November 1, 1994:
It’s November 1st and it feels like April 1st. There is a mist covering the earth. The temperature at 6am is near 60 and the wind is barely perceptible as I walk in the fog to purchase the milk and morning blurb. I hear bells – church bells not in my head but off in the distance and wonder why? Then it occurs to me that today is All Saints Day. The day dedicated by the Catholic Church to the grunts (the regular guys) those “who also serve”. We, and I include myself, are the unknown, uncannonized masses who get our 15 minutes of hierarchical recognition on this date. It is a happy feeling to know that there’s a place for us on the Church calendar. Now, if there were just a place for us in the Church, it would even be a plus. But when I think about it, I’m not as sure as I once was that it would be so.
I read with interest the arrest of the four American nuns picketing the Vatican. They were objecting to the second-class citizenship the bosses have bestowed, in all their largesse, upon them. It reminded me of a sentence I read sometime ago by Daniel Maguire, an American Catholic Theologian (9/11/94): “Quite simply and quite sadly, the Vatican has squandered its moral authority on issues where it has no privileged expertise”.
The issues that Father Maguire was referring to were women in the Church and abortion.
I also read in the same article about the arrest that the Eastern and Third world prelates are blaming the advocacy of women’s rights on American “imperial culture” whatever that is. It apparently is the excuse also used by the hierarchy of the Muslim church to subjugate their women. But at least this suggested explanation or reason is better than the travesty of sense that is presented when the argument is “Jesus only selected men as his ministers”. It was noted by a good sister in favor of an open church that Jesus’ men were also married, were Jewish, and spoke Aramaic, all of which are as relevant to the issue as that they were men. But why am I rambling on like this? You all agree with me or at least I believe you do, and that really is what matters, no?
We are counting down to the nuptials of the century (upgraded since last report). We will end here to prepare for the occasion – one, by running a 10K on the 6th from the Aquarium (A) to the Zoo (Z), from A to Z, over the Ben Franklin Bridge from Camden; and, two, by preparing ourselves for the ordeal of celebrating the joyous occasion in our nation’s Capital, something that doesn’t often happen there.
A thought for a farewell: ‘‘if your ship doesn’t come in, swim out to it!” (Jonathan Winters).
P.S. My editor, June, wishes you to be advised that she is walking a mile on the 6th at the Zoo at the same time we are running.
Billy Meehan died. He was always “Billy”, even at 69. He was the leader of the Republican Party in Philadelphia from the time his father died, just as suddenly, at an affair honoring him while he was speaking his thanks. He was Austin Meehan, but known by all as the “Sheriff”. I remember my dad speaking fondly of the Sheriff, the way and in the manner I could now speak about Billy. He and I crossed paths over the years, even as recently as a Philly Pops concert. He was a witty fellow and the plaudits he receives now were all well earned.
I remember two incidents particularly that epitomize Billy in my life. One, several years ago, while I was an active Democratic candidate and worker, I learned of a widow who needed a job desperately to pay off debts, save her home, and feed her children. She had qualified as an employee at the IRS, but never seemed to be called. She asked my help. The IRS was then a Republican stronghold, or it was so classified. We had no Democratic Senator with the power of Hugh Scott; if we had one at all at the time this occurred. I called Billy. No promises. The woman got her job.
The other was a witticism reported to me while attending an affair to honor the Honorable John Byrnes, then Democratic party Treasurer, Turnpike Commissioner and my ward leader. Billy was invited to say a few words, the only Republican in the place. After being introduced, Billy said, “Thank you, but you know I feel like a Protestant at a Catholic Mass!”
He was a man of his word, a politician to be proud of even if he supported on some occasions, what we believed to be some undeserving causes and candidates. He will be difficult to replace. His epitaph could well read, “God works wonders now and then; here lies an honest Politician”*.
He was very much a father and grandfather. There were nine children and eighteen grandchildren. Two of his sons are lawyers, one recently became. a Municipal Judge.
