Author: tom

On the OP-ED pages of the St. Petersburg Times in May 2006, a column by George F. Will, read: “…an enormous special-interest industry seemed to sprout instantaneously in Washington starting in 1960—lobbyist and researchers and fund raisers for this, that and other faction …big government begets bad politics…”

Sometime before reading those comments, I had read in a history book recounting the “Rise of American Democracy: Jefferson to Lincoln” these comments: “ In economic matters, the questions arose primarily as a matter of privilege. Should unelected private interest, well connected to government, be permitted to control, to their own benefit, the economic destiny of the entire nation? Or should the manifest public good, for rich and poor alike, be pursued no matter what majoritarian democrats believed or demanded?”

This latter quote was written about matters in the late 1820’s concerning the Missouri Compromise and the tariffs that had been imposed. Will’s comments were in an article about the McClain-Feingold senate bill to restrict and restrain the “quantity, content, and timing of political speech”…including requiring the candidate to appear by voice or written notice that they approved this ad.

The old adage, ”History repeats itself” comes to mind. It is an old democracy question, should special interests benefit over the rights of the people? In economic matters is it still or always a matter to benefit the privileged few? Many would allege that the present administration’s so called ‘tax break’ is precisely that. But doesn’t all of this go back to the premise that the elected office holders seemingly fail to realize that such conduct is undemocratic! What attempts have been made by them to curb the control and power of the special interest groups? Or is it all as simple as George Will makes it, i.e., big governments begets bad politics? I don’t know the answers to these questions but I do know that today discussing politics, voting, politician’s conduct all seem to be forbidden subjects. A majority of Americans today no longer have the economic interests that impelled them to vote. They no longer look to the government or unions to throw them a lifeline. Some attribute the decline of the Democratic Party to such conditions. Unions today are more concerned with increasing health care and pensions, rather than wages. “Today men and women work in the service economy where 43 per cent are in office jobs and only 8 percent of the private sectors are in unions. They are better educated (Ed’s note: “except in civics”): in 1960 one-half of the labor force hadn’t completed high school; in 2003, close to 60 percent of the workers had some college.” (B. D. Whitehead, Commonweal March 10,2006) All of which makes it easier for the elected to ignore their duty to shun special interest. Those concerned with the indifference of most citizens have been working even harder to just get people to vote. I always enjoy the sticker they give you here when you vote, it reads “I VOTED and over those words are these: I Made Freedom Count” How true!

A typical but poignant instance of ignoring the duty and right to vote happened to me a few years ago. There was a young woman active in her church and school affairs. She was definitely a community conscious individual and probably a college graduate. It happened that the polling place was in her church’s lobby. I was working the polls that day. I saw her passing in and out of buildings next to the church. She was busy with doing something. Then on her second or third pass I asked her “Did you vote yet?” Her response was in words that I cant exactly recall but indicated clearly and with vehemence that she thought such activity, such as voting, was a waste of time! Now here is a person who believes in being involved in the community affairs but dismisses one of the biggest opportunities to help her community as a useless endeavor!

Is this the result of politics and the politicians becoming just another big business? The thought that your vote can count and is important no longer seems to play a part in the lives of many Americans. Is this the result of using pollsters, researchers, and so-called experts in campaigning? I think they have played a devastating role in our thoughts and feelings on politicians and politics. There are certainly things in our lives that should and do have a higher priority than voting. I don’t question that. These priorities in some cases make voting impossible or just eliminate the time it takes to really decide for whom you should or would vote. But outright dismissal of the duty to vote is a mistake. We are reminded daily of what we have by seeing people living all over the world subject to leaders over which they have no say or control. It is apparent that these reminders are lost on a great number of ‘educated’ Americans. I read that “American Idol”, the TV show, received 63 million votes! According to the same article this is more votes than any Presidential candidate has ever received. It is unfortunate sign of where our priorities lie. Even if we concede that a great number of those voting would not be eligible, due to age, to vote in a political election – it is still a telling fact.

While I was growing up in the 60’s there were more people I knew who expressed an interest and concern re an election, whether local, state, or national. Today it seems only major campaigns like Presidential, Senatorial and Representative elections generate any interest from the voters or the media. Admittedly my interest in politics is stronger than most due to a lifetime behind me of active participation in the process. I can remember also when I was 10 years old being in the family car with my father driving around City Hall. City Hall in Philadelphia has a circle around it and at that time had something new. On the northeast side at the end of Broad Street was the Evening Bulletin Building. It was the then one of the popular dailies in Philly. Running along the building just under its roofline was an electronic bulletin board rendering news by the minute. We were driving by to read the recent election results. It was reporting on the national election of Franklin Roosevelt and others. The board would read “Roosevelt” and the number of votes and then other names and eventually after a few trips around we saw, “McSorley” and the number of votes. My Dad had been the Democratic candidate for some office, which was at that time a sure loser. The Republican Party from Mayor to committeeman controlled the City. I learned later that the few democrats who continue to try to be organized would sit down and decide whose turn it was to run for such and such office. It apparently had been my father’s turn that year. This all ended in 1947 when Clark and Dilworth won the mayoralty and the district attorney’s offices. But the point here is showing how our family via my dad had an interest in politics. I ran myself in 1966 for a seat in the State Legislature. I had to first run in a primary to win the right to be the Democratic Party candidate. I won that election and it would be the last I would ever win. The district I was seeking to represent was composed of two wards. One was heavily Republican registered. I ran on the ticket with a new comer running for Governor. His name was Milton Shapp and he was running against the incumbent Governor Schaeffer. My opponent was a former all American basketball player from a local college who had recently retired from the professional team the Knicks. He had name recognition and beat me. I did well enough by finishing second in my district and receiving more votes than the candidate for Governor. As result of my running I ended up serving the Democratic mayor, James H.J.Tate in different capacities from 1967 until 1970 when Frank Rizzo was elected Mayor. So it is not surprising that I had an interest in politics most of my working life. But it still doesn’t take away from the thought of the need for more to be interest and especially enough at least to vote. There was recent Academic conference in St. Petersburg on the issue of the National Security Agency admittedly tracking millions of American phone calls. An assistant special agent of the FBI David Walker speaking at the forum reported many of the leads it got from the alleged unwarranted calls were dead ends. He then said, “I don’t make foreign policy. If you don’t like it, change it. Your have a right to vote. Use it!” I couldn’t have said it better myself! (St.Pete’s Times, May 26,2006)

This month we celebrate the graduation of grandson, Thomas McSorley, from Harvard University. We are proud of his accomplishment.

Until next time, Pax Tecum!

May is the month of birthdays and Mother’s day. My sister Marge’s and Bunny King have birthdays along with many other friends. Marge and Bunny will also be celebrating ‘Mother’s day’. I have a birthday too. This year I reached the age when I should ‘be in earnest” That is in accordance with Sam Johnson one of the greatest writers in the English language. He wrote, “At seventy-seven it is time to be in earnest”. So it is a good reminder to be in earnest by giving more love to my wife June and our children, grandchildren, and all our friends. Actually it is good idea to ‘be in earnest’ at any age or at any task but I could not forget the adage by Doctor Johnson since it just happened to be my seventy-seventh year.

Recently I reread the account of Thomas the apostle being in doubt about Christ having risen from the dead. He and his doubt are still referred to as a classic example of a so-called intellectual skepticism. In reality however it is the classic example of a plain old skeptic. However Thomas, who would not believe his fellow workers and friends, was quickly convinced upon seeing Christ himself. He was so quickly convinced that he never carried out his demands for proof, viz., “First I must see the nail scars in his hands and touch them with my finger. I must put my hand where the spear went into his side. I won’t believe unless I do this” But we find there is no report that he did what he said he would do in order to believe. He believed upon seeing Christ. But to those who wish to use his doubt as a being reasonable even this fact, i.e., his not demanding the very proof he said he would require is ignored. But our so-called intellectual skeptics keep referring to the incident as evidence of a reasonable doubt. Despite the ten or so people who told him they saw Christ and all the other evidence provided by the women who went to the grave, etc. The point is it seems is that such doubters don’t see any evidence that might alter their convictions. Another classic example today is the unbelievable questions being raised in Iran and elsewhere that the holocaust even really occurred! Historical facts are dismissed without much reason when it satisfies the end the believer seeks. In Iran’s case they have vowed to wipe out Israel and want to first dismiss any sympathy that might still exist for the millions who died as a result of hate. Some fanatic is not doing this in Iran. It is the expressed belief of the Prime Minister. An opinion writer in the St.Petersburg Times wrote, “The evidence of the Holocaust is incontrovertible. We have today extensive records kept by the Nazi death machine itself, thousand of photographs and films, countless books and histories and dozens of museums containing artifacts of the martyred…. To any one who has doubts about the Holocaust, such a mass evidence must settle those doubts—unless, of course, something else is at work.”(emphasis added) (Warren Miller, opinion essay, April 25,2006 St.Pete’s Times)

Usually the ‘something else’ is that we don’t care to accept it as real, despite its overwhelming reality, since it might alter our predisposed belief. We say we are skeptical when in fact we are really just ignoring the facts.

