Author: tom

Busy-ness is a measure of your importance;

Someone is going to win the rat race;

Hurrying buys time so we can do more busy-ness;

Downtime is wasted time!

These are four American axioms. Our pastor noted them late in July while discussing the story of Martha and Mary. Everyone is familiar, I presume, with the story of these ladies with one sitting there, Mary, listening to Christ and the other, Martha, busy being a good hostess. She, Martha, complains to Jesus. He is told that Mary has chosen the better part. This admonition to Martha is clearly un-American thinking. Everyone knows being busy is a sign of how important you are.!

These thoughts, and another incident in June, caused me to think of days of my busy-ness. The other reminder was in June when I saw and heard Governor Edward Rendell at Kelly Golden’s High School graduation. Ed Rendell was an assistant D.A. in a case I defended in early 1971. We became friends and chatted on occasions. He went on to be a two term District Attorney and Mayor. By the time of our trial in 1971 I had gotten some balance in my busy-ness but it wasn’t by pure chance. From the time I left the service and began practicing law in l958, busy-ness was my life style. By 1966 I was running for a seat in the legislature. I was serving as a Deputy Commissioner and Commissioner in different City departments under Mayor Tate. I formed a new law partnership with two friends, Ed Blake and John Purcell. My father had left the practice so we moved the new partnership to another office in the same building and we had spaces for renting to other lawyers. I had by then seven children to feed and clothe. So I was busy. I was so busy that by 1969 I was up in weight to 215/20 lbs. I was having constant headaches, which I tried relieving with booze, Valium, and aspirin, none of which worked.

My family doctor referred me to a headache specialist. After examination and discussion of my life style and activities, he remarked there are probably 400 reasons for having headaches. Then he asked, “Do you want to be Mayor?” I laughed not seeing any relevance to the headaches. But later those words made me think about it. It is the basic premise of the story of Martha and Mary. Where are my priorities? Where was the balance? He also pointed to the growth of fat around my neck and suggested it was probably preventing sufficient blood to my head and thus the headaches. He suggested exercise and limiting my painkillers to aspirin or something in that line. Thinking about exercise reminded me of my days in High School and College when I ran. So I started to jog in a neighborhood park and finally got up to almost regularly five days a week. Around that same time I was talking to a friend who worked in the City’s Recreation Department who mentioned that the department was sponsoring “Jog-ins” on some Saturdays and usually on the East River Drive. I would later participate and meet a lifetime running buddy and friend, Bill King. The next year Frank Shorter won the Olympic Marathon and for America it meant running was “in”.

In the meantime, the Mayor’s term expired and the newly elected Mayor, Frank Rizzo being no friend of mine did not reappoint me. A former boss of mine Bill Costello, the Property Commissioner whom I had served as deputy, was reappointed. I was surprised and asked him about it. He said he believed Frank thought “Costello” was an Italian name! So he was reappointed but he only stayed a while.

My busy-ness was coming down by these events but mostly due to the exercise. My weight started coming down as a dividend and I even got to read and see at a distance without glasses! I later learned that the stigmatism causing the need for glasses sometimes leaves with age, but for me the cause was the exercise. The most important dividend was a time alone, a quiet time, a “Mary” time, although in those days I didn’t think of it all as being there. It was there and looking back I see now the therapy it brought to my life helped me through a marital breakup. I never thought it as wasted time or “downtime” since the immediate and long term benefits were easy to see. I had gotten some balance in my life. It wasn’t perfect nor would it ever be but it was a start.

I forgot to mention I had lost the election. It pleased my father. His theory about running for office was to run and lose. He thought it gave a young lawyer good training in communications but winning was dangerous due to the temptations and challenges that a young man might not be able to properly face. I wasn’t a bit pleased with losing but over a lifetime since then I have seen his ideas unfortunately being confirmed among law class mates elected and appointed to the Bench. But at that time I saw no good in losing.

A few years later in the early 70’s I was the subject of a column in the then Evening Bulletin. It was very flattering about my successes in representing defendants in gang murder cases, but the picture they used showed the fat Paul of 1966 and was far from flattering. It made me even surer of the steps I had taken, so they continued for the rest of my life till 1996 when age required I step back from running.

The running became my quiet time and then blossomed into a social and competitive activity. My busy-ness was more controlled and with the aid of an appointment to the Jury Commission I had good financial help to my practice. I could pay the mortgage, feed and clothe the kids, and even assist in getting college into their lives. My practice by 1974 had moved to my neighborhood. I opened a storefront office on Rhawn Street in Foxchase, a busy street in Northeast Philadelphia. The partnership folded due to Ed being named assistant Common Pleas Court Administrator first and then, after appointment to the bench in 1971, as Court Administrator. John fell a victim to John Barleycorn and died at a young age. The lease expired and so I moved my office near my home.

These thoughts were not meant to be a memoir of my law practice but a looking back as to how my health problems made me seek a balance and the benefit I received from exercise and a quiet time. It was a lucky way to learn the lesson since I have watched contemporaries following those American axioms destroy their health and their relationship in the pursuit of “being important”.

“Much money will be expended, much riot will prevail; but there is no help for it. It is in some measure the unavoidable consequence of our liberty, which will every now and then run into licentiousness. — But still, take us for all in all, we are the happiest nation this world every contained”

This is a quote about democratic elections and it came to mind in this year of a Presidential Election. There is much money being spent, the media seems filled with controversy if not riots, but it is, as noted, an “unavoidable consequence of our liberty”. It is an statement applicable to today so you might be surprised to learn that this was written in 1768 by a friend and Lord to Ben Franklin regarding his complaints about the election that year to Parliament.

He complained, “… that the natural interests of country gentlemen in their neighboring borough, is overborne by the monied (sic) interest of the new people who have got sudden fortunes… In short, this whole venal nations is now at market, will be sold for about two millions;..” I read that in June Kerry had collected 36.5 million and Bush 13 million. However in the over all money gathering Bush still leads with 226 million to Kerry’s 185 million. Reading those figures reminded me of something I read that this year’s presidential election is between two rich guys from Yale. I wondered what Ben would have to say about our elections and the moneyed interest? The conventions begin in a week for Democrats and next month for the Republicans. The cost of security is some 130 million just for the Democrats in Boston. The Republicans in New York will probably be as much or more. June wondered why are we bothering with a convention at all since both parties now have their candidates selected? Obviously we need it to get some of that rioting that Ben talked about to continue the democratic process. I vaguely remember attending or helping at one convention that was the Democratic one in Philadelphia in the summer of 1948. I can’t say anything inspiring stayed with me accept the great numbers filling the convention center then at 34th Avenue near University of Pennsylvania incidentally founded by that same Ben Franklin. This year a grandson will be helping at the Democratic convention in Boston. He will assisting with the transportation to and from the convention of handicapped participants. He will even get on to the floor of the chaos in action. He is a part-time resident in Boston since during the school year he attends Harvard. He’s my son Tom’s son also a Tom, but usually referred to as Tommy. So I expect I’ll get a report on any of the riots or noises that democracy causes in the city once tagged as the “Hub of the Universe”.

August is a month of celebrating and thanksgiving for me. I remember my brothers Frank and John now in heaven born in this month. They were twins in that they had the same birthday, August 25, only ten years apart. Frank was born in 1913 and John in 1923. I have three children celebrating birthdays this month, Mary, Dan and Paul on the 5th,7th, and 16th respectively. I have the most grateful gift to be thankful for in that 23 years ago in this month I wedded June who has made a whole new life for me. So you can see why I celebrate and thank heaven for August!

Until next time, Pax Tecum!

“To be or not to be that is the question, whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles” ( Hamlet)
“If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well it was done quickly, if the assassination could trammel up the consequences and catch with his surcease success – that but this blow might be the be-all and end all here – but here, upon this bank and shoal of time we’d jump the life to come”(Macbeth)

These are quotations from but two of the many soliloquies offered by Shakespeare. They are by definition, “utterances or discourse by a person who is talking to himself, oblivious to any hearer present “(OED). The word comes from the Latin soliloquim: solus-alone; loqui – to speak. Thus it means to speak alone, to one’s self.

The word is a common word in English today but it was not so in the Latin until Augustine, the philosopher, coined it in the 4th Century. One of his first works was entitled “Soliliquia”. He thought it necessary to note that this was a new word, since prior to that time most philosophical writings were conversations in the form of ‘dialogues”. Augustine’s work was a written conversation between himself, his mind, and Reason. He capitalized ‘Reason’ to give it a personality. Dialogues were common beginning with Plato and even down to Cicero. The other common “logue” was and is one we use still today namely, a monologue. But Augustine contrary to Plato and others wanted to make it a matter of the mind and its use of reason. Like the classics before and since he ( his mind) presented to Reason a question. It was Reason’s obligation to then explain and give the mind an answer. So the pattern was created that we now see in Hamlet and Macbeth, they consider both sides of the issue. In one whether suicide is better than suffering, or murder for a good cause can be excused. In both the decision against the action is due to the ‘life to come’. They would, they believed, suffer eternal punishment and thus decide against the action.

