Book Review: Francois Mauriac's "Holy Thursday"

My best friend and I read this book during Lent and got together after Mass on Friday last week to complete our discussion of Nobel Prize winning Francois Mauriac's Holy Thursday: The Night That Changed the World in the Sophia Institute Press edition and translation. It's evidently not in their catalog now, but Cluny Media has a different edition, The Eucharist: The Mystery of Holy Thursday, available.

I went through a Francois Mauriac phase after college, reading The Viper's Tangle, Therese, and The Woman of the Pharisees, in my pursuit of covering the "Catholic Revival" in Literature. This is a very different book as Mauriac describes his memories of attending Holy Thursday Mass, with the Stripping of the Altars and the Mandatum (the Washing of the Feet) as major events. 

It would have been helpful to the reader if Sophia Institute Press would have explained that the Mass on Holy Thursday was different than it is today when Mauriac wrote and when he experienced it as a child. The Stripping of the Altars and reposition of the Host for the Good Friday service (when only the priest received Holy Communion) took place before the Washing of the Feet. When he discusses First Holy Communions, a note to explain that until Pope Pius X's reform that Sacrament was sometimes delayed until the age of 14 would also have been helpful. It was like the "graduating" Sacrament then and Mauriac comments that many stopped receiving Holy Communion or attending Mass after that. A reader not knowing that in 1910 Pius X set the age of seven (7) as the appropriate time of receiving First Holy Communion wouldn't understand Mauriac's comment.

Writing in 1931, Mauriac also comments on how good it was that frequent reception of Holy Communion was encouraged; another contribution of Pope Pius X (in 1905). The influence of Jansenism had discouraged many from going to Communion more than once a year.

In spite of these criticisms, I wouldn't want anyone to be dissuaded from reading this book. There are some beautifully written (translated) passages, like this one:

The anniversary of that evening when the small Host arose on a world sleeping in darkness should fill us with joy. But that very night was the one when the Lord Jesus was delivered up. His best friends could still taste the Bread in their mouths and they were going to abandon Him, to deny Him, to betray Him. And we also, on Holy Thursday, can still taste in our mouths this Bread that is no longer bread; we have not finished adoring this Presence in our bodies, the inconceivable humility of the Son of God, when we have to rise hastily to follow Him to the garden of agony.

We should like to tarry, to see on His shoulder the place where St. John’s forehead rested, to relive in spirit this moment in the history of the world when a piece of bread was broken in deep silence, when a few words sufficed to seal the new alliance of the Creator with His creature.

Already, in the thought of the One who pronounced the words, millions of priests are bending over the chalice, millions of virgins are watching before the tabernacle. A multitude of the servants of the poor are eating the daily Bread which compensates for their daily sacrifice, and endless ranks of children, making their First Communion, open lips which have not yet lost their purity. (Chapter I, "The Breaking of the Bread", pp. 3-4)

Or this one:

It is not when He withdrew into the desert that He felt the greatest loneliness, but when He was in the midst of the flock of those wavering hearts which the Spirit had not yet kindled. Doubtless, it was necessary that the man in Him be reassured by the God so that He would not lose heart when confronted by the infinite disproportion between His message and the poor human race destined to receive it.

However, He did not dedicate Himself to solitude as have so many men of genius. He did not flee from the crowd, but gave Himself up to it. What gives Christ as a man a unique character among the masters of the world is first this gift of Himself, this complete abandonment of Himself to the crowd. Before being delivered, He delivered Himself. He does not belong to Himself, not having come to be served, but to serve. He is the slave of slaves. Nothing belongs to Him. He lives in the street, in the fields, in villages. Miserable bodies affected with leprosy crowd Him, suffocate Him. He seeks refuge in a fishing boat, in order to be able to breathe. Dirty hands grab His cloak; virtue springs from Him.

