More Haunted Places in New Jersey

I question why I often post photos that invoke the macabre.

There's no earthly reason for this. My life couldn't be more ordinary.

Wait. I think I just answered my own question.

Last Sunday, I wrote about three haunted places I visited in New Jersey in 2018 -- but, upon further review, I've found more evidence that perhaps I seek a life less ordinary.

First, on a tip from a co-worker, I took the photo at the top of this page. As posted on Instagram on Friday, this is the old (and former) library in Bernardsville. It used to be the Vealtown Tavern, built in the 1700s.

Phyllis Parker, the tavern owner’s daughter, has been rumored to haunt this building ever since. Librarians claimed to have seen her or heard her crying so many times, they issued her a library card.

The historic marker, which looks like a tombstone, states "By this route, Washington with his army retired to Morristown after his victory at Princeton, January 1777 - erected by the DAR."

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Above is a photo I took in September of the Hermitage Museum in Ho-Ho-Kus. Built in the 1840s in Gothic Revival style, the site is Bergen County’s first National Historic Landmark. Guests of the original estate included a who’s who of Revolutionary War heroes, and Aaron Burr was married there.

The gardens are maintained by The Friends of the Hermitage, who also sponsor various events, such as ghost tours in October.

A related story in The Record provides more detail:

Tour guide Craig McManus said the Hermitage Museum is haunted: Voices have been recorded. Lights and motion detectors have gone on unprovoked, and a woman has been seen in the upstairs window. “We think there are about four or five spirits in the house,” he said. “The house itself is kind of a paranormal hot spot.”

The Hermitage has been known as a ghost house since at least as far back as 1917, when Bess Rosencrantz and her niece opened a popular tea room there.. The tea room operated for about 15 years. Its haunted tales made headlines as far as North Dakota...

According to McManus, Mary Elizabeth Rosencrantz probably knows about the home’s more recent history, because her spirit never really left. She can sometimes be found in her room. “She’s very aware of who we are and what year it is,” McManus said.

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Finally, here’s a photo I took last February: Jesus in a Garfield cemetery, with the only splash of color from a storefront on Passaic Street.

It startled me to notice how many of my other posts in 2018 featured a cemetery or a graveyard (which, distinct from a cemetery, is a burial ground within a churchyard). For example, these two:

The image on the left is from October in Totowa, where I grew up. I noted at the time that there were 96,000 people buried there, in a borough with a population of only 11,000 living souls. The image on the right is from March in North Arlington -- a borough with several cemeteries and nearly 20 times more deceased (300,000) than living residents.

In the posts I tagged last year with #NJchurcheverySunday, at least four included graveyards:

2019 promises more of the same: Just yesterday, after attending a memorial service at a cemetery in Lyndhurst, I literally tripped over the grave of poet William Carlos Williams.

I don’t know what this all means, but I declare -- emphatically -- that I don’t believe in portents.

To prove it, I’ve just eaten the plums that were in our refrigerator.

Forgive me. They were delicious. So sweet and so cold.

7 Reasons for Hope: Revisiting MLK Park

Newly planted redbud; AME Baptist Church

On this bitterly cold Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I visited two green holly bushes, and five bare redbud and weeping cherry trees in an otherwise vacant lot in Paterson, NJ.

It gave me seven reasons for hope.

Across the street -- long known as "Auburn Street" but officially designated as "Freedom Boulevard" in 2013 -- stands the AME Baptist Church.

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had memorably spoken at this small church for 20 minutes on March 27, 1968.

As reported in The Record, thousands of people had jammed the sidewalks where I stood to catch a glimpse of him that night. He spoke to raise awareness of the Poor People's Campaign, and afterward left New Jersey to travel to Memphis, where he delivered his prophetic "mountaintop" speech on April 3.

He was assassinated on April 4.

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Five years ago, on Martin Luther King Jr. Day 2014, Paterson's municipal leaders unveiled plans for a park on this lot.

Nothing happened.

When I visited in March 2018, a lone sign stated that a park in Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s name was "coming soon," while the lot remained dormant and undeveloped.

This worried me, and I contacted several people about this. Councilwoman Ruby Cotton was kind enough to reply, saying that efforts were under way to revive the plans.

