Section 17 Row H seats 11 and 12
Almost every home game does he see
A grey haired man with a clip board sits
Two seats over and one down from me
He's a scout for the bigs, Comes most games to watch
Can't watch as a fan anymore
They know he made it, was up with the Bruins
Played defence with Old Number Four
He watches intently for five minutes or so
Just enough to watch each kid skate twice
Then he drinks down his coffee all in one gulp
and then he returns his eyes to the ice
The Scout, we will call him, for lack of a name
Has seen kids who've got game disappear
They find out he's watching, they get all uptight
And they can't play 'cause they're all tense with fear

I watched for four games, got his routine down pat
Watched him arrive and watch the kids skate
He'd go down in the corner and stand by the glass
Watching close through the plexiglass plate
He stayed away from the coaches, the players as well
And the parents, he'd avoid like the plague
If one ever stopped him, and asked "How's my boy"
He'd smile, and give an answer so vague
His career ended early with a stick to the head
Almost killed him, but, he was too mean
His left the game early, with Wayne Maki to blame
The Scout, is Edward "Ted" Green


Each season he'd sit, watching game after game
In arenas all over the land
Some kids he'd notice, he did not come to watch
They were just something that wasn't planned
He'd come into town to watch a kid who could score
And go home with two names on his list
One a defence man, and the goalie as well
But, the scorer, couldn't skate and got missed
Ted, would watch and make his reports on kids
Some were right, and the kid would go pro
He may be a star in the minors right now
But, the bigs...well, fate only knows

He'd listen to parents and coaches talk of the boys
Saying "My son's the next Bobby Orr"
Ted would chuckle a little and not say a word
He knew the kid would be heard from no more
Putting pressure like that on a young players back
Is like saying, "My boy will be God"
From then on it's never, the talented kid
I'ts the boy cursed with Orr's lightning rod
Many young players get compared to the best
But to say it out loud is a curse
You put a red dot on the young players back
He may as well leave in a hearse

Ted's seen them all, coaches, players and bums
Played when the game was real tough
They  had lighter equipment, not kevlar like now
and Ted, as we know liked it rough
His scratches and scribbles on the page tell a lot
But to the untrained they look like a mess
A pharmacy student couldn't read what he wrote
Nor a court stenographer I guess
He's a spotter of talent with stories to tell
More of them about kids who fell short
Most of them cursed with the "My kids the next..."
and the name of the best in the sport

Two Hundred and Ten games he watches each year
Most times he's gone early on
He's sees what he needs and then he packs up his stuff
And by the end of the first, Ted is gone
He's off on the road to another ice rink
To sit and watch on the hard seats, so cold
To listen as parents and coaches again
Talk of greatness, it's all gotten old
Terrible Ted has a warriors soul
And his grey hair is thinner but, curly
He has ice in his veins and a stick through his heart
Too bad his playing time ended too early.

I worry so much about you,
About how you feel,
What you feel,
Wether it's pain sadness or happiness,
I worry all the time,
I worry or that fact that I will not always be here for you,
That one day you'll need me a I won't be able to come,
I worry that no matter how hard I try,
You will take the most painful route,
Of death pain and sorrow,
I worry all the time ,
I worry over little things and bigs,
But my worrying is justified because I care,
And I care with all my body mind heart and soul,
About you,
So I worry all the time.

Mother’d say, don’t go by
How blue a man’s eyes are,
But by the size of his bank

Account, and she thinks on
That now, taking a sip of wine,
Holding a cigarette, some things

You don’t forget, some things
Are branded into the brain,
Especially Mother’s words,

Her philosophy, her way of
Viewing the world. She pauses,
Watches her husband parking

The car from the window, the
Way he walks around it, gives
The door handles a pull, taps

The bonnet like some *****’s
***. Yes, hubby’s got the dough,
Got the big bank account, buys

Her expensive clothes, rings and
Pretty much other things, but love,
Affection, that sitting side by side

Holding hands and kissing sort
Of thing, he just can’t bring, has
No clue what to say or what to do.