All this came to mind while I was reading a memoir of a Swiss theologian, Hans Kung, entitled “My Struggle For Freedom”. In it he has what could be called a ‘soliloquy. He reviews questions asked of him by an artist in Berlin named Moabit. He found he could not answer them. They were, “What is the meaning of my life?; Why am I as I am? ; What is the meaning of my freedom”, and the likes. So he begins his soliloquy, his mind asking his reason these questions. His ultimate answer is that reason alone cannot solve these riddles. He tries Sarte, the existentialist, Descartes the mathematician and philosopher, Catholic and Protestant Theology– but cannot find “an Archimedean point from which I can fundamentally determine, move, understand, change, my reality”. It is not my intent to offer his reasoning to convince anyone, but to note how the style of a soliloquy is still practiced in 2004 A.D. as it was created in 300 A.D. It still has a dramatic and moving effect on the reader and listener. I agree that in its use by Shakespeare the dramatic effect is lot easier to perceive than in a metaphysic mode. What Kung ultimately decides is “…that an elementary choice is being asked of me, a venture of trust”. He compares it to the idea of swimming in a lake. It cannot be experienced by a swimming course on dry land. It can only be experienced while he is swimming. It is like the basic experiences of love or hope, i.e., they cannot be proven in advance by argument, nor after the event.

I did enjoy his treatment of Descartes and his quote from C.G.Jung. He dismisses Descartes’ classic “Cogito ergo sum” (I think therefore I am”) with questions like: “Is my self really accessible? Am I not equipped with mind and will, disposition and structure, head and heart, conscious and unconscious?” It had me musing, what about those people whom we categorize as not “thinking”, are the not here? His quote from C.G.Jung was enlightening. It read: “In reality, being simple is the supreme art and thus accepting oneself is the embodiment of the moral problem and core of a whole world view.”

Last month I talked about “Letters” and their use by historians for more insight into the period being considered. I noticed almost within a week that there is another volume of letters up for sale entitled “Posterity”. The editor is the daughter of historian John McCullough, author of best sellers like “John Adams” and “Truman”. It is a collection of letters by famous and historical Americans to the their children, i.e., their posterity. I was reminded also of the fact that I have in my possession letters of my brother, Bishop Frank, written while he attended Vatican II. The originals are with my nephew James Allen, Esq. who was helping my brother, Dick SJ, now deceased write a biography of Frank. I know at one time, in the year 2000, he had hopes of continuing the task. The letters are interesting. They possess a lot of personal information since they were written to my Dad but the references to the council and the Pope’s conduct get a prime treatment. As my nephew Jim noted they also speak of his interest in playing golf, something my nephew never knew his famous Uncle was into. He regrets the council’s failure to really get into funding mission work, which was his endeavor as the bishop of the Sulu Islands. He has a classic about when the Pope goes to New York to speak to the United Nations. His visit is in all the papers of course. He waits anxiously for his return and his appearance before the Council. The day comes and he writes on October 6,1965:

“Then for an hour and half we were led to believe that any minute the Pope would arrive…while some poor fellows continued with the speeches on the economics of the world and the abolition of the idea of a ‘perfect society’, an idea once very much revered by Thomistic Philosophy. The television lights went on…the guards came from the tombs of the Vatican..the presiding body of Cardinals started for the door –and soon it was five minutes of one –and the Pope (Paul VI) was coming for the great doors were thrown open and in he came to receive a standing ovation. He led the retinue down the aisle while the bishops stood, sang and clapped his arrival. The diplomatic Corp had a place and he went to greet them separately and thence to the temporary throne. …he pulled out a speech and read for about seven minutes exhorting all men to seek peace based on justice. Until then it had been a thrilling experience..but now it was back to the old staid and fixed Roman way of not making a mistake ! Not a word about the trip…a terrible let down. But who am I to criticize the Pope who had just made history and so Adios!”

He did participate and help in the restoration of the married diaconate. He speaks of that on and off in his letters. Now my son-in-law Thomas Baker is a recipient of that change having become a deacon now some years ago. He also noted rather prophetically that it would probably take 50 years before any of the major changes would be accepted. How true it was. Even today there are certain places where the Latin Mass is still recited and attended; where married deacons are not created or allowed; and where the ‘open window’ of ecumenism is covered with blinds, I.E., no light shines in nor eyes peer out on the rest of the Christian world. Hans Kung was teaching Theology during Vatican II. He was offered positions on commissions but decided not to accept. It left him the opportunity to analyses and criticizes from the classroom via the press. His main one, which I am aware of was the failure to reach out in an ecumenical fashion to the Protestant and non-Catholic brethren. He noted that there was an attempt to open the windows of the Vatican as John XXIII had promised but no one touched the doors. He felt that should have been one of the objects and he has written extensively on the need for ecumenism in today’s world. (See, “Theology for the Third Millennium: An Ecumenical View”) Bishop Frank was years ahead of most in this regard in that his schools in the Sulus allowed the Moslem attendees to hold classes and prayers on the grounds of the school at the end of the class day. This was in the ’60’s even before Vatican II. He died in the Sulus in 1970. No one was appointed to replace him. He was so loved by the people that they built a mausoleum in the Cathedral he had built where he was laid to rest. His Oblate brothers attempted to prepare for him to be buried in the Philippine islands in Cotabato in the Oblate Seminary, but the people said “No way” They even threatened armed action if anyone tried to do so. The failure to replace him for over five years resulted in the rise of the fanatic Moslems who today rule the Sulu Islands. Christians and Christianity were driven out.

The last two weeks of June we spent one up in Philadelphia area, the other at the Beach with Mary, Ron and the three guys, Alex, Aidan (twin 7 year olds) and Owen (age 5). The week in Philly was to take part in two graduation parties and one graduation ceremony. One graduate was Linda McSorley from the 8th grade; the other was Kelly Golden from High School. We attended her graduation service, which included some nearly 600 others. The guest speaker was the present Governor of Pennsylvania, Edward G. Rendell. It brought back memories of the 70’s when I defended by appointment charges of murder by a gang member who was prosecuted by the then Assistant District Attorney, Edward Rendell. He went on to be District Attorney, Mayor and then last year Governor. His short remarks were good and with a bit of humor. His main message was they have right and duty to keep us free by being sure to vote.
That week also saw Mary Lou get another procedure with a new specialist and she went back to eating real food, after 3 months of intravenous feeding. The parties also provided June and I an opportunity to catch up with most of children. June got to see them all. I got to see most of mine. The week with the guys at St.Pete’s Beach on the Gulf was l relaxing and lots of fun. The guys loved the water, whether the pool or the gulf, so much so that on return to Yardley, PA. their hometown, they had their Swimmer’s ears corrected! Until next time, Pax Tecum!

Letter writing is a disappearing art. With the growth of other more rapid ways of communication it is neither surprising nor seemingly missed. As my Editor would note, “Who cares?” I suppose no one really does, since there are present means of communication, which are so much more personal, such as the phone and video Computer chats. But in any reading of a history or a biography I note how often the author relies on the letters to or from the character being considered. In fact, John McCullough’s best seller on the life of John Adams which created a new image of Mr. Adams by the use of recently discovered letters from and to his wife, Abigail. Those letters are now published in a new volume.

Today’s ‘letters’ by email are notes or as Truman Capote is alledged to have said years ago about Jack Keourac: ‘That’s not writing, it’s typing’ “. Many English teachers and language lovers are appalled at the way the language and punctuation are mutilated in them. In fact, you will occasionally see articles instructing “Professional Approaches to Email” and how such can advance your career. Most of the times they are concerned about things like the etiquette of email writing. Such as always replying, don’t be nasty, don’t forward offensive jokes or chain letters, watch your B(blind) C(copy)’s and CC ‘s so you don’t offend, and oh yes, grammar and spelling do count. It is referred to as ‘netspeak’, not writing. Lynn Truss is the author of a recent best seller on punctuation, “Eats, Shoots and Leaves”. In it she says, “As for our writing personally to each other, how often do you hear people complain that emails subtract the tone of voice; that it’s hard to tell if someone is joking or not? Clicking on ‘send’ has its limitations as a system of subtle communication… We needn’t be concerned about selecting the right words in the right order and channelling (sic) the reader’s attention by means of artful pointing. Just adds the right emoticon (like a smiley) and everyone will know what self-expressive effect you thought you kind-of had in mind.” Some email could admittedly qualify as a letter. They have a salutation, a body, and an ending. But most are more akin memos, quick notes, and are now referred to as ‘netspeak’ The complaints of teachers, writers, and lovers of language about the use of our language on the net is like a dog barking at the waves coming at them from the sea. The can bark all they want, but the waves do and will keep coming. There still remain some places where we find what we once called a “letter”. They are in the writings of condolences and the eternal love letter. We have seen a bit of a revival of the latter, due to many service men being overseas and in danger, finding a letter is the only way to express their feeling for those loved ones they left behind. Likewise the clamor of those who are upset with the destruction of the language via email reminds us of a similar lament being made for Television going to ruin our nations reading habits. It, “the ultimate enemy of literacy’ has not killed the written word. Reading and writing are more a fact of every day life than they have ever been. The language short cuts of netspeak like “CU B4 8?” continue to be annoying but they are likewise being generally ignored. The fact that a book like “Eats, Shoots and Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation” is a best seller (so far in Britain) indicates there is still hope of more and better writing. The title of the book, “Eats, Shoots, and Leaves” comes from a story, which goes like this: “A Panda walks into a café. He orders a sandwich, eats it, then draws a gun and fires two shots in the air. ‘Why?” asks the confused waiter, as the panda makes towards the exit. The panda produces a badly punctuated wildlife manual and tosses it over his shoulder. ‘I’m a panda,’ he says, at the door, ‘Look it up’ The waiter turns to the relevant entry and, sure enough, finds an explanation. ‘Panda. Large black-and-white bear-like mammal, native to China. Eats, shoots and leaves” To which the book blurb adds the comment “So, punctuation really does matter, even if it is only occasionally a matter of life and death.”

