Author: tom

The month of November was a blur. It began with preparations by both of us for weekend retreats. We were both serving on teams. My retreat was from the 8^th of November to the 11^th,and June’s from 15^th to the 18^th. June was a table leader and speaker. I worked with the Head server as his assistant. Our job, aside from actually serving and seeing that those volunteers who are there to help do the job, was to entertain the candidates and the team members before each meal. The head server was a veteran of Public Radio for many years and a charismatic guy, Jim Brissey. He now is an ordained minister with a church and congregation in Deland, Florida. We put on skits. He thought them up. I was his end man, and in one case his end “woman”, since I wore a gaudy party dress, a wig, and cat’s mask, with big boots. Jim was wearing a sombrero at least five feet across, a vest of some wool over his skin, wild shorts, and rubber like shoes of some animal. My name was “Dalores”, and he was “Wan-mo-time” and we spoke in bad spanish-americanese . It got a lot of laughs. That particular act went over so well that the “cha’s”, or drones, who serve all the candidates over the weekend, when they had their skit on Saturday night, decided to include, “Wan-mo-time” and his girl friend, “Dalores”. Each skit ended with Jim reading a verse or two from scripture, always in the accent of the skit! It was fun but a bit exhausting. I came away exhilarated with a feeling of really contributing to the growing faith and love of those who attended but then I came down with a cold.  The retreat is held at a Rotary Camp east of Tampa. It is used in the summer for handicapped children. The sleeping is in dormitories with steel bunk beds. There  are two sinks, commodes and showers while you may have as many as ten to twelve in a cabin. So it is a different life style, to say the least, for the time spent there.

The second weekend finished on Sunday the 18^th and we skipped the celebration dinner following the closing. We were to leave the next day to fly north for the Thanksgiving celebration with our gangs. We were picked up at 11:20 a.m. for our flight at 2 p.m. We were advised to be there two hours prior the scheduled time to leave. Well, we were there before twelve and by five minutes after we were finished with our checking in! So we had a little lunch and then boarded our plane.  We arrived in Philly at the peak traffic time. We almost walked right passed Walt who had come to pick us up. He drove us home in his truck and the traffic made it an hour ride. But we were there and thus began another week of hustle and bustle. Tuesday we shopped, Wednesday June cooked, I supervised (yea, right!), and then Thursday the big day we had all of June’s gang. It was buffet style with filet or turkey being the main entrees.

June’s son Joe Golden brought some pictures of the World Trade Center disaster area. He had been working there off and on from I believe September 13^th. He told a great story in the “Isn’t it a small world?” category. He had been lowered into a hole to search. Joe is a paramedic and specialist in hazardous materials. His job is with a company that advises other companies about such matters. He had been in fact teaching a class of fireman in New York when the disaster struck. The firemen were called to assist. He upon learning of the tragedy, went likewise to volunteer his services.  So that is why he was down in the hole. When he is lifted up to the surface he sees one of the people helping to lift him up is wearing a shirt with large letters GA on it. He inquires if it is for “Germantown Academy”. The man says,” yes”, and then Joe says, “I have twin nephews who attend that school”. The guy says, “You mean Sean and Dave Hopkins?” Wow! Or a word to that effect says Joe. The gentleman knows Dave and Sean since he is an assistant football and/or wrestling coach at the school. So it fits into that category of unbelievable stories. Incidentally when Joe finally arrived home some many hours later he learned that Debbie his wife already knew of the encounter. The gentleman had called his wife to tell her of his meeting with Joe, and she called Dave and Sean’s mom, Tracy, to tell her Joe was all right. Tracy then let Debbie know that he was doing fine. So Joe had no surprise story for Debbie when he arrived home.

The day after Thanksgiving we had a get together at my daughter Mary’ s home in Yardley with all of my gang, except Bill. He works in management at TMI and had to return to his job. I learned too that on Thanksgiving Day Dan, Paul, Mary and her husband Ron, Bill, his son Matthew, and Cousin Richard McSorley all had run in the Turkey Trot Five-Mile Run in Fairmount Park. It always makes me very happy when I see my good habits being imitated by my children since the fear is they’ll pick up the bad ones. I understand, Dan, the family’s reigning marathoner, was continually offering advice to all those that engaged in the trot. Paul, Jr. had the close call of having his nephew Matthew age 15 almost catch him! I was really happy to hear that Bill was running again since he had suffered a severe injury in the form of a clot to his leg. He was incapacitated for a time so hearing he was back even jogging was good news.

We ended the stay with a baby shower for June’s nephew’s wife, Jeannine. It was a great party. Monday was packing day and then off to airport again using our two-hour security time. Once again we were through in no time and then learned that the 7:50 p.m.  flight to Tampa was now scheduled for 8:15pm. So we had a little dinner and then noted the flight was now scheduled for 9:05 p.m. We left around 10 p.m. ! We arrived at midnight or a bit after and then waited the usual 20 to 30 minutes for our bags. I had checked on the limo (really a van with that name) that was taking us home. I learned that they too were backed up and running late. To make a long story short we got home around 2:30 a.m.! I had the idea since the airlines were complaining about not enough business that the reduced numbers would help them be on time. It just didn’t.

My reading recently has been “The Bostonians” by Henry James and a C.S.Lewis’ “The World’s Last Night and other Essays”.  The “Bostonians” is a paperback, a “Penguin Classic”. James had a celebrated family. His father was a theologian and philosopher and his elder brother William was famous as a philosopher. Henry went to Harvard Law school after attending schools all around the Western world. He wrote novels and other fiction that comprised some 26 volumes. After reading about half of it, I wondered, how does a “book” become entitled to the adjective “classic”? The noun usually refers to Latin and Greek literature, philosophy and history, i.e., the Classics. The dictionary defines the adjective “classic”, as ‘something judged over a period of time to be of the highest quality and outstanding of his kind’. Now Boswell’s biography was ‘outstanding of its kind’, i.e. a first in biography. But who judges? If I had the job I wouldn’t have picked the “Bostonians”. It is Dickens-like plus when it comes to description of physical surroundings. I had confirmed the idea that even though someone may tag it as “Classic”, it doesn’t mean you will enjoy it.  But I got so far into it that now I have to find out how it ends!  I am hooked on the conflict of the characters and I do want to see who wins and how. Maybe I should just go get one of those abridgements students use to help them get ready for a test on a book. Now, C.S. Lewis was a lot more fun and easier reading. His writing is thought provoking and you like to go back a reread some of his ideas. He had one on what is “culture”, which is a word something like “classic”. No one quite knows what either of them mean but some feel compelled to refer to them as actually existing conditions of behavior or art.  He comments that after a certain kind of sherry party, where there have been lots of culture but never one word nor one glance that suggested a real enjoyment of any art, any person, or any natural object. He then sees a schoolboy on the bus who is reading Fantasy and Science Fiction, rapt and oblivious of the world. Here, he says, is something real and live and a genuine literary experience. Those who have greatly cared for any book whatever, may possibly come to care, some day for what are called “good books”.

We gave ourselves a Christmas gift June and I.  We went to Disney world for three days.  We spent one day at MGM studios, one at Epcot, and one at the Magic Kingdom.  The Epcot day was a gem. It ended with an outdoor concert in the hall opposite the United States exhibit. There was a full orchestra and some four or five hundreds voices of choirs from all over Florida. There was a narrator usually a notable from TV or the like.  He reads the Nativity story. After each verse or so he pauses while the orchestra plays and choir sings carols. We were down front and had a great view of a woman using sign language to convey the entire show. She was a show all by herself.

