The rites of spring have taken control – the annual excuse to avoid doing what we ought. It has affected me in my scribbling so that I find myself with the month nearly gone and little recorded. Thus, I offer the standard excuse and advise that due to all these busy times my offering for April will be short. (A sigh of relief is heard throughout the land!)
The next thing I recall about big brother, Frank, was his installation as a Bishop in 1958. It then reminded me of his prior honor of being named Prefect of Sulu. Winnie advises that it came at approximately the same time I was getting married, in October 1954. The mystery was – what were a “Prefecture” and a “Prefect”? But no one was really certain. Win advises that neither the Catholic Encyclopedia nor the Pastor of St. Francis could really explain. It, however, seemed to come down to a deputy Bishop, or a Bishop on “probation”, i.e., if he does well the next step is to make him a “real” Bishop, etc., etc. As it transpired, that was what occurred.
In 1958 Frank was named the Bishop of Jolo, Sulu, and Archbishop O’Hara officially installed him here in Philadelphia. I think I already reported the humorous observation made at the luncheon for the priests and seminarians of the diocese, i.e., the way to get to be a Bishop was to fail at St. Charles and then go serve in some far away place in a little known Order. There was a large celebration, but it is all a blur now.
The blur of memory was commented upon in a recent New York Times Sunday column. The author, a woman, noted that, “Memories are like fool’s gold. We tell ourselves that they are firm and shining treasures that we can store and relive forever. No matter what pains or losses life may impose on us, at least it cannot take from us our memories”.
Ah! It is well-named “fool’s gold”, since the truths are those precious moments we swear will last forever are so difficult to recall, even without the infirmities of age and/or disease. It is never more dramatic than these attempts of mine to report what happened 40 years or so ago, but we shall persevere.
The 60s were filled with Fund Raisers for the Vicariate (it moved up from a Prefecture) of Jolo. They were held at St. Alice’s Church in Upper Darby, a gift of Bishop McDevitt, the pastor. They consisted of nights at the races and/or dancing. How much was raised I couldn’t even recall, but they were fun and it broadened Frank’s mailing list. He spent six months or so in the Vicariate and the other six or so travelling the U.S. soliciting funds. The pace never let up and his emphysema, etc., never really lessened, so that the “Bull of the Internment” in the 40s was beaten down in the 60s. He went to heaven as the 70s opened (11/19/70).
During this period a better reporter might be Richard P. McSorley, John’s eldest son. He went out to Jolo, sometime in that period and continued his studies at the Oblate College. He recently volunteered to speak up when we reached this period. So Rich, let’s hear from you! At least let Richard T., S.J. be the recipient of your memories, after all, it was his idea and impetus that started these recollections in the first place.
Today is Sunday, April 23rd. I am about to run into Franklin Field after a stroll up West River Drive, etc., etc. A 20K run (12.4 miles). As reported earlier, it is a run of memories, due to the “Penn Relays”, “Franklin Field” and all that mingles with that event and place in the past.
And now the run is done! It was an outstanding day weather wise for a run, 40-50 degrees, sun, little wind. It was a scenic run from Franklin Field to the West River, up to the East Falls Bridge and then turn around and come back to the stadium. They did not have the announcer who lets those in attendance know who has just entered the stadium, I last recall it when I was 62, so it’s been three years since I last ran this one.
What a pleasant surprise at the start to run into, or rather he came over to me, Joseph Conrad. He was my intensive care nurse at Hahnemann. He introduced me to his girlfriend. He was as proud of me as I was happy to be there. I was introduced to another technician who was there, as a living testimonial of Joe’s good work. And I am that – he was outstanding. We both recalled my Black Friday – the day after the operation when I was at my worst. He obtained some blood and turned me around. He, it turns out, is also a runner and had known of me through that and my sons. He was a classmate of Tom’s in high school. He caught up with me during the run at the halfway point. I ran with his girlfriend a few steps. She said “He promised to stay with me halfway and then off he goes”. And off he went!
The bypass was a subject later in the day when I visited Sr. Rosemary at Abington Hospital. She went in on Saturday morning after complaining to Anne. I spent a few minutes with her. Anne was there to take care of her younger sister. Roie will have a catheterization on Tuesday or Wednesday and hopefully it will answer her questions.
The question is answered. She is, as I write, about to have a bypass at Temple University Hospital and join her brothers and sisters and confirm our tendency to have plugged arteries, even in spite of our lifestyle. We wish her well and hope to get to see her soon.
We had another mishap in the Dorcas Street household. No intensive care necessary. On Thursday last (4/20) June poked herself in the eye with the antenna from the portable phone. She had called me from outside in the backyard because she was unable to turn on the outside spigot. On walking back into the house she collided with the screen and then the punch in the eye. When I arrived home she had a very red and puffy left eye, but seemingly little pain. She was waiting for the doctor to return her call.
He called and she visited him at 2 p.m. and we were on our way at 3 p.m. to Wills Eye Hospital. The preparation nurse took all the info, examined her and had her sight checked. Everything completed we waited for the doctor. While waiting the nurse, her name was Mary, said, “Are you any relation to Bishop McSorley?” – another amazing reminder of the Bishop and his circle. She knew of him from someone in Drexel Hill.
The doctor came and all was well. No damage to the eye, but it would be ugly for some weeks. I suffered the slings and arrows of the accused husband and was advised to pick a better spot next time I wanted to send her to the moon! We were relieved. June’s headache began to recede with the help of Tylenol. The 5 p.m. traffic made us decide to take a walk, through Washington Square and down to Second Street. It brought back memories of June working. She worked at 3rd & Walnut (almost 4th) near Old St. Joseph’s on Willings Alley and then later at 2nd and Chestnut across the street from the Philadelphia Fish Co. restaurant. It was a place we had frequented during her working days, so we decided to have dinner there. It was an enjoyable end to a crisis. June returns to the clinic on May 2nd, only since then she suffered another blow. On Tuesday while walking very, very briskly, as she is wont to do, she tripped and fell. She bruised her ribs, fingers, wrists, sides, etc., etc. Just one general ache. Fortunately, nothing was broken, but I’m convinced she’s becoming a klutz.
Time heals all wounds!! Especially bruises. But it’s easy for me to say, I’m not healing, and when I think about Roie it reminds me how “patient” I was with the “healing” process.
Thoughts: “The best way to pay for a lovely moment is to enjoy it.” (Richard Bach) or as the 1st Psalm said, “I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears.” (Psalm 34:5)