True to her word, on Nov. 30, 2018 -- with the help of community groups like City Green, the United Way of Passaic County, Paterson Habitat for Humanity, St. Paul's Community Development Corp. and The Bronze Heat firefighters -- Mayor Andre Sayegh broke ground to plant one of the weeping cherry trees. (See The Record's photo gallery.)

Coulcilwoman Cotton and Mayor Sayegh help plant a tree. Photo: Bob Karp  

Thank you to all. This is a sign of hope in what The Record describes as "one of Paterson's most drug-plagued thoroughfares."

In early November, just three weeks earlier and just three blocks from the site of the ground-breaking, more than 80 people had been arrested in an operation targeting drug buyers. Police seized more than 300 heroin bricks, semi-automatic handguns and hollow-point bullets.

The location of the park was once an eyesore, said Passaic County Freeholder TJ Best in a Paterson Times report. He lived two blocks away a half-decade ago. The new park is on two lots – one 47×56 and another 30×53. A house that stood in one of those lots had been notorious haven for drug addicts. It caught on fire and had to be demolished years ago.

Rendering (without trees) vs. current state

The new park will feature a rain garden, a walkway and a pathway with quotes from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. (also in Braille for the visually impaired).

A little library, an iron fence, gate, wall mural and two lamp posts will be installed as well, said Veronica Rogers of Habitat for Humanity, project manager for the park.

It's now scheduled to open in April 2019.

Mayor Sayegh spoke of creating a legacy: "We're taking back the neighborhood for good."

Those trees may not look like much now, but I think they're beautiful.

I'm looking forward to returning to take photos of the redbuds in bloom. Maybe, by summer, some kids will be playing underneath.

Amen to that.

And, just as the great civil rights leader said to end his speech in Memphis, I'm happy tonight. I'm not worried about anything.

The Devil in New Jersey

This past year, I've photographed three local places that are haunted.

An interesting story about 13 haunted places in New Jersey mentioned two, and one of my resolutions this year is to visit several of the others.

Here's one of 13 photos I posted this summer of the Devil's Tower. As NJ.com describes it:

"The Devil's Tower, located at the end of Esplanade Road in Alpine, was built in 1910 by Manuel Rionda for his wife so that she could see the view of New York City. Legend states, Manuel's wife was enjoying her view in the tower one evening when she spotted her husband with another woman. Overcome with anger and rage, she leaped to her death."

Local legend (and every schoolgirl at nearby Academy of the Holy Angels) also states that if you drive or walk backward around the tower at least three times, you see the ghost of Manuel's wife. You might also find yourself face-to-face with the devil.
 
A second haunted place I recently visited -- The Devil's Tree -- is (disturbingly) close to where I work. NJ.com writes:

"The tree, located on Mountain Road in Bernards, is a solitary oak located in a field on Mountain Road in Bernards Township. Local legend suggests the tree is cursed. The story goes that a local farmer killed his wife and children, then hanged himself from the tree. The legend continues that anyone who cuts down the tree will come to an untimely end."

The third site I visited, not in the 13 haunted places story but very close to home, was Easton Tower in Fair Lawn. Hauntedplaces.org describes it this way:

"Easton Tower is a stone and wood frame structure, once an irrigation pump, built in 1900 as part of a scenic park. It now abuts the Saddle River Bikeway. It was named after Edward D. Easton (1856-1915), founder and president of the Columbia Phonograph Company. It is sometimes mistakenly called the Red Mill because in the early 1800s a mill nearby was painted red, and many mistook it for the Easton Tower. Residents who live near the tower say strange noises come from the building at night, and at least one witness saw a white apparition at the window."

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I do not find the supernatural frightening; I find it interesting, and comforting. If we don't understand everything, there's still wonder in the world. Belief in ghosts is a belief, not just a hope, that life doesn't end with death.

Actually seeing a ghost is an empirical experience that transcends science. Even if it can be disproved, it's still possible that our understanding of life and death is unfathomable.

Only once in my life did I think I saw a ghost. But for all of my life, I've loved ghost stories and the folklore related to the Jersey Devil.

I cited the Jersey Devil in the beginning of my short story about lost love. When I posted a photo of Devil's Tower on "Found in New Jersey," my Tumblr friend acommonloon asked if I'd ever read F. Paul Wilson's books that sometimes feature the Pine Barrens and the Jersey Devil.