Today most of the letters we read are in history, biographies and the Bible. I am most familiar with American History and its abundant letter writers. Seeing how it was really the only way to communicate out side of Gazettes or Newsletters distributed in larger cities or doing so in person it is not remarkable. But the reported amount of those composed is. When we read figures like 28,000 as I recall being reported to be roughly the number of Thomas Jefferson’s contribution, or the figure of I believe 19,000 recently discovered letters of Abigail and John Adams, that is remarkable. When we read of figures like these and recall there was no such thing as carbon paper and copy machines it is more amazing. Jefferson did invent a device that enabled him to write two letters at the same time, so he could send one and keep one for himself. The device is one of his many inventions and can be seen even today at his home in Monticello.

Abigail played a major role in the creation of historical letters for American History. She was with the help of a Philadelphian, Dr. Benjamin Rush, responsible for making those two proud men, Jefferson and Adams, begin once again to correspond. Those letters added volumes to our history. They started in 1812 and continued to their deaths, which incidentally were both on the same day, July 4th 1826, the fiftieth anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. They began to correspond after Adams wrote to Jefferson suggesting they do so and he responded with what is now called the ‘reconciliation letter’ of January 21, 1812. They had served together in the government of George Washington. In the next administration Jefferson was Adam’s vice president during his term but he allowed others to work on his behalf to defeat Adams after one term and became President in 1801. He served two terms till 1809. They were in that period titular heads of the two parties. Jefferson founded what was called the Republicans and Adams the Federalist. Though they fought together to bring America into being, and even worked together in the writing of the Declaration, they parted over what they considered America should seek from and with this newly created government. In simple terms, Jefferson was for less national control or centralized government and Adams was for more of both. So from 1809 until 1812 they did not communicate directly but wrote to others about why they weren’t doing so.

The letter of reconciliation written by Jefferson in 1812 is a typical Jeffersonian classic use of language. Here is what he says when speaking of the recollections Adam’s letter recalled: “It carries me back to the times when, beset with difficulties and dangers, we were fellow laborers in the same cause, struggling for what is most valuable to man, his right of self-government.” Thus began a correspondence covering the next 14 years and on subjects as varied as, the Indians, the code of Jesus, natural aristocracy, Bonaparte and Plato, the University, neology (study of new words, or coinage of such) and materialism, old age. Then near the end of their lives, one written denying the malicious rumors attempting “to disturb the repose of affection so sweeping to the evening of our lives”. They cannot do so. These last words come within three years prior to them both meeting the “friendly hand of death”. Aside from showing a great variety of interest that was part of their lives, the provided future generations of readers with great insights into the growth of America in the 19th Century.

I first learned to appreciate letters when I left home for school. I was attending the Oblate Junior College in Newburgh, NY when I was added to my Dad’s list of weekly letter recipients. His salutation was a letter in itself. It read, “Dear Frank, Dick, Patrick, Eleanore, Jim, Mary, Therese and on ” depending who was now away or going away. By the time I was added to the list in fall of 1947 my brothers John and Joe had returned from serving in World War II and left the list. The letter itself was a newsy report of the goings and comings of the family. But you could always count on a personal postscript directly to you even though reading my Dad’s handwriting some times required CIA training. I remember hearing that my oldest sister Winifred was able more than any one else to translate his scribbles, so my brother Pat, it was reported, sent his P.S.’s to her for transcribing! The letters were on legal size paper, since my Dad was a practicing attorney. The copy was sometimes tough to read since it was on what felt like tissue paper and its print was the result of the use of carbon paper. Xerox hadn’t hit the world yet(or at least not in my Father’s office) My Dad’s office didn’t have a mimeograph machine either. For those unaccustomed to word, “mimeograph”, let me explain. It was a duplicating machine that produced copies from a stencil. It was used, as I remember in schools but not in my Dad’s office. I’m not sure how many copies you could make with carbon paper but I guess it partially depended on how many pieces of paper you could put into your typewriter. So it was little wonder that some one like myself, being number thirteenth child out of fifteen might be getting the last of the copies. So aside from writing the letter, which my Dad dictated to his secretary Rebecca Welsh, there was the job of getting enough copies made somehow. Incidentally there was another secretary, but only Rebecca got this personal job of contacting the family.

We have entitled these Jottings, ‘May/June’, because we have been absent from the machine and home for two months and we now have plans to be away again from the 12th of June to the 27th. This time the absence will be for graduations of grandchildren, one from High School and another from the 8th Grade. Until next time, Pax Tecum!

“There is nothing new under the sun”: “The past is prologue” Two adages or saws that come to mind as I re-read the Declaration of Independence and a chapter in the Book of Samuel in the Old Testament. Whether these sayings are ‘adages’, i.e., a short maxim or proverbs or ‘old saws’, i.e., a familiar saying, I can’t discern. But they both make the point that we should learn from the past since somewhere ‘under the sun’ the same idea or ideas have been considered. So what do these two documents have in common: In one, the Lord warns the people of Israel who want a King what he, a king, will bring with him, and in the other, the same, “. Supreme Judge of the world of rectitude…” is appealed to by the American Colonies for help in removing these similar forecasted tyrannies.

Most people in United States, including those, who have immigrated and become citizens, are aware of the Declaration of Independence. But it is usually only the preamble that is recalled. “When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve, the political bond which have connected them with another, and to assume, among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature’s God entitle them.,. they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.” The rest of it listing the offenses of the King is not often recalled. In addition, it is incredible that a great number of people in America under our present culture ignore the acknowledgements set forth therein of God’s part in these gifts of laws and rights. The Declaration begins and ends with calls to the Almighty –in the beginning “…nature’s God” and in the closing “…appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for rectitude of our intentions….” He is the same Lord appealed to by Samuel (1Sam 8) in an attempt to dissuade his people from seeking a King. The Lord gives him information and warnings as to what a King will do. He’ll take your men and ‘…make them serve in his chariots and make them run before his chariots. He will tax you for his treasury. He will enslave your people with his rule. You will then cry out in vain against his tyranny… but it will be too late” (Emphasis added)

This advice and warnings were all given around 1050 B.C. and now in 1776 A.D. they are listed as the reasons for the men of one nation to separate themselves from such tyranny. What was predicted, in the past, has occurred. The past was ‘prologue’ to what a king will do, and now Thomas Jefferson lists in detail those tyrannical acts. He says, “..The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpation (to establish) “an absolute tyranny over these states.”

(To digress from this subject for a moment, I wish to complain about another “new” idea when listing dates. It is “B.C”.” which it is now suggested by academia to be written “B.C.E”. One reads as “Before Christ” the other “Before the Common Era””! Likewise the use of “A.D”., from the Latin, Anno Domini, the year of the Lord, becomes “C.E.” or the Common Era. It is another move, it seems, to get Christ out of the culture after some 2000 years of including Him indirectly in every historical date. I wondered where they came up the ‘common’ era? What is “common” about it? How do we know it began with the birth of Christ? With B. C. you had the recognition of an historical event, not some vague reference to an unknown era. It is a wonder that they didn’t do what they have tried to do with Christmas, namely, changed it to “”Xmas”. X equals the unknown. So why didn’t they make it B.X.E., “before the unknown era” and X.E. the “unknown era””? It would have made more sense then creating a new indefinable ‘common era’. But then some people will go to absolutely the strangest extremes to keep any reference to the Almighty out of their lives. It is an act of “denial, hoping that having repressed the idea it will somehow go away! As far as I’m concerned, I’m sticking with B.C. and A.D. due to their long history of use and that it refers in fact to an historical event.)

There are probably hundreds of examples of the past giving us a forecast as to what is to come. It just happened for me that I had been reading the book of Samuel and a book on the Declaration when the similarities occurred to me. I saw the forecast of around 1000 B.C. being itemized in 1776 A.D. There are admittedly differences in what was said in one and the other, but the bottom line was they both noted what a King or monarchy could bring about. I noticed too an attribute of the Declaration that Garry Willis refers to in “The Declaration of Independence: Inventing America””, namely, “America is the only nation in the world that is founded on a creed. That creed is set forth with dogmatic and even theological lucidity in the Declaration of Independence, perhaps the only piece of practical politic that is also theological politics…” Theology was in both documents and the advice was the same: Kings can and do bring tyranny.

Theology, of a sort, is presently before the U.S. Supreme Court in a case regarding the use of the word “God” in the pledge of allegiance. One of the parties noted that the Declaration of Independence referred to the ‘Supreme Judge of the World’ and no one ever considered that a violation of the Constitution’s First amendment. It reads, “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof” As the U.S. Solicitor argued, the pledge is a ceremonial act not a “law”. One can remain silent if they so desire while others speak it. It is like the oath of a witness she or he need not swear to the truth on the Bible or before God, if they do not wish to do so. This entire idea that this is a violation of the Constitutions is about as reasonable as fat people claiming McDonald’s is responsible for their obesity . Or as valid as the excuse one of Flip Wilson’s characters use to claim as to why he did dumb things, “the devil made me do it” .

Our stay in Philadelphia has now extended for over a month. The end however is in sight. Mary Lou, our daughter and stepdaughter has left the hospital and begun recovery at home.