Sure he has the connections, the
Right kind of friends, takes her
To parties, to functions, gets her

To meet the Mr Bigs and their hold
On the arm, give a pretty smile, wives,
But he doesn’t give her love, or know

How she feels or if she wants children
Or not or how well she is or if she’s
Got the pox. Sure, he can **** her as

Good as the next guy, give her a car,
A necklace, get her to see Paris, Venice
Or wherever, but he can’t give her that

Deep down sense of being wanted, of
Being needed for who she is, just like
The rest of the wives she knows, an arm

Hanging, pretty smile wearing, well dressed,
Bright eyed wife, but unloved, unneeded
Just another possession for him to have

And hold, with a beautiful complexion,
But with a heart grown bitter and cold.

The toddler sat in the high chair,
And stared at his tiny hands,
He wondered, where had they come from,
And his name, they said, was Hans,
He seemed to recall another place
Where he’d lived, so long ago,
Before he was part of the human race
Though the words, he didn’t know.

His body felt like an alien
It was hard to make it work,
His legs and his feet were clumsy, and
He’d only just learnt to walk,
He found that his hands could pick up things
He could drop them, or could throw,
And watch the reaction of bigger things
When they’d shout, or tell him ‘No!’

They both were bigger and stronger
But the biggest one was rough,
He’d lift him out of his high chair, and
His voice was deep and gruff,
The other was soft and caring and
Had fed him at the breast,
Would carry him round and cuddle him
But the voice was shrill, at best.

Two spirits sat on his shoulders that
He didn’t know that he had,
One kept muttering, ‘You be good!’
The other said, ‘Be bad!’
‘Don’t listen to him, he’s always grim,’
Said the good one on the right,
The other had said, ‘Remember me?
He’ll make you feel uptight!’

He vaguely remembered the darker one
From the place that he’d always been,
And thoughts went fluttering through his mind,
Like scenes in a distant dream,
He knew, as a thrill spilled over him
That the good one made him sad,
And he couldn’t listen to both at once
But the dark one made him glad.

He’d watch as the bigs lit cigarettes
And the room filled up with smoke,
The haze had returned to comfort him
Though once in a while, he’d choke.
He’d stare and stare at the cigarettes
Intent on that tiny glow,
For it lit a spark in his memory
And he suddenly thought, ‘I know!’

One night while the bigs were fast asleep
He crawled on out of his cot,
Went for the box of matches that
He’d seen them use, a lot.
His tiny fingers had struck a match
And he sat and watched the flame,
As the darker one on his shoulder said,
‘We’re going to play a game!’

He struck a match for the curtains, and
He struck a match for the couch,
He then set fire to the tablecloth
And burnt his thumb, said ‘Ouch!’
An ancient memory stirred within
That would make his face perspire,
Caught in the middle of Dresden once,
And sat in a lake of fire.

The big ones woke, began to choke
And rushed on out to their fate,
They tried to rescue the baby Hans
But for all of them, too late!
He sat and chuckled within the flames
Felt nothing inside his pyre,
The dark one said, ‘So much for games,
You’ve had your play in the fire!’

David Lewis Paget

What’s so funny?
I was remembering an Army Barracks day.
A day before Boot Camp graduation
We get our first set of official orders.
Assignments posted on bulletin board.
Striking me now so hilarious;
How the dumbest among us,
Got picked for Intelligence Corps.
Amusing the thought that
Thugs with lowest class standing
All seemed G-2 bound.
Jesus, the anchorman, got Fort Meade,
Considered The Bigs by talent scouts.
Although I was 6 foot-one,
In this or that corner
Weighing in at one hundred & 95 pounds,
My Yerkes scores too high for NSA duty.
They sent me to college instead,
Doing COINTELPRO field
Campus surveillance of
Jewish intellectuals,
John Birchers and
Radical, anti-Castro,
Cuban exiles.
The University of Miami,
Known as “Suntan U” back then.
Miami: the eye of the storm in 1972.
A Republican Convention in progress.
New wine in old wineskins;
No thing to write home about.