No one kept less aloof; no one was ever less guarded, more accessible — such He is still today in the tabernacle, given up entirely to all — yet nevertheless, He was alone with His Father, in that mysterious, ineffable union which He sometimes confessed, for this secret also escaped Him: “No one knows who the Father is, except the Son.” (Chapter VIII, "The Secret of Holy Thursday", pp. 58-59)

Mauriac obviously loves and admires St. Therese of Lisieux: he cites her several times, and he relies upon St. Thomas Aquinas and his Corpus Christi Office and hymns when discussing Transubstantiation. He also cites Bishop Bossuet and Jacques Riviere without naming his sources and recommends Jacques Maritain's The Angelic Doctor.

Reading this book by Mauriac makes me wonder about three books Cluny Media also publishes: The Son of Man, The Life of Jesus, and What I Believe. But they will have to wait for another day . . . before I decide to purchase them. There's a line!

Pope Benedict XVI, RIP

I woke up early Saturday morning December 31 because I intended to go to daily Mass for the seventh day of the Christmas Octave and the last day of the year 2022 and heard the BBC announce Pope Benedict XVI's death. My Facebook feed was filling up with posts about his death before and after I attended Mass at Saint Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church, where we prayed for the repose of his soul and witnessed a young boy receiving the Sacrament of Confirmation (thus, sotto voce renewing my Baptismal Promises!! as he did). I saw a friend who looked most disconsolate, but later saw his Facebook post to friends, mentioning that it was hard in a way to reconcile this grief at Benedict XVI's death with the grief he'd felt on February 11, 2013, when Pope Benedict resigned.

And that reminded me of that day, when I was all set to talk to Brian Patrick (then the host of the show)on the Son Rise Morning Show about Shrovetide, Confession, pancakes and pancake races. Then producer Matt Swaim emailed me with a change in topic: we would instead discuss Pope Benedict and the English Reformation, highlighting the September 2010 visit to Scotland and England, the establishment of the Anglican Ordinariate, and the beatification of John Henry Newman--all the ways Benedict had tried to heal the wounds of the sixteenth century. 

Memories!

Later on Saturday, December 31, 2022, I attended the 4:00 p.m. Vigil Mass at Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church (my home parish since April of 1991), which was a special Mass for the closing of our diocesan year of Eucharistic Revival. Blessed Sacrament had been the designated pilgrimage church/shrine for the diocese throughout 2022. A portrait of Pope Benedict had been placed, most appropriately, beside the Saint Joseph shrine (with the three kings still prepared to visit Jesus, Mary, and Joseph in the Nativity Scene in front of the shrine to the Madonna).

Bishop Carl Kemme offered the Mass for the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, and of course mentioned Pope Benedict's death, offered prayers for the repose of his soul, etc. In the midst of his sermon, Bishop Kemme reviewed his efforts, through exhortations to the priests and the faithful of the diocese, to renew our knowledge and devotion to the Blessed Sacrament during the past year. In the course of his sermon, he exhorted us to read or re-read Pope Benedict XVI's Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation of February 22, 2007, Sacramentum Caritatis, to the Bishops, Clergy, Consecrated Persons and the Lay Faithful On the Eucharist as the Source and Summit of the Church's Life and Mission.

So I'm searching for my copy today!

Eternal rest grant unto to him, O Lord, and let the Perpetual Light shine upon him. May the soul of Joseph Aloysius Ratzinger, Pope Benedict XVI, and all the souls of the faithful departed, rest in peace. May he rest in peace. Amen.

Professor Mary Katherine Tillman, RIP

While I learned of Father Ian Ker's death on the very day, I just found out about the death of another Newman Scholar, Professor Emerita Mary Katherine Tillman of the University of Notre Dame. She died on October 21 of complications associated with esophageal cancer and her funeral Mass was celebrated at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart at Notre Dame on Friday, October 28. Her obituary, posted by the University of Notre Dame is found here. The South Bend Tribune obituary adds the detail that she married another Professor Emeritus just 12 years ago and that she and her husband, Phillip Sloan, resided in Holy Cross Village at Notre Dame, a senior living community sponsored by the Holy Cross Brothers. 