One of the classic examples of “controlled doubt” is found in Thomas Paine and Thomas Jefferson’s beliefs about Christ. They believed he existed and taught. They believed he taught good moral truths and in fact, Jefferson, clipped out passages from the scripture, in Greek, Latin and English and pasted them side by side in three columns to create his own scripture. But despite their both claiming Christ was a good moral teacher they would not believe he was divine and rose from the dead. How then could he have been a “moral teacher” if he lied? He stated he was the Messiah, the Son of God, and proved his divinity with many things but particularly his rising from the dead. Yet once again it is an example of the intellectual picking and choosing to create their ‘belief’ or as the opinion writer said ‘something else is at work’. They ignore any facts that don’t support their ends.

In Thomas’ case the rest of his life is testimony of what he believed. He went and taught Christ’s message and is believed to be the founder of some six churches in what today we call India. He accepted the facts and his doubt was gone. Another contemporary example of ignoring historical facts can be found in the best seller “The Da Vinci Code”. It is fiction but is promoted as being based on historical fact. It alleges that the divinity of Christ was something cooked up by the Nicean Council decreed by Constantine. All the historic facts demonstrate that that is ‘fiction’. In fact one of the reasons for the Council was to attack the heresy or error of one Arius who was preaching just that namely, that Christ was not divine. So clearly historically prior to the council there was an understanding from the gospels and elsewhere of the fact that Christ was divine. There are many other so-called historic facts in this novel, which are really only “fiction”. It sells books and it is ‘something else at work’ when it comes to the historic facts.

It is easy for us to be astonished at those ignoring the historic facts of the holocaust. But some are not upset or amazed regarding the historic facts of Jesus Christ. The usual alleged basis for the difference is in the way the evidence was created and preserved. The holocaust has films, pictures, countless books and histories. There are also some persons living that had witnessed the event or spoke to those who were there. While with Christ the evidence is in the writings of those who knew him and of historians shortly thereafter recording and retelling his life. This is the only kind of evidence we have of events that occurred two thousand plus years ago. To dismiss it as not be sufficient evidence, etc. is a form of ‘chronological snobbery’. We will only accept the kind of evidence similar to what we can find about the holocaust as evidence. Yet we believe many others, like Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, Buddha, Roman historians, etc. whose evidence was created and preserved in the same manner as that regarding Christ. Yet you never read or heard of any one stating that they really are or should be ignored, since their writings, existence, etc. are without sufficient evidence. As the opinion writer said “something else it a work here” It seems to be a classical predisposition not to believe since belief in His teaching and life may require a change in ours.

A lawyer’s practice is concerned with evidence. His job is to analyze the facts whether written or oral. His end is to convince first himself and then possibly a jury of listeners. His must be convinced that the conclusion reached is as close to the truth as humanly possible. A lawyer-journalist skeptic, Legal Editor of the Chicago Tribune and a graduate with Master’s degree from Yale Law school, decided to disprove Christianity, the Gospels, and Christ were all historically created legends. Somewhat like Jefferson and Paine he could believe Christ existed and was great teacher but beyond that he was a ‘skeptic’. His skepticism was challenged when his wife told him she decided to become a Christian. He had won national attention as an investigative reporter in exposing the fact that the Ford Motor Company knew its Pinto gas tank was susceptible to explosion upon a simple rear ender. All this led to him writing a book entitled “The Case for Christ”. He traveled the world interviewing some fourteen scholars in ancient history and the bible. He cross-examined them on questions like, could the biographies of Jesus be trusted, what is the eye witness, documentary and scientific evidence, etc; he raised the question about the divinity of Christ and did Christ claim such; how much evidence was there concerning it. His most exhaustive research was on the resurrection to which he devotes four chapters in the book of cross-examining scholars. All of his research done to support his skepticism led to it being lost in acknowledging the facts. He states: “By November 8, 1981, my legend thesis, to which I had doggedly clung for so many years, had been thoroughly dismantled. What’s more, my journalistic skepticism toward the supernatural had melted in the light of breathtaking historical evidence that the resurrection of Jesus was a real, historical event. In fact my mind could not conjure up a single explanation that fit the evidence of history nearly as well as the conclusion that Jesus was who he claimed to be; the one and only Son of God” His conclusions to one with open and seeking mind are clear and profound, “unless of course there is something else at work!”

We wish you all a happy May time and until next time, Pax tecum!

We gave our piano away in March. We gave it to a young couple with a little girl now four years old. They have been living across Connecticut Avenue from us for about a year or more. So when I decided it was time to give up the piano June suggested them. It was a great idea. When the Mom, Tia, came over to look at it she remarked that she had had piano lessons as a child but since they could not afford a piano, she had used a keyboard. We learned later that Madison is already tinkering with it and Mom is encouraging her to learn.

The piano came down with us from Dorcas Street in Philadelphia. We had purchased it sometime in the 80’s and we used it at the condo in Avalon, N.J. The decision to give it away came in degrees but basically it started when I no longer had the opportunity to play at nursing homes or Assistant Living places. The result was I practiced less and thus had less enjoyment. At different times over the past years I played at different Assistant Living places and even at the Church’s Fellowship hall during our Wednesday night dinners. I played the most at the nursing home and rehab center just a few blocks away in Shore Acres. It was called the Shore Acres Nursing and Rehabilitation Center. In the year 2004 having spent a great deal of time up north I lost the opportunity of playing at Shore Acres Nursing home. The activity chairperson had promised that she would call when she thought she could fit me in once again. But 2005 passed without a call. Thus followed the failure to practice and the loss of interest. Then when I suggested we might give the piano away June had another great idea. “We’ll get an easy chair and a light and you’ll have a place of comfort and light where you can sit and read” After some deliberation and regrets I decided it was the right move, so we gave the piano away.

A piano has been in my life since childhood. We had a big black upright in the sitting room at our home on Baltimore Avenue in Philadelphia. My mom played and some of my older sisters. When Mom played sometimes we would have a song fest. We would sing parodies to old songs with words that would apply to the person we were honoring or celebrating with at that time. I had an opportunity to learn to play the piano while I was in grammar school. But I turned it down in favor of spending my One-Dollar allowance on going to Boy Scouts. Being a Boy Scout enabled me to go to summer camp on Treasure Island with them for a week in the summer. In those days a week at camp seemed much more important than learning to play the piano.

The next time I thought seriously about a piano was in 1952. In the spring of that year my Mother suffered another heart attack or stroke which incapacitated her. My eldest sister lived in a house with her children and husband just some six or seven blocks away. She was over at our house constantly taking care of Mom. Eventually it seemed better to have her move Mom to her home and so it was done. My Dad went along and the house on Baltimore Avenue was empty except for me. I was in my first year at Penn Law School and I could ride a trolley or walk to the school. The empty house made the piano an object of attention. I slept there studied some there but I think most of the other time I was the manager of the College Students’ Community Center or having a meal at my sister’s home. I recall starting to take lessons and I think one of my sisters, a nun, maybe Mary, who was teaching nearby was my teacher. I struggled with the lessons and practice. Somewhere along the way I heard someone play who had what was called a “Fake” book. I learned that it was a method of playing where the left hand instead of playing the music written for it, played the guitar chords written above the melody. It was not a method by which to play classical piano pieces. I didn’t mind giving that up. I got a book to teach me and so I began. The melody could be played with one finger or you could spread your hand and play the note with one an octave above. It was aided by a bit of sustaining pedal but the secret of really sounding good was your rhythm. There were some songs I felt comfortable with but a good many of them I could sense I wasn’t somehow in sync. But I liked the idea of hearing the song so I persevered.

In the summer of 1952 to continue my learning I made a deal with regard to a piano with the Wurlitzer Company. I was going to spend the summer in the hew house of Marge and Dan in New Jersey. They had only recently been married and were beginning a new home. The deal with the piano was you could rent it for three months at twenty-one dollars and it was expected at the end of the term you would enter a contract to buy. The rent became the down payment. The idea was that after three months in a home with apparently someone playing it, there would be an incentive for buying. So I had a piano for three months in Marge and Dan’s new home. But picture this! A newly wed couple moves into a new neighborhood and a new house. Shortly after that they have a piano delivered, no one of the usual furniture needs of a new homeowner. The neighbors must think these kids are well off if they can afford a piano. So imagine the talk and thoughts when several months later the company comes and takes the piano back! In fact it was more than three months since I think they didn’t get around to picking it up until nearly November. I had left to return to Law School in September.

Mom was conscious off and on in those days of the fall of 1952. I’ll always remember her lamenting ‘there goes Paul from pillar to post’. I was the only one of her fourteen children not working at a vocation so she lamented like she hadn’t finished the job. My two younger sisters, Anne and Rosemary, had been launched. Rosemary became a Holy Child nun and Anne married Bob Lukens. Bob was the brother of my college buddy Jack Lukens. So I was the only one unsettled and thus going from ‘pillar to post’. I remember her also in one of her conscious periods asking Dad about the house in Bryn Mawr, a classy area on the Main Line outside of Philadelphia. She wanted to know if he had gotten the house yet. He told her he was still working on it. I asked my Dad about that question and learned that way back they had talked about moving to such an area, but as the years tore by and children arrived, the hope to move vanished. Or maybe it just vanished for Dad, since Mom was still hoping!

