Author: tom

“No man but a blockhead ever wrote except of money” (Dr. Samuel Johnson)

Words, written or spoken, are our tools of communicating – from poetry to legal documents. Or as an author I was recently reading said, “Words are the worker bees of human communication and commerce, and they are legion” (Paul L.Escamilla)

How they do grow in English! English is a constantly growing language. My understanding is that some languages like French and Italian, and maybe Greek, maintain Academies that control what or if any new words may be added. In fact John Adams suggested that we do the same and he introduced a bill to create such an Academy. But it did not pass in part because of the thoughts and message of Thomas Jefferson, who said, “ If Like the French Academicians, it were proposed to fix our language, it would be fortunate that the step were not taken in the days of Saxon ancestor, whose vocabulary would illy express the science of this day. Judicious neology (study of new words) can alone give strength and copiousness to language, and enable it to be the vehicle of new ideas.” And so it is.

English was and is not controlled. It is now the language used in commerce around the world. It is the lingua franca, i.e., the language adopted as a common language between speakers whose native language is different.

The quote, under the title, is one of Johnson’s many aphorisms. He is second only to Shakespeare in being quoted. He created a dictionary. It is often considered the ‘first’ English dictionary but apparently there were two others prior to his. But his was ‘a pivotal moment in the history of the English language”. The comment by him about being a blockhead if you’re not paid when you write is a bit ironic. Johnson struggled to survive. He only became comfortable late in his life when the King provided him with a pension. Before that he survived more on patrons than on his writing. The contract he signed to do the dictionary was for fifteen hundred guineas paid to him in installments based on the delivery of manuscript pages. Further he had to pay for the ink, paper, and any and all expenses related to the project, e.g., like associates to help him. So it may appear that he only wrote for money but he certainly didn’t make it the prime requirement for his writing. The dictionary he thought would take about three years, in actuality it took ten (1745-1755)!

The history of the development and growth of the English language is fascinating. The idea of listing words alphabetically with definition for each didn’t happen until Johnson’s time. There were dictionaries but they limited themselves to what they called ‘hard’ words. Johnson’s was the first attempt to list all known words and their definition. This was followed historically by the creation of the Oxford English Dictionary, which is now referred to simply as OED. It was suppose to take about ten years to complete but it took seventy. It listed the earliest known version of the word, the author who was known to use it, along with a definition that then existed. The history of OED’s creation caught my attention through a book entitled “The Professor and The Mad Man” by Simon Winchester. I had read it several years ago but something brought me back to it and I read it again recently. The Professor is a Scotch schoolteacher, James Murray who becomes the Editor of the dictionary after some years of it not moving onward and its completion becoming doubtful. The Mad Man is a Dr. W. C. Minor and American surgeon.

The OED was created under Murray by asking volunteers through out the English speaking world to fill out a form. The form required a listing of the word, in what book they read it, who the author was, when the book was published, the use that was made of the word in the book, and its definition from its content. They had received over a 1000 such forms from Dr. Minor. Some where along the way they wanted to honor the volunteers and did so but Dr. Minor did not appear. Murray later learns, from some other American who was also contributing, that Dr. Minor is in an asylum. He goes to the asylum and visits with him. It begins a long relationship between the two. Dr. Minor had been a surgeon in the American Army in the Civil War. He was treated for some mental derangement but then was discharged and retired. He travels around the world and ends up in London where he kills another man for reasons that are only in his head. He is acquitted of murder but sentence to life in the mental institution outside of London. He is well off financially. He builds separate quarters from other inmates where he stores his books and spends his time reading. His mental problems are mainly in his attempts to sleep. He continually believes someone is coming into his quarters somehow and will kill him. Yet during his daylight hours he is just a retired gentleman pursuing his love of literature. All of this leads to his work on the OED and through that his friendship with Editor Murray.

The book also told of the struggle that Murray had of persevering for years in putting the OED together. It is now more that 20 volumes and the most referred to dictionary in the English speaking world. The number of new words added each year is amazing and is due to the growing of science and our culture. Its first addition was 4 volumes and 6400 pages. The second edition in 1989 was 20 volumes, 21,730 pages and 59 million words! We have an example in a very small way with the computer and some of its words, e.g. hardware, CD’s, web page, keyboard, virus and mouse pad. They all have other meanings then those when applied to the computer

Most people aren’t concerned about individual words and their meaning. When they read a book, or magazine, or newspaper, yes, it is words, but it is the interest it creates by the words that makes them persevere…not the words. My interest is something like a car lover’s. He has to take the car apart, exam it, put it back, and work on the finish of the body, etc. Oh! And yes and then drive it! But whether its “words” or “car parts” we are all happier when the work.

Speaking of words, it is February. February brings St. Valentine’s Day and with it ‘words’ in the form of cards, notes, etc. Someone has calculated that over 180 million cards are exchanged on that day. Another statistician estimates that of all cards sent each year twenty five percent are sent on Valentine’s Day.

I attend a Book Club meeting once a week. We, a group of men with a variety of backgrounds, experience, and employment, discuss the book and exchange ideas relating to what we have read. I’ve been doing this for some seven or eight years; I can’t now recall when I started. I’ve only missed when I was incapacitated or we were travelling. The club has all that time centered its thoughts and reading on one book – the Bible. This is possible because the Bible is really not ‘one’ book. Its like the Sunday paper with its variety of literature, history, prose, reports of celebrations and travesties and even humor. For the past year we’ve concerned ourselves with a history book in the New Testament entitled “Acts”.

This book is the second chapter of the writing of the Gospel of Luke and which is prefaced with these remarks: “Many have undertaken to draw up an account of the things that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed down to us by those who from the first were eye-witnesses and servants of the word. Therefore, since I myself have carefully investigated everything from the beginning, it seemed good also to me to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the certainty of the things you have been taught” So the book Acts is a history of Paul’s spreading the good news throughout most of the known civilized world. He spent the last 30 years of his life doing it. I can heartily recommend it as great history reading. Until next time, Pax Tecum!

The year ended, more or less, with a “Ball” instead of a “Bang”. We went to a Debutante’s Coming-Out Ball! It was first for us. We were properly attired for a ball. I dressed in a tuxedo and June in a lovely gown. The Ball was held at St. Petersburg’s Coliseum. This was a first for us too since we have never been in the Coliseum before. It is as the name implies an enormous hall. There were thirteen young ladies making their social debut. At the center of the stage there were steps running to the dance floor. As the young ladies’ names were announced they came out to walk down the steps. Before they were announced their father was introduced and he came to stand at the bottom of the steps. Then they announced the name of an escort who was a young man selected by the lady. The young ladies all wore white gowns and carried a bouquet of a dozen (at least) long stem roses. When the young lady reached the floor their dads took their arm and escorted them around the coliseum. They ended at the table where her family, friends, and escort waited. Then they courtesies to their mom. The escort then took her to a seat on either side of the stairs. When all were so seated they then announced that the debutantes would now dance with their fathers. Following that dance they danced with their escort. All of the music as I recall, up to that point, was by piano. A band that had been assembling as the escorts and debutantes danced and then they began their music. We had hoped to have a dance but the music played was not the kind to which we could really do so. We did also at this point in the evening enjoy much finger food. We tried to sit a chat with the many friends at the table but the music made that too difficult. We were the guests of John and Sallie Bussey friends for many years. Their daughter Virginia was coming out. It was a different evening for us! I tried to recall when was the last time I wore a tuxedo. June came up almost immediately with the answer: At my daughter Mary’s wedding to Ron Yake on November 12,1994 – thirteen years ago. Our good friends the Doto’s came by early on the night of the ball to take our picture. We had the picture session and then we were off. They said later that they felt like parents sending their children off to the Prom!

On December 28th I received a phone call that brought back memories. The caller asked if I was Paul McSorley, if I was a lawyer from Philadelphia, and did I represent Tony Perpiglia many years ago. My answer was ‘yes’ to all the inquiries. The woman caller then identified her self as Jean Carey, Tony’s daughter! It was quite a surprise since I never knew Tony had any children. She went on to say that he died 41 years ago (1966) today. She said that she had seen him two days before. She further explained that she had made a search on the net under the name ‘Perpiglia” and found my Jottings of ’06 and ’07 in which I had mentioned Tony Perpiglia. My son-in-law Tom Baker has been posting my jottings since the middle of 2000 on the mcsorley.org web page. So this is how she learned that a ‘Paul McSorley’ had represented her dad. How she found me in Florida and my phone number I never did learn.

