A few months ago, I visited my blessed Carmelite Monastery and took a photo of me with my favorite statue: St. Joseph holding the baby Jesus. When I got out of the gay lifestyle and the porn industry, I sat for hours in the little chapel and that statue (see: http://www.josephsciambra.com/2013/04/revisiting-past.html) always kept getting into my frame of view. Joseph, Joseph, Joseph - I kept seeing St. Joseph. I didn’t want to deal with him. For, ever since I was a little boy - I hated my name: people kept calling me Joey; it sounded so infantile and puny. Then, in a horrible turn of self-fulfilling prophecy, when I got into porn, I was named Joey; after my porn idol Joey Stefano. Now, all these years later, I was once again confronted with my name and my namesake. Slowly, I got to Love St. Joseph and recognized him for the pinnacle of masculine charity and manly caring that he is. After the earthquake, among the ruins and the fallen pieces of walls and ceilings and shattered statues, the St. Joseph statue was okay; though another one, just as beautiful, suffered terribly. I thought, as Christ walked the Way of the Cross for our sins, Joseph took a big hit for me.