I have been living in my son’s duplex in Philadelphia. It is a half a block from the family home we lived in from 1958 till 1977.Seven children, five boys and two girls, were raised in that house. So looking down the street and walking pass the old homestead brings back many memories. The street on which Paul’s duplex and the home are located is a small one and made even smaller by cars parking on both sides of the street. One of the memories is that of playing touch football in the street with some of the sons and their friends. I was always the quarterback for both sides. I later recalled a routine by Bill Cosby about his playing football on a small city street. One of the usual huddle instructions were something like “Now you go down to the Chevy and fake as if you were going behind it, and then run across to the Ford and I’ll toss the ball”, or words to that effect. The home was only a few blocks from a recreation center. There we watched them play baseball, football, and hockey on roller skates. I began my running career from those premises in 1969 and 70. I would ride over to a place called “Burholme Park” which had a hilltop and down which the kids often sledded. So I’m back in my old neighborhood. One day this week while taking a walk I saw a former client, and our plumber of those days, driving by. He stopped and rolling down the window said, “Oh! Old lawyers never die! Do they?” To which I responded, “No, they just lose their appeal” It got a laugh. He also said in a disbelieving manner, “What are you doing up here from Florida?” The weather has been cold. He is familiar with Tampa area weather since he is a Bass fisherman, and goes down to Tampa for competitions. I explained our mission. Incidentally when I told my grandson Sean of the exchange about ‘old lawyers’ and ‘dying’ he gave me a “6”on the laugh meter. For me to get that from Sean is a real accomplishment.

Until next time I wish “Pax tecum!” (Peace be to you)

This is the season of Lent. It is the time before Easter. “The 40 week days from Ash Wednesday until Easter observed by Christians as a season of fasting and penitence”, says Webster. The word ‘Lent’ comes from an Old English word ‘lente’ that meant ‘Spring’. We remember many Lents when it was impressed upon us daily the need for less. Today it is un- American to speak about enjoying or seeking less when ‘more’ is seemingly the end-all and be-all of our society. In January of this year an article in the “Parade” magazine accented the opposite notion that ”When It’s All Too Much”. The question was asked, “Could our unprecedented material abundance actually be the cause of unhappiness? Yes, answers a noted social scientist in a new book” The psychologist argues that having so much makes choosing what is the ‘best or the best for me’ causes or plays an important role in the increase of clinically depressed people. The statistics support the increase in clinical depression and he offers this as one of the possible reasons for it. You don’t need to be an expert to see that having to make a decision as to what I want, based on any number of standards, can become an ordeal. My thoughts on all this is look how far we have come from the Christian society which annually gave up things, to one where people get depressed and upset from having so much from which to choose!! The spring of the year has turned into winter by a mind frozen with all the goods they believe they ‘need’ but really only have been made to believe they ’want’.

We learned early, but it needs constant reminding, that ‘need’ and ‘want’ are not identical in a most cases. The season of Lent in the days of our youth showed us how we could give up something and actually see it as beneficial.

Today ‘giving up’ something so easily available is tougher. A goal must be set, like running a marathon or losing 10 pounds. Now the Christian idea becomes a modern idea. I do recall as I grew up seeing signs in restaurants reading “Lenten meals served”. In newspapers you could read of “Lenten” recipes –now it seems it is all ‘Fat Free” or “Low Carbs” recipes. Most of the news in this area is about our abundance. We are the most “obese” nation of the world. The idea of fasting today is seldom thought to be done for spiritual reasons. It only becomes a need to have good health. ‘Fasting’, ‘Giving up’, etc. are not words easily found in our vocabulary. Yet, fasting has proven in the past to not only reduce our ”avoirdupois’’ (weight or heaviness of a person) but sharpened our minds and wits. Recently, I was re-reading “The Last of the Mohicans” and was interested to read praise for fasting. It was a warrior’s hidden weapon to sharpen his reflects in preparation for battle! Now here were lean and mean so called ‘savages’ giving up more to increase their fighting abilities. Today in fighting the battle of to much weight a bit of Indian lore could help us sharpen our weapons for doing so.

Certainly part of the drive or wish to accumulate material possessions stems from believing “that’s all there is”. This life is it. There is no hereafter, no eternity, no God waiting for his creatures to return. Such beliefs are common today in a variety of forms in this world. Our culture is the recipient of the “gift” from the philosophy of people like Kant, Nietzsche, and Hegel, who espoused the idea that no higher power exist. I like the way the German Theologian, Hans Kung puts it, “It makes no difference whether one considers the human race in its many thousand years of history or in its global extension: One will never find a tribe that lacked faith in some sort of transcendence. From a global perspective, atheism among the masses is a typical Western ‘achievement’ even though it has spread to the East. It is thus the affair of a cultural minority in this century” (“Theology for the Third Millennium: Is there one true religion?” p. 231) but even without a philosophical argument people act as if the end is the end. Unlike Hamlet who mused otherwise, “Ay, there’s the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause”. They have been led to think contrary to the inner voice and spirit that keeps telling them otherwise. Materialism with all its devices has failed to chase that away or offer any reasonable explanation for the existence of consciousness, the spirit or mind of man. So it is reasonable to believe and act that this spirit or whatever you want to call it will not cease to exist when the matter that contains it no longer does.

I had to smile as I read what one atheist’s explanation was as to why we couldn’t explain the existence of the spirit within us. She offered as a reason that our brain hadn’t evolved enough for us to understand and thus explain it. I’ve decided not to wait for such a miracle. I am willing to accept the miracle of its presence and all it entails. I always liked the philosopher Pascal’s wager. He felt it was a good bet to wager on there being an eternity, or an after life, since he felt he had nothing to lose doing so. He thought betting, or living as if, it were not so would really be a gamble and the loss would be irretrievable. But betting is not the issue here, it’s living. The end can and will organize and direct the means thereto. If we believe it all ends here, then it makes no sense not to accumulate all we can, in whatever manner we can, short of being caught, since “that’s all there is”. But if the reverse is true than maybe we should look into what it is all about. This is what most people do when they believe in an afterlife and a God awaiting our return. Looking at it they learn that it is all about love. First, the love that made you possible and all that God has created; then the love of those whom he also has created for us to enjoy in fellowship and then to look forward to the love of God that will not hampered by our material being. This is what heaven and the after life mean to me. The biggest problem we have however is keeping focused on that end. All the other activities of importance gain control and we find ourselves far from practicing what we believe. It is only then we must call on that inner power to help us keep focused. We as a spiritual community, commonly called a church, are reading a best seller to help us achieve that end. It is entitled the “The Purpose Driven Life”. It is made for a Lenten reading since it has 40 chapters so it easily matches the 40 days. They are short and to the point making for an easy, though thoughtful, read. It contains a great deal of practical wisdom in learning how to keep focused.

I write these jottings in different place. I am sitting in the office of my son’s Paul’s home in Philadelphia. June and I are here to offer love and help to Mary Lou a daughter to June and stepdaughter to me. She has been suffering for some time with pancreatic problems leading now to surgery before the month is completed. As it also happens my son’s Paul’s home, a duplex, is a mere half a block from the first house I ever owned in Philadelphia. It was there that Paul, Jr. and his brothers and sisters grew up. It was there I lived until 1977 from 1958. It brings back many happy memories of children playing in the back yard, of times of injury and joy, and the neighborhood on each turn recalls things of the past. The home itself has since been renovated with the application of siding, shingles, etc. so physically it is not the same house we left. But like all relics of memory it stands out as one carrying many good ones. We are blessed in being able to forget the unpleasant ones most of the time. Our stay in our son’s home has another wrinkle; I am alone most of the time, since June is living mostly with Mary Lou in her apartment some four or five blocks away. Fortunately for me my meals are still provided by the world’s best cook, June! It gives me time for more reading, writing, and painting. But at the same time the routine of St.Petersburg, the friends, the warmth of the Florida weather, the fellowship of many friends, are sorely missed. We have softened the loss by meeting with children and friends here but we both miss the “home sweet home”. Hopefully by the time I get to writing the jottings for April, we’ll have a some idea when we will be heading back to the land of sun and green. Until then, Pax tecum!

Job got a raw deal! In common parlance today he was ‘screwed’. Here was a guy living by the book, considered righteous and wise, who suddenly finds himself losing everything. He’s losing it all for apparently no known reason. The story is an old one. It’s one we hear about even today where an upright guy loses a child, or a business, or suffers a severe set back. It is a situation where bad things happen to good people. We had a terrible example here in Florida in this month of February. A 12-year-old girl abducted and murdered. The anguish cries of everyone was “Why?” This is the common reaction to this situation and the story from the Old Testament.

I got into this “Job” thing due to an ’eminent’ professor teaching us how this story relates to doctrine of creation. Now there’s a reach, if I ever heard one. What does a guy “who loses it all” got to do with creation, which is composed of everything of beauty and good that surrounds us? This professor is eminent, not because he has been named so by some academic institution. He is because he is able to get and hold the attention and interest, at a little after 6 A.M., on Thursday mornings of a group of 20 to 25 men of ages from 25 to 80, from all walks of life. He is eminent or distinguished or notable in another capacity, or was so, as a physician and surgeon. But for these attendees his eminence comes from keeping them interested enough to keep returning to see how a guy like Job has anything to do with creation. Except of course that Job, like creation, had it all, and then his went to nowhere.