She then told me that Tony also had a son, her brother and that she was 61 years old and he was 62. Now I believe that Tony had served some 17 to 20 years in prison so it made it tough to accept the fact. Later she noted that he was very young when she and her brother were born. She thanked me for my comments in the Jottings and asked me about any other writings I had about him. I had written a memoir of him in 1992 and revised in 1998. She asked me to send that to her which I did. She still lives in South Philadelphia. She sent me an email telling me she was attending the New Year’s Day parade in Philly since it was a South Philadelphia tradition. I haven’t heard from her since that last email. It still was a bit of a shock that Tony never mentioned his children. I heard he had a girl friend and I met his mother but no references were made to children.

The story I wrote about Tony was done in February of 1992. It was not a ‘jotting’ then just some thoughts on ‘Tony’ as it was entitled. Her request made me dig out the file I had of 1992 and my writings then. They had various titles and some none at all. Some of the titles were “Memories” (March,’92),”Paul’s Ponderings”(April ’92), “Paul’s Perambulations in June” (Which incidentally was, with much spacing between lines, 11 pages long!) and then in July we began to call them “Jottings”. In 1998 when I revised “Tony” I did mail it out to some 26 members of my family and friends Bill King, Tony Durkin, Paul Keeley, and my secretary Judy Higgens. No emails were sent then. This year begins my sixteenth year of sending these thoughts to family and friends. The list is up to 44 emails and 12 snail mails. Looking at the mailing list of 1998 I am reminded sadly that nine of them have gone to their reward.

I remember someone asking why I write and send these writings. I suppose, as I told the inquirer, it comes from my writing most of my life. My profession required it as did preparing for it. I think another reason is that my Father, also a lawyer, sent a weekly epistle to his absent children. Most of my brothers and sister after high school were away to seminaries or convents, Those who did remain for college soon got called to serve in the World War II so they too were away. My dad would dictate a lengthy a report of the events happening at home and then add a personal note to each letter. I spent two years at a seminary school in Newburgh, N. Y. so I was for a time a recipient of his letters. So in part I imitated him by sending these thoughts to family and then friends, with a personal note attached.

During the Christmas season we receive many emailed stories of children performing in Nativity pageants or shows. I received among them one, which I liked, the best and it goes like this: A mother had three children all performing in the Nativity show. Her five-year-old was a shepherd, her four-year-old was Mary, and another son was one of the three Kings. She reports that the Shepherd had practices his lines of “We found a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes”—but due to nervousness before the audience said, “The baby was wrapped in wrinkled clothes” He was corrected by his sister who said, “That’s not wrinkled clothes, silly..that’s dirty rotten clothes. Mom slouched in her seat when Mary dropped the doll representing Baby Jesus and it bounced down the aisle crying “Mama-Mama!” Mary grabbed the doll, wrapped it back up and held it tightly as the wise men arrived. The wise man, son, stepped forward wearing a bathrobe and a paper crown, knelt at the manger and announced: “We are the three wise men, and we are bringing gifts of gold, common sense and fur (emphasis added)” The audience watching the performance dissolved into laughter and the pageant got a standing ovation.

Another pageant story I liked was in a book we read for Advent “The Miracle of Christmas” What happens is Joey a nine year old gets a part in the pageant as the Angel who told Mary the news of her bearing a child. He was to say, “Behold I bring you glad tidings of great joy” But Joey had never heard the words “Behold” or “glad tidings” before so he struggled with memorizing it. His teacher told him “Joey, simple imagine that you have just heard the most wonderful news and you run to tell your friends all about it. That’s what ‘Behold, I bring you tidings of great joy means” He finally mastered the line. He was ready but then the curtain went up and he saw all those people out there. Then the bright spotlights were shining directly in his face. Joey got the classic case of stage fright and his mind went blank. For the life of him he couldn’t remember his line. But he did remember what his teachers had told him about running to his friends to tell them some wonderful news. So instead of saying “Behold, I bring you glad tidings of great joy!” Joey blurted out, “Boy oh boy, do I have good news for you!” The audience laughed loudly and gave Joey a standing ovation.

A New Year is a new beginning. Four of our grandchildren, Kelly, Linda, Matt, and Kate will be ending a phase of their formal education. Kelly graduates from College, and the others from High School. When I graduated from high school sixty-one years ago, it was not a normal thing for college to be the next step. In my family however there was no thought of doing otherwise. But today with the rising cost it has made it more difficult to do so. We hopefully will be there when the ’08 graduates take that step and join in celebrating the occasion. Until next time, Pax Tecum!

December brings us the joy of Christmas time and at the same time a reminder that another year is coming to an end. We celebrated some of the joy with a visit to Disney World. We went to see the “Candlelight Procession and Massed Choir Program” We try each year to attend it. We missed last year due to my being still in recovery from pneumonia. It is an inspirational program held at America Garden Theater in Epcot. It is an open arena type auditorium. Over 400 voices from choirs around the United States sing. They are on stadium like seats that rise from the stage. They fill the ends of the stage. The center is filled with singers in green robes who sit in similar seats but at the top there is only one person. As the seats go down towards the stage, there are more and more singers added as they reach the stage floor. These singers are Walt Disney World Cast members who volunteer. They form a human Christmas Tree. At the bottom of the tree is a podium on which a celebrity narrates the Christmas story. In front of the narrator are the “Voices of Liberty” an a cappella ensemble, which performs at this American site at Epcot. An orchestra composed of fifty or more professional musicians from Central Florida fills the rest of the stage.

The choir comes into the theater carrying lighted candles as the orchestra plays. After the stage is full the narrator is escorted in to the podium. The narrator changes from week to week starting November 23rd and ending December 30th. We had Stephen Curtis Chapman, a performer of Christian contemporary music and winner of five Grammy awards. When everyone is in place he begins the reading of the Christmas story from the gospel of Luke. After a short reading the choir then sings Christmas music. It is a wonderful musical event and makes the joy of Christmas seem even closer.

The event is so popular these days that even with tickets when we got into the ticket line it was some six to seven blocks in length even forty-five minutes before the program was to begin. Those without tickets had a line twice as long. When we were finally seated the theater was nearly full so we wondered how many stand- by’s made the performance. It reminded us that we should be sure to get tickets for next year and get them early! As we left the theater to head home fireworks accompanied us.

We had arrived at Disney around nine AM that morning. Our room was not yet available so we went to Magic Kingdom- another site. One of the first rides we visited was a favorite “Buzz Lightyear” It is a ride where two sit in round cart with laser guns in front of them and a device in the center to enable you to move the cart left or right or all the way around. The object is to shoot as many aliens as possible, which are flying around you on both sides as you move through the tunnel. You aim, press the button see rays fly at the target but seldom know whether you hit something or not. Your car keeps moving and you keep turning and firing. A score lights up in front of you showing how well you are doing. June and I have a contest every time we go. This year she trounced me twice.

On Wednesday night we were back at Magic Kingdom in the evening to watch the “Light Parade” The crowds were larger than we have seen in times we visited before. So June decided we needed to get a place early in order to be able to see the parade. She found a spot on the main street. It was on the curb and people were filling up around her and past her as she placed her bag and sat down. She would save my place with the bag as I went a sat at a chair next to tables in an Ice Cream parlor nearby. About an hour before the parade started members of the staff working the park came by and said all the tables chairs would be removed in a short time. They did so as people finished and left but I remained alone on a chair. One of the attendants came and said he had to take the chair but he could get me a wheel chair. I had told him about my back problem making standing too long increase the pain. I thanked him and then surrendered the chair. I told him my wife June, pointing to approximately where she was sitting, had saved me a spot on the curb for the parade. I would now head over there. It was still nearly an hour before the parade would come. About a half an hour before the parade came up came two staff people with a wheel chair! I was glad to sit down and I was grateful for their thoughtfulness. It was the epitome of Disney’s workers concern for those attending the sites.