THE GREAT POOL TOURNAMENT



we are here at the Green bay packers football club, for the annual pool competition

and we have a great line up of pool champions from simon o’heary and brendan itato,

they are the players who fought it out in last years final, and this year promises to be a bumper

of a tournament.    


the first match is between samuel patrice and johnny carter, and samuel gets the break which is a beauty

knocking the number 14 in first and then knocked the number 12 in next and his third go, he attempted to

knock the number 9 in but missed by a whisker

and then johnny had his go, and he is on smalls, yep he missed the pocket with the first shot by the skin of his teeth

so samuel lined up with his next shot and knocked the 15v and the number 9 in, and only had 16, 10 and 11 to go

before the black ball, samuel was on a roll, and then samuel knocked the number 10 in, and there was no way he was

going to lose this game, no way, but then he knocked the 16 in and then straight away knocked the 11 in and then he was

on the 8 ball, and if he knocks this one in, the game is won, and the black was right near the hole, which was easy for samuel to sink

and he sank it, and samuel won, and johnny carter was out yet again, and samuel moved onto the next round, where he played the

winner of the other table, who was phillip cutherhead, and this was promising to be a promising match, so the referee tossed the coin

and phillip won and decided to break, and when he did he sent the ***** to 7th heaven, you see phillip beat 17 year old colin hayes,

who was hoping to ****** up the tournament, and when we interviewed colin, man, he was very disappointed but he knew that this year

wasn’t his year, samuel had the second shot, and by geez, he couldn’t have whacked a more perfect shot knocking the number 6 in the left

middle pocket, radical, samuel continued to show style by knocking 4 in right bottom and 3 in left middle and 5 in left middle and 2 in middle right

and 1 in middle left and 7 in middle right and then knocked the 8th in to win this easily.

the next game started with samuel and his opponent harry burns knocking each ball in 1 by 1 and samuel ended up winning this close match by a flukey

knock of the number 13 and the next shot on the 8th meant if you miss this you are going to harry’s  turn so he knocked it in and samuel went to the bar

to rest up till his next game.and watch the match to see his next opponent, and the match was between brendan schultz and simon weather by and brendan

broke and it was a ****** powerful shot and simon was left wondering what hit him, brendan was the third best last year and he was determined to become

2 times better and simon wanted to set a trap for brendan, so to speak, he had some tricks lined up, and brendan wasn’t shy to display these shots in the match

brendan did a trickshot knocking number 14 in middle right and 9 in bottom left and 12 in middle left all at once, which left simon completely speechless,

brendan ended up winning and was waiting for simon to finish his losers interview, so he can talk about that win, simon told the press a pack of wild bulls

couldn’t beat brendan in this match and then he congratulated brendan, brendan was happy to be in the final against samuel to see who comes 1st or 2nd


1.  they played the national; anthem of the USA

2.  Samuel and brendan stood back to back and the referee was standing behind them

3.  10 year old benjamin whaler tossed the coin to see who will break in the tournament final, brendan won and chooses to break

4.  brendan and simon had a arm wrestle in the lead up and on with the GAME in this bumper grand final


brendan broke and by geez he broke a beauty and knocked the 11 ball in and is on bigs, the next shot, brendan scattered all the ***** on

every corner of the table, and samuel had his next shot, and can’t believe he missed everything forcing brendan to have 2 shots, must be nerves

from the other two wins, brendan’s first shot knocked 16 and 5 in, which ruined the 2 shots that samuel gave him, samuel was very excited, he went

straight over to knock the 3 ball in and then knocked the 7 ball in and then nearly knocks the 4 ball in, but didn’t, and after that brendan sank the white ball

which gave samuel 2 shots, let’s hope he doesn’t do what brendan did, samuel concentrated very hard hitting the 3 ball in and then 1 ball in and then

the 6th ball in and then knocked the 2 ball, and without knowing it samuel was looking like winning the tournament, as he was 1 ball away from winning

the tournament, and samuel had his next shot but there was a lot of pressure, he sank the white and gave brendan 2 shots, which made brendan have

to concentrate, because he couldn’t make a mistake because samuel was on the 8 ball, brendan did a trick shot sinking 9 ball into middle left side and 10 ball

into middle right and 15 into right bottom, and then did another trick shot knocking 11 ball in the left middle pocket and 12 ball in the right middle pocket and