Another unusual fact is that I, who always considered myself as a ‘rational animal’ or reasonable man and who pursued ‘knowledge’ where ever it could be found, is looking forward to sitting in on this discussion with enthusiasm and interest. My past did not include any pursuit of biblical studies. In fact my only connection was limited to studies where parts of it were required by the given curricula. Then later watching a witness in a courtroom as they placed their hands on the Book and swore “to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God” But that has changed. The literature of the bible has become a world of new learning for me.

I like the idea someone wrote of comparing it to the Sunday newspaper. That’s the edition with many sections starting with news, international, national, and local, business & money, food, review of books of all genre, music, art, etc. So too this book has its variety of literature from prose reports of past events to the music and poetry of the Psalms, to the business of the laws and dieting. But in the past is saw it strictly as a semi-doctrinal support for (Roman) Christian doctrine and teaching.

After writing the above it was with surprise and pleasure that I found in the present edition of the Atlantic Monthly (March ’04) a writer I admire using the same analogy re the Bible only on a broader scale. It is another example of the universality of the book and it depth of learning. The writer is Cullen Murphy and his style is one of satire and humor. He uses the example of the many varieties of literatures in the Bible to compose a “Next Testament” which will include writings of this past millennium. As he says”… everyone agrees on is that whatever its nature, the Bible is collection many bits of writing, representing many kinds of literature, and that its various pieces came into existence at different moments over more than a millennium.”

One of the reasons for my altered outlook to the Bible is the author Thomas Cahill. He became famous for his popular non-fiction book entitled “How the Irish Saved Civilization”. What a catchy title ! I had to read it just because of that since if it said “How the Irish Saved Murphy’s Saloon” I could understand it but “Civilization”? He made his case quite well in showing how the monasteries and abbeys started by St. Patrick led to the copying of the ancient Greek and Latin writings that became the classics of later ages. All of this was done in what is called the Dark Ages when literacy was unheard of and looking back at such literature by the men of that age was not done. So he convinced me he could keep his word and proved what his title proclaimed. I was thus easily led to his next search, which was a book entitled “The Gift of the Jews”. Some would look at that title like I looked at his Irish title and fancy that he was referring to their ‘doing well in business’. But it was not that. It was a new look at an old Book and the culture that created it. It concluded with lots of citations and evidence that a thing such as democracy would never have come into being with out the monotheism and individualism of the Jewish Culture. “We are the undeserving recipients of this history of the Jews, excessive, miraculous development of ethical monotheism without which our ideas of equality and personalism are unlikely to have come into being and surely would have matured in the way that they have.” The Bible he goes on…”can be read as a jumble of unrelated texts, given a false and superficial unity by redactors of the exilic period and later. But this is to ignore not only the powerful emotional and spiritual effect that much of the Bible has on readers, even on readers who would rather not be so moved, but also its cumulative impact on whole societies… Nor can we imagine the great liberation movements of modern history without reference to the Bible.” He points to the different movements that relied upon the language of the bible like the civil rights movements, democracy itself, etc. He made the bible to me a larger vista than I had heretofore beheld it. So as surely as he convinced me of the idea that the Irish saved in part the entire civilization so he convinced me that knowledge of man without reference to the Bible is illusory.

My time being more available to do as I wish, I thus began the undertaking and so it is that I arrived at this juncture of attempting to discover how the book of Job is related to ‘doctrine of creation’. Cahill does note that the book of Job epitomized the idea of individual versus God, which was new. Prior to that the idea was that a person was a part of a group, a tribe, or a clan or he was nothing. He put it this way. “As with the spiritualization of the journey (Exodus) and of religious obligation, the idea of the individual – the single spirit – begins to take hold, and the idea that makes its way with great difficulty into the world of groups, tribes, and nations, in which all identity and validation comes from solidarity with a larger entity.” Cullen Murphy in his essay refers to the Book as “a category unto itself: a huge swath of contemporary literature implicitly evokes Job-be it the Job who accepted his fate as the Lord cast woe upon him or, more strikingly, the Job who angrily challenged the Lord and His justice.”

Cahill in his book muses, “Why must the just man suffer? For if sin and retribution are upon the individual, what is the meaning of unmerited suffering?” Which questions bring us to the example of Job. Here is a good man who suffers without sin. That poses a question, a question, which has no answer. “They have reached that mysterious core of human life where one heart in pain speaks to another – and the other can respond in sympathy but without an answer. If there is a reason, it is a reason beyond reason.” In the story as told in Book of Job his friends are convinced that he is suffering because he has sinned and should therefore repent. Their reason, only a just man receives the gifts of worldly success and now Job having attained them must have sinned in order to lose them. It is enough that the story creates these unanswerable questions but to then to contend that some how the story relates to doctrine of creation is even more a challenge.

In the closing chapters of the book God speaks to Job. He offers no explanation as to his individual crisis. Job has not cursed God, as his wife suggested. He has wished he wasn’t born and that all this had not happen. He struggles with trying to answer that unanswerable question and his struggle is like wrestling. It brings a closer relation to the other party in just “wrestle” with his image of God. Now where does creation come in?

Another class was held with our eminent professor and it resulted in his pointing out how creation ‘comes into the picture’. God takes Job on a journey of how things got to where they are now as you look around you. He acts like a parent teaching a child why He is not like you. In fact some parts are a bit humorous when he ask questions like ‘Can you make the waters stop from overflowing, the stars from shining, etc.?’ Leading him and us to see our image of God, our image of justice, and all are images based on finite and material sources. The Lord in Job uses creation to encourage humility, the limits of our understanding. It is not however saying that reason in science and theology is unimportant. In fact it is reason alone which can tell us that the question is incomprehensible. It takes Faith and humility to accept that. So the doctrine of creation plays its part in the story by showing us why the answers we look for are incomprehensible. The power of the Creator is incomprehensible so too then, some of the things He seemingly allows.

When not in class as noted herein we keep busy in many ways. The weather has not been conducive to our daily walks since what seems like summer when you look north still is cold for us. We continue in our reading and such. We even continue our piano playing now down to four times a month. Our visitor’s log is filling up and March looks like a busy month at the McSorley’s Inn, at least for meals. We have the pleasure most of the time of having big Mike sleeping with us as he awaits his house to be built. I continue to add more names to my little black book and they continue to have ‘M.D’. after their names. Most recently the care has been required at both ends, a foot beat up by a lawn mower and an eyelid that is now said to have dandruff! Until next time, Pax tecum!

The year ends. A year begins. Time to look back and ahead. Looking back to see if we have any regrets. I’m reminded of a line from a song which goes,”…regrets, I ‘ve had a few, too few to mention…” I agree. Looking ahead we ask what are the challenges of ’04 ? Thinking about it reminded me that I am in my 75th year of time and it brought to mind a quote from Samuel Johnson, “At Seventy Seven it is time to be in earnest” I first saw this quote in a book entitled “To Be In Earnest”. It is a “fragment of an autobiography” by P.D.James. She is one of my favorite detective fiction writers along with Graham Greene and John LeCarre. Her investigator is Adam Dagliesh, a poet and former Scotland Yard Director. She wrote a semi-diary or biography that covered her 78th year in time. She used part of the quote I mention above as her title. I could not locate in Boswell’s life of Samuel Johnson where or to what the quote related. To be “in earnest” about what? The fact is that he never lived to seventy-seven, he died shortly after reaching seventy-five years in 1784. Reading his life indicates he was in earnest at all times in literate and interesting conversation. He loved words and loved using them. He certainly earnestly pursued that goal. He didn’t wait until he was seventy-seven to “be in earnest” about that. So I can’t tell you what Samuel Johnson wanted us to be in earnest about but I do know it made me think about what I should be in earnest about. It is knowing and understanding why I am here. What is the “time” for? Is” time” the period in which all my life is included, or is there more than ‘time’? I want to be in earnest about learning the answers, since implied in Johnson’s reference to ‘at seventy-seven’ is clearly that we have little ‘time’ left to learn. I am sure that I know the answers, but I want to bring them back for reassertion and assurance as the time to be able to know them better expires.

The only knowledge I have of Samuel Johnson I got from Boswell’s biography. I never read anything written by Johnson. I know he created a dictionary but what other literature I have no idea. P.D. James was a fan of Samuel Johnson and a member of the Johnson Society of London. In fact on the anniversary date of his death December 13th in 1997 she laid a wreath with the society on his grave in Westminster Abbey. In that talk she called him “…this country’s greatest man of letters: Samuel Johnson, moralist, essayist, lexicographer, critic, poet, genius of both the written and spoken word.. (his) legacy of literature is his lasting memorial.”

Boswell uses conversations, sayings, and letters of Johnson to make up most of the book. In fact, it is this method of exposition of a life that made Boswell’s book the classic biography. It changed the way biography was written in that Boswell’s Johnson came alive to all who read it. He created a whole new kind of biography and it became a model for future writers of that genre. About ‘time’ Johnson said a great deal and I particularly liked his comments on immortality. It came about after Goldsmith lamented to him how difficult it was to get literary fame while you live. Johnson said, ” It is difficult to get literary fame, and it is every day growing more difficult. Ah, Sir, that should make a man think of securing happiness in another world, which all who try sincerely for it may attain. In comparison of that, how little are all other things! The belief in immortality is impressed upon all men, and all men act under an impression of it, however they may talk, perhaps, they may be scarcely sensible of it.”