This month contains birthdays: two sons, Tom and Bill, two grandsons, Sean & David, and two sisters Therese and Anne. Therese and Anne are celebrating in heaven the others here. Birthdays are celebrations of life. The end of the year reminds us of how fleeting life is and caused me to read an article about a campaign for euthanasia. A former Governor of Washington, Booth Garner, is waging a campaign for legislation in the state for ‘physician assisted suicide”. He is a victim of Parkinson’s disease. He was interviewed for the article and asked why he is doing this. His answer was “My life, My death, My control” (emphasis added) He claims that his statement is composed of ‘impeccable logic” But is it? Several states have attempted to pass such laws without success. The one proposed in Washington is similar to Oregon’s. The Washington law would not cover Parkinson disease since it isn’t terminal. So Gardner is trying for a law that would permit lethal prescriptions for people whose suffering is ‘unbearable’. This is the standard used in the Netherlands. As the author notes, this is a standard that elevates ‘subjective experience over objective appraisal’ and that could engage the government and medical profession in administration of widespread suicide. What is ‘unbearable’? The author interviewed others who have had experience with the practice under the statues like Oregon’s and Netherlands. He found there is much abuse of the “paper work” requirements. Most of the victims were the poor and women. The doctor’s excuses are that no one will object to the lack of paper work or if proper procedure is ignored in those cases. This is happening even where states require two physicians, a wait before execution, and consent of the patient. So as the author notes the decision as to what is legal comes down to the physician. But the author didn’t attack the thinking of people like Garner who states it is “My life, my death, my control” and claims it is ‘impeccable logic”. Isn’t life a gift? When did we get a ‘right’ to be alive? Did we somehow earn the right ? His logic is not impeccable when he fails to ask to how it came to be “My” life. To me reason or logic if you will, requires we ascertain where life comes from. When we do so we realized that it is not a ‘right’ but a gift. So from that point on the proposed ‘reason’ that it’s “My Life” fails and so do any of the grounds for euthanasia.

Another western state in the news these days is Iowa. The candidates for President have been campaigning there for months. Interesting also is that Iowa is the birthplace of successful polling. Michael Cowles started it in 1943 and was later helped and joined by George Gallup. Their system of random selection met with success where others failed. The article tells of the “Literary Digest’ attempting a polling. It heard from 2 million Americans in 1936. Its major flaw was it was mailed only to people who owned a phone or a motor vehicle. Such people were usually Republicans at that time and thus the result were heavily in favor of the Republican candidate. The result of their poor polling led them a short time later to go out of business. Gallup and Cowles even occasionally strayed from politics. In 1989 a poll determined that 11 percent of Iowans named their cares, 86 percent did not, 2 percent had no cars and 1 percent weren’t sure they named them or not. In 1977 they conducted one I liked. The poll determined that only 5 percent of Iowans expected to go to hell, but 31 percent knew someone else who was likely to go there!

We wish you the joy of the Christmas season! We hope the New Year brings you these Irish Blessings: May love and laughter light your days and warm your heart and home! May life’s passing seasons bring the best to you and yours in the New Year that comes!

Until next time, Pax Tecum!

We spent the latter part of October in the North. We went to help with the recovery of my former spouse Katherine from knee surgery. I slept and had breakfast at my daughter Mary’s home in Yardley and June lived in Katherine’s apartment. We had hope we could both live in Katherine’s apartment but the bed provided was too soft for two people. So that is why I slept about four miles away at my daughter’s home. We arrived on Thursday October 18th. Katherine had had knee surgery and she was released from the hospital on Sunday October 21st .We didn’t arrive back in ‘warm’ Florida until November 11th. The fact that my wife volunteered to help with my former spouse’s recovery form the surgery surprised many. Katherine and June have been friends for at least 20 years. My son Dan married Lori in 1988 and the wedding took place in lower New York. We, June and I, flew from Philadelphia to Binghamton. June has a fear of flying. In this case that fear was overwhelming since we found ourselves in a small prop driven plane. It had a row of seats down each side of the cabin. The pilot or co-pilot was also the steward and door handler. On leaving the plane June assured me that she was not going home on that plane or one like it. She expressed those sentiments to Katherine and was told that if I didn’t rent a car to drive us home, June was welcome to ride with her and her friend Madge back to Philadelphia. I rented a car.

Besides being friends it happened because of the character of both women. Katherine in her ability to forgive and forget and June in her being able and wanting to care for others regardless of any other factor, other than that care was needed. Both women ignored ‘status’ or at least considered it unimportant when it came to giving and accepting care.

About the same time my sister Marge suffered a bleeding in her head which caused her to be hospitalized. Marge recovered and went home while we were still there. We did get to visit her in the rehab center before she went home. Being in the Philadelphia area found us able to visit an old friend Bill King before he died from cancer. Bill had been in hospice care I believe since late September. June and I got a quick visit with him and his wife Bunny prior to Katherine’s discharge from the Hospital. He was coherent though very sleepy during that visit. I got another visit him on November 9th. He was semi conscious then and he died early the next morning. We had been friends for over thirty years. We ran races all over the East Coast. We had met at a “jog in” in the early 70’s and went on to the Boston Marathon twice and many other runs. Since coming to live in Florida in 1997 we stayed in touch by phone and mail. On most of our visits north we managed to have a lunch together. We knew for some time that his cancer was considered terminal but it still didn’t soften the loss. He and his wife Bunny were ‘friends’ in the fullest meaning of the word. “Friends are family we select” I read somewhere and it certainly applied to Bill and Bunny.

Mary, my daughter, her husband Ron, and their three boys live in Yardley which is located in Bucks County, Pennsylvania north of Philadelphia. The Delaware River borders it on the east. Lower Makefield Township surrounds it on the north, west and south. Katherine lived in Lower Makefield Township but it was colloquially referred to as “Yardley”. William Yardley first occupied the area in 1682. He obtained the land by an agreement with William Penn. Neither Philadelphia nor Trenton existed when Yardley was founded. The Yardley family occupied the land for more than 150 years. It became a village in 1807. During the Civil War it was a station on the Underground Railroad under the eaves of the Continental Tavern, known then as the Continental Hotel. We have eaten in the Continental Tavern a few times while visiting Yardley. The information reported here on Yardley was obtained from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia on the Net. My walking around the area while living at Mary’s let me view enormous trees of many varieties. Some were over 100 feet in height and spread some 20 to 40 feet in width. They were in full fall bloom and awesome. They led me to believe they had been around for some time. So that and some historic placards with dates in the seventeen and eighteen hundreds made me curious about the area’s history.

Besides the beautiful trees the area was covered with single homes of mostly one story and some with two. Each had at least 50 to 60 feet of area in the front and rears of the properties. The streets were paved but there were no sidewalks and only a few curbs. They have one street near Mary’s home called ‘Moon Drive’. The streets running off that drive were Milton, Byron, Keats, Shelley, and Rickerts. All were poets but Rickerts who as I later learned was a writer. But it was easy walking by such great poetic names in the presence of such awesome signs of nature to be filled with thanksgiving for the wonder of it all.

“No wonder there is no wonder. We’ve figured it all out” Knowledge should increase our wonder, but seeking more knowledge seems to be the only result. “We are more impressed with the discovery of the light switch that the one who invented electricity” (M.Lucado) We look at the stars and thus decide to study astrology. But see not its glory and wonder but struggle to show how it came about. We would rather believe in a ‘big bang’ than a ‘blessed creator’. It makes you wonder! Like noted above we are more delighted and overwhelm with the light switch that the inventor of electricity.

When I looked at the trees as I walked I had no problem with being filled with wonder. On Mary & Ron’s property just at the end of their driveway was an enormous tree. It was six or seven feet around the trunk, rose some forty to fifty feet in the air, and had branches of various sizes spreading out some ten to twenty feet. I would start my walk with a giant to look at and then continue to see many more as ‘wonderful’.

I get to see lots of trees when I walk here in Florida, but not as broad or as tall. If you do look about more carefully you can find the occasional broad and tall fir tree. I remember how impressed we were with the trees when visited Gainesville one time. It reminded us with its trees and some hills of the Pocono area in Pennsylvania. But most of the trees you see here are palms and they are tall and thin. They only have blooming at their tops. The ‘wonder’ here while walking is the water and sky. The sky seems continually blue with white puffs. As they move the puffs grow or shrink in various sizes making one try with his imagination to see figures like furry dogs or large monsters. Clouds are made of water so when you see too many together you are pretty sure you’ll soon get some rain. We live within a block of the Tampa Bay. Walking along the street with enormous house you can peer out over the bay feel the wonder of the changing hues of the water, its movement with a slight breeze, and how it looks to go on and on right into the horizon. Water is another wonder.