After Law School the piano had to take a back seat. I had been drafted to serve in the Army under the existing Selective Service Act. I managed to get a deferment to finish college and then to attend Law School. Fortunately for me the Korea War was over by the time I graduated from Law School in 1954. I beat the draft since I managed to qualify as a candidate for a commission in the Marine Corps. So after taking the Bar Exam in July (which I flunked!) I was off to Quantico, Virginia and the school I was commissioned in October of 1954 and served until November 1958 when I resigned my regular commission. A piano came back into my life in 1958 when we were living in an apartment at the Philadelphia Naval Base. We had three rooms and a fairly large living room. My Dad was at that time the Executor of the Estate of a Doctor Rose. She had been one of the earliest female doctors in U.S. and had done very well for herself. I remember going to her home to see a piano Dad said he would give me if I wanted it. In the foyer there was a water fountain and carved statutes and all around of course was stone! It was a large as the living room we had in the apartment. I took the piano, which was a Baby Grand Steinway with registered numbers on the inside of it including the year and place of its being built. It took up almost the entire living room in the Apartment but we were planning about that time to leave the service and had put money down on a house in Foxchase, a section in Northeast Philadelphia. Before we moved I made another deal with Wurlitzer. I offered to give them the Steinway in return for receiving a new upright. I not only got the piano but some cash besides. So a piano was now back in my home. I recall that it gave our daughters an opportunity to learn to play but I think only Suzanne did so. I began practice a bit again and when I seemingly got my business time and the like in sync I began playing at a neighborhood nursing home during their lunch hour.( I mentioned playing in nursing homes to some who then cracked,” Guess you never got any standing ovations?)

Someone once said, “Memoirs are modern Fairy Tales!” Recently there was an uproar in the media about someone’s memoir. It became a best seller after being discussed and plugged on the Oprah Show. Apparently it turned out to be more ‘fairy tale’ than fact. As in any Fairy Tale all the bad things that happen to the main character are overcome and there’s a ‘happy ending’. Well I can’t really say this jotting is a memoir but I do know it isnot a fairy tale. As best I can recall I recorded the facts . I can assure you that there is a happy ending as I sit in my lounge chair. I enjoy the comfort and light to read and no longer feel guilty about not practicing the piano. I am happy too since I believe the piano has found a loving home.

Until next time, Pax tecum!

The jottings this time around are more of a memoir than the usual ruminations. This came about partially from the events in our life in January which required a visit to Philadelphia and seeing the city rise before us as we were driven from the airport; and a book I had been reading called “Patches”.

The vision of the city reminded me that 40 years ago in 1966 I thought the most important thing in my life would be to get elected to the State Legislature. How puerile it seemed now!

My friend Gerry Connell sent me the book entitled “Patches”. A Jesuit priest wrote the book. He was a relative of Gerry’s now deceased wife, Claire. It brought back many memories. The priest, George Wilson knew my brothers Dick and Pat who were also Jesuit priests. He grew up in the area and speaks of people I remembered. He talked of Cardinal Dougherty, Bishop McDevitt, John Courtney Murray, and places like Wernersville, Pennsylvania, Woodstock, Maryland and Rome, Italy during the early years of Vatican II.

I received my grade school education in St. Francis de Sales Grammar School. I had sisters, or nuns if you prefer, as teachers. One nun I particularly remember was Sister Saint Arthur. She taught me twice since I had to repeat first grade! We attended this school because our designated parish school, Saint James was located on a busy street and you had to cross other very busy streets to get there. We walked to school in those days so it was an important consideration. Being the thirteenth child and the seventh son, all of these momentous decisions were made long before I needed to know or use them. I remember hearing that your children had to attend the Parish School under the threat of excommunication by Cardinal Dougherty.

St. Francis was located on 47th street and we lived just below 42nd street, so it was about a five-block walk and no busy streets to cross. We walked to class and then back to lunch at home and back to class and then home. The walks with brothers and sometimes sisters were not pleasant strolls. We hurried. We had limited time. As the youngest you were often harassed and carried others books, etc. But it was all considered the way things ought to be. I believe because we were not legal members of that parish my Dad had to pay a little extra for our attending!

The Cardinal’s ambitious school plan led in those days to one of the largest Catholic elementary school systems in the country. It covered the area of Philadelphia County and the three surrounding counties of Delaware, Montgomery, and Bucks. His administration also created several high schools in Philadelphia and the outlying counties. So it was no wonder that by time my children came along to attend High School it would be named, “Cardinal Dougherty High School”. Incidentally all seven of my children attended that high school and at one time we had one student in each year!

I had Sister Saint Arthur a second year because she and my mother decided I wasn’t coming along well enough. My mother was an exceptional woman for those days she had gone to the parish school but then was accepted into Philadelphia’s Girl’s High. It was a school for only exceptional students. She was headed for a Teacher’s college next and would have been a teacher except that Dad came along and changed her vocation. So it was a natural for her to discuss the effects of the formal education on her child’s learning. Since I was the seventh son Sister Saint Arthur was to teach it is more than probable that Mom and Sister had talked in the past about one of the boys. In those days also boys and girls were taught in separate classes. I am happy to report that the failure to proceed to 2nd grade after a year in 1st , was the only time in my educational life that I repeated a grade. I spent the next 20 years at that endeavor (1934-1954). Another event that occurred since I was to repeat first grade was to meet Gerry Connell. He and I were together in school from then until high school graduation. In high school at West Catholic High we also were both on the track team. After High School Gerry went on to Villanova University and a career in engineering, I went off to Oblate Junior College, St. Joseph’s University, and then Law school and a career (?) in the law. So Gerry and I have been friends for over seventy years!

“Patches” gets its title from a lifetime hobby of Father Wilson. He made quilts from the patches he created. In his book there are some pictures of them hanging in churches around America. His mentioning of Bishop McDevitt was for reasons I can’t now recall but the bishop was part of my life for a time in the 60’s. He was an auxiliary bishop to the Cardinal, then who I think was John O’ Hara, but he was also pastor of St. Alice’s. It was a church in the suburbs of Philadelphia called “Upper Darby” During those years I helped run a social event usually ‘horse racing’, a game played with films on which people bet. The purpose of the social and the betting was to raise money for my brother Bishop Frank’s mission in Sulu Archipelago. The Bishop McDevitt made his large auditorium available for us each year. I remember the last time I did see Bishop McDevitt was several years later in the 70’s at a social at the same church. An old friend from grammar school days had invited me. The bishop was then suffering from cancer and would soon die from it but that night he was full of hope and belief that he would beat it. By that time Frank had also died and we had not been raising money for sometime. In fact the Vicariate he started and saw grow was floundering without a leader and it would be so for over the next six to seven years. Why I never would know but in the late 1990 the entire area was taken over by radical Muslims and it remains so today.

“Patches” also talked about Wernersville, Pa. It was the home of the Jesuit Novitiate of that province. A novitiate is a spiritual boot camp for aspiring seminarians. They were called ‘novices’. Pat and Dick both made their novitiate there. But also so did my brother John who after the year decided that religious life was not for him. He entered the U.S. Marines rather than be drafted. The Second World War was still in progress. He would later be shot down while a gunner on a Douglas Dive Bomber over Cotabato, a province in the southern Philippines. It was the same province where our brother Frank had started his service as a missionary priest in 1939. John survived and later there was a picture on the front page of the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin of John with Frank and Dick both of who had just recently been freed from Japanese interment camps.

“Patches” talks of John Courtney Murray, Jesuit theologian. He was a teacher of Theology at Woodstock, Maryland. I remember visiting there to see either Dick or Pat who were both there at different times studying theology. Father Murray was also the editor of the Jesuit magazine “America”. His superiors restricted him in the 50’s from lecturing and writing. A similar thing happened recently to the present editor of “America”. Father Murray was a popular debater and lecturer. I remember going to hear him at the Philadelphia Convention center. There was a full house but I can’t recall the subject or the other speaker. But I do recall there must have been references to the Bible and location of certain kingdoms. Following the talks the speakers allowed questions directed to them from the floor. One gentleman asked Father Murray a question and even before Father might answer the guys rants, “ If I had my maps here, I could…etc” If he said it once he said at least four or five times. When he finally sat down, Father Murray just said, “Are there any more questions?” Despite the restrictions by his superiors Father Murray was invited to Vatican II. There he “made crucial contributions to its statement on religious liberty, ‘Dignitatis Humanae’ ”. He died shortly after Vatican II ended in 1967. Father Wilson was attending Gregorian University in Rome, Italy at the same time as Vatican II for his doctorate in Theology. So it may be that in that period is when he talks about Father Murray.

Father George, the writer of “Patches” and my brother Dick had contacts with the John Kennedy’s family. Father George was the chaplain at the Georgetown University Hospital when John-john was born. He was the first outsider to see him other than those who took part in his delivery. Dick was a friend of the Robert Kennedy family and taught Bob’s wife and some of the children how to play tennis. He then was called upon after the assassination to visit to help Jackie with her grief.

Somewhere while I was reading “Patches” I came upon a bad joke about the mathematician philosopher Rene Descartes. He is remembered for his declaration of how we know we exist. He said (Cogito ergo sum!) “I think therefore I am!” In the story he is reported walking into a Bar. The bartender asks him “Would you like a beer?” To which Descartes responds “I think not!” And of course he immediately disappears! Hans Kung in a memoir writes, “The evident principles of being …by the modern approach of Rene Descartes,… with his allegedly self-evident starting point in human subjectivity… his “Cogito” (only) makes the question more acute. ‘I think therefore I am?’ Is my self really accessible? Am I not equipped with mind and will, disposition and a structure of drives, head and heart, conscious and unconscious? … Presumably there are more people than (those who) ‘think’ who say ‘I don’t want to be as I am’.. I am neither animal nor robot. I am free at the limits of my innate character and of my determination by the environment; freedom is understood as self-determination and responsibility for myself. I can experience it immediately at any moment, whenever I want…” In simple English, Kung is saying that we ‘are’ more than just ‘thinking’ animals. We have feelings and senses, good and bad that are constantly reminding us that we are alive. Just think about the last toothache or muscle pull or disappointment! Until next time Pax tecum!