P.D. James’ praise of Samuel Johnson and her placing him above all English writers including Shakespeare was really a surprise. In fact in one of the Sundays this month in the New York Times Book Review is a review of three new books on Shakespeare who is referred to therein as “the most venerated figure in all English letters”. I have seen Johnson quoted in innumerable places. His quoted adages remind me of the book of the Proverbs in the Bible. His quotes seemed to fit right in with those sayings. But now to hear him referred to, by a writer I respect, as the ‘country’s greatest man of letters..an essayist,poet,and genius of the written and spoken word” is impressive and astonishing. It beckons to me to learn and read more of his writing.

As a further incentive to be ‘in earnest’ in what I undertake was the death of two who were younger than I. One was the wife of a friend and the other the father of a wonderful young lady and friend. Both deaths could be described as sudden and occurred in the first few days of January. One as church member kept June busy in her job as leader of the “Helping Hands” committee who provide food and refreshments for those attending a memorial service. They had both services on the same day, one in the morning which we attended and for which June had no responsiblity; the other in the afternoon which she did have to handle.

Speaking of time reminds me of some people who inquire how we ‘retired’ people, spend it. Since we have no fixed obligations such as employment or professions to use it, what do we do with it? The inference usually being that we have lots of time to do whatever we want or do nothing at all. Well, it is true we do — almost whatever we want– except when bad weather or some illness seems to deter us. Yet, over the years since our so called ‘retirement’ began we have added more and more activities, like being volunteers, joining programs of learning, etc. to such an extent that we are far from sitting the rocking chair on the porch and gazing at the sunset.

On Wednesday of this week (1/14) June had a day — fortunately not typical — but not far from usual either. After breakfast around 8 AM I drove her to the police station in downtown St.Petersburg. It is it only police station. She was going there to be fingerprinted. She laughed on the way while commenting that she never was fingerprinted in her whole life before coming to Florida. Since then she has now been fingerprinted twice! I added she was probably never in a jail either but has been there at least twice working with kairos, a program of helping inmates get back to a real life with the help of Christianity. After a visit to the police I took her to work as a volunteer at the Alpha House. It is home and community for unwed mothers as they try to help them get a new beginning for themselves and their child. It was for her work with children that she had be required to be fingerprinted. The other time it was required was for her prison work. She was at Alpha House until I picked her up at 3 PM. Arriving home she began to get ready to leave at 4: 15 PM to help in preparing and serving dinner at Church – a regular Wednesday night event. The dinner and cleanup ended probably around five or ten minutes before seven o’clock. Then she was off to choir practice. Upon arriving home around 9PM as she closed the door behind her I heard her ask “Am I home?” I happily advised her “Yes!” So much for the belief that retirees just sit around and talk about their health.

My time is spent in doing things like writing these notes, chores outside and inside the house, attending study groups, reading, painting (by the numbers only), playing some piano, being June’s chauffer on some occasions, enjoying Junes great cooking ( and then promising to walk more tomorrow because of it), and thanking God often for the blessing of our life especially being here in Florida this month. The living is easy and the weather most of the time cooperative. I now only play the piano the first and third Monday and Tuesday for 45 minutes at the nearby Nursing home. At times I am discouraged especially after hearing the playing at church and elsewhere by more talented people. I need to remind myself often due to my limited talent that it still gives joy to some people. So I go back and do it again. I reminded at those times of doubt of Father Pat’s story about his attempt to get a musical group together for Chapel service while a chaplain in Germany. He learned of a talented piano player who did not answer the call. He questioned him and found he was not willing to partake since his talent was so much greater than the task required! Pat was glad that some people came to serve regardless of what talent they had since the person and all concerned were thus better for it.

A man of words like Johnson reminds me of a contemporary “man of words” William Safire who writes a weekly column in the NYTimes Sunday Magazine entitled “On Language”. This weeks he had a reference to the god Janus, for whom January is named. He is the two faced god of the Romans placed on both sides of the gates to a city, one facing forward and the other back. Mr.Safire then refers to words that are ‘janus like’ in that they are used for opposite meanings. He gives some simple but startling examples: “sanction” means either ‘approval’ or ‘punishment’; “oversight” meaning either ‘watchful care’ or ‘silly mistake’; “awful” which has travelled from awe inspiring (now awesome) to ‘really miserable’…When you say “It’s all downhill from here”,you could mean “From now on, it’s going to be easy..Contrariwise, when you say that or “It’s downhill all the way”,you cold mean the opposite.”It can only get worse from now on” So as the author of “The Meaning of Everything” commented in his history of the Oxford dictionary …English unlike other languages continues to grow and somewords or phrases in opposite directions!

This year 2004 marks the beginning of the 12th year of my writing one of these ramblings a month. Since 1994 I have limited them to four pages with this font. All of, which reminds me that if they were bound together they would make a book of 402 pages, so aren’t you glad I only keep them to four! Pax Tecum!

The end of the year 2003 saw us remembering the 40th anniversary of John F. Kennedy’s assassination. It had me look back. I had recorded my thoughts on the 30th anniversary in 1993. It was similar to a number of articles then and now answering the question: “Where were you when it happened?” I was in a courtroom in Philadelphia’s City Hall, the home of all the courtrooms then. I was representing a physician in a zoning matter. He had received a variance from the Zoning Board permitting him to have an office for his practice in his home basement. It was a common variance for such residential areas. The community association filed an appeal and it was denied. Two days later a hearing nevertheless was ordered. It apparently happened since the community association changed their counsel. They hired the former City Solicitor for the Zoning Board, and suddenly the Judge orders a hearing. I report all this to demonstrate how minor the legal matter was that occurred on that historic day. The counsel for association kept us there until near lunchtime with his history of constitutional rights of associations in America, and off and on in Philadelphia. It was pure balderdash with absolutely no relevance to the issue, which at this point really was “What made his honor remand his original denial of a hearing?” I had to believe it was not “what” but “who”, since his honor had little or no experience with Zoning matters he changed his mind when an expert filed the motion. I began to reply just as we broke for lunch. On returning around 2 PM we were surprised by all the noise in the corridors outside the courtroom. I was making some remarks when suddenly a clerk burst in from behind in his honor and whispered into his ear. We then heard those never to be forgotten words, “The President has been shot!” The case was continued and we all left. So this is where I was when Camelot came to an end. (Incidentally, a one-page order was issued some weeks later dismissing the appeal).

Since 1993 I learned that C.S. Lewis, died on the same day about the same hour. He is the author of such Christian classics as the “Screwtape Letters” and “Mere Christianity. The media would have reported his death had it not happened on the same day as JFK’s. But today more people will be recalling where they were on September 11th rather than November 22nd.

The anniversary brought another incident back into the news. It was my brother, Father Dick’s visits with Jackie Kennedy after the assassination. Dick was a Jesuit priest who taught at Georgetown University. There was a great deal of loose talk about his divulging a confidence but all without any foundation. His private journal apparently recorded some conversations with Jackie regarding taking her life. The papers containing these statements were released, without proper authority, to a writer who was writing a life of Jackie. It was without authority since Father Dick in his lifetime had given a power of attorney specifically over those papers to his nephew, James Allen, an attorney. The Jesuit Community ignored it though Jim sought on several occasions after his death to meet with them regarding the papers. They casually and arbitrarily transferred them to Georgetown University who released them to the writer. The media jumped on what look like sensational news but was not. The University ignored the confidentiality of Dick’s private journal. In Dick’s autobiography, “My Path to Peace and Justice” there is a chapter entitled “Georgetown and the Kennedys”. In it we learn that Dick went to Georgetown in 1961. The athletic director, Father Hoggson asked him to be the freshmen tennis coach and acting Varsity coach. Father Hoggson had known Dick since 1932 when Dick had entered the Jesuit order. He knew of his tennis playing ability and successes in High School. But Dick notes, “This would hardly qualify me to be a college coach (but I) was glad to accept the offer — an offer that would alter my life in a dramatic way” Sometime later he received a phone call from someone saying she was Ethel Kennedy. She asked if he could provide tennis instructions for Mrs. Kennedy’s children. He did not believe the caller so asked her to give him her phone number and he would call her back. He checked and found the phone number was “unlisted”. When he called back Ethel laughingly answered and thus began a long relationship with the Robert Kennedy family. On the day of John’s funeral Dick received a call from Jackie asking him to her home in Georgetown. “She wanted to talk to me”. So he went and talked with her. Later, he got another phone call from a “Mrs. Kennedy”. Dick believing it was Ethel returned the call only to learn it was Jackie. Jackie told him that “Ethel had recommended me as a tennis instructor. Jackie and I agreed to meet at Robert’s house for instructions….” This is what the autobiography says about those meetings. ” We kept no score and talked as we played. She had alot of incisive questions about the resurrection, eternal life, glorified bodies, God’s knowledge of the future. I did what I could to supply answers. When I got back to Georgetown, I looked for better answers in books and consulted theologians. The next day during our conversation I told her what I had learned.” This is Dick’s public record of his conversations with Jackie. The book was published in 1996 and was available for anyone wishing to know what Dick recorded about those conversations. His private journal should have remained just that “private’, but due to the lack of concern exercised by Georgetown University the alleged “suicide talks” would never have been made public.