13 ball in the right corner pocket and 14 ball in the middle left, and both samuel and brendan were both on the 8th, the next whot brendan missed the right bottom pocket

and samuel had his shot and sank the black right into the top right pocket, which gave sam the tournament and brendan went out of the building refusing to talk to any member

of the press, the next step was



1.  brendan congratulated sam on his great win

2.   sam gets the trophy and says thanks to the crowd for making this all possible

the speech

i didn’t think i would win that last match

brendan was putting on some very good shots

and if it wasn’t for him missing that last shot

i wouldn’t’ have the chance, THANKS EVERYONE

and then sam held the cup over his head, and did a lap of honour around the pool hall, , and then the announcer said samuel, you are the best

and we will see you next year

GOODBYE

Go ****** your opinions and your political minions up another ***’s *******, or maybe take that noise, and show some glamour and some poise like the bigs wigs on capital hill, filled with the ideals of the real, reality sets in with a pen on paper and a veto or a stapler to add another pile to another pile stacked high with paper and anger and a wager on top of all that to rate his and her, him and them, freedom or not, this is when the world goes black, back to a rack of what was and what wasn’t and isn’t and hasn’t been or whatever may come, from, whatever’s the machine in charge of the largest country on a scale of humility to ego, eating eggos daily, watching bombs drop and proms go on like any other day, a dance filled way too high with alter personalities and ratchet fatalities. This is another normality in this bleak reality of life. Full of wisdom, full of strife, take your knife and force it down someone’s throat, coat it with words, thoughts, sought after beliefs and chiefs of the mind. Find what’s real, what’s good, something borrowed something bought, this freedom we fought for, blood sweat and tears for, die for, cry for, ride it till its outlasted every past and bold and rash incision upon decisions. Fission fusion and confusion driven, is a country with stripes stars and bars, filled with past and present Heros, veterans, bet again they’re there for the third night in a row, about to row away down te river of blood and dirt and dignity, until the tugging of righteous voices slices the void of sorrow, but that’s tomorrow, today is just a work in progress.

So late at night,
When the all the birds sleep,
An owl awakes,
With bigs eyes,
Eyes picturing you,
Waiting for you to rise from slumber,
An owl awakes...

Flamingo you are,
What more I can say,
Beautiful more than anyone,
A charming bird,
Ready to fly in the open sky,
Play with clouds,
Rise high and high,
Just don't forget this owl,
With open eyes,
Eyes with you in them,
Awake so late at night...

Yo, I’m tha new ghetto, sworn in king
Mi Hollywood name is Mr. La La
I don't need 2 listen 2 no lo ****
‘Cause all ya barberin’, is just blah blah
I take wat eva hood rat, be wantin’ 2 ***
Just don't tri and steal mi hard earned bling

You're so friggin dope, well thank you, mi new sister girly
You remind me of an ex Brady, she 2 waz a dirtee little birdy
*** into mi crib and I shall show ya tha best time
Grab a smoke and choke on dat hot ***, it won't cost ya a dime

Ride-by just dun, bi sum kids on a bike, it seems
Leaves images I witnessed, carved into mi nightly dreamz
Wild streets aren't designed 4 everybody out there, but me
Dats wi they invented, plain old grey sidewalks, 4 free

I feel totally naked widout it, I'm not a bad **** dirtee turtle
Dats wat mi mama once said, but even I'm shell shocked, can’t ya tell?
But wat ya see, is wat it really means, or so it should
So yes, it's good 2 be tha king of tha whole **** hood

One day I spilt the beans , on sum loyal corner crew boys
I told tha popo, I know dats so lo lo, but they killed using one of mi toys
If you’re not encouraged in life as a child, like most of uz
You'll always be in a cage as an adult, so wats the big fuss?