*With apologies to Poor Richard’s Almanac 1752
Just finished reading Thomas Jefferson’s biography. Enjoyed it immensely. I thought about why? He agreed with me. Yes. His life was consciously used to help others and himself – in educating himself in any and all things. He was fortunate not to have the burdensome need to make money to survive. In fact, he was in debt as he ended his life so that he sold Monticello, the farm, etc. through a lottery that placed the Estate in his family only for two years after his death. A Family Association owns it even now. His constant curiosity drove him to try to learn all he could. Maybe as I sense my own mortality it matches my spirit to the wish – the wish that I had learned more – had grown to appreciate science, for example, as much as I enjoy and appreciate literature. He wrote some 28,000 letters. He was an idealist and yet pragmatic in politics. He appeared cold in his relations to friends and family, in that he expressed little or no grief publicly when one of them died, including his wife and 5 children. Yet he wrote a verse to be opened only after his death for Patsy, his daughter, full of love and longing.
Who was Thomas Jefferson? Or better, what was he? A philosophical, intellectually political activist, yes, but also a scientist with interest in botany, acrimony, engineering, medicine and also a linguist. He spoke Latin, Greek, Italian, French and studied others, like German, Spanish, etc., etc. All these things epitomize Thomas Jefferson. He, incidentally, was the writer and framer of the Declaration of Independence, our first Secretary of State, Ambassador to France, founder of the Democratic Republican party, two-term President of the United States, author of the Northwest Ordinance and reviser of the laws of Virginia, the most sweeping reform of law in American history, Governor of the new State of Virginia during the Revolution, Father, poetry writer, doting grandfather, and yes, a lawyer. These are and were the “things” that made Thomas Jefferson certainly a “man for all Seasons”.
He was also a pessimist by nature who had a dark view of men and nations, sure that both were actuated by greed and ambition and never to be expected to act from generosity or benevolence. Jefferson deeply believed in “but one code of morality for men, whether acting singly or collectively…The best interest of nations, like men, was to follow the dictates of the conscience. I think, with others, that nations are to be governed according to their own interest, but I am convinced that it is their interest, in the long run, to be grateful, faithful to their engagements, even in the worst of circumstances, and honorable and generous always.” TJ to ML 4/2/1790 PTJ 16:293 PTJ Papers of TJ
Admiration begets approval, or is it the other way around? I admired what he did, was and attempted because they are all the things I would like to have done, attempted and seen accomplished.
Write cogently on philosophic and political issues; have read and enjoyed what are considered classics; travelled with purpose to see and learn all he could to help his country or his estate or his own curiosity.
But enough of these ramblings! Now to the trivia as it is sometimes called by those who are not letter writers.
We are pleased to report that Dan has a new record for a 5K run. He did it in just over 18 minutes. We already noted that Bill broke 5 minutes for the mile in July. Like father, like son – getting better with age, or like good wine it just improves with age.
November 12, 1994: Mary’s Wedding – Special Edition
I’m an “F.O.B.” -“Father of the Bride”. Leaving home on the Marine Corps’ 219th birthday on November 10, 1994 to drive to our Nation’s Capital to give away my girl, Mary. The weather is clear and even cool for the first time in November. We, June and I, decide to have our lunch en route, south on 95. Usually the destination as we go south is Myrtle Beach or St. Petersburg, Florida, so we know the service areas well. Our favorite is “Big Boys”, usually in Maryland, but on this ride commencing around 12:30 p.m., hunger pulls us over in Delaware.
We arrive at about 4 p.m. to be met by the bride to be. The hotel is part of a large conference center in Georgetown University and Hospital complex. But the urgent mission upon our arrival is to drive to “Olde Town” in Alexandria, Virginia to obtain the gown for the bride and the tux for the F.O.B. So off we go through the galleys of N.W. DC and into the five o’clock traffic of DC and neighboring Virginia. The gown is in good order but for the veil. It gives Mary a start -since all of this was arranged months ago. But with a short wait and Dad’s fitting completed, we are heading back to the Conference Center.