Kennedy was the only presidential candidate whose candidacy caused me to seek others to vote for him. I recall standing on the street corner of 52nd & Markets Streets in Philadelphia speaking to people why they should vote for him. I never got to meet the candidate. The closest I ever came to him was when his campaign caravan inched up Broad Street seeking votes in Philadelphia. Later I became the proud possessor of an “authentically” signed photo of him addressed to my Dad. I say “authentically” signed since it read “To Richard McSorley from John Kennedy”, not John “F” Kennedy which was his machine signature. Father Dick had obtained it, as he would get for me one from Robert Kennedy signed “To Paul McSorley”. They both hung in my law office and today I believe are hanging in my daughter Suzanne’s law office. All these memories were revived by the appearance of a picture of Grandson Tommy McSorley on the front page of the “Harvard Gazette” December 2,2003, giving a present presidential candidate, Howard Dean, an button reading” Harvard’s for Howard”. I advised Tommy by email that I never got that close to a presidential candidate for whom I might think of voting. Unfortunately I was a political acquaintance to an alleged candidate for whom I would not have voted, Arlen Spector. He was referred to in my circle of friends as “Alternating Arlen” He would alternate between parties and principles depending on how they seemed to work in his favor.
“And there is the world around him, as always, a play of light and color: the extraordinary brilliance and surface effects of the light itself, in sun and moon and stars, in the dark shades of a glade, in the colors and scents of flowers, in the sheer diversity and abundance of chirruping, painted birds…there is the grandeur of the spectacle of the sea itself, as it slips on and off its many colors like robes, and now all shades of green, now purple, now sky-blue…And all these mere consolations for us, for unhappy, punished men: they are not the rewards of the blessed.”

Such beautiful and expressive thoughts you suppose would come from the pen of a poet, a dreamer, or novelist, yet they do not. They come from the mind of a philosopher and rhetorician, (an advocate or lawyer in our language), Augustine of Hippo. The images are so clear they produce images of what he writes, They contradict our thoughts and experience with what we think to be the writings of a philosopher. It is one of the reasons, I suppose, that his writings continue even to this day to be sought after and read. This particular quote comes from ” The City of God ” which is not considered a casual reading. I have never read either the full text or many of its original parts, but got this glimpse from an Augustine biography. It is another example of the power of the pen. The philosophical thought, he caste in such language, is that these visions of beauty are there for the looking whether we are “rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief, doctor, lawyer, or Indian chief.” They are not there for just the lucky few considered “blessed”. The gift of the world and its beauties is so easily dismissed and overlooked in the rush of time. Or as some else suggested “Isn’t it time we stopped and smelled the flowers?” The longer I live in Florida the more I appreciate the depth and breadth of nature and its beauty. We are almost daily given an awesome display of clouds, their shapes and sizes challenging you to describe what you picture. The water seemingly every where full of the ‘robes of color’ make it easy to thank the Lord for all these undeserved gifts. We make it a point with friends who visit, if we can, to go to a restaurant or area where we watch the beautiful sunsets. Many of the nights in the winter months are brightly lit by moonlight. On walks on some morning I catch a glimpse of the rising orange ball peeking up over the edge of the bay. All such views make us more and more grateful for all these “consolations around us”.

We will be thinking of all of you who read these notes whether family or friend as we celebrate the birth of Christ with Christmas. We wish we could be there on that morn to watch the eyes and faces of children as they look with wonder at what Old St. Nick brought to all the good boys and girls. It is always the way I think of Christmas. Christmas means to me a child and children celebrating the greatest birthday ever. We hope yours in filled with all the joy and happiness such times can bring. Have a Happy and Merry Christmas and we’ll be in touch next year! Pax Tecum!

November and Thanksgiving in Florida is not the way it used to be. I recall eating our first Thanksgiving dinner on the back porch (or was it a lanai?) of Rich and Shirley’s home. We sat there in shorts and short sleeve shirts and couldn’t wait to get off a few notes to our friends up north as to how we ate our Thanksgiving Day Turkey. Now after a few seasons and changes in the weather (and in our ideas of what is “cold”) we don’t find ourselves sitting outside to eat the Turkey. Thanksgiving Day in Philly was also a big day for football in high school and college. Later we got into running on the morning of the big day so our gorging ourselves later would seem less sinful. I recall on some of these Thanksgivings there was a Turkey Trot, or race in which I and running friends competed. I got reports recently from some of my sons that such a run is still being conducted in some areas. But whether Florida or Philly, it is a still good to have a day to be thankful for all our blessings.

We spent the third week of October on Anna Marie Island. We rented a beach cottage on Anna Marie Beach at the suggestion of friends, who happened, as it turned out, rented the same cottage two weeks prior to our stay. Dan and Marge were along to make it even a pleasanter week. Dan and Marge have two sons who live south of the island in Sarasota, The Island is probably some 8 miles long and maybe one to two miles wide at its widest points. It sits in the Gulf of Mexico just off the city of Bradenton. It is a trip of about 40 miles from our home in St.Pete’s. It is a quiet resort. No large hotel complexes like St.Pete’s Beach. Only two main north and south roads and one of them very winding. It was a place for a quiet week of reading, walking, and occasional swims in the Gulf or pool. June was able to renew her tan. Marge and Dan got to hop down and visit their grandchildren and sons. We all enjoyed a restaurant on the water, called “Rod and Reel” which served fresh seafood. It had a great variety. From this small pier restaurant you could look across the water and see the ‘Sunshine Skyway’. It is the highest suspension bridge in the Western Hemisphere. It cross where the Bay enters into and the Gulf. It connects St. Petersburg with the main lands south of it.

Once in a while as you read an idea or certain phrases you remembered from former readings crop up. Sometimes places and/or people do the same thing, i.e. appear in fiction or non-fiction where you least expect it. These things make the reading more a part of you since it brings forth things from your memory. Historical figures often appear in fiction as characters, like in Larry McMurtry’s recent series on the Berrybender Family. In the first two stories, the only ones issued so far in the series, are a number of historical figures from the Lewis & Clark Expedition. There is Sacagawea’s son, called “Pome”, and his father, Charboneau, the French fur trader who brought Sacagawea, then pregnant, on the expedition. In the same series the three Indian Chiefs who went back with Captain Clark to visit the American President are also along. The French fur trader (Charboneau) is returning them to their people, even though this all supposedly takes place in 1832. The Lewis & Clark expedition ended in 1806. In the Greshim’s novel “The Brethren” a Federal Prison here in west Florida seemed to me to be the site of the story and though I don’t remember it being named. It description made me think it might be Coleman Federal Prison not far from here. In the Philadelphia Story, the movie and/or TV show I recall seeing the 100 year-old courtrooms where I once practiced law.

I recently had the experience of the same place being mentioned in different forms of literature. That place is Cooper Union. It is located off Cooper Square in New York City in the area referred to as the Bowery. The Union was a school created by Peter Cooper. Its original title, as I learned in a ‘Forward’ to a book of essays by Joseph Campbell, was ‘Cooper Union for the Advancement of Science and Art’. Now I first came across the Cooper Union in a book of stories written by Joseph Mitchell, called ” McSorley’s Wonderful Saloon”. It is located, and has been so locate since 1854, “just off Cooper Square at 15 Seventh Street”. I read the McSorley stories years ago. It was written in 1943 but recently having lost my copy I found it had been republished and I purchased a new one. Its first story, all written by a newspaper journalist from the New York Post Joseph Mitchell, is about the saloon. The rest are of some of the characters who hung out in McSorley’s and than he just drifts on to tell about other characters who lived in the Bowery and other parts of New York City. Some of the frequenters at the saloon were students from the Cooper Union. I visited McSorley’s in the late 70’s or early 80’s. It may have been when Suzanne was a student at Columbia Law School sometime after 1976. I saw the Cooper Union at that time but as I recall it was then a part of the State of New York University. But I learned even more about the place when I read in the “Forward” of Campbell’s book that was essays which were originally some 25 talks delivered in the Great Hall of the Cooper Union from 1958 till 1971. Mr. Campbell mentioned in his Preface his awe in speaking in such a place, “derived in part, of course, from the old fashioned simple grandeur of the Great Hall itself and the knowledge that Abraham Lincoln once spoke from the very same stage.” As if to confirm this thought, I found myself a few weeks later reading a highly recommended intellectual history of Abraham Lincoln entitled, “Abraham Lincoln: The Redeemer President” by Allen Guelzo. In it I read about the incident referred to by Mr.Campbell. I learned further that the talk he gave was a catalyst to his becoming the Republican nominee for President. It happened in February 1860. The Union was a late choice since originally the talk was scheduled for a Church in another part of the City. After the talk the Tribune announce that “…no man ever before made such an impression on his first appeal to a New-York audience” The talk was given just six years after McSorley’s had opened down the street. It was a coincidence that I should encounter the Union in such a manner but as always in such cases an interesting one. It is pleasant to think that a McSorley was physically that close to Abe Lincoln. I wondered if any of them had actually been in attendance, but my father would have assured me they couldn’t have been. He would have advised me that all such relatives had to be and were Democrats. My father was born a mere twenty-one years after Lincoln’s death and he may well have been right.

But the interesting effects of having places you’ve been to, people you’ve read about, and the like in your reading puts them in a special category in your mind. At least it does so for me.

As I write on November 2nd the newspaper notes that today is the running of the N.Y. Marathon. This is the 34th running and has some 31,000 participants. I remember running it in 1972 but it was in March and was three loops around Central Park starting and ending by Tavern on the Green. I think we might have had 2,000 participants. It later moved to starting on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and then through the five boroughs of Manhattan. My father died on Tuesday, March 14th 1972. I drove him home from church that morning and was still in running clothes since I had worked out earlier. I mentioned that come that Sunday I was running in the N.Y. Marathon. He wished me well but could never understand all the energy being spent in a lonesome pursuit of covering miles on foot. We had his funeral on Friday as I recall. My brothers Fathers Jim and Pat were there with Dick to celebrate the mass and they thought they would like to come along with me to New York and Central Park. For them the unknown blessing was the “Tavern-on-the Green”. They spent their time waiting there being sure to come out onto the road on which we ran each hour after the start. I can remember Pat remarking that it was a great way to watch a race. He was an advocate of the theory regarding physical exercise, that whenever you have the urge to do so, you should lie down immediately until it passes away. It is interesting how memory works. I am often chided by June that I seem to recall races of 30 years ago with little or no effort but fail to remember the upcoming appointments, etc for just this coming week. C’est la vie! She says of have a ‘selective memory’. I tell her, “Memory is the first thing to go with age, I think?”