Books about this local legend are legion, including those by James F. McCloy and, within the past year, by Hunter Shea and co-authors Brian Regal and Frank J. Esposito.

Jersey Devil craft beer? Check. The name and logo of a professional hockey team? Check. Sightings in the wild? Here's another interesting NJ.com story about 13 times the Jersey Devil has been spotted.

I don't believe in any of those sightings.

Also, I don't believe I'll capture a photo of the Jersey Devil this year. But still -- and this is the important part -- I do believe anything's possible.

Epiphany in Paterson, NJ (2019)

This is a love letter to New Jersey.

It begins last Sunday morning, on "Little Christmas," while I was standing inside St. Bonaventure's on Ramsey Street, just off Route 80, in Paterson.

This beautiful but modest church is home to a Franciscan parish that celebrated its 140th anniversary in 2018.

I was there, mostly, to listen to the music.

The Chopin Singing Society Male Choir of Passaic, NJ, was scheduled to sing at the 11:30 Mass. Organized on March 10, 1910 (the 100th anniversary of Fryderyk Chopin's birth), it is one of the oldest male independent choral groups still active in the United States.

The choir had been scheduled to sing at the same Mass last year, but a snow storm canceled those plans.

No snow fell last Sunday. On this feast of the Epiphany, the weather was blustery and the mood at St. Bon's was festive.

A catering truck from Anthony & Sons Italian Bakery in Denville was parked across from the parish hall, a sure sign of an after-Mass "coffee &" reception. Soon the nine members of the choir arrived wearing black tuxedos and white shirts, with bright red bow ties and cummerbunds.

Fr. Daniel, who later delivered a thoughtful sermon, introduced the group, correctly, as the "Show-pan" choir. A lone dissenting voice from the congregation called out "Show-PEAN."

The pastor greeted the choir in Polish, pronouncing: "Nee-ekh benje pokh-va-lohn-ee Yezus Kristoos," meaning "Praised be Jesus Christ!" The men's response, pronounced "Na vee-ekee vee-ekoov, A-men," meant "Now and forever, Amen."

Then the dull, white noise of Route 80 traffic echoed through the church during Mass, until the music overwhelmed it.

When the choir sang "Lulajze Jezuniu," a traditional Christmas Eve lullaby to the baby Jesus, I thought of my mother, who grew up in a Polish-speaking household in nearby Garfield. Chopin sometimes used Polish religious music in his compositions and had included the melody of this song in his "Scherzo No. 1 in B minor, Op. 20."

Last Sunday this was the soundtrack of everything around me:

• the properly dressed men in the Polish choir...
• the copies of "The Italian Voice" newspaper on a table near the entrance, next to church bulletins noting the Spanish-language Mass scheduled later that afternoon...
• the Filipino and African American families in the adjacent pews....
• the old woman who lathered her hands with Purell before the Sign of Peace...
• the young altar girl, struggling to stifle her yawns, wearing a headband with be-glittered kitten ears.

I stood, taking this in, and realized, "I love living here."

New Jersey is extraordinarily ordinary. It's quirky and diverse. It's full of casual history from many sources.

No one around here is just like everyone else, and this reassures me that I'm home.

My faith isn't so much in religion. My faith is in the power of diversity, and in the beauty of ordinary things.

According to the Roman Catholic tradition, the Christmas season ends today on the feast of Jesus' baptism. "Ordinary time" starts tomorrow.

I can't wait.

A Visit to Citi Field, 38 Days Before Pitchers and Catchers

With the Christmas season ending tomorrow, what’s left to provide hope and joy during this winter of discontent?

It can’t be merely “rooting against the Patriots, Cowboys, and both Clemson and Alabama” – although these are noble pastimes given the apocalyptic end to Notre Dame football and the lingering death of the New York Giants.

Surely, there’s more to life than this.

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Well, first, don’t call me Shirley. And, second, how’s this for an epiphany:

There’s only 38 days (February 13, the eve of Valentine’s Day) until pitchers and catchers report to major league baseball spring training camps.

That’s why the other day I took my Valentine to tour an otherwise empty Citi Field in Queens, New York.

These tours are wonderful.

Jackie Robinson Rotunda

They begin and end at the main entrance of Citi Field, in the Jackie Robinson Rotunda, a 19,000 square-foot open-air space with 70-foot archways constructed of thousands of the stadium’s 1.2 million bricks.