We wish you all a Happy Christmas and a great New Year!

 

“No man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money”, so spoke Dr. Samuel Johnson in 1776. I remember a web page journal entitled “Blockhead Journal” which had the quote as its motto. They of course contradicted it, in that contributions were voluntary and no money was paid. It came back to me as I was reading Boswell’s “Life of Dr. Samuel Johnson: For The Modern Reader” published by Grolier, in a series of “The World’s Greatest Classics”. The book is referred to as the classic biography. It is the first according to some that made the subject of the bio come alive in its pages. It became a model for future biographies. “Boswell established himself as the prince of all biographers… Johnson lives and moves and speaks in our presence”. What a bargain I got in buying the book for $3.50 at a used bookstore. The next Sunday in the N.Y.Times Book Review magazine an ad on their rare book page offered the original published in 1791 for $11,500. But as with any book you can’t tell much by its cover or its price, so the satisfaction really comes, and did come, in the reading of it. Johnson is probably best known for the creator of the first “Dictionary of the English Language”. He took seven years to do it. It was published in 1754 and until the Oxford Enlighs Dictionary in the 19^th century it was the major reference book for English in the world.

I came across many oft repeated sayings all attributed to Dr.Johnson. “Hell is paved with good intentions”; “A man ought to read just as inclination leads him; for what he reads as a task will do him little good”; “Friendship, ‘the wine of life’, should, like a well stocked cellar, be thus continually renewed. If a man does not make new acquaintances as he advances through life, he will find himself left alone. A man should keep his friendship in constant repair; The belief of immortality is impressed upon all men, and all men act under the impression of it, however they may talk, though, perhaps they may be scarcely sensible of it.”

The ‘writing’ Samuel Johnson is referring to in his blockhead quote is of those who profess to be authors or writers. The rest of us are amateurs. We do it for the pleasure of seeing something we create amuse or interest another. Of course, the nature of it might incline them to think of us as ‘blockheads’, but that’s the chance you take when you’re an amateur. I always find a bit of comfort in an item in a Chicago newspaper the day after Lincoln’s Gettysburg address. His talk was described by a reporter as “…silly, flat, and dishwatery utterances”.

As indicated above, I had seen Johnson’s sayings over the years in other writings. He does have some observations that sparkle with wit and wisdom. I was interested to see in reading Boswell’s life how many of his thoughts and saying there were regarding Christianity, immortality, faith, and morals. I looked for some comments about America since as he lived as America was beginning. He had nothing by anger towards America. He was a pensioner of George the III so it might account for his feelings. My how times have changed! George the Third snubbed Thomas Jefferson and John Adams when they appeared to present themselves for America in his court. And now within the last month, since September 11^th the Queen orders the band to play the Star Spangled Banner at the changing of the Guard in Buckingham Palace.

The month of November will be as busy as the past but only with a bit of travelling. June and I will spend some time in the Philly area for the celebration of thanking. We both two will spend two weekends prior to that trip away on Via de Christo weekends. June is giving one of the talks at the Women’s weekend, I am helping as an assistant head server on my weekend. Thanksgiving as a holiday and remembrance of the goodness bestowed upon as a nation has even more meaning this year. It is when our freedom is in jeopardy from an unknown source that we appreciate it even more. It was a  persistent woman  that made President Lincoln decide that we should have a national holiday of giving thanks. He did that at a time when again our freedom and life as a nation was in, or just over, a serious jeopardy.

On the first Saturday in November the Church sponsored a fun run to raise money for a refuge for homeless people in downtown St.Petersburg. June jogged a mile and I did the 5K. I had over prepared starting on October 4^th by running too much, too soon, too hard. I paid for it with a backache. So my training was curtailed to walking only. I really did not believe I could run the 5K but I did and have one more thing to celebrate at Thanksgiving. June actually jogged more that miles since she heard me, as we started together, say “I’ll jog the mile with you”. I had said previously that I would not run the 5K. So when I kept going beyond the 1-mile turn around she went with me thinking it was still coming. She then learned for the first time, I intended to try the entire distance of 5K.  The result was she jogged more than a mile. We were both pleased. We both still like the walking but maybe now and again the future we may jog a bit. Jogging does give more aerobic lift.

I am going to cut my remarks short this month due to so many commitments taking me away from this machine. I will still attempt to add a personal note to each. May you all have a blessed and happy Thanksgiving gathering!

The world or at least the part we live in has changed. The calamity of September 11th has made most of us aware of those around us. In some case that awareness is unfortunately one of caution, but in most cases it’s just one of celebrating with others the joy of being alive. We are within the “darkness of the cloud of unknowing”, yet we are experiencing more love of God and all those good things we have accepted and lived, without knowing in most cases they were even here.

June and I took off last Sunday after Church just to get away. We went to Busch Gardens. We saw two great shows one on ice and the other a successor to one we liked very much “American Juke Box”. It is now “Moroccan Rock”. The dancing was as good as ever but we missed those hits we used to listen to on our old Juke Boxes of the ’40’s,’50’s, 60’s, and 70’s. We treated ourselves to a grand family style southern fried chicken dinner and topped it of with peanut butter pie. It made the world disappear. Yet, as we arrived home we learned that it would not stay away, America was at war. It brought back a lot of those feelings we had prior to our visit to Busch Gardens. But we pray that the Good Lord make it all go away in as fair a way as possible. The statements by the Taliban aren’t helping. They are saying things like bin Laden can’t be released since it is against their religion, or condemning alleged deaths of civilians in their country after they killed 6000 or more innocent people here in the name of that same “religion”.

We suffered another grub attack. To the uninitiated, grubs are big fat worms that love to devour grass roots. Once again the front lawn is turning brown. Once again it is on the main street, not out back where no one could see it. We have decided that our hired hands hired to keep such things away are about to lose their job. We are allowing them, due to their guarantee, to kill what has killed our grass, and then its good bye to paying for incompetence. I feel able enough now with the help of some friends to do at least as well if not better than our paid protectors. The grass calamity looks so insignificant in the face of what is going on over and above it, but it does distract one from those monumental happenings.

Another distraction is my involvement in the political process once again as a candidate. “Lutherans fill their vacancies (of pastors) more deliberately than any of the churches in Christendom. Vacant congregations go months without thinking about choosing a new leader, and pastors, once they have received a call, may sit on it for additional months before hatching a decision. The time isn’t used for negotiating more favorable terms; it is simply filled with prayer and dormancy”. This is a quote from Richard Lischer’s book, “Open Secrets” which is the story of his early years as a Lutheran pastor. The book was a gift from Marge and Dan for our twentieth wedding anniversary. The “call” process would make any corporate lawyer proud. It begins with the council electing nominees to a “Call Committee”. The entire congregation then elects these nominees. But before they are so elected the congregation may offer additional nominees from the floor. Once elected they then begin the legal process laid out in the constitution and laws of the Synod for picking a pastor from the three who are offered by the Synod. As noted by Pastor Lischer the process is a long one. On Sunday October 21st we will have the election of the six nominees or nominees from the floor. I am one of the listed nominees. I have run for office some 4 times before and lost three times. My only win was in a primary in 1966 for the nomination as the party’s candidate for the Legislature from my district. I won it and then the opposition party (which will remain un-named) nominated without consent of it members one Tom Gola, an all American College Basketball Star and Professional Basketball player. He won, I lost, but I gained a friend. But odds are that come the 21st of October since not many people are seeking this office I will be serving on this “Call Committee”. It should be an interesting experience for an ex-Catholic that was used to having his pastors simply imposed upon him. Which, I must say, even if it was not as ‘semi-democratic’ as the Lutheran method, it was much faster. I say ‘semi-democratic’ since we cannot wander out and start selecting whomever we might consider. We are given three names of those who seemingly fit the profile of the pastor we need. Our search is limited to those three. If they fail to answer the call if given or we reject them, then we go back to square one. It is no wonder the selection process as Pastor Lischer says is “more deliberate” than any other in Christendom.