Attacked Mr Bigs crib and forced his family out, widout any doubt
Nobody likes a smelly snitch, 4 they will be hunted down and blacked out
They chose a new leader 4 da team and told him, ‘Ya better be able to cope’
But, he waz a brother, who neva new how to tie up all tha loose rope

I came on back and killed tha whole **** hood
A true gangsta haz pride and doze wat he should
I just rode on bi, in mi lo ridin’ convertible Jaguar cat
Shot up and sliced up, all doze forma ****** of mine, and dats dat

Where do I meet you my dear friend?
If you are both the past and the end
Then will you come with me to the middle?
We could be together like children
We aren't truly who we want to be
Until we find out that we haven't got enough money
We aren't who we truly want to see
Until we find out that we are worth more than money
Wherever you think you should be
It's not the elsewhere that you should be in
Take the inside of your life
And unfold it so you can see
It's much bigger than what you thought
Please don't claim littler things for yourself
Claim the bigger bigs that your remote control heart asks for
Volume up until you realize you're not speaking loudly enough
You raise your glass like you raise your voicebox
To toast all the minor scenes you've been an extra in
Prove to yourself, you're made for the silver screen
If a sliver of gold could fill a Klimt
Then the canvas you have ready would be worth a golden bar
Listen up my dear friend
You're not in a box, you're in an inbetween pause in the composition of this song
We can meet sometime in the middle
Where you're 29 years old and I'm 30

We are too young to regret bigs things.
I guess that's why I didn't feel guilty at first.
But now every time I look at you it's like I can't breathe,
Without it feeling like I let you down.

Grief is a silly thing.

Just when I think I’m safe, it hits me.
Over and over again.
Like waves relentlessly crashing over the shore. Inevitable. Powerful.

And just like those waves, it fluctuates.
Undulates.

At times the waves of grief seem to crescendo. Peak after peak, bombarding the shore without ceasing. Only growing.
And other times, the shore lies calm for a second, with just the occasional small reminder that life is different now and will be forever.
That’s the silly thing about grief.

Everyone always called you silly.

Silly Jilly

From the first time I met you at a basketball camp when I was 16.
You were small but boy, were you mighty. Going into the scrap with the bigs without hesitation. In the midst of the competition, you still led with kindness above all else (a lesson I’m still working to learn all these years later).
And though through the inevitable distance that grew between things like graduation and college, I’ve enjoyed every unexpected encounter. I would give anything to run into you one more time.

You never let yourself be defined by a singular interest. I admire that. You’re one of 3 people who knew me in real life that has read my poetry. I don’t think I’m ready to share that with others yet, but I’m working on it. Writing seemed like the only fitting way I knew to say goodbye.

You moved through this world with such grace and power, leaving waves of light wherever you landed. Those of us who were lucky enough to have shared your light are left better for it.

And now we are all left with the remnants of that light you so graciously gave to all. It seems to be fading through the lenses of grief. But that light is still there, strong as ever, just shadowed behind the current clouds.

The thing about storms is that they never go away. The waves keep coming without warning. But we become masters at navigating the seas, stumbling blindly towards the light you left behind.

21 years was not enough and nothing can change that. We are all so grateful for the time that we had.

Chapter 5: God Country And Family

God, Country, and Family were the cherished priorities that people sacrificed for and the essence of what made us great as a nation. Based on a strong moral code, developed from deeply held religious and/or ethical beliefs, many Americans put their individual family’s welfare second, as they marched off to war in defense of their country.  Was there politics involved in these wars? Absolutely!  All wars are fought, at least in part, due to political differences.  Not fighting these wars, because you disagreed with the politics of the time, would have resulted in a fundamentally different America than the one we live in today — if an America at all.

From the Revolutionary War onward, men, and in many cases women, dropped their hammers and sewing needles, put down their ploughs, stabled their horses, and answered the buglers call to defend all that was dear.  They were proud and willing to do this because the bigger picture was apparent, a picture that took precedence over their own individual well being.

Today, the bigger picture stares back at us from the mirrors we gaze into, reflecting false and hollow images of what we’ve become.  What we used to be as individuals was always reflected and then magnified in who we were as a nation, our individual strength truly manifested in our service to something greater.