Why Jackie Robinson? Our tour guide -- Cort, perhaps the nicest guy in the world and who knew the number of bricks -- explained that Robinson broke baseball’s color barrier in New York, and that the Mets’ ownership had an affinity for Ebbets Field, which served as the model for Citi Field’s exterior.

Also, Jackie Robinson is Jackie Robinson. His story transcends any one team, which is why every ballplayer wears a No. 42 jersey every April 15, the day he made his major league debut.

Cort also imparted other bits of Citi Field trivia. Such as: This is the only stadium in the majors where the foul poles are painted orange (since orange and blue are the Mets’ team colors).

As the tour continued, we wandered through surreally empty hallways, event spaces and game-day suites. Here’s a collage…

Our tour guide, Cort

Cort said he had recently attended a wedding reception in the largest event space, the Foxwoods Club. He noted that my favorite mascot, Mr. Met, attended and danced for hours – including on top of one of the tables. Baseball’s Twitter King, Noah Syndergaard, would not have approved.

Foxwoods also provides panoramic views of Flushing Meadows-Corona Park: the U.S. Open tennis grounds and what’s left of the 1964 World’s Fair. To the west, you can see the New York City skyline in the distance and, adjacent to the stadium in Parking Lot B, the ghost of home plate and the base paths of the Mets’ ballpark from 1964 to 2008, Shea Stadium.

Site of Shea Stadium's home plate

The best views on the tour were three-fold. First, from the press box:

Second, from ground level... in the dugout, on the field and in the bull pen:

Orange foul pole

A final best-view was from inside the Mets clubhouse and locker room. No cameras were allowed in these parts. But fortunately we were allowed to take photos in the nearby Media Room, where post-game press conferences are held and trade announcements are made.

Here’s me at the mic, and Nancy and I announcing that we’ve re-upped our marriage contract.

After the tour, we returned to New Jersey to have lunch at a Mexican restaurant. As we sat down, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man” began playing in the background.

How appropriate, Nancy remarked, since this is the walk-up song for our favorite Mets’ player, Jacob deGrom.

Thank you, baseball, for this bit of summer magic on a cold, windy day in January.

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PS - I forgot to ask Cort two things: Why is there a sign next to the press box phone saying, “All calls are recorded and monitored by the Office of the Commissioner of Baseball”? Also, why is there a stash of sulfuric acid behind the door next to the Ticket Office?

I'll have to take the tour again to get the answers.

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See a related recent post, "Stalking Mr. Met: A Happy Recap of the 2018 Season." 

9 Favorite Books, 9 Favorite Photos in 2018

My 2018 reading list

2018 was a very good year when it came to two of my favorite hobbies -- reading and taking photos.

Here are 9 mini-reviews of favorite books I read, starting with...

1. Bad Blood: Secrets and Lies in a Silicon Valley Startup by John Carreyrou
Full review

Unlike a good journalist writing a good lede, I don’t even know where to begin to summarize the reasons this is the last, best and most important book I read in 2018.

This is an epic drama, with life-saving consequences. It’s the compelling, readable story of journalists, editors and their sources who sought the truth. In doing so, they put an end to business practices that had a sociopathic disregard for the public.

This is a cautionary tale for our times. It cautions us to be more skeptical of the “fake it until you make it” culture, about accepting things too readily at face value, and about the dangers of the cult of celebrity. And about greed.


2. Just Kids by Patti Smith
Full review

Let me begin in the style of Patti Smith’s Instagram account: This is a wonderful book.

I listened to the Audible.com version, and it’s quirky… read by the author, who drops her “g”s, pronounces piano as “piana,” and drawings as “drawlings.” Also, so many mentions of Arthur Rimbaud and the word Abyssinian. I found it enchanting, however, because it describes a world so different from my own.

This is not, however, a memorial to a lost generation. Long before they became Robert Mapplethorpe and Patti Smith, Robert encouraged Patti to sing, and Patti encouraged Robert to take photos. Are you a fan of their art? It doesn’t matter. The art they created is inconsequential to the act of its creation.

This is, in the end, a story about the transformational power of love.


3. A Higher Loyalty: Truth, Lies, and Leadership by James Comey

I read or listened to quite a few politically oriented books this year. I hated and I loved this one by James Comey in particular.