I came across an article promoting an exhibit on water at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. It was entitled “H2O = life”. Water has been in the news recently with regard to bottled water, droughts in Florida and Georgia, the shrinking of the Great Lakes requiring freighters to lighten their loads, etc. The article referred to some interesting facts about water. For example a single molecule that evaporates into the atmosphere… “spends 11 days in the air before condensing with its companions and falling as rain” The typical American uses 151 gallons of water a day while a resident of the United Kingdom uses only 31 gallons! Incidentally no bottle water was sold at the Museum store.

November closes with “Thanksgiving”. I certainly have much to be grateful for starting with the love and care of June. Then I am grateful too for all the loving children and stepchildren as well as the grandchildren. They bring joy constantly to my life.

I am reminded that at Thanksgiving just a year ago I was coming down with what would be bacterial pneumonia. I ended spending time in the hospital from the Sunday after Thanksgiving to the middle of December. We also remember sitting on the porch around December 20th and being serenaded with Christmas carols by a group from church. With so much to be thankful for it is very easy to celebrate Thanksgiving.

We hope you all had a great Thanksgiving Day. Just living in this country is one big reason we all have to be thankful. Until next time, Pax Tecum.

We ended the month of September in upper New York on Lake Ontario. We stayed at the home of my son Dan’s in Hilton on Thursday night and then drove to Oswego for son Andy’s wedding. We had rooms in a Best Western Motel alone the shore of the Oswego River. We could see the Lake from our small balcony. Oswego was the town where for many years Andy had lived and was still the home of his bride to be Annie Chwalek. We had a rehearsal dinner on Friday night just down a hill from the Motel. Saturday we were driven to the town of Mexico where at the Arena Eis Haus where the couple would take their vows. The wedding was in a beautiful garden outside the restaurant as evening came. Then we had a celebration inside for the rest of the night. All of my children and grandchildren were there so it could be said; “The gang’s all here!”

One of the extras for me was the company of Annie’s dad John. He was a retired lawyer, Federal Arbitrator, holder of other appointed offices in Oswego, and a Democrat. John’s wife’s name was Mary, which was another coincidence for June and I. June’s sister Mary is married to a John, and his parents were also John and Mary! So it was another thing that made us feel comfortable with them both. I had the pleasure of sitting both at the rehearsal dinner and the wedding celebration meal with John. He enjoyed telling stories giving me another reason to enjoy his company.

As we began our trip home by air from Rochester we had another surprise. After checking in there was an announcement that the flight from Rochester to Philadelphia was over booked. They asked for volunteers to give up their seats for another flight. After some time and apparently no one having offered to do so, we heard our names announced asking us to come to the check in counter. They asked us if we would change our flight from Philadelphia to D.C. They offered us two tickets to anywhere in continental U.S. where U.S. Air flies. We took their offer. The flight to D.C. was at the next gate and we arrived home even earlier than we would have on the Philadelphia flight!

On the flight to St. Pete’s I read an article in the New York Times reporting that Kraft food was inaugurating a campaign to sell cheese by declaring that eating a “grilled cheese sandwich” will bring you a state of  ‘Happiness’. Grilled cheese sandwiches are one of my favorite lunches when eating out. But I can never recall it bringing me the mental state of happiness. Happiness is ‘enjoyment, pleasure, enjoyment, high spirits, satisfaction, etc., all mental concepts. I suppose you could say it does bring enjoyment to the taste, removes hunger but to me that’s a far reach of the concept “happiness”. I had all these thoughts about the use of words when I came across an essay by a journalist from the LATimes entitled “Genius or just ludicrous?” (laughable because of obvious incongruity) Her name was Meaghan Daum and she was referring to the MacArthur Fellows awards. The media has been applying the moniker ‘genius’ to all the awardees. The author notes that what is particularly insulting about this naming now are that the category of ‘genius’ has become increasingly overcrowded. “Blame it on the democratization of intellect…or the same kind of etymological pandemonium that led to “sick’ suddenly meaning “cool”, but these days it seems that every third person is a genius.” She notes that “genius” in the last few weeks has been applied to NFL coach Bill Belichick, rapper Ludacris, the famous mime Marcel Marceau, and Alex, the African grey parrot who knew 100 English words, could count numbers up to six, and died at the age of 31! It seems the old standard of genius like an Einstein has been destroyed. So now ‘happiness’ is arrived at by eating a grilled cheese sandwich (if made with Kraft Cheese of course)!

The use of these words as the author noted is ludicrous. The incongruity is that they have created fictional meanings for them. It is fiction where it shouldn’t be. I encountered some good fiction in the past month, it was JK Rowland’s seventh Harry Potter story. It was “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” It was, I believe, the longest of all the books previous but her style made it easy reading. While reading it I would have like to have had a “Harry Potter Dictionary and Personnel List”. I had read the previous books but my memory found it difficult to perceive who were the good guys and who were not. Also several descriptive words were hard to recall as to what they referred. Nevertheless it was a great story and easy reading. She certainly is in a class with CS Lewis and JRR Tolkien when it comes to fantasy fiction.

Now back to my real life incident that sounds like fiction. Tony and I had had another ride; it was with a homicide detective from the Philadelphia police. I received a phone call from the detective, who had an Irish name. He knew I was Tony’s lawyer and he wanted to talk to him about his cellmate. Tony’s cellmate of the last seven years had offered information on an unsolved homicide implicating Tony. The officer was fairly sure that Tony’s participation was a creature of the cellmate’s story telling, but he wanted to confirm it. I put some calls out for Tony. You never just rang Tony. You called his home. His mother would be vague as who “Tony” was, until you identified yourself to her satisfaction. She had, because of other calls I made, came to recognize my voice. She gave me the standard answer she would give him the message when she could. Eventually he responded.

Tony was not agreeable to any talk with any cop. I explained that we were within the appeal time of the decision, and cooperating with the detective might buy us some good will with the District Attorney. So, after hemming and hawing, he agreed as long as it was on his turf and on his time. So it was set for 10 P.M. at the Melrose Diner, in South Philadelphia, a few nights later.

He advised me to pick him up with a cab at a luncheonette somewhere on Ninth Street in South Philly. We would go from there to the Melrose diner. When I arrived around 9:45 P.M. the place was empty. It also appeared to be not a very well stocked eating-place. The counter behind where the people would sit for service were empty. From out a back door at the end of the counter sprung a gentleman asking who was calling. Behind him, through the open door I could hear a great deal of noise, I could see a large tote board on the opposite wall. It was a miniature casino. The “gentleman”, a large ill-humored gorilla inquired again of our mission. I told him I was looking for Tony Perpiglia and that I was his attorney. He asked me my name, and went back into the noisy room. A few minutes later Tony appeared and we were off to the Melrose for our rendezvous.

Tony selected a booth. We sat to wait for the homicide detective. He arrived shortly and joined us for coffee. He started questioning Tony regarding his cellmate. Tony demonstrated a masterful command of the monosyllable. He would nod, say “yea“, ”nah”, “maybe”, ”dunno”, and so on. While the detective talked, Tony hardly looked at him. His eyes kept darting around the diner like he was looking for someone, or afraid maybe someone might see him with a cop. The detective persevered. He seemed to be getting no where. Suddenly, Tony says, ”Let’s get atta here”. So we did.

There is cab stand just outside the diner. We hired one and the detective and I got in the back. Tony sat next to the driver. He gave the driver a residence address in Southwest Philly. It was his mother’s home. We drove off in silence.

Now imagine the driver’s state of mind. It’s late at night. Three guys climb into a cab. Give an address of a house tucked away on a small street in Southwest Philly. They appear to be friends, but nothing is said, not a word. Sitting in the back seat I watched the driver’s eyes looking us over through the rear view mirror. The silence continued. There wasn’t even a whispered conversation. His eyes kept darting from face to face between watching the road. After about 10 minutes the driver gave up the ghost of resistance and exclaimed, ”Youse guys cops?” The laughter from the front seat was riotous. “Yeah, weese cops,” says Tony. Even the cop broke into a grin.

