Familia et Amici, Salve!
“Oh the days dwindle down…” to just a few till we reach September, our first anniversary of residing at 1644 Connecticut Ave. In the meantime the days keep rolling along and our vacation (so it still seems) is not over. July saw little rain and bearable heat. In fact, it was fun to notice that Philadelphia on a couple of occasions had higher temperatures. We only note that for all those who’s constantly queried,
“But isn’t it awfully hot down there in the summer?” The month of July saw the color of our house change from fading pink to Miami Peach. I don’t know what the difference is between regular peach and Miami peach. The only way you’ll ever learn is by paying us a visit. We added a tree to our front lawn. It is a pygmy palm. It decorates the comer area where Helena St. meets Connecticut Ave.
“Its all part of the curse of never really knowing anything.” This is the last sentence in an essay on “Science and Religion Cross Their Line in the Sand” The eternal quest for the truth is as alive today as ever, The article summarizes, in an easy reading form, the battle between science and religion. It appears, even as the year 2000 approaches, all the answers we were sure we could, and would, have to questions like “How did the universe begin?” or “Is there life after death?” still rely on “faith” not reason for answers. The essayist comments were written because the John Templeton Foundation is launching a plan to establish science-and-religion programs at universities throughout the world. It is underwriting a multi-million dollar conference at Berkley entitled “Science and the Spiritual Quest” If you care to attend, call Berkley.
These meaty questions are not ones your common lawn keeper gives much thought. In fact, most of the time, even ex-lawyers do not usually give them a nod. But I found the essay a fascinating handling of a very difficult philosophical problem. It made me think of how lucky, in one way, are the “so-called” non-educated, who have no problem with curses of “never really knowing anything”. The paradox seems to be that those who are “educated”, from the Latin educo (to lead from), are led from the “darkness” and “ignorance” but never seem to see or comprehend the light completely. The service Sunday last had a line very appropriate here: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrew 11: 1-3). The child shall lead us. Amen.
In a lighter vein, I have traveled back a hundred years to visit a celebrated Irishman, Oscar Fingall O’Flahartie Wills Wilde. He died in 1900 and left memorable writings. I remember the “Ballad of Reading Gaol” as a high school assignment. His plays, like “The Importance of Being Earnest”, continue to be produced even now. But what I read for the first time is the “Picture of Dorian Gray”, a movie I saw years ago. His style is difficult at times, in that his main character and others talk in epigrams and in elaborate Victorian English, but there are many gems. Here is one I lifted:
“Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face. The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid. Look at successful men in any learned profession. How perfectly hideous they are! Except of course in the Church. But then in the Church they don’t think. A bishop keeps on saying at the age of eighty what he was told to say when he was a boy of eighteen, as a natural consequence he always looks absolutely delightful.”
He is reported to have said: “When I travel, I always take my diaries with me so I’ll have something spectacular and exciting to read.”
I am trying to travel, in time, back forty years to tell the story of my participation in one of the murder trials of In-Oh Ho. It was front-page news in those days. He was a Korean student at the University of Pennsylvania beaten to death on a street comer by eleven black boys. It made Time magazine with Mayor Dilworth crying at the funeral. Nine of the boys were indicted for murder. The Court for Harold Johnson, one of the nine, appointed my father, Richard T., as a defense counsel. The murder occurred on April 25, 1958. I left the Marine Corps in November of that year. My father suggested to the court that I be substituted for him. It was done. There was a co-counsel, but now he would become a senior counsel, John E. Walsh, Esq.
I have a number of newspaper clippings on the Appeal in 1961 but what I am looking for, and would like, is access to newspapers articles, news magazines reports, etc. in April and May 1958. I have access on line to Knight Rider newspapers but only back to 1980. So if anyone out there can offer help I certainly would appreciate it. Even better if any of you can recall the event from your own experience I would be happy to hear what you recall.