Perhaps it was these emotional extremes that leads me to choose Comey's book over “Unbelievable” by Katy Tur (which to me seemed a little too self-absorbed), which I thought was better than “From the Corner of the Oval” by Beck Dorey-Stein (which I thought was much too self-absorbed), which I actually enjoyed more than “Fear” by Bob Woodward (because, by the time I read that, I was numbed of any emotion).

And perhaps, in fairness -- focusing on issues rather than personalities -- a better (certainly earnest) political read might be “Evicted” by Matthew Desmond or “Dear World” by Bana Alabed. You can read my full reviews of all these books on Goodreads.


4. The Odyssey by Homer
Full review (in memory of Robert Vacca)

“Tell me about a complicated man.”

That’s the way Emily Wilson, classics professor at the University of Pennsylvania, begins her translation of Homer’s “Odyssey,” first published about a year ago.

This was recently released in Audible format, read by the actress Claire Danes – and I found listening to it a bittersweet experience, bringing back memories of my favorite teacher at the University of Notre Dame, the late Greek classics professor Robert Vacca.

Wilson’s translation? It’s beautiful: sparse and direct. Professor Vacca would have loved it.


5. Looking for Alaska by John Green
Full review

2018 has been the year I’ve dropped all pretense of who my favorite living author is. It’s John Green -- who is not a “young-adult” writer; he’s simply an excellent writer. This was his first book -- and not his best (since, for me, it flagged after an abrupt plot twist about midway through), but to paraphrase Yogi Berra, half of this book is better than 95% of anything else you could have been reading in 2018.



6. Lab Rats: How Silicon Valley Made Work Miserable for the Rest of Us by Dan Lyons

Here let me list books by two other favorite living authors: Dan Lyons and Michael Lewis.

To be sure (a phrase that introduces many paragraphs in this book), I never expected Lyons’ latest to be as good as 2017’s “Disrupted” -- which was a true modern classic, based on first-person stories, and filled with devastating humor and satire. This book is more of a research project, but it’s a research project written by a wonderful writer and a thoughtful critic.

Home Game: An Accidental Guide to Fatherhood by Michael Lewis

I read this shorter, older book (originally published in 2010) on a whim on Father’s Day. I found it funny, well-written and an object lesson on the value of remaining whimsical when deciding what to read. It was an enjoyable ride by another wonderful writer. “The Big Short,” “Moneyball,” “Flash Boys,” “Liar’s Poker”... none of these books will prepare you for this. Just like no other experience in your life will ever prepare you for fatherhood.



7. Slouching Towards Bethlehem by Joan Didion
Full review

I didn’t read this book; I listened to it… the production narrated a few years ago by Diane Keaton.

The actress’ measured cadence is so articulate and clear, you can speed up the playback by half, and it’s still perfectly understandable. This is an almost magical way to experience this book. The words come at you in a crazy jumble of images that on some intellectual level make sense -- but then they don’t seem coherent, the center doesn’t hold.

Personally, it reminds me of one of my dearest friends. You go for a walk with her -- say, around one of the many lakes in Minnesota -- and you find yourself transported to another world of seemingly incongruous observations and one-liners and literate confessional narrative.

The endearing difference is that my friend will stop suddenly during that walk, turn to lock eyes with you, then break into a wide smile and ask, “What the hell am I talking about, anyway?” She’ll laugh at herself.

Joan Didion, in this collection of stories, writes the way my friend talks -- without ever laughing at herself or admitting that she doesn’t know any better than you. The thing is, she probably does.


8. Verizon Untethered: An Insider’s Story of Innovation and Disruption by Ivan Seidenberg
My full review (which got me banned from posting reviews on Amazon.com because I was too self-servingly commercial)

The two new books mentioned here were written by people I know and worked with.

First, there’s “Verizon Untethered,” which provides an insider’s insight into questions such as, What did it take to get the U.S. stock market up and running just days after the 9/11 attacks? What was Steve Jobs like as a business partner? How does a company close a $130 billion transaction, or choose a new CEO or disrupt a successful business to stay successful?

It’s a readable primer of interest to business students, technology geeks or anyone curious about the collective impact of individuals who work together with a common purpose. Scott McMurray is the author, but I suspect much of the book’s readability is because of Joellen Brown, who is cited as helping to provide historical context, research materials and several reviews for accuracy.