While we were staying in Townsend’s Inlet in New Jersey we could walk over the bridge into Avalon. We, June and I, made it a morning exercise while we were there. Townsend’s Inlet is the southern most community on the island that holds Sea Isle City, Strathmere and Carson’s Inlet. The view as you went up and over the bridge was outstanding. There was the Atlantic Ocean on your left appearing after a bit of a waterway from the Inlet. On your right were the Inlet waters, which look like a great lake spreading inward for miles. As you came down the bridge into Avalon the first large structure you saw to your right was Windward Harbors. It was a development of condo apartments. We had spent many summers and winter months there from 1983 to 1993.

Coming down on the Avalon side of the bridge one morning around seven AM we noticed a car parked over on the left. Seeing cars parked there was nothing new. There are usually many with the occupants spread out on the banks from the Bridge towards the ocean fishing. Fishing from the bridge was prohibited as is it is in Florida and most states. But today there was only one car there and a man eating what looked like a large hoagie occupied it. As we walked past June apparently noted what he was eating and commented that it looked good. I asked if it looked good enough to be on my forbidden food list. She thought it was. So I started thinking, since the gentleman seemed as chronically gifted as a I, that maybe he too had a restrictive diet and a wife dietician who saw to it that he only ate ‘good’ food. Maybe he was quietly having himself a feast out of her sight, early in the morning. But the hour and the type of sandwich –a lunch time sort – added mystery to the event. It was the most unlikely time for that sort of feast. He probably had purchased it the night before, put it in the refrigerator, and now early in the morning quietly went out to a scenic spot to enjoy it! I could even hear him as he left the home shouting loud enough to be heard in the bedroom, “I’m just going out to mail a letter!”

When I thought of his offered explanation, or my idea of his ‘explanation, it brought back memories of the past when I had heard of that explanation. It was offered often to the police when a spouse or relative was missing: “He/she was just going out to mail a letter!” I particularly remembered it in another context from my involvement as an attorney in the In Oh Ho murder case. The victim, In Oh Ho, had gone out to mail a letter when he was attacked by a number of young men. So it seemed natural that I would conjure up this excuse for this feasting sojourner. I never had a chance to ask him as we walked by. I did notice he was losing his hair on top of his head but he had sideburns—something you don’t often see these days. It would be the observing of these items that would later lead to me finding out that all my suppositions were dead wrong.

We, June and I, continued down past Windward Harbors and as I recall we even went down to the beach that morning for part of our walk. On our return to the bridge our hoagie eater was gone and some fishermen were out on the banks. We talked of and thought as we walked of the many enjoyable moments we had had at Windward Harbors. We recalled in particular of bringing the twin grandsons along on many of those trips. I can still hear them at maybe two or three years of age, sitting in the back and pointing as we went by ‘there’s the “waader” and other things. As they got a bit older they would note as we entered Avalon, the “Abalon bull a’vard” and then one day one of them pointed, as we went through the center of the town, “an there’s the Princeton”. This caused a stir in the front seat from June who asked, “How do you know about the ‘Princeton’?” The Princeton was a bar. It was one of the few open all year round and of course I had to confess that I had taken them there on different occasions. In fact they were well received there by the bartender who prepared them special sodas with cherries and the female patrons who helped them play shuffleboard. At a later time I took them with me and June knew it. In fact on one occasion I stated that after an errand we would stop by the Princeton. She instructed me to limit my visit to one beer since she had dinner in the making. Sure enough, after having that one beer and with the guys were busy playing at the shuffleboard, I made the mistake of ordering one more. As I made my request I heard from the depth of the bar somewhere a loud and clear voice, I think of Sean’s, saying, “Grandmom said ONLY one beer!” I can’t recall whether I followed the instructions or not. But I know I will never forget the admonition from my grandson.

I often thought it strange that in this small town in south Jersey a place was named Princeton, and even more obtuse was that that place was a bar. My daughter and her husband were graduates of Princeton and lived in Princeton Junction. I had read a bit of the history of the founding of the University, first called the College of New Jersey, in the life of Jonathan Edwards, a philosopher and theologian, one of the early University presidents. The word had aura that seemed grossly out of place in being the name for a bar. There certainly was no academic enterprises happening in this Princeton unless you considered the literature, mainly fiction, promulgated as true stories and the like. The only academic thing about it maybe was every one had to obey the teacher or in this case the bartender. (I have it from a reliable source, my daughter, that the name “Princeton” arose due to Prince William of Nassau donating the land, i.e., Prince-town, now is Princeton)

When we stayed in Townsend’s Inlet, as I recall on this occasion, it was in an apartment at the very end of the island. We shared the place with my nieces Beth and Winnie Allen. We were located on the second floor, which gave us a view from the porch of the Atlantic and the Inlet beyond the green vegetation and the sand dunes. As a young man and a child I had spent summers in a house in Sea Isle City on 45th street. I never recall venturing to the end of the island at Townsend’s Inlet though I do recall going up to Strathmere and Carson’s Inlet on the north end of the island. Sometime in the early 70’s there began a lifeguard run. It was usually in late August. The original run was on the boardwalk north then onto the beach and reversing your tracks came back to the boardwalk and ran south on it. You then left the boardwalk and went two blocks to the main street, Landis Avenue, and you ran down that south to Townsends Inlet and then back to Lifeguard headquarters at 44th street and the boardwalk. Later they decided to stay off the streets and proceed only on the beach. So when you came to the south end of the boardwalk(around 54th street) you went on the beach and south to Towsends. You turned around under the Avalon-Townsends Inlet Bridge, which we referred to earlier. I think it was about 13 miles in all. Sometimes the timing of the race, the day, the hour, etc. didn’t jive with the tides and you lost the advantage of running on hard sand available only at low tide along the water’s edge. The beach was trying enough even when it was the hard sand but with the soft sand you really got a work out. I recall that we always turned around under that bridge in soft sand! So my memories of Townsend’s Inlet up until our stay with my nieces was not too pleasant.

A few days after our encounter with the early morning hoagie eater I met him in a store in Avalon, I think. The sideburns gave him away. He confirmed that he was the early morning eater. He explained without my asking that he spent a great part of his early hours working on the computer to obtain information on the stock market and the odds in horse races around the country. He often purchased the hoagie and stored in case of one his late night enterprises. He gave himself a break by leaving the house and going to that scenic spot to have what was breakfast and lunch combined. He was not as old as I thought he looked on that quick peek as we walked by and in fact he reminded me in stature and manner of a client of mine, Tony Perpiglia. He made no mention of wife or restrictions on his diet so I was wrong on all those accounts. The reason for his eating there was not as romantic as the scenario I had created.

Tony Perpiglia was the epitome of “Live by the sword, die by the sword” I met him as his appointed counsel in a petition in the Federal court for his release from prison. He knew the law so well after 20 years in jail, I think he prepared the petition but maybe with the help of a Public Defender. He had been tried and sentenced with some seventeen others at the same time. We succeeded in having the petition granted mostly on the testimony of Lou McCabe a man who had practiced criminal law for years. He was then in the part time employ of the DA as an appeals counsel. He had been appointed initially in the matter of Tony but either because he had witnessed part of the trial or his health, he had to give up the appointment. I was named in his place. Tony died on the floor of a South Philly bank within two years of his release. A stake out officer shot him as he attempted to rob the bank.

A New Year is here. We now have spent eight years, plus a few months, residing in Florida. We really never planned it. When I recall the events that led to our doing it, they all seem happenstance. It may seem like it was all planned but it was more an accident. We recently learned that the Windward Harbors complex burned to the ground. At one time we talked about retiring there. Now it seems so much more reasonable that we sold the property in 1993 and moved here in 1997, We have now so many friends and activities here that it seems hard to think we might have done otherwise. All these coincidences reminds me of an old adage,” Coincidences are the hand of God working anonymously” We celebrated the New Year with the usual pork and sauerkraut dinner with guests. One couple was our good friends; Joanne and Lew Hegerman who have been at all our New Years Dinners. So we have another good beginning and hope and pray all will be well the rest of the year. Until next time, Pax Tecum!

There are a few more moments of Marge and my trip to Sulu that I want to share with you. The first is that following the civil ceremony and tribute to Frank we were asked to meet with the present Sultan of Sulu, Princess Taharta. She had requested a private interview and we did so. She was robed in an Arabian style robe and she sat across from us during the meeting. She wanted to thank us for all Frank had done for her people. She said he called her “his girlfriend”. He was the first to bring the Muslims and Christians together in Sulu. He even permitted those Muslims who attended his schools to take prayer breaks and use the yards beside the school for their praying. Sulu had Four thousand (4000) Christians and nearly Three Hundred Thousand (300,000) Muslims. I wonder now in 2005 how many of those Christians are still alive. The islands are now completely controlled by radical Muslims and the Philippine Government has given up trying to recover it.