We rested and then dined in the “Hoya” Lounge. This reminded me of the story of the newly ordained priest riding home on his first visit alone (could have been Dick or Pat) being approached sheepishly by a young man with a problem. The young priest is pleased to be of service, but a bit nervous on this his first encounter. The young man inquires if the priest is a Jesuit, to which our father responds “Yes!” “Well!” says our young man cautiously, “can you tell me what a Hoya is?” Our new Jesuit was relieved and surprised, but due to his excellent education, up to the task.
As I recall, Hoya is a Greek cheer and Georgetown University, being of classical beginnings, even cheered its athletes in Greek, so they became known to their opponents as “Hoyas”. So it is now that we have the Hoya Grill where dinner was had on our first evening of the journey of an F.O.B.
After dinner June and I toured the Guest House and found a large bookstore, another restaurant, a large student lounge and fast food place called “Fast Break”. The walls of this place were adorned with a collage of pictures, boys, girls, games in progress, and then lo and behold -there is one of Father Dick standing on the steps of a Gothic stone building, in his sandals and western string tie, holding a sign which says “Should we teach Life or Love, Death or Hate?”
He appears a few years younger in the picture but just the same look and demeanor – an “American Gandhi”.
We breakfasted the next morning in the cafeteria. Then we were off for a survey of our new quarters – the campus of Georgetown University. We first walked through the streets surrounding the campus, since I didn’t read the directions to the church correctly. We finally found the church and then headed back down towards the river – the Potomac. The University is on the high ground overlooking the river. We found a canal and then were able to cross it and walk on a beaten path between the canal and the river down below us. The weather was perfect, 50 degrees, bright sun and just enough of a breeze to make a brisk walk a joy. On our left below, beyond the green trees, bushes and grass, the Potomac shimmered, on our right the canal. At one point, we saw an oarsman in his shell sculling on the sunlit water – a scene out of Eakins and the Schuylkill River. As we returned to where we entered the path along the canal, we could gaze up at the towers of Georgetown and the beautiful homes built on the hillside. We came back to the streets and noticed the “1789 House”, a restaurant with a long history in Georgetown. I remembered visiting it in the early 70s after running the Marine Corps Marathon just across the Potomac. We once again passed the church where the wedding would be and noted a plaque on the pillar outside commemorating President Kennedy’s visits to this church. It was his parish when he was a Senator and he continued to visit it as President. It now would be immortalized with or without a plaque as the church where Ron and Mary T. met and made their commitment to love and cherish from that day on.
The walk had consumed nearly two hours. We rested and then headed upstairs to a reception being hosted by Mary’s Mom. There was finger food and cocktails and we met the groom’s parents and some of his brothers and sisters. I believe that Ron is from a family of 7, but I am not certain, since I heard at one time it was 8. In any event, a number of them were present – pleasant interlude that included the grandchildren running about, and up and down the corridors. We also met Father Lacey, who was to celebrate the Mass. He remembered Father Pat when he attended St. Joe’s Prep.
The rehearsal was at 4pm and gave us our first view inside the church – a simple rectangular building with a small dome in the front. White stucco outside, stained glass windows, a simple unadorned altar except for a large cross in the apse. The white marble steps and floor of the altar area give it a look of purity and brightness of spirit. The choir loft is small, ten rows, with a large pipe organ the centerpiece. On the platform, with the altar to the right, was a beautiful grand piano of black enameled wood. Most of the music for the Mass was played from this piano.
The rehearsal went well – both times. Mary’s memos were discussed and we learned of them for the first time. She had specific written instructions for all participants, from the “greeters” Paul and Andy, to the wedding party, to the presiding Deacon, her brother-in-law, to her reader and responsorial singer and Woman of Honor, her sister, to her other brothers with specific tasks. It was a matter of some humor and in good spirit was also a subject of the rehearsal dinner’s toast. It really, in fact, was one more tribute to Mary and Ron’s planning. As the rehearsal began Father Lacey, commented regarding some action that need be taken in the ceremony – “Since this is a rather hastily prepared wedding…!?” It brought smiles and chuckles to all!