Joellen, my friend and former colleague, retired at this time last year as chief speechwriter for Verizon C-level executives. She is a masterful editor.

U.S. Route 1: Rediscovering The New World by Mark Marchand

Mark Marchand, another friend and former colleague, self-published this sweet, thoughtful reflection this year about a two-week midlife journey from Maine to Florida. It reminded me of an old favorite book, “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.”

Although this (unlike “Just Kids,” “The Odyssey” and “Slouching Toward Bethlehem”) is not available in spoken-word format, finishing the bulk of this book while relaxing on vacation, I found it interesting to re-discover the simple joy of reading words on a page. To be honest, I heard the voice of my friend echoing in my mind while I read, adding a dimension of intimacy and soulfulness.


9. Make Your Bed: Little Things That Can Change Your Life...And Maybe the World by William H. McRaven

Since I’m posting these reviews on New Year’s Eve 2018, it seems only right to end on a book upon which you can base a year’s worth of resolutions. My late Dad (who would have been 87 next month) would have just loved this simple book. I thought of him often while reading it. So thank you, Admiral McRaven.

I read “How to Live a Good Life” by Jonathan Fields at the beginning of 2018, which I could also recommend. A lot of sold advice there too -- except perhaps for his chapter on auras.

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So there you have it, my 9-ish favorite books in 2018.

To close out the year, as a postscript, I also want to post my “Best 9” Instagram images from 2018.

These are the 9 images most-liked on my two Instagram feeds. First, from @bvarphotos:

And these 9, from @foundinnj:

Happy New Year, everyone! Here’s to 2019!!

Haunted by the Ghost of Christmas Past

Like Ebenezer Scrooge, I am being haunted by the Ghost of Christmas Past.

Two nights ago, the above photo -- beside a Christmas tree with Mom, sister and cousins and taken by Dad in Garfield, NJ, in the 1960s -- appeared in my Facebook news feed from out of the blue.

It was like a ghost, reminding me that this had once been a popular post. I can see why. Mom looks stunning and my sister has a wide smile (holding a doll dressed like Mom). I'm the serious-looking young boy on the right.

Everything is picture perfect.

Then last night, Google automatically produced this video, with a cheery holiday soundtrack, of old photos I had stored in a cloud...

This time I recognized the Ghost of Christmas Past, reminding me that things will never be the same.

This morning, taking another look at what I've posted on this blog in 2018, I've come to realize how much I write about the past.

So my wish tonight is to be visited by the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come.

Unlike Ebenezer Scrooge, I do not fear this specter.

The past has taught me that nothing in life is truly picture perfect, but so much is good... and beautiful... and fleeting. I look forward to what tomorrow will bring.

This Christmas, to paraphrase Dickens, let us all be wise enough to see that all that's good in life begins with joy.

A Book Review About Two Complicated Men

“Tell me about a complicated man.”

That’s the way Emily Wilson, classics professor at the University of Pennsylvania, begins her translation of Homer’s “Odyssey,” first published about a year ago.

This translation was recently released in Audible format, read by the actress Claire Danes – and I finished listening to it last week.

It proved a bittersweet experience, bringing back memories of my favorite teacher at the University of Notre Dame.

Wilson’s translation? Oh, it's beautiful: sparse and direct.

The performance? Well, Claire Danes wouldn’t have been my first choice: her voice is disconcertingly fragile. Still, I enjoyed listening to it. It’s also appropriate to hear a female voice read (as the publisher boasts) “the first English translation of the ‘Odyssey’ by a woman.”

For all its uneven charms, however, this was not the most compelling performance of the “Odyssey” I’ve heard.

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That honor belongs to bespectacled Robert Vacca, a classical Greek professor who died in June 2004 after a tragic battle with cancer, when he was just a bit older than I am today.

Imagine, if you will, a cold winter’s night in Indiana in the late 1970s. I’m safe and warm, in the otherwise deserted faculty offices in the basement of the Hesburgh Library on the Notre Dame campus. Sitting beside me is my classmate, Malcolm, a boy genius from England.

On the other side of the desk facing us, Professor Vacca reaches behind a row of books to reveal a hidden bottle of ouzo.

“This is what the Greeks drink,” he explains. “Modern Greeks. The ancients drank wine.”

