Pardon me. I have never bothered to talk with you since I was born 79 years ago. It’s like a flower never talking to its roots and like a cloud never talking to the ocean. Like CNN broadcasting silence.
A Jewish lawyer said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Luke 10:29. Jesus said, “A Samaritan. A person considered inferior.” Today, Jesus would answer the question, “A green bulrush. A plant considered inferior.” He would spin the State Farm ad line, and say, “Like a good green neighbor, treat the 1.7 million species in the data base, Encyclopedia of Life, as you would like to be treated.”
The president of Indiana University while I was in graduate school was Herman B Wells. He was, it seemed, a jolly fellow, whose belly jiggled when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly. His middle initial, not having a period, reminded me of my grandpa. Lacking a middle name given by parents, grandpa choose “A” instead, representing, I assume, high quality.
Last Friday, a lucky 13th, I attended my 61st high school reunion. For that gathering I produced a book, 49ers Roar: Stories of Leo High School Classmates, with a lion on the cover. For several weeks up to that meeting I lived in both 1949 and 2010, and in both Indiana and Illinois.