All the news of the “war” against the invisible enemy fills the daily newspapers. Our present pastor, who like myself was a young man during World War Two, remembers such occurring in the newspapers of that day. In fact he went to his mother and asked, “Is that all the news there is?” Some commentators are pointing out a similar happening in our papers today, but noting that at least we’re not bombarded with stories about Congressman Conduit, or the like. I agree but it is a high price to pay for getting scandal and rumor of scandals off the front page. Humor is a good relief for tension. So it is not surprising to see some in these grimmest of times. Naturally Florida plays a part apparently in all national humor, like the memo from the President circulating on the net: “From: President Bush; To: Al Gore: Subject: Election: “Al, we found more votes. You win. Congratulations!” Or like the cartoon showing a couple in gas masks standing under palm trees by a pool with the sign in the distance reading “Boca Raton Resort”, and the woman says to the man, “Oh yea, you said get outta the city, get outta New York, and go to Florida where it’s safe!”. I note that the other day a report in the local paper read, “Three letters that carried St. Petersburg postmarks and contained white powder are not linked to Islamic terrorism, authorities say.” So no more snickers from the audience when the name St. Petersburg is mentioned.

I am a Thomas Jefferson fan. I had a interesting example in my study of the Bible of the concept that the ‘past is prologue’. In 1 Samuel, chapter 8, the people of Israel come to him and tell him they need a King. He is told by God to warn them of the consequences. He does telling them what a King will do. Now, Thomas Jefferson, in the Declaration of Independence, a few hundreds (or thousand) years’ later lays out the facts as to what a King did. Both of them demonstrate that, “A prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a tyrant, is unfit to be a ruler…” writes Jefferson. Samuel says “…when this takes place (the enumerated tyrannical conduct making a King), you will complain against the King whom you have chosen, but on that day the Lord will not answer you.” Samuel’s details of what a King will do parallel Jefferson’s “history of repeated injuries” in many respects. In fact, one commentary on this Chapter of Samuel, suggest that he was so “on the mark” that it appears that some editing may have been done by later writers who actually served under Kings. Kings have come and gone now, but I note that in order to bring some order to the chaos of the tribes in Afghanistan some are suggesting they bring back the King. The past is a prologue.

We saw the musical “South Pacific”. The songs were all familiar. I have even played some them like “Some Enchanted Evening” and “Bali Hi” when I play at the nursing home and assisted living places. I get comments like, “I know all the right songs”, when I play numbers like that. It could be they are as familiar to them as to me because of our age. (No kidding?) I don’t think I ever saw the show before. I know I did see some of the numbers performed by Mary Martin and Ezio Pinza on TV but not the story. It was a good one and combined with the music it is little wonder it was a hit and continues to entertain. We went on Sunday night the last night of the run. After the show ended and the applause died down the cast stayed on Stage and the actor playing Emil Beck, or Ezio Pinza’s part, stepped forward and thank the audience and the community for their support.He then mentioned that there were buckets about for donations to help in the relief caused by the tragedy. He reported that in the week’s run so far they had collected $27,000. He then asked the standing audience to join him and the cast in singing “God Bless America”. It was a moving experience and we sang the prayer with all we had along with hundreds of strangers all united as Americans.

My usual ending is to say, the Lord to be with you, or as it is in Latin, Dominus Vobiscum! In saying it to myself this morning I recalled an old story you may have heard about the small Italian church where ever time the priest turned during the Mass and intoned those words, Dominus Vobiscum, a young man would leave his pew, go retrieve the collection basket and start a collection. The father stopped him after the Mass and asked him what he was doing? He said, “Father, I’m Dominic and I thought you were saying, “Dominic go frisk-em!” You can be sure it won’t get much on the laugh meter but enjoy it the best you can as I bid you, Dominus Vobiscum!

I started these jottings before Calamity Tuesday. I wrote two pages of happy memories and humor. Now they seem like so much drivel in light of what has occurred. I will leave them be though since life must go on, even when all we do seems even more trivial than usual. On Thursday morning a group of men who meet weekly and which includes a commercial pilot when he can, bowed our heads in prayer. That pilot, Chad Petersen, was leading us. He prayed, and we with him, these encouraging words:

“The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom do I fear? The Lord is my life’s refuge; of whom am I afraid? When evildoers come at me to devour my flesh, these mine enemies and foes themselves stumble and fall. Though an army encamp against me, my heart does not fear; though war be waged against me even then do I trust. Lord show me your way; lead me on a level path because of my enemies. Do not abandon me to the will of my foes; malicious and lying witnesses have risen against me. But I believe I shall enjoy the Lord’s goodness in the land of the living, Wait for the Lord, Take courage; be stouthearted, wait for the Lord!”

I learned later that it was a quotation from Psalm 27. It is a beautiful and consoling thought which I offer to you all in these days of turmoil. I had a reaction to all the bad news. By Sunday I was physically exhausted and yet had done no more than usual chores. The only explanation seemed to be that all the depressing news and hurt felt for all those involved apparently gave me a “hangover”. I know I was physically exhausted because of the number of naps I took and I did join June though late at a luncheon in Church. Even there I never seem to get revived. June among others commented on my silence, which gave all indications of something being wrong with me. I suppose I feel like most people that you can handle any bad news. I recalled that the feelings I had on Sunday were similar to what I had when I received word that Annie had died. I was numb. My reaction externally was basically none at all, just frozen. I even wrote a few words at that time asking myself why I was acting as I was. Why wasn’t I crying? I guess that part of it could be a lifetime of not allowing one to show emotions or to contrive emotions for effects have taken their toll. I can blame it on being a lawyer most of my adult life. I am sure my experience is not unique and thank you for allowing me to share it with all of you. Now back to the living, and the Jottings as they were initially composed.

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As the song says, the days dwindle down to September and indeed they have and do. I made a mistake of saying ‘next week’ to someone today when I meant to say ‘next month’, but the way the months are going by they seem to be only weeks.