He pours a small glass for me, mixed with water (the way the ancients used to mix their wine). The ouzo turns from clear to cloudy as the anise reacts with the cold. He instructs me to sip it slowly and offers young Malcolm only a glass of cold water.

The professor raises his own glass, clears his throat, then opens a text in ancient Greek and begins to chant verses from Homer in a way that would approximate the rhythm and tonality of how the poem might have been performed centuries ago.

His performance was joyous and enthralling. His booming chant echoed in the basement hallways, and the hypnotizing cadence of each line brought life and heat to the words of the dead language.

Malcolm likely understood every word of what he heard, but the only thing I understood was that this was special… this was very different than the accounting courses my friends were taking.

And this is what I cherish most about Notre Dame: the passion of my favorite teachers, all dead now, except for my ever-patient and supportive poetry professor, Sonia Gernes.

Vacca’s boss – the chairman of the classical languages department and the one who convinced me to minor in the field – was Holy Cross Father Leonard Banas. Princeton-educated, Fr. Banas was a gentle man who, like Vacca, had a mischievous sense of humor. He taught, of all things, the poetry of Catullus, which so deeply passionate and profane.

Then there was wise Richard Sullivan, a novelist and short-story writer. I took perhaps the last class he taught at Notre Dame... a playwriting workshop. He also had a playful sense of humor – unlike Sr. Madonna Kolbenschlag, who taught journalism and publishing. She always saw right through me.

All these names and images come flooding back now.

I recall Professor Vacca’s analysis of ancient and modern social justice issues, and the ancient stories he told with modern flair... about the Athenian politician Alcibiades or about Hector and his baby boy. He also told colorful stories about David Grene, his Dublin-born Greek professor at the University of Chicago. Grene was great pals with the writer Saul Bellow, and he collaborated with classical scholar and poet Richmond Lattimore on all the best English translations of all the Greek tragedies.

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I wonder what all of them would think of this new translation by Emily Wilson. (Remember her? 🙂)

Feeling nostalgic, I located my worn paperback of Lattimore’s translation of the “Odyssey.” I probably haven’t opened it since I was an undergraduate... 40 years ago, twice as long as Odysseus was away from home.

Book One begins, “Tell me, Muse, of the man of many ways…”

It was only the first line, but I already sensed that Wilson’s translation is even better.

I read some more, then researched the translator online. She has an active Twitter account, and pinned to the top of her profile is this tweet:

One of the most famous and heart-breaking moments in the Odyssey is about Argos the dog, who has waited 20 years for his old master and is lying neglected, in the dung. He hears O's voice again, pricks up his ears, and then dies.

— Emily Wilson (@EmilyRCWilson) April 2, 2018

Professor Vacca happened to love that story. So I know, without doubt, he would have loved Professor Wilson’s translation too.

“Well done!” he’d toast, raising a glass of ouzo.

100 Words (exactly) on... Family, Salvation and Prayer

1. Family

Driving west on Route 4 in Paramus, NJ, with my 26-year-old daughter in the passenger’s seat. I hardly see her anymore (although she would say she visits all the time). It’s early on Thanksgiving Day; we’re traveling to see my mother.

When my daughter was a little girl, we used to enjoy going on adventures. But that seems so long ago, and now we’re traveling together in silence. She’s vacantly staring out the window.

Suddenly she smiles. “Is that a virtual skydiving place?” she asks.

“Yes, it’s new.”

“Well, you know, you and I have to try that out, right?”

2. Salvation

Over eight years ago, my oldest daughter became the eighth owner of “a skinny, green Fiesian with a lot of baggage.” The horse had been neglected, and caring for him changed all our lives for the better.

Token turned 20 earlier this year, and a few weeks ago my daughter asked me to take photos as she rode him. The two of them, who found each other when they needed it most, showed off the dressage moves accounting for all the ribbons that now line the walls of Cathy’s bedroom.

They happily splashed in the rain puddles in the ring.

3. Prayer

I did the crossword puzzle in People magazine today, because my daughter used to do that puzzle every week when she lived with us.

Just like I order polenta every time I see it on a restaurant menu, because it reminds me of Nonna… and eat franks and beans, and fudge marble cake, on Uncle Pat’s birthday… and shave every morning the way my Dad taught me.

Today, Advent Sunday, my Mom lit a candle at church. She prayed for the living and the dead in our family. She knows we’re all longing for home; each in our separate way.