded silly by the early morning waves. I was nineteen, and I enjoyed throwing myself against the six-footers as they broke. I enjoyed the roaring violence of it: the way my body’s motion was suddenly halted and reversed; the way I was thrown down by the surrounding water, spun around, and held under so that I lost my sense of direction; the way I had to fight my way back above water, sometimes against a sucking riptide. But after one particularly disorienting collision, and a riptide that gripped me long enough to engender that moment of thrilling terror—will I make it up?—I gained the surface and found I had lost my sca