In my days as a practicing attorney I had a habit, that to some, might have seen morbid. It was checking once in a while if not daily the obituaries. It was business habit encouraged by my father lawyer. It let me know if someone whose will I had written was now in the need of it. Now in the fall of my life I see them more as a reminder of what’s to come and a thank you for another day being given. However, I do have some that I come across which bring other thoughts, like two I saw reported at the end of June. One was that of Mortimer Adler, founder with Maynard Hutchins of the University of Chicago and its Great Books Program. My brother Father Pat once told me that Mr. Hutchins when asked about physical exercise responded, “Whenever the urge comes to engage in physical exercise, I lie down till the feeling passes.” Father Pat was an enthusiastic supporter of that proposition, except maybe for swimming. He did love that. Today an advocate along the same lines is one Sir John Mortimer, creator of the barrister “Rumpole” and of many Television shows for BBC. He remains firmly uninterested in improving his health, beyond the occasional visit to a local doctor who invariably advises him to drink a brandy before going to bed. “I don’t want to go (to doctors) and have checkups in case I have bad news”. He noted further, “I’ve never done anything healthy, really”. So when a doctor says, “Don’t you get breathless when you take exercise?” I can say, “I never take exercise, so I wouldn’t know!” In these days of ‘fitness first and always’ these ideas seem sacrilegious or at least iconoclastic. I have recently being rereading Dr. George Sheehan’s (a runner/writer) last book, entitled “Going the Distance” which was written as he slowly died of prostrate cancer. It is a legal brief on behalf of why fitness makes old age more livable and thus is at the other end of the earth from guys like Hutchins and Mortimer.

The other obit I noted was to my surprise in the New York Times. It was of someone I met very briefly at about 2 AM early one morning in the bedroom. The year was probably 1942-43. I was awakened from my sleep by my brother Joe to give up my bed to his companion of the moment one George Senesky. George was an All American Basketball Player at St. Joseph’s College. The winner of the Helms Foundation player of the year award (1942-43). He later played and coached the Philadelphia Warriors. My immediate irritation of being awaken quickly vanished when I learned whom it was to sleep in my bed. You can be sure all my classmates in school that day learned of my good fortune. Later as a practicing lawyer in Philadelphia I met George’s brother Paul likewise an attorney. He died several years ago down here in Florida. I learned for the first time from this obituary that seven years after George set a school season scoring record of 515 points, his brother Paul broke it. He apparently did so in the ’50 and decided against playing Pro basketball. George coached the Warriors (later the 76ers) to a championship. That team had my old political opponent and friend, Tom Gola as a player. As someone once noted, “Small world isn’t it?”

We had a nice surprise on Wednesday September 19^th. It was a visit by Marge and Dan Walsh. They were en route to South Carolina from Sarasota. They had driven down there to attend their son’s Paul’s wedding. The Wedding was Friday night when we had the company of a tropical storm. It was worse in Sarasota area than here and one of the consequences was a lost of power for many for many hours. In fact the newly weds had thought of coming to St.Pete’s Beach and its famous Don Cesar Hotel, but it was out of business due to power failure. We, June and I had a half a day without power, but later learned we were really spared since many were out for a longer time. Marge and Dan were going to their daughter’s home in South Carolina. Marge suffered a broken finger from a fall while in Sarasota so her ride would be even more difficult.

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Two weeks have passed since that terrible Tuesday. The month is running down to its end and America is slowly getting up off its knees. Hopefully while we were down there on our knees we learned not only that we can be victims, but that we should rely more on the that higher power, the Lord, than on ourselves. I pray with many that now we will seek justice not revenge. It is a time of testing for all those of faith who have been admonished to “love your enemies”. The task of keeping the balance between hatred and seeking justice is a difficult one but I hope we are now up to it. I recall the words of Columnist Frank Rich shortly after the event, “… you grieve for the city whose once indelible profile was mutilated, just like that, on one beautiful September morning. After that you think of your country, and another kind of shock sets in. Something has been lost there too, but not all of what’s gone may be a cause for mourning.” How true! Some of the things are our “illusion of impregnability” but we may have been “awakened from the frivolous”. It is my fervent hope that this is so. It is an old but good idea, to look for the “silver lining whenever clouds appear in the blue”. So we will do so.

This morning, Wednesday September 26,2001, gave me a good and symbolic way to end these jottings and their thoughts. June and I went out in the darkness for one of our usual morning walks. We went out in darkness but arrived on our street as the sun was trying to rise through a myriad of clouds. It was a panoramic show of lights and colors on the horizon. As we approached our home June stopped and said to me, “Turn and Look up!”. I did and beheld a perfect rainbow above me. We seemed to directly under the center of the arc and it went out for miles on both sides in perfect symmetry and color. I can’t recall ever seeing a more perfect rainbow. It was beautiful. But even as we looked the light of the sun breaking through the clouds caused the colors to begin to fade. I thought this is what America needs. It needs to turn and look up! The rainbow of hope will replace the darkness and the clouds that have surrounded us. The rainbow was gone within a few minutes and the clouds won the fight with the sun. It looked like rain was coming to water our lawn.

We wish you all peace in your hearts in these times of turmoil. We pray that the Good Lord protect you and all of our countrymen.

Traveling and visiting was how we spent all of July. We left Florida on July 6th and arrived in Philadelphia on July 8th. We spent the night with son Paul and had a great family dinner with Tracy and her gang. We were off then to what has become our Northern Headquarters the last few times above the Mason Dixon Line, the home of John and Mary MacDonald in Marlton, New Jersey. Their new home in a development called “Village Green” is a beauty, and our accommodations were like having a luxury suite in a five star hotel. Our stay this time was short since we merely unpacked and proceeded further across the state to the shore (called the “beach” in Florida lingo). We went to North Wildwood and had the company one week of Tracy and her sons, Eric and Paulie, and then Mary Lou and the same two another week. Tracy and Mary Lou are June’s daughters. The twins, Sean and David, and their Dad, Walter, joined us on the weekends.

We had a great walk each morning on the oldest boardwalk in America, Wildwood’s. It gave us a view of the ocean and of the myriad of shops which lined the sides of the boardwalk in the central part. They dealt with amusements, body piercing, tattoos, and eating-places. Our stay gave June her beach time and I more reading time. Our apartment had between it and the rear apartment, what is called a ‘breeze way’. It is an opening in which lounge chairs and table are situated. It is and was an ideal place for me; it was out of the sun and it was cool and quiet. It was like an outdoors-Roman library, i.e., lounge chairs in lieu of straight back ones. I had started the newest biography by David McCullough, “John Adams”. I would have no trouble finishing it that first week. As with his biography of Truman I read previously it entertained and educated me on one of the great men of the Revolutionary era. It even made me have second thoughts about the greatness of Thomas Jefferson. Thomas Jefferson lacked Adam’s apparent integrity and wonderful marriage to Abigail. But since I am not required to offer a criticism for Public consumption, I will continue to enjoy the memory of both of them garnered from my reading. (I found later that some columnist reviewing and reading the book offered similar opinions.)

I managed to find a library, a regular one, and not Roman style. It was a challenge, since June, a frequent visitor as a child and later to the area, was ready to bet there was none. It was located in Wildwood Crest, the community just to the south but part of Wildwood. I found in addition around the corner a block or so from our residence an elementary school with a library-computer room. It was open to the public on certain days in the morning. I paid one visit and for part of the time had the company of some twenty elementary school students learning mathematics with the aid of games on the newest educational tool.