Having been well planned, the rehearsal was no problem. Then it was off to the “rehearsal” dinner back in Ron and Mary’s stomping grounds. The, restaurant was Chadwick’s in Alexandria along the water. We dined in the upstairs loft, overlooking the main bar. The toast was provided by the Deacon, Tom, the Matron of Honor’s husband and father of Kate, Margaret and Colleen. We were seated with Loretta and her little girl who soon became the center of our table with her big eyes and constant action. There was gift giving by the bride and groom. Loretta was the recipient of a beautifully framed verse written in Gothic calligraphy extolling the love of the bride for her best friend. It was a fitting close to a beautiful day and bode what was to be a better tomorrow.
The 12th of November came cool and crisp to the hills of Georgetown. I went to the cafeteria for coffee and juice after a short walk around the track adjacent to the Center where we stayed. As I returned to the lobby, there was Mary ready for a run. We got a big hug and I wished her the best on this day of days. She was soon joined by her brothers, Bill, Paul and Danny. They were off to greet the day and launch their “little” sister’s Wedding Day. I felt proud that one of my good habits had been accepted and passed on – it was a good feeling. The scene brought to mind a line from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar “The evil that men do lives after them. The good is often interred with their bones.” Incidentally, the occasion was recorded on film, which will hopefully record the steam coming from their mouths as they stood posing.
The next step was the dressing – the tux, with all its accessories. My beloved valet made it all happen with the minimum of effort. We had been instructed (no memo) to check in at “Wedding Central” at 10:30am to have pictures taken. We arrived at the room to see our beautiful daughter adorned in the classic white lace with train and headpiece. She was oozing with joy and bubbling with humor – helped by her bridesmaids and her sister. The photographer, Dan, was seeing that it was being preserved for posterity. After having been flashed at for 30 minutes or so, we headed down through the building and out onto the campus for the walk to the church. We were oo’d and ah’d all the way through the corridors and on the campus we stopped the traffic of people and cars.
We arrived about 20 minutes before noon. I went behind the church altar out to a small building to obtain my flowers. Others were bustling about carrying out their instructions. We could see them occasionally checking the memos! Lori, with the flowers; Andy with the rite of entry; Sue was up on the altar practicing her responsorial psalm; Tom was reviewing his notes with the celebrant, Father Lacey; and I and the bride and her other attendants watched from the choir loft. Then the people began to be escorted to their seats – the grandchildren all quite restless seated in the second row. Andy and Paul could be seen instructing those they escorted to be sure they joined in the signing. The Bride in the loft kept losing her veil, but finally decided to just leave it off until they walk up the aisle. Loretta, her good friend and bridesmaid, advising here – “Marriage is great Mary! With or without children”. (Loretta has a little girl and is expecting another child next spring).
I watched the panorama of color and actions and mused how pleasing it was to see the children become men and women. It also made me feel so grateful to be here to see down below the grandchildren, June, sisters, brother Dick, the bright sun illuminating the scene. It was great to be alive! This was the day the Lord has made! This was a great occasion. The beginning of a new life, the life of Ron and Mary as one, and it was the end of one more part of mine. I still jokingly said “I couldn’t believe ‘my girl’ would give me up for another man!”
The vows were received by Deacon Tom Baker and by 12:30pm on the 12th of November the Bride and Groom became “Mr. and Mrs.” By 12:45pm “Mrs.” was giving directions to “Mr.” with head signs and other signals as to where he should stand. It was, of course, noticed with humor by all those in the congregation – assurance that they certainly are married!
We will continue our trip at a later date. We want t~ put this much on its way for a Thanksgiving gift although it will be even late for that.
Happy Thanksgiving!