Another memory is our air trip in a single engine plane, another of Frank’s innovations, to the furthest island in the Archipelago from the main Philippine Islands, Sibutu. It was a mere 15 miles or so (23 km) from Borneo. We could see the shore of Borneo from Sibutu. Our pilot was named Ted, a Filipino. We had Rich, Marge, Ted Father Chalkey and I in the plane. Father Chalkey was returning to his mission in Sibutu. I learned later that the usual number was four people including the pilot, so when we landed and bounced back up into the air I could now see why. The landing “field” was a strip of cleared field, which as we approached had, dogs goats, and cows roaming around it. They were chased so we could do so. The field was also adjacent to the school building and the students were outside to greet us. We used the entire length of the designated area to come to a stop. We turned around and taxied back to where the students and others were waiting. As we left the plane the students started a chant, “Turzo, Turzo!” We later learned they were cheering because of Rich whom they thought looked like a then teenage idol of P.I. named Turzo. Rich had been down a week or so before so they were ready for him this time with the chant. His Uncle Paul managed to bring this adoration ceremony up several times in the remaining days we were together. (As I was writing this last paragraph we had Rich and his wife Shirley here as visitors. It was the first time Shirley had heard about Rich and his Turzo experience!)

Sibutu is approximately 150 miles south of the Jolo Island. We learned that another Father had left the night before we did to go to a set of island that were closer to Jolo than Sibutu. It was called Tawi-Tawi. It took him all that night and the next day to get there. This, as we noted, was why the airplane was an innovation of Frank’s that brought the people closer together. Tawi-Tawi is mentioned in the book “In The Presence of Mine Enemies” as one of the places the kidnapping Muslims were spotted. The book is about a couple who were taking a vacation to celebrate an anniversary and with many others were kidnapped by a group of militant Muslims. They were held for ransom. They were Christian missionaries and had four children. They were working in an area in the middle of the Philippine Islands called Panay. He was a pilot and flew medicine and the like to remote spots around the Islands. They were captured May 27,2001 and since no ransom was paid they were the last of the group. They had been held captive for a year and eleven days. In the action to release them the husband Martin was killed. The surviving wife wrote the book. They spent the year being chased and fleeing around the waters and islands of the lower part of the Philippines. A group called “Abu Sayyaf” which had ties to Osama bin Laden captured them. It is a beautiful story of love, faith, and the struggle in the face of “unnervingly casual brutality” I recall while reading it actually cringing at the cruelty and acts of their guards. Even worse were the things they ate in order to survive. I wondered often if I could have done so. It is a great story and well told.

On our return trip to Jolo we stopped at Sang-Sanga, a small island south of and part of Tawi-Tawi. We then took an outboard motor boat to the small island of Bongoa, where Frank had the Medical Missions set up a hospital. They were there to serve mostly the “boat people”. They were people who literally spent their lives on a boat. This island and the surrounding ones were referred to also as the “smugglers paradise” in these parts of the world. We are taken for a tour of Bongoa. As we moved through the village of huts and to what they called a “boardwalk” we noticed Marge down a ways in front of a shop. She was with a Chinese man who was holding her hand and in tears. His name was ‘Chi Tuang”. He takes us into his shop and tells us that the Bishop was responsible for his faith, his education, his work, and his place in the community. “If I go the funeral, I afraid I kill myself”. The trip to this god-forsaken place, but not Frank forsaken place suddenly seemed worth while. He talked of Frank as if he could walk on water. He went into a drawer and pulled out a form letter from him and kissed it before handing it to us to read. This was a story of one man’s love for his fellow man.

We spent Thanksgiving with June’s son in Land O’ Lakes north of Tampa. We then headed north for North Carolina. We arrived at Columbus, North Carolina around 6 PM on Friday. We were up there to attend the wedding of Rick Rosetti and Joy Baker. Rick is the son of good friends Lou and Jean Rosetti. Columbus is just inside the North Carolina border. We arrived just as Lou and Jean were checking into the Days Inn where we were going to stay too. We later visited the home of Joy Baker, with Lou and Jean. She is a Veterinarian specializing in horses. Her home was all of wood and fit perfectly in to the wooded mountainside where it was built. You had to go up a dirt and pebbled road named “Baker”. We later learned that it was named after her grandfather who owned this land and a great deal more in the area. Joy’s profession takes her as far away as Bermuda where she tends to client’s animals. Her home and land was in the town of Tryon next to Columbus. You get a great view of the Blue Ridge Mountains from either of these towns. You can also see homes on the tops of small mountains rising in the foreground of the Blue Ridge range. Saturday we rested since we had driven Friday from 6 AM to 6 PM. We had hoped to drive up into North Carolina to the town of Asheville about 40 minutes away but the rest seemed to be a better idea! Asheville is renowned for the Biltimore Estate. We had heard from many others the splendor of the place and it is one of the popular tourist attractions of North Carolina. Saturday night we attended a rehearsal dinner at the Tryon Country Club. We enjoyed the company of strangers who soon seemed like friends. We sat at a table next to Joy’s hairdresser, Tim Horan(?). He had come at her expense from Bermuda to take care of her hair and of all the women in the wedding party. Next to him was a woman named Heidi whom we gathered worked around horses in Bermuda that were Joy’s patients. Apparently Joy noticed Heidi’s hair or the subject just came up, and Joy was then introduced to Tim. He became her hairdresser and thus was there from Bermuda.

The wedding was held in what they called a ‘tent’—but it had a regular roof and only the sides were open. The sides were now covered with canvas tarps since it was raining off and on. It was also cold and damp and June and I felt it. We have just been living too long in the warmth of Florida and notice very quickly the cold. The ‘tent’ was as large as a good size auditorium. It was a building adjacent to the main and larger building of this Equestrian Center. The main building was as large as any Country club we have ever seen. We would have our Wedding meal there. An equestrian ‘center’ is a place where the horses are brought to practice jumping, to go fox hunting, and the like. We didn’t get to see much of the landscape due to the rainy weather.

The wedding party entered to live music played by two young women and later aided by a gentleman on a keyboard. There was a violinist, flutist, and the keyboard. There was also a solo by a gentleman…all, which flowed while the wedding party assembled around the minister about to accept the vows. The Maid of Honor was Rick’s sister Lynn, a longtime friend of Joy’s, and through whom Rick met her. One of the Bride’s maids had Joy’s Labrador retriever on lease as she came up the aisle. His name is “Gabe” and is an important member of the family. He had around his neck a white silken bag, which we would later learn, was where the wedding rings were. He sat in front of the Brides’ Maids to the left of the Bride and Groom. As they recited their vows and on a command came forward with the rings! I certainly never expected nor probably ever will we see again a dog as a wedding ring bearer!

The wedding meal was in the adjacent building of the Center. There was a porch as you entered on which the refreshments were served. Upon entering the room you immediately notice the large tiered wedding cake in front of the fireplace. We found seats just to the left of the cake table. The meal was a great buffet laid out in an adjacent room. After all had eaten or appeared to have done so they began the cake cutting ceremony. It was done under the careful eye of “Gabe” – whom I almost expected to bring a knife to them for the cutting. He didn’t do that and he seemed to enjoy his piece of cake after the newly weds had their pieces. We left this beautiful country in rain the next morning around 6 AM and had rain off and on all the way back to St. Petersburg but it did nothing to dampen the joy of the weekend.

We hope you receive this before Christmas Day but know we wish you all the blessing of the day even if it arrives a bit later. Pax Tecum!

It is November according to the calendar, but as I write in the early days of the month, it seems more like a September. The temperature rises up to 80’s as the day progresses, the humidity seems almost to have disappeared, and nights are cooler. We have even opened the windows and doors! November is the last month of the hurricane season. We are anxious to see the season end but with weather like this it becomes difficult to really mean it. We have had a record hurricane season, so for it to end without another would be a blessing. We have a conflict, we want the storms to disappear so we want November over, but we are having such great weather we don’t want to rush it! As some wag once said, “the only thing you can do about the weather, is talk about it!”

I am continuing with my physical therapy. I joined Gold’s Gym, which is but 5 minutes away. I make three days a week workouts days and the effects have been good. It is now the eleventh month of the year, and I had my surgery in the fifth month (May) and the prognosis by our surgeon was that it would take about six months to heal. So it appears to be coming a fact. I pray it will continue.

I wrote a verse when I was healing from my bypass surgery in 1994. I titled it “Healing” (How original!) and it goes like this:

Slowly the body inches back
To do the things it could.
But the mind races ahead
To do the things it would!

Healing is such a slow process,
You never seem ahead.
One moment up, another down,
Or is it just in your head?

I look forward to simple things
Like a good night’s sleep,
A walk in the sun,
And to the day the healing is done!

The verse was printed and framed on wood and says, “ As Published by the National Library of Poetry”. I couldn’t tell you where and if it was published elsewhere, but its thoughts about healing still apply. I can happily say now it seems “the healing is done”. I have had a few walks, but not with too much sun and have little or no trouble sleeping.

November brings to mind those who have gone to heaven in the month, Mom, Frank, and Win. But it also has birthdays! Donna McSorley on the 4th, Katie Baker reaches ‘sweet sixteen’ on the 15TH! Kristen Doyle has one on the 16th and Meaghan McSorley’s is on the 23rd. On the 12th of November we celebrate the marriage of Mary and Ron Yake, now marking number 11! Mary is the youngest of my McSorley clan. It is difficult to believe that that ‘little girl’ is now a Mom of three guy , has been married 11 years, and is now the CEO AmeriChoice health plan of Pennsylvania! It reminded me of a note I found from my brother Frank, then Bishop of Jolo, to another brother Pat. He commented how unbelievable it seemed that that little kid, (I was the youngest of the seven boys) is now a “Commissioner” in the city government! Tempus Fugit!