One day we walked instead of the Boardwalk down one of the main streets, Atlantic Avenue, to the Post Office to mail a letter. As a usual part of our morning walks we would purchase the newspaper. In Wildwood the paper cost fifty cents, as against 25 cents in St. Pete’s. (On our return I learned that is no longer true, it is now 35 cents.) I usually make sure I had the proper change, i.e., two quarters, to hit one of the newspaper boxes on our way home. However, this day after going quite a bit into our walk I discovered I had no change. On our return walk from the Post office we noted a Church across the street just before going into North Wildwood. We had thought of attending it come Sunday. In fact, as we passed June made the statement to the effect that “Yes, we will go there Sunday morning!”. She had hardly finished her commitment to do so, when my eye caught two quarters lying on the ground. I reached over and gave thanks, adding that it appeared that the commitment had given us the miracle of finding the exact change for the paper. Well, ‘miracle’ is bit strong for the event but it certainly was a happy coincidence.

Another bit of serendipity occurred on July 16th while I was visiting the local library in Wildwood Crest. I had served with Frank Rizzo, one time Mayor of Philadelphia, when he was the Commissioner of Police. I was a fellow Commissioner under Mayor Tate. After he was elected in 1971 I was ‘let go’ since I was considered one of Tate’s Irish Mafia. So I didn’t have the opportunity of serving under him, but I never regretted it. His tour as history now shows was not one of great success. He served two terms then sat one out before trying again. The City Charter required this. He tried a comeback in 1991. All of this came back to me as I was browsing in the biographical section of the library. I saw there a biography on the same “Frank Rizzo” by a fellow ‘paisan’ and former reporter for the “Philadelphia Inquirer”. I skimmed through the bio and not surprisingly it was complimentary of his conduct. I didn’t bother to take the book with me. The next morning, July 17th, the Philadelphia Inquirer had a picture of two men, one of whom was Herman Tose, a big contributor and one time owner of the Eagles, saluting the grave of Frank Rizzo. He died in that last campaign on July 16th ten years before. I felt maybe Frank was trying to tell me something but since I had never been considered a “friend” of his, what it was I can’t figure. I had another what you might call a “biography experience” while we were staying at Marlton the last weeks of July. I would hop over to Barnes and Noble on Route 70 to purchase the N.Y. Times. I, of course, always took the time to stop for a cup of coffee and browse a bit. One day there on the “New Books” pile was another biography entitled, “The Last Mouthpiece” by Robert F. Simone. Here was another voice from the past. He practiced criminal law in Philly during the same years I practiced what has been sometimes called “general” law. He ended in prison for what I can’t remember but he was renown for his defense of the alleged Mafia in and around Philadelphia. He was a very friendly guy and we often chatted about this and that. We never talked business, his or mine. I managed to read a few chapters on my next few visits and it brought memories of the 60’s and 70’s in the city of Brotherly Love.

I didn’t just visit libraries and read while we were away. We had some great visits with children and grand children that make the ordeal of being away from home all worthwhile. I even tried outrunning my grandson Eric, six years of age. I failed. He the same great guy who last year on our visit, while sitting on my shoulders shouted to all within hearing distance on the Boardwalk, “Pop-pop your going bald!”. We listened to another grandson, now about to be a senior in High School, support his part-time employer, a supermarket taken over by a national chain. He had just moved up to the management level (with no increase in pay) but certainly demonstrated managerial loyalty. We heard another criticize his teachers as having no integrity when it came to some erratic behavior by students related to the institution’s Board of Directors. He felt they had none. We watch grandson Matt Golden,eleven years of age, play Basketball in the hot sun on July 18th. His team won and he scored twenty points. He’s the same guy who first put me on the Harry Potter, which led me and June to read they all. His basketball playing was super, just like his reading habits. Then there was Paul Berger grandson age 10 throw a football left handed like a pro. The surprise of all these encounters reminded me of my father’s comments when my oldest brother, his first born, arrived home after years of being away. He said, “I am impressed how much and well he has grown!” I likewise was impressed.

We packed up on July 31st and the following morning attended a memorial mass for Anne at which we had the opportunity of meeting some of the Lukens and Sister Mary. Following a luncheon, we headed south out of Philadelphia to Northeast, Maryland and the home of Rich and Shirley. It is tucked back in the woods on the rise from the Elk River. They had a small cottage next to theirs, which became our home for the next three days. It had a porch with a view that was awesome. You could sit and watch the rippling river and the greenery behind it. If we hadn’t been anxious to get back to the old homestead we could have easily stayed longer. I saw some verse that reminded me of the spot, it went like this: “I see an envied haunt of peace, …remote from the roar, Where wearied men may from their burdens cease on a still shore” It was all of that. On August 4th Rich and Shirley were the host of the McSorley’s Cousin’s Party. It was great to meet and chat with those who attended, and a regret not seeing the many whom we had hope would be there. I had a workout with Aidan and Alex Yake, twin grandsons of four years of age. We saddled up the next morning after the party and started our jaunt back to St.Petersburg. We took our time and arrived at the driveway around noon on August 7th. We had been gone one month and a day.

This August marks the twentieth year of our marriage. Saying, it has been a happy twenty years, would be a understatement. I thank the Lord daily for having her in my life and we wish the newest bride and groom, Joe Lukens and Sarah Weissen all the blessing of the Lord upon their union. They will set sail on the ship of matrimony on August 25th. The date has been a memorable one in the McSorley Family since 1913 when Frank the first born came into this world. The date was further enhanced when 10 years later in 1923 son number six, John, came to be. So now we add one more memory to that date with the marriage of Anne’s son Joseph Lukens to Sarah. The Lord be with you until we chat again.

The month of May ended with an eight-day trip to Branson, Missouri. We traveled approximately 2300 miles through five states and four capitals. We went by bus with 24 other people, two of who were our driver, Ollie, and Twig, our tour hostess. It was a first for us and it will be the last time that we undertake a bus ride of such length. We liked the bus as transportation since it is great to “leave the driving to us”, but next time the number of days will be less. Branson is Las Vegas without sex and gambling. It is billed as “Real American Entertainment”. It has more that 40 state of the art theaters. The music covers swing, gospel, 50’s rock, patriotic, classical, and country. It covers an area as spread out as Disney World only it is built on the side of steep hills. It is located in the Ozark Mountains and there are many lakes in the area. The city is a parking lot on any given day so we had another reason to rejoice in having a bus take us everywhere. It has many stars who have their own theaters, like Andy Williams, Yakov Smirnoff, Bobby Vinton, Jim Stafford-, Mel Tillis, The Platters, Shoji Tabuchi, Tony Orlando, and on, and on. I think our hostess said something like 52 shows are available at the peak of the season. We arrived on Thursday night and attended the oldest continuous show, “The Baldknobbers Jamboree Theater”.  The term “baldknobber” is derived from the history of the area. The Ozarks in the mid1800’s was still the Wild West. A ‘bald knob’ was the top of the mountain where there was no growth. It was bald and appeared like a knob sticking out up there. The law having little control in the area, a group of men decided to create their own police force. It became known as the Baldknobbers.

Their story is told partly in a best selling novel about the area called, “The Shepherd of Hills”. It later was made into two different movies. The book was published in 1907. It is a good love story. The dialect of the mountain people makes it difficult at times to understand. It is something like trying to read an Irish story where the brogue is written. The bus ride gave us a chance to read; though getting really comfortable was difficult at times. The bus could seat 55 people so having only 24 gave us room to spread out. Throughout most of the ride, June sat in one “two-seater” and I in another, usually one behind the other. I managed to finish a new novel by P.D.James, “Death in Holy Orders”.