Writing of my father’s funeral reminded me of his tie. He was laid out on St. Patrick’s Day eve, Thursday, March 16, 1972. His casket was in the aisle in front of the sanctuary in St. Francis de Sales Church, which looks like a small cathedral. He wore a green tie. Winnie had managed to find one somewhere. My father always wore a tie and most of the time a suit coat. But for nearly twenty years before his death, from November 15, 1952, he wore a black tie only. He wore it in memory of my mother’s death. So to see him lying there with a green tie was a surprise and a joy. He was now with her so fittingly enough the black tie was gone. November is also the month in which Sister Therese, Fr. Frank, and Winnie went to heaven. Winnie, my second mother, died on the same day as Mom, November 15th in 1998. Requiescat in Pace! As we use to often say in this month of All Saint’s and All Soul’s days.

Until next time, Pax Tecum!

I missed noting an important date in the September jottings, the anniversary of our first night in this our home. It was six years ago on September 24th, 1997. We had been by the house earlier checking on the work that was done and June remembers even doing a bit of vacuuming. But the movers didn’t arrive until the 24th with our bed so we stayed until then in Rich and Shirley McSorley’s home. In the newspaper recently there was a picture of a couple walking on the beach away from the camera holding hands, the article mentioned that they were recent retirees and new residents of Florida. They commented, “We still feel like were on vacation!” This was often our thought over the past six years. Living where there is water seemingly everywhere; where there is a beach and green all the time is what we associated in the past with “vacation”. June still likes to recall how after one of our trips north as we crossed the bridge from Tampa to St.Petersburg, she could say with a bit of wonder, “We’re home!” The years however have slowly diminished that feeling and we know more and more that this is our home. We now have a circle of friends, activities, etc. and with Michael and his family moving down, it is certain that this will be so until at least I head for that final home of rest. So it’s six down and Lord willing, many more to go.

Another event that September marked was the beginning of these writings as “Jottings” now some ten years ago. 1992 marked a turning point in my life. I was retired from the Court position. I had given up booze. The office on 431 Rhawn Street was no longer under the ownership of the lady I had rented it from for nearly 20 years. She died and her granddaughter who had visions of turning it into more profitable place now owned it. Further she with the aid of a lawyer believed I had unduly influenced her grandmother in accepting a low rental for the bar next door. I left the property in ’94 and eventually defended a suit against myself with success, thanks to my then new associate John Malone. I spent the next few years as part of his office on Oxford Avenue. I thought of what urged me to begin these notes. I think originally I had planned it as a family letter, something my father had done for years. Then I wrote accounts of some incidents. One was of the trip to bury our Bishop brother in the Sulu Islands, which my sister Marge and I made in 1970. Another was a story of my representation of a defendant in a publicly aired trial for murder, the murder of In-Oh-Ho, then a Korean student at the University of Pennsylvania. I found I liked the composing and the compliments, but then I also recalled that I had been writing most of my adult life. I had letters to compose daily in practice. I had briefs to compose and memorandum of studies in preparation for such briefs. So now that those formal matters were laid to rest the idea of creating by pen was still appealing and so jottings came to be.

The thought of beaches reminded me in a dream of our home in Sea Isle City, New Jersey. It was where we spent the summers. We would leave shortly after schools closed and return only when they were about to open. We (my Mother and Father) owned a house that was somewhat like some of the mansions I see here in the Bay area. The big differences are that here they are of stone or stucco with many adornments and usually only two stories. In Sea Isle we had a three-story A-frame house of wood covered, roof to sides, with slate shingles . Slate shingles are no longer around as far as I can ascertain. The shingles were slate plates of about 10 inches square. They were affixed to the sides of the house by nails. It gave our home an ashy like look but they were never replaced in the years we were there. The property was owned from around 1918 to 1952. The house was three stories high and sat on 45th street, with the # 11, as it’s address. The sides of A-frame faced north and south. There was but one house between the beach and ours. There was a porch that was about 8 feet off the ground and it ran around the house from the street, the front, to the rear. The beach side of the house was where the porch proceeded along. Under the porch there was a six-foot wide area of dirt. A lattice works of wood extended from the porch floor to the ground hiding that area. That six-foot wide area was great place for playing in and it was out of the sun. We often did so even burying things there as part of our games. I remember after a funeral of one our aunts or cousins, that my sisters Rosemary and Anne and I conducted our own funeral in that place. The ground floor entrance was in the rear of the property where there was also another stairway to the porch. In the ground floor was a cellar in which potatoes and other vegetables were stored, a toilet and two stone sinks, washing machine, and in its far corner a large unenclosed shower for use after being on the beach. It was the only shower in the house. The front door to the house was a double door and you entered into a large room with a fireplace to your left. It had, in the place where you would put the wood, a gas heater. I remember only seeing it used once during a cool northeasterner. What you first saw upon entering was a railing directly in front of you about three feet away. The railing ran from a platform down three steps to the living room floor.

It was on that platform, set against the beachside wall, that we performed each summer for our father’s birthday. There was a piano in the living room which sat against the wall under the stairs. The stairs rose from the platform along the wall to the second floor. The next room on the first floor was adorned with a breakfront, a small altar and in front of it a kneeling bench meant for our use when praying (usually as I recall only Dad used it when he was there and we recited the rosary – all 15 decades). To the right off of that room towards the beach was the dining room. It was large and had an oil clothed covered table of about 12 feet long and 3 feet wide. The room had three windows next to one another arched and facing the beach. It had a door on the side next to the windows, which went out to the porch, but we only used it for allowing the sea breezes to fly into the dining room. The house of our neighbors the Tivani’s blocked any direct view. But we could look to either side of their house and see the water and boardwalk. Beyond the dining room was a large kitchen with a cupboard immediately to the right and a large stove. In the kitchen to your right were three doors. One for each of the stairways one to the second floor and the other to the cellar (It never became a ‘basement’ since it had maybe two lights with one bulb in each). The third door led to small pantry with shelves and a refrigerator. From the kitchen was a back door on to the porch and the stairs to the back yard. The back yard was used mostly for drying clothes and I never remember playing there in the weeds at all. My room most of my life in Sea Isle was on the third floor to the right of the stairs. It was small compared the other two rooms on that floor but was high enough to look over our neighbors house and see the beach, water, and boardwalk. The front room was more like a dormitory with three double beds. Directly across from my room in the rear was another bedroom usually occupied by Catherine Dempsey who was our live-in Nanny for years, although I never recall her being referred to that way. She was just another member of the family who for some reason, never explained to the children, came to live with us and help Mom. The second floor front had the master bedroom with bath. Down the hall on either side were two more bedrooms and one at the end of that hall. The last room next to the one at the end of the hall was another bath and dirty clothes closet. The bathrooms were precisely that, i.e., no showers were found in them or in our home in Philadelphia. Looking back reminds me how fortunate we were and how very well off we were.

One summer Jack Lukens, whose brother Bob would later marry my sister Anne, and I and with one other friend whose name now escapes me painted that house. It meant painting largely the porch, stairs, window frames, and trellis running along under the porch. We were three college students and we got $21 a week, or $7 each. I recall we spent only a modest amount of time in June and part of July painting and the rest of time visiting Myhre’s Hotel Bar, the beach and boardwalk. It all came to an end in July when my Father arrived for the birthday celebration and informed me that if we didn’t get moving the deal was off. When he returned on August 15 for the Feast of the Assumption we had nearly finished. It was probably the summer of 1950 since we graduated in 1951 and were off to new lives somewhere else. One incident that still remains with me is that on one of our visits to Myhre’s we found ourselves out of money. Jack offered to play the piano, which sat behind the bar on a platform. It was a weeknight and no entertainment ever occurred on such nights. He proceeded to go up and play “Little Brown Jug” while my friend (whose name I can’t recall) and I spread the word that he would play requests for beers for himself and his soul mates. After the ‘Little Brown Jug” rendition he got a request and we got beers. I think it was “Stardust”. Jack jumped right in and began playing. Strangely enough it sounded like “Little Brown Jug”. The requesting party thought so too but we assured him it was “Stardust” and his hearing needed bit of adjustment. Unfortunately our explanation fell on deaf ears and the beers disappeared. Jack returned to the bar completely baffled at the poor reception so we decided to leave. By writing all this about something that existed 50 years ago I am led to affirm that as you grow older the memory of things long ago come easier than what you did two days ago! C’est la vive! The author of an article in the AARP magazine lamenting the loss of the Latin Mass, had this to say about such remembrances: “I always reckoned that remembrances of things past would be more officially eye-moistening, peaks in the cream of youth…no.. Oddly its something that even 40 years ago was considered ancient and reactionary by my mates, the quintessence of the dead hand of history.” A house doesn’t seem to qualify either as a “peak in the cream of youth” but I remembered it. Until next time Pax Tecum!