Thirty five years ago this month my sister Marge Walsh and I traveled to the Sulu Islands to attend the burial of our brother Frank, then the Bishop of Jolo, Sulu. The Sulu Islands run from the south end of the Philippine Islands almost to Borneo. They were then under the government of the Philippine Islands. They lie between the Celebes Sea and the Sulu Sea. There are 457 Islands and the largest one is Jolo. It has a city of the same name where Frank built a cathedral, which now holds his body and where the last service would be offered for him.

Our flight was long and made longer by a typhoon hitting Manila while we were over the Pacific. We took a detour and landed on Wake Island. We later learned that this was necessary since the typhoon had knocked out all the power at the airport so we could only land during daylight. When we arrived at Wake we had been in flight for 22 hours and most of it in darkness. We finally arrived in Manila in hot and humid weather. The airport floor was covered with water, in some places a couple of inches thick. No one was there to meet us, as expected! The Philippine Airlines agent takes us in tow and to his office. The office has no air-conditioning working, no lights, and a phone that worked on and off. We decide to look for a hotel but found all of them booked due to the Pope arriving in a few days! We are now seemingly stranded with no clothes since baggage did not arrive with the flight and no room to stay and no answer to our call to the Oblate House in Manila! We were so tired we couldn’t even work up the energy to be angry or upset. As we stood there contemplating our next possible move, up walked a small Filipino and introduced himself, he was our anticipated escort! We got a hotel room and on the way we stopped to buy some clothes since there will be no flight or baggage from San Francisco until the next day. I learned in purchasing some T-shirts that “large” is a relative term. Filipino “large” is more like our “medium” We checked in to the hotel and then Marge is off to visit some friends living there in Manila that she knew. We had a grand dinner with Bishop Manqeau, Frank’s superior, and eight other Oblate Father. We toasted the Bishop and heard stories of his ‘gusto’ or energetic service for the Lord. The next day we began our trek to Jolo in the Islands of Sulu.

We began our last leg around 7 AM. As we flew I think of Frank. His friends think of him as a man with “gusto”, energy galore, and had remembered him last night. I recall how in the 60’s he spent about 6 months of the year in U.S. collecting money for the projects in Jolo. I helped in running a ‘night at the races’ as one of the fundraiser. I often thought that one of these days I would go out to Jolo and see what those funds had produced. But I never did. So here I was heading for Jolo to bury him, my brother the fundraiser for Christ.

We had an unscheduled stop. We landed at Iloilo for fuel. The typhoon had delayed delivery of the same to Manila. The expected half-hour or so stop went on for four hours. After about 25 minutes we, Marge and I, and others got a ride in the back of a truck into the town. We were walking around the main street looking for a restaurant. The town reminded me of Puerto Rico with its crowding and poverty evident. Suddenly Marge sees a store, a ‘botica’ a drugstore, and remembers friends of hers, the Tirols, owned it. In we went and sure enough Rita Tirol was there. We get a “silver lining” to the clouds of our delay and disappointment, an unexpected visit with a friend. We visited her home behind the store. It is magnificent. Ruth is a widow at 35 with a 17-year-old son. We had a grand meal and she drove us back to the airport where we learned the plane is finally refueled. We are off to Zamboango the last stop before Sulu. It was in the news in 2002 in the story of a husband and wife missionary team who were abducted by Muslim terrorist. They were held for ransom for more than a year and the husband is shot just as they are being rescued. I read the story from a book written by the wife entitled “In the Presence of Mine Enemies”

When we arrived friends of Frank, Bishop Mongeau, and more Oblate priests met us. (Frank was a member of the order of the Oblates of Mary Immaculate). We began our last leg now, nearly two days of travelling having past, and finally see Jolo and the Cathedral rising above all other buildings in the afternoon sun. When we land people anxious to greet us surround us. We feel like celebrities working our way through the crowd. We dropped our bags off at the Carmelite building where we would stay and headed for the Cathedral. Frank is lying in state there in a hand made mahogany coffin. We heard a report that the Oblates tried to move the body to the Oblate cemetery north in Cotabato but were advised by the mayor and the people that they wouldn’t allow it. They even talked of the use of arms if necessary. They made it clear that he will be buried here among people who loved him.

We were met at the airport by Rich McSorley, my brother John’s son, who was completing his studies here for his degree. We went with him to the Cathedral and see the body of Frank in his full liturgical dress including the miter, that pointy hat bishop’s wear. I thought it appropriate that a Richard McSorley should be close to Frank as he was dying. Richard was my father’s name. He was 85 years of age then and fearful of flying so he stayed home. He noted how strange it was that his oldest son had died and he the father was still living.

There was a civil ceremony at nine AM. The mayor and seven other eulogized Frank. Marge and I offered responses. I noted that today would have been 58 years after the marriage of Richard and Rita, his mom and dad. Marge’s was better and she ended with a Filipino cheer Frank often used, “Mubuhay”! It could be translated as “well done” The mass was celebrated with the three Bishops and some 39 priest con-celebrating. All in white vestments; the prodigal son had gone home. A speaker at the mass was Peter Naimo, a former Muslim whose father was a local Imam. (I’ll continue later, until then Pax Tecum!)

The year 1965 has been brought to mind in this October of 2005. The first instance was due to my writing a history of our church, LCC. It was started in 1965 and is now 40 years young. My history covered the years from 1990 to today, October 2005. The Church’s monthly news report “Cross Currents” for October includes information as to the coming celebration on October 23rd. Pastor Dave, in his column asks the questions, “Where were you in 1965? Starting a career? Living up North? In grade school? Were you even born yet?” He goes on to reminisce about songs he recalls. One “Wooly Bully” by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, and the other “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher. I recall the one by Sonny and Cher but not the other. According to my calculations Pastor Dave would have been 17 or 18 in 1965, so it is not surprising that these are the songs he might recall!

In 1965 I would have been 36 and the father of seven children, ages 2 to 10, five boys and two girls. The girls were the youngest and oldest, Mary T. at 2 years of age and Suzanne at 10 years of age. I had by that time been practicing law for about 6 years. I remember somewhere in there a few years of teaching at the St. Joseph’s (College then) University night school to supplement my income. I had had become active in the local politics having been elected a democratic committeeman from my ward. Later I was named a member of the License and Inspection Review Board. It was not a paying position, but kept me in contact with our new Mayor, James H.J. Tate. (He always insisted on the ‘H.J.’ when in print,) He had become Mayor by default not an election. It happened that in 1964 the then Mayor Richardson Dilworth decided to run for Governor. He had to resign as Mayor to do so under our City Charter, (Incidentally he lost.) The Charter provided that the then President of the City Council, in this case Tate, was to be Mayor until the next election. The Mayor was the titular head of the local Democratic Party. My activity thus naturally led to more contact with the new Mayor as I had thoughts of running for election to the State Legislature in 1966. Mayor Tate was familiar with my father and his past activities for the party. My dad had been active when to be a Democrat in a Republican controlled city was seemingly a waste of time and energy. He ran for office several times, but not with the hope really of winning. He explained how the active Democratic leaders would sit around before an election and decide who should run for what. So you would hear, “Well, it’s your turn Dick so you’ll have to file!” One time I recall driving around City Hall, which is built on a circle, to keep looking for his name to arrive in an electronic bulletin board on the Evening Bulletin Building across from one of the corners of City Hall. Ultimately we saw a listing of the number of votes he received and incidentally immediately before or after, it listed FDR’s votes. So Dad felt he was in good political company.

In 1966 I entered a primary race for a Legislative seat. The primary was caused by the party not naming a candidate and two former legislators filed. I won the Primary so I was now the party candidate in the general election in November. About four weeks before the general election the Republican Party named Tom Gola as their candidate. He had been a basketball star in a Philadelphia high school and college and played for the Philadelphia pro team. He was now resigning from a team in New York (I think). He had undoubtedly ‘name’ recognition. Along with that, one ward of the district had a majority of Republican registered voters. Despite door to door campaigning I lost. But I did so well that the party chiefs congratulated me.

Thus in 1967 when Tate was filing for election as Mayor and he needed to form a ticket. The then party chairman, an old friend, refused to endorse him. I was asked if I would file for one of the positions and I did. I filed for Register of Wills. The then Register also a candidate for reelection was a friend of my Dad and myself. He and I had tried a murder trial together in 1960. In fact an appeal which I filed was still pending. He came to the office to talk to my Dad and me about my withdrawing. I told him I paid my $25 to file and until Tate said I could step down, I would stay. My Dad advised John, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be voting for you, John! ” Later the party relented and Tate became the candidate and I naturally did nothing about the Register of Wills position since I was now excused. This led to my serving under the newly elected Mayor Tate first as a Deputy Commissioner of Property and later as Commissioner of Records. My decision in 1965 to become more politically involved resulted in my losing an election and in serving in the city government under Mayor Tate.