The Baldknobbers show was mostly country music with hillbilly humor. Two characters provided the humor, one I think called Snuffy who had no teeth and did a gymnastic feat of putting his lower lip up over his nose! The humor consisted of them unceremoniously interrupting the music with exaggerated observations and shaggy dog stories. This show on Thursday, the night of our arrival, was not our first. We had stopped the first night, Tuesday, in Dotham, Alabama, know as the “Circle City” and had live comedy show and dinner in the “Understudy Theater” in downtown Dotham. We sat within touching distance of the performers and they were very entertaining. The show was called “Grits on the Side” and was take off on the Southern customs and traditions, like dress, cooking, language and high level gossip. One of the funnier and repeated skits was by two guys dressed as two gabby dowagers. They would meet on Sunday nights and talk about their neighbors. Most of the comments about them were of course derogatory and as they talked they were smiling pleasantly and waving to the subjects seated across the room. We later learn that the whole purpose of this get together in the hall on Sunday was to watch TV Wrestling ! On the last occasion on stage they began attacking each other about the others latest ego trip and naturally they end up wrestling. Incidentally Dotham is know as the “Circle City” since a 17-mile road surrounds the city called the Ross Carter Circle. (Just thought you ought to know in case it came up in your next game of trivia.)

We saw three shows Friday and Saturday. On Sunday we took a ride in DUKW, or ducks, vehicles that ride on land and water(like ducks do). The took us up to a mountain top and then to the dam that made one of the large lakes, called TableRock Lake. I volunteered to drive the “duck” while it was in the Lake. I received an “Honorary Captain License”,”… for bravely taking the wheel and navigating beautiful Table Rock Lake in Branson, Missouri with impressive skill and amazing precision…Please remember to return to your home port often to exercise your bragging rights..etc.”  I accomplished all these things in a matter of at least ten minutes.   I think the highest speed was 3 knots but I never was allowed near the throttle!

Sunday night Bobby Vinton and his family along with the Glenn Miller Orchestra entertained us. His family included two daughters, a son, and his 80-year-old, mother. He has two other children who worked behind the scenes along with his wife who produces the show. At intermission we had the most unforgettable events of the trip. June and I went up on stage and danced to the music of Glenn Miller. We even managed to jitterbug to “In the Mood”. I know some of you who read this may never have heard of Glenn Miller nor of course of his famous “In the Mood”, but we both have and enjoyed it immensely. We both agreed it was one of the top events of the trip. The ride home was faster. It was uneventful except for a mix up about the dinner on Monday night in Vicksburg, MS and being stopped by the State Trooper in the same state. I did have a great feeling going over the Mississippi of things that Mark Twain wrote  and could hear the tunes from Showboat in my head. This was our second time in the State of Mississippi. We had stopped a Tupelo on Wednesday night on the way to Branson. I am reminded whenever I see word “Tupelo” of Anne. She lived on a street with that name in Ambler but I don’t think she ever knew, or cared, that it was also name of the town where Elvis was born. We had an imitating Elvis after dinner on our stop there and a visit to the house in which he was born.

The last stop was in Panama City Beach, Florida at the “Sunspree Resort”. We had a room overlooking the Gulf and its beach. June commented that they really should have planned for us to stay there more than one night. It was the kind of place you could spend a lot of time. Incidentally the next morning we had bus trouble and a delayed start. For a time I began to think that June must have called on the Lord to arrange for a longer stay, but come 9:30 AM we were on our way. We managed even with the late start to be at our pick up place to be picked up in St. Petersburg a half an hour early.

We were happy to be home. But immediately the urgency of things pending came rushing upon us. It was Thursday and June had to put together with others the New Members Dinner for Friday evening. So the pace began to pick up immediately and has been going at full tilt since.

Anne is in my thoughts, not only because of our going to Tupelo but there is a notice on the web page of a memorial Mass for her on August 4^th. It will be a year on August 1^st that she went to accept that “better offer” God made. Incidentally the 4^th is also the day of the Cousin’s Party at Rich and Shirley’s in Northeast, Maryland. The announcement of that and directions etc. are also on the web page(www.mcsorley.org). The last cousin’s party was where I saw Anne for the last time. I look at the pictures (still on the web page) of her smiling and I can hear that cackle of a laugh. So it seems fitting that a memorial and cousin’s party are to held on the same day. Anne would be the first to agree that any real memorial has to be a celebration.

On Sunday June 3^rd, the McSorley name was in the news once again. This time it was in the New York Times Book Review magazine. It reported that the book “McSorley’s Wonderful Saloon” is being reissued. I had a copy at one time but where it is now I haven’t the slightest idea. Joseph Mitchell wrote the book while he was a reporter for two New York City newspapers. It was first published in 1943 and I think it was around that time that it came into our old homestead in Philly. It is a collection of anecdotes about people who frequented McSorley’s as community center. They wrote there, they just hung out there, or came to listen to others telling their stories there. It was reviewed by Jimmy Breslin, who notes, “The stories…were written before World War II and they are as good now as they were when he wrote them. Mitchell’s work has lasted for 60 years because of his unique style…He rarely used a telephone. He walked on his feet to see people. When he came through the door he brought his heart with him.” It is certainly a lot better reading about “McSorley’s Wonderful Saloon” than McSorley the ice hockey chopper (or whatever he was).

It is 50 years this month since I graduated from St.Joseph College. It is no longer even called ” College”, but is now a University. I remember a fellow, whose name I now forget, but who was involved so much in student government nationally that he took a year off to help consolidate it. He eventually was employed by the then Senator John F. Kennedy. A story goes that he had so many times referred to “the College” to friends and associates within the hearing of the Senator, that it got the best of him. He knew Harvard, he knew Yale and Dartmouth were sometimes so called, but he also knew his assistant had not attended any of them, so what “college” was he talking about? Happily, the Saint Joe graduate illuminated the future President on where “THE College” was. Mike Stack, a graduate with me, went to Washington Area when Kennedy was elected and the gentleman referred to had moved up to the White House. It is from Mike that I recall I got this story. Mike’s dad was a Congressman during one of the FDR terms but got bounced for supporting Father Coughlin. I remember in 1960 standing and talking on the corner of 52^nd Markets Streets in Philadelphia. I was promoting the election of Kennedy for President. I noticed over the heads of the few people around me, Mike’s Dad. I never got to meet him but felt flattered that he even took the time to stop and listen to a young lawyer politician.

The month ends with a celebration in Sarasota of Marge and Dan’s 50^th Wedding anniversary. Dan graduated from Villanova in same year as I, 1951. He and Marge were then married. I intend to attend the celebration. June will be in prison. She is part of a team going to Coleman Federal Prison that weekend to bring the story and spirit of Christianity to the prisoners. I’ll tell you more probably in August since July will find us up in New Jersey and it surroundings.

Until then, Dominus Vobiscum!

May is here but April still is on my mind. It was a busy and memorable one in many respects but two outstanding events were the Boston Marathon with Dan running, and Paul, Andy and I viewing. The other was the musical “Experiencing God” produced by our Church and ‘starring’, in my program anyway, June McSorley. Both were inspiring encounters.