The remainder of the ride was relaxed. I got to meet Tony’s mom. The detective continued his questioning in the kitchen with no apparent success However, when he was about to leave I learned it must have been of some help, since he indicated he would no longer pursue it with Tony.

I advised Tony of the detective’s conclusions. He still expressed his anger for even bothering. I told him it couldn’t hurt with the District Attorney, or with a court in the future. Eventually it may have helped because the District Attorney let the appeal time elapsed and decided he would not re-try Tony.

The next and last time I saw Tony he was on the front page of the Evening Bulletin. He was dead on the floor of a bank with a Halloween mask covering his face. A stake out officer had shot him as he tried to rob the bank.

He was free. Free to plan a bank robbery. Free to have himself gunned down. Free to bring an end to his life and his friendship with his young lawyer. He is certainly one of my most ‘unforgettable characters’. This is how I remember Tony!

Until next time, Pax Tecum!

“September morn, Do you remember how we danced that night away.
Two lovers playing scenes from some romantic play.
September mornings still can make me feel that way! “

These words are from a song written and sung by Neil Diamond. It was a popular song in the 80’s when June and I were dating. I really can’t say that is how I remember ‘September mornings’. During most of my young life September reminded me of only one thing: school. Whether it was grade school, high school, and college or beyond they all began in September. It was recalled because it meant a change in the habits of relaxing to the chore of learning. Admittedly once the school days began to pass it brought the pleasure of friends and leaning – but most of the time it was tough getting back to a routine.

As summer began to end we begin to pack up and leave the breezes of Sea Isle City on the New Jersey shore for the reality of the city streets and buildings of Philadelphia. We walked to school, whether grade school or high school. Today that is the exception, most are driven there. I had the companionship of a brother or sisters. I was surround by sisters in our family. I had three older and two younger, so most of the time I recall only sisters. Except I do recall having to carry my brother John’s books early on in our schooling. In high school I had Gerry Connell, a friend from first grade in grammar school, to walk with me. We parted when we went to college but continued to be friends even until today.

So September ‘morns’ bring back more than memories of “some romantic play”. It is the end of summer except of course in Florida. “In Florida you know what the four seasons really are: almost summer, summer, not summer but feels like summer, and Christmas” (This is a quote from a flyer called ‘Getaway’ advertising the Trade Winds Island Resorts at St. Pete’s Beach.) It is easy to agree with that analysis of Florida weather so we don’t have and ‘end of summer’ here.

September was remembered too because it brought Labor Day, another long weekend. But now Labor Day has receded in our memory due to 911 – the day of infamy in 2001. I still can recall watching the TV screen with June with what we first thought was a movie. It was a great shock to find out it was not! It is now a day of mourning for all those who died. It has become too a political item – a reason supposedly for waging war in Iraq. It seems to me that our waging war in Iraq has given the terrorist ammunition for recruiting new members. They point to the war as another imperialistic unwarranted act of a country, which in doing so ignored all international agreements. The ‘reasons’ given for the war have all be proven to be non existent and have never materialized. We now have the additional problem of with drawing with nothing to show for all the lives lost- except more hatred from most of the Muslim world.

Being in the ‘September’ of my years (at least) it was wonderful news that I need not undergo heart surgery. I want to thank all of you who sent notes, prayed, and let me know of your love and care. I did find out later that the pain in my back is the result of a compressed fracture of the L-1 vertebra. Time is the only healer of such a condition so I have been advised.

Peter Quinn’s novels are heartily recommended. The one entitled “The Hour of the Cat” was a good historical detective story. James Paterson who said it not only was a good story but it made you “think” endorsed it. After reading Peter Quinn’s novel I happened then to read one by Paterson. It was as usual one burst of action every three pages or less. It was called the “Quickie”. I can’t say it made me ‘think’, even though one of the main characters was named Paul, and he was a lawyer! I can say it once again made me marvel and think of the imagination of Mr. Paterson. Along with those books I have finally begun to read “Profiles in Courage” by John F. Kennedy. I have been meaning to do so since it first was published in 1955. Recently I came across an illustrated version of the book at a rummage sale and brought it. The book offers an excellent illustration of President Kennedy’s ability to write. He was a Journalist for a while at the Los Angles Times. It is also worth noting, as it was by his brother Robert in the Forward to the book, that John Kennedy demonstrated courage on many occasions from the Bay of Pigs incident to his overcoming constant back pain to continue to serve others. He was the youngest President in our history to date and he was also the youngest to have been killed in office.

As I noted above, I envy fiction writers their imaginations and their ability to create from them pictures. Yet when I look back on some of my past experiences in the law some are as amazing as fiction. One was meeting as a young lawyer a client-prisoner named Tony Perpiglia. ‘Meeting’ is really not the appropriate word. ‘Binding’ would be better in that I was bound to him by a court appointment. It was a Federal Court petition by him that the court believed was sound enough to have counsel appointed. However, I was not the original one selected, it was Lou McCabe and giant of a defense counsel. But it happened at that time Lou suffered a severe heart problem and could not appear in a courtroom apparently because it would cause a reaction to the heart. He was, at this stage in his career, now writing appeal briefs for the District Attorney Office. Later we learned after investigation that he also had been in the courtroom at the time Tony had been tried. His testimony of the conditions of that trial would have also barred him from being counsel. He testified in Tony’s case in the Judge’s chambers and his testimony was crucial to the court granting Tony’s writ of Habeas Corpus and thus his leaving jail. Tony was tried with seven other defendants en masse. The trial so called, as testified by Lou McCabe, was a ‘circus’. The seven were sentenced for robberies to 50 to l00 years in prison. That all occurred twenty years before this writ which Tony filed after studying the criminal law the whole time he was in prison.

The DA could retry him but had to do so within I believe 90 days. I suggested to Tony that he cooperate with DA as need be until the time for retrial expired. As a result I received a call from Tony or his Mother that he was going reluctantly with two detectives to the Special Investigations Office a bit north of the Center City. The ‘office’ was really a large building and when you entered the ground floor entrance there was a large stairway rising on a curve to the floor above. It was there where the offices were. After the call I went to the building and up the stairs to the office. Tony wasn’t there yet. Meanwhile I started talking to another gentleman waiting there for Tony, I learned he was an FBI agent. After a wait I watched Tony walking up the stairs towards us with a detective on either side. There were no cuffs on him. They stopped in front of me at the top and I asked if they were arresting him. They said “No”. So then like something from a movie I said to Tony let’s go. He turned around and we both walked down the stairs leaving the detective with surprised looks. As we went down the FBI agent came down behind us. He offered us a ride. I said ‘no’ we’ll get a cab. But we found when we got to the street there were no cabs so we accepted his offer. The entire time in the back seat Tony complained, with his favorite four-letter word modifying almost all those he spoke. It was about my suggestion he ‘cooperate’ with F…ing cops (i.e. The DA). His complaints continued the whole ride and he ignored the FBI agent’s request that he go to his office and give him a hand print. Needless to say Tony refused to do so. His request brought some more complaints about my suggestion that he cooperate. Frankly looking back, I don’t think I could have written a better script. The experience appeared more like fiction than reality. (To Be Continued, More Next Time)

The last days of September brings us a happy event. My son Andy will set sail on the ship of Matrimony. The bride is Ann Chwalek and the event will take place in Mexico…not that place south of Texas but in Mexico, New York! We plan to be there to help them celebrate and launch the ship. Until next time, Pax Tecum!

August use to be a month of sea and sand some years at Avalon, N.J and others at Myrtle Beach, SC. But recently the sea and sand have faded but it remains a month of celebration of our marriage, twenty-six years this month, and of birthdays. It seems hard to believe that our marriage has been that long since it seems “like only yesterday” we had the ceremony and celebration. But then the birthdays are in numbers we find difficult to believe too so time has a way of keeping us aware of our being here. In the case of the marriage that time has flown by thanks to a loving and caring June. These past few years I’ve managed to call on her nursing skills more than either of us wanted. This past month with a back injury she has once again been there helping and encouraging. She certainly has had abundance of that part of the marriage vow which says “. or worse”! She’s had a bundle of ‘worse’!