                       Something Greater Than Just Ourselves

It was this belief in something greater that drove us to create the true ‘Miracles’ of the past 250 years. These Miracles of science, manufacturing, art, and technology were never seen before. They became the mainstays of American life and propelled America to its leadership position in the free world, a position we are fighting to hold onto today.  Guaranteed by our Constitution and Bill of Rights …  freedom in America was the right of each, and every, individual citizen. It was the source of our national pride, and if called upon, we would have died to defend it.

If you had talked to a man who worked on Hoover Dam, or the Great Northern Pacific Railroad, you would had heard the pride in his voice.  This pride stemmed from having been part of something so grand and something so much greater than he would have ever been able to accomplish on his own. These are just two examples of what made America great and pushed her to the forefront as the envy of all the world.

The Chinese stood shoulder to shoulder with the Irish, pick axes in their hands, as the great rails were laid down pointing westward toward new and greater prosperity.  Among the many nationalities that accomplished these great things, there were always differences and petty squabbles — and the occasional altercation … but the big picture was always in focus.  It was the big picture that they agreed upon because that’s what was most important.  The big picture would carry them together to places they could never travel to alone, and on this they always agreed.

                        The Big Picture Was Most Important

By putting their personal disagreements aside, they moved mountains, laid rails, built bridges, and dammed rivers.  Unfortunately, many died in the building of America, but it did not stop the new volunteers from signing on.  There was something being done here that had never been done before.  Setting your past lineage, cultural differences, and religious beliefs aside, to work together on something this special, was a small price to pay.  It was a small price to pay for becoming — truly American!                                        

American, not just in name — as many are today —but American in the deepest parts of who you really were and who you wanted your children to be.  Out of this commitment came men like Nathan Hale who spoke these immortal words on September 22, 1776 …

     “I Only Regret That I Have But One Life To Lose For My Country “


Hale’s belief in the future of America was a ‘rallying cry’ uniting the strength of the individual with the purpose and collective will of the nation.

                        Where Is That Unity Of Will Today?




Chapter 6:  The *** That Melted

As a young boy, I lived in a row home in a working-class neighborhood.  The smells and sounds coming from each house were different, but the laughter and good will were the same … and they were shared among all. When together at a barbecue, holiday party, or family celebration, or even while waiting for the bus to go to work, their laughter was infectious.  

Mothers walked their young children to the small parochial school that many of us attended.  As they walked together, you could hear in the intensity of the many accented languages a fervent hope. It was a hope that it would be their son or daughter who would one day grow up and be President of this great land. And if not President, someone in whom they could truly be proud, and someone who would make a difference.  They were willing to put their own personal interests aside and sacrifice for this, many doing without so that their children could have, and experience, the things that would light their way to a brighter future.

                               The Fathers Did The Same

Every morning, after they said goodbye to their children at school, they knew they had just dropped them off at the doorway to a world that was better than any that they, or their parents, or grandparents, had known.

Many of our parents and grandparents spoke different languages, ate different foods, and sang and danced to their own kinds of music. These differences were superficial because one thing was crystal clear growing up in my neighborhood and that was nothing … N-O-T-H-I-N-G was more important than being a good and loyal citizen to a country that had given you so much.  If you ever were caught dis-respecting the flag or your elected leaders, you could count on being reprimanded by everyone, and that reprimand would probably be delivered in five different languages.

                       But The Meaning Was Always The Same

My first grade Nun (and school principal) was Sister Rita Marie.  Sister Rita Marie saw neither the color, the nationality, nor the relative wealth of any of her students. All the good Sister saw was ‘raw possibility!’  It was the innate potential within each of her students that Sister Rita Marie first saw, and it was this potential that defined and unified us as a class as we progressed from grades 1st through 8th.  I’m sure it was by a great design that no Nun ever had a last name. You could only guess at her nationality if she had a name like Sister Peter Mary or Sister Clara Agnes.

Our days in Catholic School always started in front of the American Flag, with our hands over our hearts, reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. Religion was next and that meant studying the Baltimore Catechism. Within its pages were all the lessons that one needed to learn to live a good and upstanding life.  Sister Rita Marie never failed to end the morning’s religion class without a morality lesson, one that would apply to our real world outside of school, and one that our parents had probably learned some twenty or thirty years earlier.