First report is of the Mecca of running, the Boston Marathon and our visit. I arrived Easter Sunday evening. I was met by Dan holding a “Boston Marathon, April 16,2001” cap that I had to immediately put on. He showed me later a copy of his Church Bulletin for April 9th, which had a short paragraph under the headline “GOOD LUCK DAN!” advising he would “have the prayers and best wishes of your St.Leo family. God speed!” We, Andy, Paul, Dan and I drove out to Framingham, some 30 miles outside the city of Boston to our motel. I was up early the next morning and went down to Dan’s room around 7 AM. We had some of his homemade muffins and juice. He had his running bag packed. It had his number, 4166, on it. It was stuffed. He wasn’t sure of the weather. It was forecasted to go up to 55 degrees but it was at that time 38, windy, and cold. His bag was full since he was preparing for any contingency. Later he told me he received free gloves at the start, which he only used for a time. The sun by noon, the race start time, made it great running weather. We, Andy, Paul and I, drove Dan over to Hopkinton State Park where a bus was waiting to transport him to the “Athlete’s Village”. He was about to see the greatest number of runners ever gathered for a race, than ever before. Here is how his young buddy Jeremy reported the scene at the Athlete’s Village, “There was so much going on! There was live music…people all over the place. They even had a tent set up where you could make one free phone call anywhere in US for free using Nextel ?… the time came when it was to place our personal belongings on the buses and get to our starting ‘corrals’ which were partitioned off by groups of thousands. The view at the start was awesome. I counted 6 Helicopters, a blimp, four of those planes that fly advertising banners behind them, two F-15 jets that flew over during the National Anthem, and a sea of about 16,000 people representing all 50 states and 52 countries!” He tells of the sights so well that I feel sorry I missed it. I thought my first gathering at Hopkinton in 1972 was a mammoth outing, but in comparison it’s like vaudeville to Broadway.

After leaving Dan off we went back to Framingham, Andy and I took a walk, and then headed for Newton. You are advised not to try driving to see the run since so many roads are blocked. Instead you use the public transportation. Newton was the 17-mile point and a train station. We got there at 11 AM and found the parking lot nearly full. We waited with many others since I am sure the estimated crowds from Hopkinton to Boston were over 500,000. We chatted with the passing parade of people and would you believe we met a couple from St.Pete’s Beach, just over the hill from here (if we had one in Florida), who had with them a father-in-law or father, from Philadelphia. Paul and Andy had a great time bragging about the old man having run Boston and some 20 or more other marathons. Dan came by 3 hours and 12 minutes later and he missed seeing Paul and I but did see Andy and Jeremy’s Dad. We then boarded a train with scores of others, so many that they were lined up for blocks along the tracks and of course no charge for the ride. In downtown Boston the thousands milling in the streets just added to the festival nature of the whole proceeding. We found the street and allotted letter, “R”, under which we were to meet Dan. I sat on the curb next to a runner whom I learned was from Holland! I also learned that he was staying at the same motel in Framingham! Dan arrived around 4:30 PM and began a never-ending chant of the experience. He loved highfi-ing kids along the way, enjoyed the screaming girls at Wellesley College, the crowds ever present no matter the mile mark, and he had no question as why Boston is called the Mecca, the Super Bowl, of running.

His time was one minute slower than his old man in 1972. But since he was only 38 and I was 42 when I ran it, I told him he should do better when he grows up. When he called Lori, his wife, he learned of another phenomena of Boston, she had followed his time on the internet! He had a chip on his shoe and at each 5 K mark he struck a pad which recorded his time at that point. She knew his time, both chip- 3:22.29 and official 3:24.41- before we did. He finished in 3404 place! They even had it broken down in to gender, 3108, and division (age), 1912. My how things have changed since 1972!

We had a celebration dinner in a restaurant called “Legal Seafood”. I was intrigued with the name. Its history reported that it started as a fish stand in a market in one of the Boston Squares and accepted only ‘legal’ tender,as opposed to chits, or coupons apparently accepted at other stands. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday I spent at Dan’s home with his wife Lori, and girls Meaghan and Hannah. Hannah now four years old came into the world with some problems with one leg not growing right. She wears a brace, supposedly. She has made so much progress that I seldom saw the brace on her and she seemed to never stop running like any other four-year-old.

The church is covered with darkness. A light dimly shines over the sanctuary. It is less of a sanctuary now, since the altar has been removed. It is more like a theater with men and women all standing on the steps where the altar was singing, and playing guitars,. Over their heads the huge cross is hanging. A musi fills the room, the musical “Experiencing God” has begun! A narrator begins to read and as he does so down the aisle comes ballerinas. All alike in costume and size, pirouetting to the music and singing voices. Behind them plodding down the aisle comes a person clothed in a robe and with turbaned head holding a shepherd’s staff. He is, as the narrator inform us, “Moses”. The screen over the singers and to the left of cross flashes pictures mostly of the stain glass windows that adorn the church. The light rises as the dancers and Moses near the altar (stage). Moses faces the audience, congregation, and the Narrator continues. The music is magnificent, there are solos, further acts performed in mime in front of the singers. There is a couple dressed in black on the right of the stage ‘signing’. They appear to us who can hear to dancing in slow motion to the music. Like any good theater before you realize it the grand finale washes over you. The church theater it reminds me of is the Solemn High Mass sung in Latin with a boys and men choir. I have seen it performed in Cathedrals. All of the music and ritual is a moving experience. The only draw back with such a Mass is that it was more like an opera in Italian. This musical service being in English was more easily enjoyed and uplifting. It was a glorious way to end the month and hopefully it will be produced again in the future.

May began with a sad note in that the Lord took Lee Sauketis (Allen) to heaven after a long struggle with cancer. We pray her loving family with the help of God will overcome the loss as quickly as possible. It happened on May 11th , Marge’s birthday, so I learned more of her dying by talking with her. It was a moving scene she described of lovely Lee dying in the arms of her caring husband Al. There could be no better way to end the story of her life.

We had the pleasure of a visit by Mary Lou Golden, June’s eldest daughter, from May 10th through the 14th. She helped her mother celebrate Mother’s Day. We went to one of our favorite seafood places, Captain Billy’s Seafood Restaurant in Tierra Verde. We did a few days at the beach, the Mom and Daughter both love the lounging on the sand and the occasionally dip in the Gulf. Happily on this visit Mary Lou had no plane problems which seemed to follow her every other time she came down. The beach by the way, was St.Pete’s Beach, the one I mentioned earlier herein about meeting a couple in Newton on the Boston Marathon route .

My son Andy who accompanied us to Boston has written a report of the event with pictures. You can view it on mcsorley.org. The picture of myself is not too flattering, I suppose because it makes me look older than I feel. Speaking of age I celebrated a birthday and received lots of cards and emails. I want to again thank all of you who made my day. The happiest moment came at the service that evening when we were in a circle praying, June thanked the Lord aloud for the little boy born 72 years ago today. I was moved and grateful. I did kid her about letting the numbers out in public, since I am really only 39 and holding. We will formally celebrate the day Sunday night with dinner out with some friends.

We will close the month of May with bus trip to Branson, MO. It the theater home of many stars, like Bobby Vinton, Yakov Smirnoff, Osmonds, Glenn Miller Band and billed as “America’s Live Entertainment Capital. Singing, comedy, banjo playing, fiddling, Broadway-style revues, magic, Big Bands – Branson has it all!” It’s a birthday treat and anniversary gift combined. We’ll tell you all about it next time.