Today is Monday. Today is the first week of August and it began as so many others have. We get up early on Mondays since June walks over to the Church office to help count the collections of the day before. We did that and then I returned home to begin laying some pine mulch around our new tree and elsewhere. Around 7 AM June returns and we take a walk along our favorite trail, Bayshore Blvd., which is well named since we can see between the houses (palaces, really) and watch the sun rising over Tampa Bay. I leave June after 30 minutes or so, to return to my chores while she goes on to get her 40 to 45 minutes. Today was really great walking since we had a breeze, cloud cover, and temperature only around 80 degrees. We have a little breakfast when she returns and then I’ll practice my faking on the piano. Each day starts somewhat the same “only the names are changed to protect the innocent”. The rest of the day is consumed with painting, either by the numbers or seasonal decorative objects (right now I am painting the porch floor); writing, email, memoirs, Jottings; reading or studying; food shopping, a little rest after lunch, etc. June is busy with household chores, keeping the books, ironing, needlepointing, reading (like a book a week), preparing and cooking delicious, nutritious meals, etc. Then on occasion we take a day off at the beach, or the flea market, or just go out for lunch or dinner.
I could go on but it would be monotonous and as the grandkids say, “Boorring”. I just included this for all those who questioned while traveling, asking, “But what do you do now that you’re retired and have all that time?” We’re busy. In fact, I am only getting one day a week on the golf course. That is something we thought might be a problem, i.e., my playing too much. Ha!
Another pleasant task I have on most Mondays is to go and play the keyboard at Shore Acres Rehab. Someone recently inquired if I still do so. Yes, I do, only now it is more like moving, since I must take the keyboard, a stand, a foot pedal, speaker, cables, extension cords, music, a cushion, and once in while a light. I now have limited my playing to every other Monday. It feels more like a doing a “gig” than ever before.
One of my favorites at Shore Acres is a young man, Bradley Costello. He’s been in a wheelchair all his life. He is 38 but looks 25. He is a big strapping fellow with a smile that lights up a room. He is always neatly dressed unlike some of the other residents. He cannot talk but does occasionally says “Yes or No”. He has a buddy, Rod, a black physical therapist whose smile reminds me of Harry Belafonte. He’ll come by and I’ll play “Daddy’s Little Girl” or some other mushy love ballad, and he’ll sing to Bradley and give him a hug. Bradley struggles with him and blushes through a big smile. Then there is a guy named “Bob” about 45-50 who’s been there for six years. He wheels in and out as I play and makes comments. He asked me one day to open some doors for him to go out to the garden. I asked where he was going. He said “Out to have a smoke!” I opened the doors. Most of the audience, however, is elderly and non-mobile, but they still give me an occasional smile and even an attempt to clap. I jokingly remind, anyone who asks, that I never get standing ovations but then I don’t go there for them. The joy I see and feel, is enough reward and it even makes my some time bumbling, mistake-ridden playing seem worth the effort.
I have avoided the media inundation of the latest White House hoopla but a line I read the day Monica was to testify got me. It was, “as portable generators rumbled in the back ground and one camera swept the scene from a cherry picker 90 feet over Third St., about 20 satellite trucks beamed images of Ms. Lewinsky, once an unpaid anonymous sorter of White House mail-around the globe.” So Ms. L is getting her 15 minutes of fame, and then some.
We will once again try to add a note. Until we meet again keep well and as my good brother Father Pat was always saying “Enjoy!”
Ron and Mary,
Enclosed are pictures of the guys with me and in the pool. I’m sure you have some already but just thought we would add to the pile. Sorry Mary I missed you on your birthday. I was put on hold when I called. Then I was told that your husband called and you were no longer in the room…? But you got the message I’m sure and you know I was thinking of you, now 35 and holding. I recall that when you were born I was just 34…why I made the comparison I don’t know…but aren’t you glad, Ron, you don’t have seven there to handle, without an army of course, it would mean Mom would be home all the time…. My how times have changed. Hope your nanny problems have been solved.
Speaking of birthdays, when a man has a birthday he usually takes the day off, but when women have birthdays they take years off! Check it out and see if it doesn’t prove so…
We have some pictures of the guys right up there on the refrigerator…so you know they rate. I am sure by now they are even running more than ever and keep mom and dad busy as bees. It is strange but I can’t remember those days, except for a while with the other twins. Keep well.
Love, Dad