In 1965 there was another local election that made national news, the run for Mayor of New York City. I watched and read with interest since William Buckley was running. I remembered him from his best seller “God and Man at Yale. It was an attack on his alma mater for failing to find God anywhere in the curriculum or for that matter almost anywhere at Yale. He founded the magazine “National Review” at age 29 and was its editor. It was a conservative organ and known as such through out America. He wrote a column, which appeared in about 150 papers weekly. I watched him on TV one time debating Gore Vidal. I forget the issues but will never forget the speech and manners of Mr.Buckley. As it was reported in a recent New York Times magazine article reporting on the those election debates, that “Buckley exuded civility and wit…Buckley offered comic exuberance. It came through in the gold-plated vocabulary and in the languid accent – a piquant blend of British intonation and Southern drawl. And there was the mercilessly adroit debating style, honed over the years before many audiences.” In his debate with Vidal, Buckley’s style was the same. They were the standard Buckley traits. He was a Latin scholar. In a book of Latin sayings I have he wrote the introduction. He was very upset with his church, the Roman Catholics, going to the vernacular after Vatican II approved it. He wrote a faith biography called “Nearer, my God ” which I read. I copied a chapter from it to use as a mediation on Good Friday. It was entitled, “The Crucifixion, As Seen, Or Imagined By Marian Valtorta”. It is the most gruesome and realistic description of the agonies of Christ I have ever read.

Buckley was running against John Lindsey, a former congressman. He was the endorsed Republican candidate and Abraham Beame, the Democratic candidate. He had entered the race, it was reported in the Times article, by accident. In 1965 the conservative Republicans were still writhing over the disastrous loss by Barry Goldwater to LBJ. Conservatives were literally on the ‘outs’. How Buckley entered is that he had written a column offering some thoughts on the election and the task facing its winner. It was in terms of “What might we offer if we were running for Mayor?” The column was reprinted in the National Review with a front cover tease, “Buckley for Mayor” It was intended as a joke and for the most part was received as one. But the then leaders of the newly formed statewide Conservative Party of New York took the idea seriously. Their thought was to have him run to spread the Conservative’s beliefs. Buckley agreed. So he filed. In one of the first question and answer periods following a debate someone asked, “Did he have any chance of winning?” “No”, Buckley said. “How many votes did he expect to get?” “One”, Buckley said cheerfully. “And who would cast that vote?” “My secretary”. Later at one of his news conference he made a statement I would never forget, nor anyone else who heard it. He was asked what would he do if he were elected? Buckley replied “ Demand a recount!” So much for the year 1965, now back to the present, 2005. October saw the end of my Physical Therapy sessions. I had 35 in all from July 15th to October 5th. It worked wonders with my energy even while causing some muscle soreness and pains in my shoulders and upper arms. With the coming of cooler weather (Florida cooler usually means just less humidity) I plan to get back to a bit of walking. I am also considering joining a gym to continue some of the exercises inside away from the heat.

We spent the week of October 8th to the 15th at Anna Marie Island Beach Cottages. Marge and Dan were with us as well as a couple from Church, the Doto’s, Jim and Lynn and their two guys. We had perfect weather. Anna Marie Island is located in the Gulf just off the coast from the city of Bradenton. It is about 5 to 6 miles long and at most a half a mile wide is some places. It is covered with mostly one-story cottages. It has a few small shopping areas, but no large hotels, motels, etc. The eastern coast of the Island runs along the Tampa Bay and the west along the Gulf. It is a beautiful and quiet paradise. It has some excellent restaurants. One we like as well as Dan and Marge, is the “Rod & Reel” located on the northeastern corner of the island. From it you can see the Sunshine Skyway and the coast of St Petersburg along the Bay. It serves fresh seafood in great quantities and at reasonable prices. We had a wonderful time only I spoiled a few nights sleep for June with a respiratory infection which with a new prescription on Tuesday we got under control. The only thing June missed was the view of the Gulf while sitting on the porch like we could do at St.Pete’s beach where we stayed. Until next time, Pax tecum!

Recently there was a book published entitled “ Is the Reformation Over? An Evangelical Assessment of Contemporary Roman Catholicism” In a review of the same, the author’s ideas regarding the Second Vatican Council were expressed as follows: “The most important change took place within the Catholic Church at the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965). Noll and Nystrom (the authors) identify four key developments there: The council referred to non-catholics as ‘brothers’, encouraged lay Catholic piety, emphasized Christ’s unique role as mediator, and accepted limited blame for inciting the Reformation”(Review by Colin Hansen) .

The review reminded me that I had what might be called ‘historical’ documents, namely copies of letters written by my brother Bishop Frank to our Dad while attending the Second Vatican Council. The pages total 143 with a letter usually to each page. They cover the time he was in Rome participating with 2300 others in the council from October 1962 till December 1962 and then each year for approximately the same time period till December 1965. They contain personal notes to Dad and others but always included a report on what action, if any was being taken and how the votes were going. I had read them all some years ago when I first received them from my nephew Jim Allen.

Before re-reading them I thought I should look into a report by someone else as to the Council. I went into the St.Petersburg Library records and was referred to one book entitled, “Pope, Council, And World: The Story of Vatican II” by Robert Blair Kaiser. The book was written in 1963. The short blurb about the author reads, “Robert Blair Kaiser, an experienced journalist, is now Time’s Rome correspondent. He earned the 1963 Overseas Press Club’s award for the best magazine reporting on foreign affairs for his reports on Vatican II. He is the first Time “staffer” to receive this award. ..” My reason for including this is that in a letter dated November 11, 1963, Frank writes: “Last evening after visiting the sick one GFB and Bill Sheehan OMI who came in yesterday as a Portuguese expert in Catechism… I went over to Bob Kaiser’s house. Bob is the Time correspondent for Rome and has written a book on the Council, which I enjoyed very much. Every Sunday night is ‘open house’ at his home (and) for many Sunday nights we have been thinking of trying to get over there, but to no avail until last evening. There you can find every hue of clerical, liberal, bishops and priest. An interesting gathering to be sure but one that puts a label on your thinking…your friend Archbishop Roberts lives with Bob during the days of the Council…”(Italic added) The coincidence amazed me. But as I read on in the letters there were often references to many other “names” in the news that he meets or dines with or with whom he chats.

His letters are full of ‘thank you’s’. Some general to his Dad and Mom for the gift of life and an encouraging a priestly vocation; or regarding specific gifts received via his Dad and others. He would also include some observation or report on the Council activity. He would constantly tell Dad about meeting other clerics who had asked for him, though some he noted had met Dad only on one occasion. He remembered anniversaries of death, marriages and birthdays and passed on his thoughts on them.

I had the pleasure in 1948 of traveling with him as he proceeded back to his mission, then in Cotabato, P.I., via Europe and in particular Rome. He had remained in the Philippines after his incarceration in the concentration camp of the Japanese in Manila for three years. As we drove away from our summer home in Sea Isle City, New Jersey waving to Mom on the porch, tears filled up his eyes. I asked him why and he explained that he felt certain he would never see Mom again – and he didn’t. Mother died in November 1952. She had had a mild heart attack in 1948, the same year she had been proclaimed the “Catholic Mother of Year in America”. Thus Frank in these letters often recalls his Mother and her loving but thoughtful care of him – her first born.

He was pleased with the idea of a Council, but was like many, skeptical of any great changes. He had hoped for particularly changes in the manner in which Rome handled Missions. He was pleased with the talk of more laity participation and the demystifying of the rite of the Mass. On that point, he believed the use of the vernacular in the Mass was a good idea, but lamented a bit the fact that Latin as the universal language of the church would suffer and communication made more difficult. We had an example of this universality on our trip in 1948. We had ridden all night from Spain along the Riviera through Monaco to Genoa, Italy. It was somewhere around 6 AM when we left the train in Genoa to look for a church where Frank could celebrate Mass. We found one but neither of us spoke Italian but Frank’s use of Latin with the priest allowed us to communicate. He did thus celebrate a Mass there in Genoa.

Another issue he spoke of with agreement was the doctrine of “collegiality” of the bishops. Collegiality is defined “the bishops and the successor to Peter form together in solidarity the main organization for the guidance and sanctification of the church” (The Vatican Council And Christian Unity, p. 223) The concept put authority in the bishops and Pope and not in the Curia. It is this idea that Frank agreed with.

He regretted the cursory treatment of the Missions. He even submitted a paper on the matter but was never given the chance to read to the assemblage. He noted in a letter of October 13,1964, “We are finally going to get a day of discussing the Missions, from the looks of things it will be a truncated proposition which will restate old principles and leave the working out of such administrators of the Propagation field. I am prepared myself to speak but it maybe that it will be treated so briefly my talk will be handed in. As I think I told you I will speak, if possible, on the manner of support the missions and not leaving it to the wares and charms or lack of such of each missionary bishop.” (Italic added) He during his three years in Rome hopped about to Munich, Cairo, and elsewhere to seek more aid and help for his mission in Jolo. In the 60’s I lead a yearly money-raising affair each year in Philly where he would sometimes be able to attend but not often. He would be spending his three or four months back in the States travelling all over to raise money by collection and the like.

Frank followed with much interest the ‘schema’ or proposal to re-instate the deaconate. On October 8, 1963 the American Bishops met and the only question for discussion was the “return of permanent diaconate”. They were in general agreement for it, but Frank was skeptical about it actually occurring. He described it as something that “appears to be purely a hypothetical futuristic nothing”. On October 15 of the same year debate on the issue was halted but however on October 31, Frank reports, the Council voted for a ‘renewal’. It ultimately passed in September of 1964 with it then up to the Pope as to when it would go into effect.