                             And Often From The Same Nun

Religion class would set the tone and get our young minds right for the arithmetic, english, phonics, and civics lessons that would follow later in the day.  We didn’t always behave, but we did agree on what was right and what was wrong.  We knew this because we had a devoted teacher who not only taught these principles but lived them in front of us in her daily life.  How I wish I could have just one more morning with Sister Rita Marie and be able to ‘film’ her magic and be able to spread it over the confusion that involves much of our educational practices today.

                            I’d Also Like To Thank Her Again

The basics were always stressed in her class over the fringy and sometimes transient occurrences that only served to mislead and confuse.  She also explained that there was a ‘nature of goodness’ that ran through all of us, and she knew that in her heart because inside we were all the same …                      

The thing that my small Catholic School (St Thomas Of Villanova) shared with my neighborhood was that it too was a ‘Melting ***.’  It was a melting *** of the differences that only served to divide us.  We learned early and well that respect for our elders, country, and especially ourselves, was a fundamental building block for all future success.

Two plus two really was four. And if you sat up straight with good posture at your desk you would see the truth, and the truth involved knowing that lying and cheating were always wrong, no exceptions! On this we all agreed.

                                         No Exceptions!  

The moral principles we learned in school were not only necessary for us to be good citizens, but were also a great source of comfort in a world that could be confusing to a young child.  No maybe this, or maybe that, Sister Rita Marie was emphatic with her teaching, and there was something inside all of us telling ourselves that she was right.  We learned early that all of life’s actions come with consequences, and these consequences can either be good or bad depending on which path you choose.  Many a boy thought he got away with, or pulled something over on the Nun, only to have his hand slapped by her ruler as she walked down his row of desks reading from her text.  She did this normally without even looking up.
                                
These lessons were constantly reinforced because it was upon these principles that the greatness of America and the salvation of our souls would depend.  We also learned that the seemingly little things were not always little, and what appeared big and overwhelming was often an imposter.  Most importantly, we learned that what might be impossible for us individually to accomplish, we could almost always attain together.

                                       … together!

We had no individual sports in my school, everything was as a team.  It was in the magic of playing together as a team that this message of what’s truly possible was best taught.  Sister Rita Marie constantly reminded us that there was a ‘heritage’ involved in our very existence traveling back through our parents, grandparents, and great grandparents ad infinitum.  This heritage was ours, and ours alone, and was to be respected and revered.  It could also be shared and often was. One of the boys in my class had a father who had played Major League Baseball.  Mr. Duffy shared his experiences growing up and progressing through the minor leagues and into the BIGS many times with us. We all felt connected and proud based on what he shared, and we also felt closer to each other as a result.

The worst offense you could ever commit was to bring dishonor or shame upon the reputation and good name of your family.  You might not be wealthy in a material sense, but the reputation of each family was sacred and was treated as such. What started as a concern for the reputation of your family was transferred to your friends, your team, your neighborhood, and your school.  You knew this was of value because everyone in your world from the shop keeper to the policeman reinforced it every time you saw them.   The things that were accepted, or not accepted, were either accepted by none, or accepted by all.  

      What Values Can We All Agree Upon And Hold Dear Today?

As we progressed through the grades, the differences in each of us not only faded but became integrated into everyone else.  Every kid learned at least a few words in Italian from Mr. D’Angelo, and every mother in the neighborhood wanted to be able to bake as well as Mrs. Bonds. Mrs. Bonds was French, and Mr. Bonds had met her while in the Army during WW2 when the G.I.’s liberated Paris in August of 1944.  She could bake and she could sing.  We all loved her, as she would prance around her kitchen in her fancy hand made aprons singing French folk songs. She would wink and call each of us boys or girls ‘Mon or Ma Cherie’ or ‘Mon Ami’ or ‘Mon Amie’ as the incredible smells of her baking took over the neighborhood.

The melting *** had another advantage in that it happened without our noticing it.  We seamlessly learned at a visceral grass roots level that we were all the same.  We believed in, and wanted, the same things, and we were willing to work together to get there.  After all, with great examples to follow like Sister Rita Marie … how could we fail?

                Where Is That Leadership And Unity Of Purpose Today?