The month of pain and the possibility of heart surgery in the offing, have a way making one recall you are mortal. We really find it difficult as humans to be reminded that we are here only for a short time. Our fear of the hereafter is ingrown and natural. Only our faith which is “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” makes it possible to think about it. That faith assures us that God and his kingdom exists. I heard an analogy in the form of a story I thought really touched on the issue. Suppose you were able to talk to a baby in the mother’s womb. As it neared the time of his or her delivery you would be telling them of the New World that awaited them and to be prepared. You probably would find the baby not to happy about the idea of leaving this warm and loving place to go somewhere he or she has no concept of. She or he would be fearful since it is unknown. So too it is with us. Our certitude of the world of hereafter is based on faith. But there is reason in it since we do not where we came from so it is not surprising we don’t ‘know’ where we are going. Scientists have tried for centuries to have us evolve from nothing and never have explained the existence in material terms our consciousness, memory, et al, all of which exist without material or physical explanation. I remember my brother Pat saying that to him death was like shutting the door to one room and opening and entering another. For some the belief also assures them that they’ll rejoin the loved ones who have preceded them there. This is just another side of our immortality we cannot really understand and must rely on faith.

I have all these thoughts and feelings because I have been in pain now for over a month and maybe facing heart surgery in a short time. Surgery of this nature at my age is understandably a high risk, making thoughts of my mortality more pertinent. My life has been full of love. The love of a caring wife, children, grandchildren and friends make it a happy one. They make my thoughts of mortality even more meaningful since it entails thoughts of leaving their love, even though I believe a greater love awaits me. It is still tough to do so!

Talking or writing about such things as beliefs in God or an after life in today’s culture is anathema. The more popular is bragging about your atheism. Our modern day philosophers see our human predicament today as our being “… alone among an accidental universe, ether without end, stars dying and being born in random, (an) ultimately purposeless process of following out the cosmic consequences of the Big Bang” (P.Quinn,”Looking for Jimmy”, p.184)

Everything is material and ends when its age or time runs out. But as we noted above “all” is not material since we have things like free will, memory, feelings, consciousness, etc. that don’t fit the materialistic pattern. I find such thoughts (which is non-material) ignoring the reality of the spirit within us…including the ability to put these thoughts into a sentence.

I see faith being exercised even by those who deny it exist. It is done in their faith in the physicians, pharmacist, etc. that treat them. It is there in the love of their spouse and children. It is there in the thought that the other driver will obey the rules of the road, and so on. They may call it something else but basically it is acting without assurance of the ‘facts’. It is acting in faith.

We began our anniversary day with a visit to a doctor! We did have a special dinner from Pepin’s the restaurant where we had June’s birthday celebration with many friends. We watched a movie as we ate our Anniversary Dinner. Certainly it was a modified celebration as compared to those in the past, but still a celebration!

I continue to read more of Peter Quinn’s writing. He sent me four copies of his novel, “Hour of the Cat” published in 2006. I sent one to Tom Baker as thanks for introducing me to Mr. Quinn’s writings and another to sister-in-law Eleanor a lover of books. It was a historical-detective novel. It takes place in New York and Berlin. The time is the late 30’s leading up to World War II. Some of the historical characters were Tom Dewey, Henry Kissinger, and Col. Donovan, leader of the ‘fightin’ 69th’ in WWI. A parallel story to the New York one is one of an admiral in the German navy fighting the impulse to revolt due to Hitler’s ideas on eugenics and the master race. The detective part is with Fintan Dunne a private eye and solving a murder mystery and finding the eugenics of Hitler and others being practiced in U.S. We agree heartily with the appraisal of James Patterson, “Peter Quinn has reinvented the historical detective novel. His timing is impeccable. Hour of the Cat just what we need right now: intelligent ironic, well-written suspense that makes us think” It is of interest to note of Darwin that he fostered as great ideals the eugenics of killing the unworthy to clean up the race. It is not a part of Darwin’s theories that you often read about or hear praised. So apparently ‘natural selection’, Darwin’s theory of man’s being, failed to eliminate those of lesser quality in the eyes of Hitler and Darwin.

We will end here this month since the future holds the possibility of our being away from this machine for some time. Pax Tecum!

We were on the road most of June. We left on the 14th and got back to St.Pete’s on July 3rd. Traveling is like life, a journey. You’re on the road from one place to another encountering as in life joy, fear, discontent and sometimes wondering if it was all worth the difficulties. You have the discomfort of living out of a bag in quarters not anywhere like home. But then a simple thing happens and it all seems worthwhile. This trip had what we might call ‘bookend treats’. We left Florida and stayed overnight in Georgia and then Virginia. The next day we arrived at Shirley McSorley’s home on the Elk River in Maryland. We had the pleasure of several days there up on the hill overlooking the river. It is a quiet and scenic spot. I like to call it the ‘Elk River Retreat’. The river must be a mile wide where we were looking. Oil barges chug up the river and before, after and around them on occasions people water-skied. Shirley has a collection of bird feeders in the trees above where we sit and so you get a variety of birds to eat and twitter as you sit at watch the world go by. At the other end of the trip we spent several days in Yardley, Pa. at my daughter’s home with her three sons. We had visitors and great meals and celebrated June’s birthday at her favorite restaurant “Olive Garden”. This was a modest get-together compared to the dinner I had for her birthday on June 3 in St. Pete’s. There we had 28 people in a local restaurant wishing her a happy birthday and many more of them. This gathering was composed of some of the many friends June has made while living here in Florida.

After our visit to Shirley’s we drove to Ardsley outside of Philadelphia to the home of Walt and Tracy, June’s daughter. We had a belated Mother’s Day and Father’s day dinner. It was at a new restaurant for them and thought it would be for us. As it turned out the restaurant, “Bonefish” is one we have attended here in St. Pete’s. It was a great meal there as well as those we have had here. We then took off the next morning for Danbury, Connecticut. I don’t think we’ve ever been there before. We stayed as guest of June’s son Joe in a Hilton Garden Hotel. It was a grand hotel, with large suites and had fresh breakfast cooked just off the lobby each morning. We were there to attend the graduation of Joe’s son Joseph from High School. It took place at the Western Connecticut State University just down the road from the hotel. Later we did a bit more celebrating at Joe’s home in New Milford, Conn. a few miles north of Danbury. We left the next morning after a great breakfast with Joe at the Hilton and drove to Mystic, Connecticut. Mystic to me was the place where Mystic Seaport was located. I later learned that Mystic itself had popularity through a movie in which Mystic Pizza Shop was a part. Mystic Seaport is a preserved and reconditioning of a Whaling community. It had houses the Whalers lived in, the tools and equipment they used in their trade. The major item of course was the boat and we toured one. We learned about the boiling of blubber. I learned later that blubber… “was a precious commodity. When boiled, whale blubber produced a highly prized, long-lasting, clean-burning oil, and that oil became one of the New World’s earliest exports and remained a staple of international trade for nearly 250 years.” We saw a video of a whaling ship in action, which could have been an excerpt from “Moby Dick” since I don’t believe movie cameras were in existence before the 1850’s. “It was crude oil that killed the industry—and saved the whales from extinction. Oil was discovered in Pennsylvania in 1859 and it quickly became, as Dolin writes, ‘so plentiful, so versatile and so cheap that it quickly replaced whale oil in many of it s applications.’ By 1862, Pennsylvania was producing three million barrels per year. Whalers managed only 155,000.” (Quotes from a review of book entitled “Leviathan: The History of Whaling in America by Eric Jay Dolin)

One evening we spent an hour or so at the Hotel Pequot a few miles south of Mystic. Pequots are an Indian tribe and the hotel had a casino. June had a good time playing. On Tuesday we drove down to Groton to the U.S.Submarine Base to tour the Nautilus, the first nuclear submarine, only to find it wasn’t tourable on Tuesdays. We visited it the next day as we began our trip south to Yardley, Pa. The sub was impressive with how much was built in such a small space. It is difficult to imagine spending months at a time in such cramped quarters.