Frank would be happy to know that ultimately it went into effect in the United State. In May 1994 a member of the clan, my son-in-law Thomas Baker was ordained a Deacon and has been serving since. He also wrote a short pamphlet entitle “Deacon” as part of a series entitled “I Like Being In Parish Ministry”. Tom is married to my oldest daughter Suzanne and they have three girls.

It appears, as best I could calculate from Tom’s book, that it wasn’t until the 1980’s that the permanent deaconate was put into practice in U.S.

At the end of the first session in December 1962 Frank commented that “in fifty years there will be notable differences from now. Neither you nor I need be concern ourselves about such time”. So now some forty years plus after that first session we have a Wheaton College historian Mark Noll and a freelance writer Carolyn Nostrum, writing an assessment of the changes. It includes a recounting of the “Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification signed by the Lutheran World Federation and representatives of the Roman Catholic Church in 1999. This has and continues to have other effects like the “Evangelicals and Catholics Together”. So Frank’s “prediction” or hope for response seems to becoming to life. Until next time, Pax Tecum !

August is a month of birthdays. Both of our sisters named Mary celebrate one, as well as my daughter Mary. My sons Dan and Paul also have birthdays along with a niece, Win Allen, June’s nephew, Bryan MacDonald, my grandniece Denise Bugey and June’s grandson, Paul Berger. But to top that off, if it is at all possible, is the celebration of our marriage, which has reached 24 years on August 15th. They certainly all make August an august month. In March Jottings of 2003 I wrote the following: “ American armed forces are attacking Iraq. The protests are loud and many. The pros and cons of the action fill pages of newsprint and email forwards. The attempt to unravel the reasons for the action leads only to frustration. The most difficult thing for me is to accept is the lack of open provocation– such as the invasion by Iraq of Kuwait in 1991. We have been asked to trust our President’s belief that we are in danger but we are not shown clearly where that exist. It has the ring of Vietnam and its domino theory of preventing the spread of communism. It would be so much easier if we had had a provoking action to show our need to defend. Without it we must fall back on the belief that our President really is acting in our behalf and not some hidden motive. We have noted before that our confidence in our leaders so acting has been misplaced in the past, so it makes doing so now even tougher. So we pray that we are not so disillusioned this time and until proven otherwise we will support our President. Faith in someone is often an unreasonable act but it is also sometimes necessary for sane living.”

Now two years and a few months later I find that it appears we have no proof that we are or were ever in “danger” from Saddam Hussein or Iraq. No “weapons of mass destruction” have been found, and no connection between Iraq and the terrorist organization that destroyed the World Trade Center have been demonstrated. As we said, “until proven otherwise we will support our President”, that proof has come. He has never shown how we had a right to the preemptive striking of the country. He appears more now to employ the concept of “Pax Americana” as the Romans did with their “Pax Romana”, i.e., attack and subdue those who fail to follow the direction we believe they should take. The President often reminds us that he is a Christian, or his image makers do so, but he has never made any attempt to show how his preemptive attack qualifies under Christian practice and belief of a “just war”. Once again “our confidence in our leader” has apparently been misplaced. We only pray that somehow soon we will withdraw and stop the killing of so many American boys.

I read the new Harry Potter book, “Half-Blood Prince”. I think I have read them all but wouldn’t swear to it. I’ll not soon forget however my mentioning reading the first one among some reunion brethren. All good Christians and retreat goers who as part of the VDC experience meet to encourage each other in our Faith walk. One of the members was quite surprised by my statement since he had been advised by his Pastor not to read it. Later in the same week I had a similar comment from the woman cleaning my teeth, i.e., that her church too had forbidden the reading of it. It was quite a revelation to me that such prohibitions were being promulgated in some Protestant denominations. It reminded me of “Index of Forbidden Books” created by Pope Pius the Ninth. He was the same Pope who decided his pronouncements should be considered infallible. Vatican I, that he controlled, was organized to create such a dogma. It finally did agree to the infallibility concept but limited it to matters of ‘faith or morals’. It was a shocker to me a former Catholic to see the doctrine being espoused by some Protestants who had separated partially due to the mandating authority of the magisterium (Teaching part of the church) rather than Scripture. I asked both the objectors if they had disobeyed and read the book. Neither had. I asked if any reason was given for the prohibition and it was vaguely stated to be because of the Evil actions in the book not being met by Christian beliefs to overcome it. My reading would confirm the opposite; it does carry the Christian belief into the winner’s circle. It is that love conquers evil. “…God whether I get anything else done to day, I want to make sure that I spend time loving you and other people because that’s what life is all about.” This is a prayer from the “Purpose Driven Life” by Warren and succinctly set forth what the Christian’s should be seeking. Harry’s journey is to build up his ability to love so he can conquer evil.

The book, and the series referred to as ‘cliffhanger chronicles’, received a full-page review in the NY Times Book Review. In the same magazine there is a section devoted to “Children’s Books”, so Harry’s stories are beyond being just Children’s stories according to these editors. In the review the writer asks, “Is there a book loving child on this planet who isn’t obsessed with Harry Potter?” The first five volumes have sold 207 million copies! The reviewer observes that JK Rowling’s gift is not so much language as for her ‘characterization and plotting’. She makes it easy to believe that the “good” wizard will vanquish the great evildoers.

In another issue of the New York Times in the “Week in Review” session there was a half page essay written by a young lady a college sophomore who tells how she became enamored and eventually overwhelmed with the series. It was entitled “Growing Up With a Dose of Magic” By her name, Kaavya Viswanathan, she appears to be of Indian descent but it is immaterial and never really an issue. She is an American girl going through school who finds Harry Potter’s stories, “…as my favorite through adolescence and into adulthood in a world that doesn’t feel so safe anymore…” She found Harry’s development followed her own. She learned that “life isn’t always fair”, that parents, friends and mentors couldn’t always be a shield, some things you had to experience yourself” In simple words she learned that not everything was perfect and the stories reflected that reality to her. She saw that good did triumph over evil by the acts of an ordinary boy acting in an extraordinary manner. Most of all she learned “the importance of love, friendship, and loyalty” The writer of this opinion essay, by the way, is now a sophomore at Harvard University and will have her own novel published next spring!

The Harry Potter series is often compared to the “Chronicles of Narnia” written by C.S. Lewis. They are considered Christian stories. Why? More to the point is that important to the quality of the stories? Walter Hooper, Lewis’ literary executor and author of a commentary on all of Lewis’ works (“C.S. Lewis: Companion & Guide”) asks these questions. Further he notes, “How have the Bible and Christian theology ‘influenced’ the Narnian books?” He warns, as does Lewis “to talk about ‘influence’” is dangerous for readers who are under the mistaken notion that if you have found a biblical or literary ‘influence’ behind a work there is no more to be said about it”. Likewise if you don’t find such ‘influence’ you dismiss it as not ‘worthy’, as some apparently have done. Hooper goes on to point out that Lewis objects to regarding “influences” in a literary work and in particular of fiction. [He was a teacher of Literature at Oxford and Cambridge.] By definition fiction is ‘an imaginative creation or pretense that does not represent actuality, but what has been invented” (The American Heritage Dictionary). So reading it to ascertain its “influences” is turning it into ‘non-fiction” where an analysis of where this writer is coming from or such, his influences, is a reasonable approach. Now unfortunately some fiction writers, such as Brown in the “Da Vinci” code advertise their fiction as fact, history, and other non-fiction attributes. The facts asserted in that book are not as they occurred and it is truly fiction throughout.

So looking at the Potter series and deciding to read it or not based on its ‘influences’ is really treating it as non-fiction. The written work of fiction is a work of art, a new creation. C. S. Lewis quotes a Wordsworth poem “The Table Turned” to show how our intellect can destroy a work of art. It reads, “Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous form of things: We murder to dissect” (Italic added)

The bottom line is read fiction to enjoy the imagination and ‘characterization’ the writer creates, not as something else.

The columnist George F. Will is not one of my favorites. We might say this is due to the conservative “influences” in his essays. However recently he had me agreeing with him and smiling at his illustrations. He was writing from the National Constitution Center located in Philadelphia at the other end of the mall from Independence Hall where the Constitution was drafted. He writes, “Throughout, the center illustrates what (then) Professor Felix Frankfurter was tying to express more than 70 years ago when he said, ‘If the Thames is ‘liquid history’ the Constitution of United States is most significantly not a document but a stream of history’ But it is first and always a document that is to be understood, as John Marshall said… ‘chiefly from its words’” Will then creates history as he believes would be written by contemporary liberals with respect to the confirmation of John Roberts to the U.S. Supreme Court. “The Articles of Confederation, ratified near the end of the Revolutionary War to Defend Abortion Rights, proved unsatisfactory, so in the summer of 1787, 55 framers gathered here to draft a Constitution. Even though this city was sweltering, the framers kept the windows of Independence Hall closed. Some say that was to keep out the horseflies. Actually, it was to preserve secrecy conducive to calm deliberation about how to craft a more perfect abortion right….” He likewise reminds conservatives of the fact that the Constitution was written to correct the defects of the Articles of Confederation, namely to strengthen the federal government. As Wordsworth noted “our meddling intellect” can even read things into a document! Pax Tecum!