In a world where it’s so easy to find doers of evil, I take solace in heroes of the year just past. These are the women and men (and sometimes children) whose actions have given hope to others.
As we know to our shock and grief, some of them have died violent deaths. But they live on in the hearts of countless others. I like to think of them as redeemers of the world.
The coming holidays and holy days are already looking good to me. That’s because a young neighbor has shared with me some wonderful news. And he has given me a fabulous photo that proves it.
He has gotten married! He and his beloved did the deed in her hometown a few weeks ago. To judge by the photo given me, it must have been a truly glorious event.
Several weeks ago I saw a turkey up close in Harvard Square. (No, I don’t mean a high-falutin person such as one can sometimes run into there.)
This was a real bird. To the delight of passers-by, he or she was strutting along at the corner of Mt. Auburn and Dunster Streets. This turkey seemed proud to be there and to be enjoying the attention of its audience.
Two buildings, one on a main street in Belmont, the other on a similar street in Watertown, stir memories in me when I drive by them.
They now serve as home to condo dwellers. Until a few years ago, both buildings were parish churches. Along with my parents and my brothers and sisters, I worshiped in both of them.
At this point in a seemingly endless election campaign, most people may think everything possible has been said. In the face of this highly reasonable position, let me add a few reflections of my own.
First of all, you need to know something about my presidential voting record. It started with Adlai Stevenson, whose name still resonates with some in my age cohort.
Sometimes simple pleasures prove the best.
A recent Sunday afternoon gave me ample reason to endorse this dictum. With virtually no preparation, I walked from home to a beautiful university theatre nearby, for a concert that had not been widely advertised .
For ten dollars (senior citizen discount!), the box office sold me a ticket. Then, at exactly two o’clock, the listed starting time, I settled in a seat only a few feet from the stage.
Too many things take too long. This may appear an odd complaint given the often bewildering pace of modern life; but it comes from the heart. And it applies to many forms of activity.
Take baseball, for example. Why should Red Sox games so often last four hours? I want them to end in two. Let’s go back to one pitcher per game. It beats the inevitable parade of single-inning (or single hitter) specialists. This kind of thing costs money and ruins sport.