Once back at St. Pete’s we were busy getting settled. Then on Monday July 9th I received a back injury from a fall from a device at Gold’s Gym. On my return home the pain was so intense that I became nauseous and June called 911. They took me to the Emergency Ward and no broken bones or head injuries were found. The muscles in my back between my rib cage and my tailbone were bruised and highly inflamed. The most painful incidents occur when I try to rise from the bed. I gave up the bed and have been spending my sleeping time in a lounge chair. All my activities were limited (and as I write still are) and I spent the rest of July sitting, napping, and slowly feeling it was healing.

One occasion I was happy I was able to make was the ordination of Liz Hardman Radtke on July 15. Liz has been a friend and like a daughter for all the years we have been here. She and her mom were members of the church. She was raised in the church .She graduated from college and than decided she wanted to serve as a pastor. She has a beaming personality and meets people with ease. She attended the Wartburg Seminary in Iowa and after some four years of study was now to be ordained. While there she met her husband to be, also a student and they were married. Liz will be a pastor at a Lutheran church in Worthington, Minn. We will miss her but know she is doing what she loves best, i.e., serving the Lord.

My reading while traveling and on my return has oddly been all in the setting of New York City. I was a recipient as a gift from my son-in-law Tom Baker of a book entitled “ Looking for Jimmy”. It was by Peter Quinn. Tom is a friend of Peter and they both had writings published in the “Commonweal: A Review of Religion, Politics & Culture”. The book by Mr. Quinn came autographed to me. I can’t remember anytime before that I received a book autographed by the author. The book is a history of the Irish immigration into New York as a result of the famines in 1847 and later. I wrote a note of thanks to Mr. Quinn and as a result received a copy of his novel entitled; “The Banished Children of Eve” set in New York in the 1860’s. Later I reread the essay on “McSorley’s Wonderful Saloon” which is of course is in New York in the Bowery in the 1850”s. Lastly, I decided to read an old classic, “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” by Betty Smith and found myself in Brooklyn in the early 1900’s. All of the stories were of interest and easy reading, despite the fact that they were all located in New York!

Peter Quinn gained notoriety as a speechwriter for two New York Governors, Carey and Cuomo. He later became Editorial Director for Time Warner. His book “Looking for Jimmy” received a plug from Frank McCourt who wrote, “You don’t have to be Irish or Irish American to love this book”. In a review of the book the reviewer wrote, “…he surely reads more Irish history than most professional scholars and cares passionately about the fate of Irish America.” I learned a great deal about the Irish in reading it, their bigotry as well as their perseverance in the face of overwhelming odds. The information on the famines and what the British government did and did not do was a revelation. He clearly notes that the binding and building trio was ‘Catholic, Democrat, and Irish’.

Recently the front page of the St.Petersburg Times, “Florida’s Best Newspaper” had two thirds of the front page filled with a picture of the pro-football team’s quarterback. The team is in training. It is July. The story was about the tough time he was having getting into shape to play. He had had health problems during the off-season. This was the major news story of the day in the thoughts of the Editors. The test is ‘it sells papers’. So I suppose that makes it legitimate but tells us a great deal about what people in Florida and St. Pete’s think is important. Sports used to be considered as a ‘past time’. Things to do or view when other more important matters are handled. It is in the opposite position now, at least in Florida. Sports are matters that demand front-page attention. It is a clear comment on how are culture has changed. Until next time, Pax Tecum!

“Tis heaven alone that is given away,
‘Tis only God may be had for the asking;
No price is set on the lavish summer;
June may be had by the poorest comer.
And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays”
— EXCERPT FROM: “JUNE” by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

What is so rare as a day in June in Florida in 2007 was RAIN. We got some on the first day of June and then a whole day of downpour the night into the second day. On the second day we had the street flooded and a power line catching fire resulting in no power for several hours. But by early evening the street was clearing.

May 2007 is now history, the past, and a memory but it will remain with me for sometime due to the events in that month on my birthday. June had planned sometime ago that we would go to Disney World for my birthday. Then we received word from my son Paul that he and his family were coming to visit Disney world and would arrived on my birthday. They planned to come in via Tampa so they could visit and maybe have dinner. June advised him of our plans and so we next learned he was giving us a Luau Dinner on the day after my birthday at the Polynesia Resort in Disney World.

So we were off to Disney at 8 AM on that day and we had our first pleasant surprise: we covered the 90 miles in 90 minutes arriving at our hotel at 9:30 AM. We have been lucky in the past to cover the trip in that time coming from Disney before, but never going. It was an omen of other firsts that would occur during our visit. We checked into the hotel and then were off to Epcot, one of our favorite spots. But first we had to stop at the ‘customer service’ office to get our passes issued. In doing so we had to produce i.d.’s to show we were legitimate Florida residence and thus entitled to the lower priced passes. As we stood watching the attendant preparing our passes we noticed he was printing something on a badge. I thought maybe they changed the mode of ‘passes’ and now we would wear a badge and not have plastic cards. But no when he handed out the passes he also handed us the badge, which read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAUL’ and under that it read: “ Walt Disney World, Where Dreams Come True”. It was another first and a surprise. So as we went about Epcot the entire day all the Disney attendants greeted us with a “ Happy Birthday Paul!”

Another first was being part of the Showcase Players performance in the street where England is reproduced. One time previously June had been picked to perform, actually it is not performing as much as just to sitting among the performers and answering their questions. She was selected as Judith in a rendition of “Romeo and Judith”. I was selected to sit as King Arthur in the myth of him seeking the Holy Grail with the help of Sir Galahad and Sir Lancelot along with Guinevere. Then that night at dinner in the restaurant where we were staying we got another first. After our meal three waitresses came out of the kitchen with a dish of vanilla ice cream topped by a candle and surrounded by the makings of a sundae. They proceeded to sing “Zipideedodah, Zipideeday, Paul have a happy birthday!” It was small dining area so every one in there stared over at the performance. One of those we saw later a couple of times as we wandered about the next day. He gave me a “Hi! Paul” like we were old buddies. The next day we were attending a performance of I think “ The Monster Laughs” where the friendly monster communicated with the members of the audience. When he talked to them they appeared on a big screen over the stage. Sure enough we were interviews. He asked June where she was born and she told him Philadelphia. As soon as the interview was finished some of the characters sang a song with words that included “June from Philadelphia!” On Thursday we met my son, Paul, his wife Janine, and daughter, Kristen at Magic Kingdom. They were off to rolling rides and we were off to our favorite ride “Buzz Lightyear”. Your ride a cart that can be turned left or right and each passenger has a laser gun. You shoot at the ‘aliens’ all around you and get a score if you make a hit. I won the first round just about but on the second time we went June slaughtered me. We were going to try a third but the crowd had gotten too big so we thought we might try later. We didn’t so we’ll need to go back one of these days to settle the tie! Thursday night we had another first attending a Luau Dinner. We were the guests of Paul, and Janine. It is a family type meal and during it there is music and dancing on the stage opposite where we sat eating.

So it was a week of ‘firsts’ including on the third day my age showed up in the form of backaches that had me sitting most of the day. Birthdays I’ve noticed before remind us we are getting older, and the aches and pains contribute to that reminder.

May also brought a sad time for us. The Lord called a good friend home. He was Lou Rosetti. We knew him and his wife, Jean since at least 1997. He was one of first people at church to introduce himself and welcome us. He was active in Via de Christo movement and our Discovery weekend retreats. We over the past few years had reunions with him and others on Monday nights. He was a member of the ROMEO’s (Real Old Men Eating Out) who ate lunch together one day a week. He did so until recently his health made it impossible for him to join us. He too celebrated a birthday in May on the ninth and he was 81 years young. I wrote a history of the church to celebrate the 40th anniversary. I covered the years from 1990 to 2005. I read the prior history from the founding of the church in 1965 till 1990. In both periods the name Lou Rosetti appeared quite often regarding the building of the church and to the creation of other programs. His health has been failing for some years now. I would call often to see how he was doing. I did so on May 22nd then Jean told me she thought he might have had a slight heart attack since one arm was paralyzed for a while. She said she was waiting for a call from the doctor. I suggested she call 911. When I told June what I had learned she immediately said “We’re going to their home” We did and spent some time with him me laying on the bed beside him and June standing on the other side of him holding his hand before the emergency vehicle arrived. He seemed as well as that he had been for sometime now. I went out with him to the vehicle and clearly felt we would see him again soon. However when I called around six p.m. his son told me with tears the sad news that he had died. He had an abdominal aortic aneurysm on which they could not operate due to his other health conditions. It apparently burst causing his death.