To continue my F.O.B. journey there were a few more reportable items (or trivia if you prefer). The Mass was beautifully conducted. The readings and singing excellent (despite the Woman of Honor having early morning hoarseness). The Offertory procession of all the nephews and nieces was a tender touch – but it appeared that Margaret Clare (Meg) was very reluctant to surrender what was it she carried down the aisle. Paul Jr. has corrected me, he was not a Greeter – he was a “Pied Piper” for the “Gift Bearers”. He assembled the eight nieces and nephews and escorted them down the aisle with help from Cindy Yake. The homily, in keeping with the theme, “Should We Wait For A Better Times” was well done. The entire ceremony spoke volumes on the thinking and the management skills of Mary and Ron. A very cerebral celebration!
The ceremony completed, we continued with a walk back to the center, with some delay and a group picture at Hurley Hall, a Gothic structure fitting the formal attire. Then on to the toast, the meal, the dancing. The F.O.B. got to dance with the Bride to “Unforgettable” and so it will be. But the ”piece de resistance” was the finale! Mary Theresa “Bonnie Raitt” (now Yake) singing “Let’s Give Them Something to Talk About” And she did! It was a fitting conclusion to a joyous occasion.
We did return to the Hoya after the official reception ended and chatted with friends and neighbors. We even managed to eat again, but it was interrupted by an emergency when Meg got her finger caught in the sliding elevator door. She was taken to the emergency room right next to the Center. At breakfast the next morning you would never have believed she had had such a traumatic night before.
The Bride and Groom were off to Ireland and soon we’ll all be recipients of cards and photos I’m sure. (June and I did receive a postcard and a thank you note).
The wedding and the F.O.B.’s journey overlooked a previous event of note the week before, i.e. the A to Z 10 K Run. It was held on Sunday, the 6th of November. It was from the Aquarium in Camden to the Zoo in Philadelphia. Paul, Jr. and Richard T. McSorley were entered. It was Paul’s first competitive run, and maybe even Richard’s although I’m not certain. We had perfect 50-degree weather and were bused from the Zoo to the Aquarium. Paul Keeley, a neighbor runner, Paul, Jr. and I arrived at the Aquarium about 40 minutes ahead of the 8:30 a.m. starting time. Enough time to make a tour of the grounds and even into the main lobby of the building. I was very impressed with the extent of the grounds and the entire complex. It sits high on the Delaware River bank, above a marina and ferry dock. It has several walkways of brick down to the river and to the ferry dock, a large parking area, and even some outdoor pools for the seals, etc.
We waited until nearly gun time for Rich to appear. As everyone went down the hill on the city side of the Aquarium to run, there on the last bus, came Richard and his girlfriend, Fran who was also going to run. We made some quick intros and then off we went to join the crowd of about 1500 runners. Paul, Jr. and ran through Camden together with Paul Keeley breaking quickly ahead of us. When we got to the Ben Franklin Bridge Paul, Jr. took off up the hill, while I started what seemed an interminable climb. Having crossed it thousands of times in a car, it just never seemed that steep or that long – probably half a mile. But oh! What it seemed to be! The bridge was the last I saw of Paul and then out Race Street onto the Parkway up to the Art Museum and across the Schuylkill to the West River Drive.
I was happy with my pace and saw some friends en-route. As we left the West River Drive going up an incline to 34th Street I heard a grunt to my left and turned to see Richard coming up and passing me. We gave him a vocal boost but must report that he was not in a chatting mood, probably due to his effort in catching the old man! We all met at the finish line, where June, Tracy, Paulie, and the twins were cheering as we came into the chute. They, Tracy (with Paulie in a stroller), June and Sean and David had walked in the group mile walk. They reported starting at the very end of the group (almost not making it) and finishing, at least June and the twins, almost as the leaders.
Paul’s time put him well below 9 minutes per mile, as predicted by his sometime coach and father. He’s got the “bug”. On Turkey Day he entered a five-mile Turkey Trot with Paul Keeley and his relatives.
I’m keeping this short so I can add a Christmas note to each of you. This will conclude the Jottings for ’94!