April is the month of Easter, showers and the IRS. It has been called ‘the cruelest month’. How it earned that title escapes me, but I can assure you in years past the only reason it was so named was due to the tax chore. Retirement has saved me some of that grumbling. It is another gift of having less but enjoying it more. March was filled with visitors. Rich and Shirley stopped by from the 3rd to the 19th. They then took off for Peru via Miami and returned March 28th. Tom, Sue, and their gang landed on the 18th. We had the pleasure of their company from then until the 21st. They headed home early on the 22nd. We had the additional joy of celebrating their youngest daughter Colleen’s seventh birthday on the 21st.

Kate, a budding novelist, one of Sue and Tom’s, continued to enhance her reputation as a yarn spinner by telling us how she became an orphan. Becoming an orphan was required for her part in the upcoming musical of “Annie” at her school. This is how it happened to Kate, she says, She was born in Paris to multi-millionaire parents, who were assassinated (how or why is not elaborated). Her bad brother John steals all the money and Kate  (name of orphan I suppose) runs away to the “deep” south of France. There she is cared for by I believe an uncle, but could be otherwise. He is blind and deaf and speaks only Spanish. She doesn’t like him so she flees to L.A. in America. She finds no friends there so she comes on to N.Y. So that is how she comes to be appearing before this audience. I am sure I have missed some of the important details but that is how I recall the tale some days later. Meg impressed us with her drawing. She sketched for one thing her sister Kate sitting in the porch lounge chair reading a book. It was a remarkable piece of work. The last of the three girls, Colleen, the birthday girl, continued to be “something else”, a moniker she placed upon herself some years back after hearing her parents refer to her as “she’s something else”. She is a master (mistress) of the faces and smiles.  We had a good visit and look forward to seeing them when we head their way in the summer.

Rich and Shirley are great borders.  They have enough knowledge of the area having visited many times in their home on Massachusetts Avenue. That home is presently rented. We were lucky users from 1990 till 1997. Their knowledge makes it unnecessary to be tour guides or go hopping about with them. They visited the Everglades while here prior to their ten-day trip to Peru. One problem they have had is that Rich suffered a hand injury on Valentine’s Day so it has deterred his joining Shirley and I for some time on the links. Hopefully before they leave, the weather permitting, we will get in a round or so.(It didn’t happen. They left April 4^th)

Late in March I learned of an article published in the Philadelphia’s Archdiocesan paper, “The Catholic Standard and Times, entitled “Uncanonized Saints”. My Mom and Dad were listed as two candidates. It appeared on March 15,2001 and was written by Lou Baldwin. He asked the question, “How many uncanonized saints have there been? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? At this point, only God knows”. I thought “at any point ” only God knows. It was a great compliment to Mom and Dad that others thought they lived saintly lives. I see my mother as a candidate with ease, my Dad is tougher to handle, but I’ll accept Mr.Baldwin’s opinion with thanks. He was naming only those who had lived in Philadelphia. The section referring to Mom and Dad was:

“For Fostering Vocations: …A more contemporary couple who would also qualify are Marguerita (Rita) McSorley (1887-1952) and Richard McSorley (1886-1970) (sic- the actual date of Dad’s death was March 14,1972) who raised 14 children (another died in infancy). Two sons became Jesuits and two became Oblates of Mary Immaculate (one a bishop). Bishop Francis McSorley, OMI, probably would have been an archdiocesan priest, but he flunked Latin at St.Charles Borromeo Seminary. Two daughters became Sisters of the Holy Child Jesus; one Sister, Servant of the Immaculate Heart of Mary; and one a Religious Sister of Mercy. Originally from South Philadelphia and married at St. Thomas Acquinas Church, Richard and Rita settled in Southwest Philadelphia where the family attended St. Francis de Sales Parish.

‘ We were daily communicants at St. Francis de Sales from the age of 7’, said Mercy Sister Mary Rita McSorley. ‘There was also spiritual reading at breakfast and the evening rosary. Whatever Dad wanted, happened, but it was Mother who kept it going.’ Rita, who was an only child, was named National Catholic Mother of the Year in 1948, and she confessed she wouldn’t have been able to do it without the help of her own mother who lived with the family. While there were eight religious vocations, the children were not pressured. ‘Our family was very close’,  said Sister Mary, ‘yes, I think our parents were saintly — they had to be to put up with all of us.’ ”

Mary hit the nail right on the head with her comments as usual. I couldn’t agree more that Mom was the paste, the balm that healed and held us together. Dad was a molder, who kept pounding us into his idea of what shape we should become. Some of our clay didn’t always fit his mold and it was Mom who soothed and sanded the rough spots. She put us into the shape we became. If my second Mom, Winnie, was here today I am sure she would note that there is no doubt Mom and Dad fostered vocations, but not only religious ones. They also fostered the vocation of marriage even more by action, by living it. In fact the religious vocation was encouraged because of the good family life they provided and exemplified.

The article said Frank failed to become an archdiocesan priest because he flunked Latin. I am not sure whether that is correct or not, but I do know that at his installation dinner by the Archdiocese one of the speakers noted that the first step on becoming a Bishop in Philadelphia Diocese was to fail at St. Charles Seminary. I loved the words attributed to Tom Dooley about calling some one a saint while they were still living he said, “It makes it tough to order a beer”. I never knew any canonized saints but now it is great to be able to say I knew some uncanonized ones of Philadelphia according to Mr.Baldwin. But then as he points out, only God really knows who are saints and frankly as long as I am one day in the company of God, I won’t care, any more that Mom and Dad do I’m sure, whether I am remembered here below as such.

I attended a program entitled “Renew 200”. It is to “celebrate the 2000 years since the birth of Christ,…to acknowledge our differences, celebrate what we have in common and commemorate…as people sharing belief in Jesus Christ as Savior” It is a program promoted by the Roman Catholic Church. We had our Pastor and his wife as members of the group I attended. There were those of other faiths also in attendance if not in our group in others. It is a good program of ecumenism. It is an attempt to return to the beginnings of Christianity when all were one and denomination was not even a word in their dictionary. It was conducted for six weeks commencing on February 27^th and running to April 3^rd. I missed two sessions, Feb. 27 and March 27, due to working at the election polls. The sessions consisted of readings of Scripture and then sharing of thoughts on the reading, prayer and meditation. One interesting survey occurred. We all were asked what we believed all Christians did agree on. The result was a list of ten items. Some them were, salvation via the Cross, prayer works, Love is the core of Christian belief, the Resurrection, baptism and the Bible. I had a reversal of roles with my Pastor and friend Jerry Straszheim. I listened as he inquired as to certain Roman practices, like the Sacrament of Penance. How it has changed in the Roman Church over the years and why Lutheran’s do not consider it a “sacrament”. Then there was discussion about his coming retirement and how his position at LCC would be filled. It would have input from the congregation and nothing would be commenced until he left. Now the Roman Hierarchy receives no such input from its congregation, and in some cases one is replaced before the other leaves. It is the difference between semi-democratic selection and a CEO search with appointment by the Board, or hierarchy. Actually the Lutheran idea is closer to what happened when St.Augustine became the Bishop of Hippo in the 5^th Century. He was elected.

I worked both the Primary and General in a new capacity.  He is the Mobile Ballot Demonstrator. It became my job at the Primary and I did so well I kept it for the General. I am moving all day and time flies. I approach each voter as they enter and ask ,”Would you like a demonstration of how to properly use the ballot?” Most of the time I got a ‘no thank you’ or a few comments about not being a Democrat, or from Palm Beach counties, etc.  I’ll tell you more next time.