We thank the Lord for letting us be with him just few hours before he was called home. June has no idea what made her decide we should go to his home. We had never done such a thing before on hearing some one was going to be hospitalized. It was to us a ‘God thing’. We will miss him but considering the suffering and difficulties of this last year we know now he is free of all those ailments and believe he is surely home with Lord. It is at times like these that the belief in the Almighty and the hope of eternity soothes a bit the sense of loss. To not believe in God for me is a idea of little merit. Especially being reminded of what the disbelief carries with it. Recently I read the following thought “… (our) postmodern consciousness as it sees our human predicament today:-(is that we are)… alone amid an accidental universe, ether without end, stars dying and being born in a random, an ultimately purposeless process of filling out the cosmic consequences of the Big Bang”. In other words we are mere accidents with no purpose and end as same as animals. How one can dismiss the idea of a Creator, an Almighty being, and the spiritual part of man is beyond my comprehension. What are our consciousness, our memory, our emotions, and our free will but non-material substances. Science, as hard as it has tried for centuries, has not proven that these characteristics are composed of material substance. These characteristics make us ‘rational beings’ not just animals. They are not made of matter. Historically atheism is a recent conundrum of the renaissance age. It certainly wasn’t a ‘re-birth’ with regard to an existing transcendental being. It instead killed the idea and gave man the prospect of having an accidental beginning and no purposeful ending. So we should be happy and work towards being nothing but ashes when we die. We are just another animal and the spiritual non-physical part of us is ignored. I find that difficult to believe.

We will do a bit of traveling most of the rest of June. We will be sure to report those adventures, at least in part, next time. Pax Tecum

The Spring comes in with all her hues and smells,
in freshness breathing over hills and dells:
O’er woods where May her gorgeous drapery flings,
and mead washed fragrant by their laughing springs.
— John Clare

May is a month full of memories. Mother’s Days, Birthdays, May Processions and the happy thought that the school year is near its end! It is spring in Philly. It is a month that seems made to standout as the years went and go by. The fact that I have a birthday in that month helped some years ago, but today it’s not quite the same. Some good news about my birthday is I am reminded each year that I now have the same number of years as Bill King, who has a birthday in March. Can you guess who reminds me? There is also the birthday of my sister Marge, a few days before mine and two years in time. Now too we have many friends who have birthdays in this month giving us even more reason to remember it. Friends like Lou Rosetti, Joanne Hegerman, Shirley Pyle, and Bill King’s wife Bunny. So we have a May made up of birthdays and spring weather. The weather here however is closer to summer since the humidity started to rise again.

In my desk calendar on May1st,it reads, “Labor Day (M)”. Labor Day for me is the first Monday in September. It is the closing of the summer season. I think what the ‘(M)’ after “Labor Day” may mean Mexico. If any of you can give me an better answer I’d be most grateful. It may be a reference to the fact that the First of May has over the years been a day of activity of labor and laborers. It was a protest day for communism as I recall and many unions in opposition had a counter parade or program. Around Eisenhower’s time there was created a “Law Day” which was May 1st. I know the Bar Association in Philly had activities and even maybe a parade. If that’s what the (M) and “Labor Day” means on my calendar then I can understand, if not I’m at a loss.

May brings May Processions. As a young altar boy I participated in May processions. I’m not certain they were on May 1st or just one of the Sundays in May. They are still held in many churches even today. I put the words “May procession” in for a search on the net and found pages of processions listed. They indicated where and when in case you cared to attend. So the tradition goes on. I thought with Vatican II there was reduction in devotions to Christ’ mother since it was in some circle getting out of hand. I carried a candle in those processions and we ended up after a walk around the school and the church building placing a bouquet of flowers on her altar. In my childhood days at St. Francis de Sales in West Philly there was a separate altar for Mary dominated by a large statue of her.

As we noted above May usually brings good weather. We have the increase in humidity so we begin to feel the heat and put on the A/C. We however this year are not half way through May and have had uncomfortable days due to some 200 brush fires. The wind has blown the smoke in to our neighborhoods though thankfully the fires are miles away. It makes breathing difficult. We also are reminded during this month that the Hurricane season starts on June 1, so be prepared. But this year we’ve already had one named tropical storm, Andrea. So even in paradise there are weak spots.

May brings thoughts of the school year ending soon. Now in Florida it is not thoughts of it “ending’ but it ends! But my memory is when June brought the end of the school year and at one time even as far as the third week. There was one time in my life when that mattered a great deal. I had a political science major and education minor. The education minor meant I could teach in the system if I spent some time practice teaching. I forget the precise number of months. I got the opportunity in my senior year of doing so. From about the middle of March onward I was teaching the ninth grade students at a parochial school. Technically they were members of the Roman Catholic High School but were located in the parish school building. So I ended my college education teaching. I was excused from attending any other classes and I can’t recall if I even had to take exams. I had a class of nearly 35 boys. All came from the neighborhood of Girard Ave below Front Street. They were a rough group. In fact I learned later that the nun who had been teaching them was taken off the job due to a nervous breakdown, I believe that these young tough guys probably caused part of it. So you can imagine how I looked forward to the school year ending. I never did get the license to teach. For one thing due to the credits earned in college I had qualified, according to their requirements, in only one subject, Latin. So to teach some other subject or subjects I would have had to return to school and earned credits in them. But instead of that I entered Law School and following that the U.S. Marines for over 4 years. By the time I finished those seven plus years I decided to take up the practice of law with my Dad. Interestingly enough I did teach again and it was at the St. Joseph’s College night school. It was a means of filling in the gaps of income now that I had some seven mouths to feed aside from my own and my spouse. The same director of Education at St. Joe’s offered me the job to teach “The philosophy of secondary Education”. I did that one semester and then he asked me to come back to teach another class. The classes were comprised primarily of teachers from the Parochial schools who had to earn these extra credits to be certified. I was asked to teach “Educational Statistics”. I balked since I had never had a statistic course, but the director insisted I could do it out of the book. So I accepted the job. I announced to the class on the opening night that I was no expert in statistics and as matter of fact I was learning them for the first time along with them. I think I added something like and ‘of course the teacher will not fail’. An unexpected event occurred because of those remarks some ten years later. I was representing a man in a divorce action. His wife had an attorney. Either he or the wife’s attorney told me that his client, the wife, had called me a ‘deceiver’. She arrived at the conclusion he said since she had been in that night class on statistics. She somehow took my remarks about teaching from the book and that the teacher not failing as deception! I explained in detail to my client, her husband, what actually happened. He didn’t fire me and we got most of the things we wanted from the divorce agreement.

As we get older we get wiser, or so the adage or proverb says. “Wisdom comes with age” In the 1950’s a psychoanalyst in a work on the phases of life development identified wisdom as likely to be a by product of aging…or as some put it is: “older and wiser”

I’ve often jested with my co-older friends asking, “When do we get this wisdom?” So having a birthday to remind me I’m getting older I though about the ‘wisdom’ part. To answer my inquiry I suddenly found in the NYTimes Magazine an article on the subject. It was there that I learned about that psychoanalyst treatise on life phases. This article was about the recent attempts by psychologists and psychiatrists to see if aging brought wisdom or as they phrased it, “the older and wiser hypothesis”

They couldn’t answer the question. The first mistake was they never defined what wisdom is. So how could they find out if it existed in older people or not. They took brain scans, ran innumerable test via question of difficulties and how people responded and recorded them. The whole endeavor reminded me of Horgan’s book “The Undiscovered Mind” which reported the years of psychologist and psychiatrists have studied memory, consciousness, free will, and the mind and were still unable to give a material or physical explanation. They did the same here starting with ignoring the end they were seeking, i.e. what is wisdom? Like those things in Horgan’s book they had to acknowledge their existence but couldn’t put them in materialistic terms. One of the definitions of wisdom is knowledge of causes: why things exist or knowledge of what is true or right coupled with just judgment as to action. In other words a “belief” which these scientists continue to ignore yet which seem to guide all of us in any important decision we make.