The Notre Dame obituary highlights her study of Newman:

Tillman was a scholar of St. John Henry Cardinal Newman, writing a book and several extended commentaries on the works of the 19th-century English priest, as well as the history and philosophy of liberal education.

She published widely in scholarly journals and gave lectures throughout the U.S. and Europe, and in 2019 received the Gailliot Award for Lifetime Achievement in Newman Studies from the National Institute for Newman Studies.

According to my records, she visited Wichita twice to give presentations on Newman, focusing on university education and the relationship between faith and reason. In 1995 at the Newman School of Catholic Thought at the Newman Center at WSU, she provided a comprehensive explanation of the works Newman wrote during his "campaign in Ireland" to establish the Catholic University in Dublin, describing how they help us see how he realized his notional ideas of university education, thus demonstrating the "unity of idea and image" in his reflections on education. Tillman provided an overview of Newman's Idea of a University, and the Rise and Progress of Universities, the first presenting the idea, the second the image through descriptions of places of universal knowledge in Athens, Paris, and Oxford, among others. She also spoke on Faith and Reason at that 1995 Newman School of Catholic Thought, in which she compared Newman's Grammar of Assent and Fifteen University Sermons, noting of the latter that they sowed "the seeds of all Newman's future writings".

And she wrote the introductions for critical editions of the Fifteen Sermons and the Rise and Progress of Universities.

In 1998, she presented a lecture at Newman University on "Catholic Higher Education at the Millennium". I know that I attended that lecture but I have no surviving notes from it.

And in 2015, Marquette University Press published a collection of her works on Newman titled John Henry Newman: Man of Letters.

In this collection of essays spanning thirty years of her work in Newman Studies, Tillman elaborates the broad reach of Newman's philosophical, educational, historical and classical acumen. Attentive to his philosophical methodologies and to recent Newman scholarship, she compares Newman's views on a wide range of issues with those of other thinkers, classical and modern. Included in the essays are such topics as Newman's meaning of 'views', of relations between faith and reason, of imagination, on the college in relation to the university, on research, on whether virtue can be taught, on the development of ideas, on prepredicative experience and on phronesis, on 'the gentleman' in relation to the Oratorian, on human nature, and on worldly wisdom in relation to holy wisdom. Newman, Man of Letters, is seen as unique in his prolific and wide-ranging genius.

Eternal rest grant unto her O Lord and may her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, rest in peace. And may she rest in peace.

Father Ian Ker, RIP

Yesterday, Saturday, November 5, I attended the First Saturday Mass and devotions to the Immaculate Heart of Mary at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, meeting a couple of friends. We went to brunch after Mass and then I came home and checked my email for the first time that day. 

My inbox was full of notices of Father Ian Ker's death that morning in England. Father Juan Velez published this notice on his Saint John Henry Newman website:

Fr. Ian Ker (1942-2022) died in London, this morning November 5, 2022. A former Anglican, he became Roman Catholic and was ordained a priest for the Archdiocese of Birmingham. He was a world authority on St. John Henry Newman on whom he published more than twenty books.

Fr. Ker taught theology at Oxford University and was a senior research fellow at Blackfriars, Oxford and a member of the faculty of theology.

We mourn the loss of Fr. Ker and pray that Our Lord reward him with “the vision of peace” of which St. John Henry Newman wrote. In the coming days, Fr. Peter J. Conley of the Archdiocese of Birmingham will write more about Fr. Ker’s contribution to Newman scholarship and his influence on his own (Fr. Conley’s) work.

Requiescat in pace!

Fr. Ker’s publications included:

John Henry Newman: A Biography (1988); The Catholic Revival in English Literature 1845-1961 (2003); G.K. Chesterton: A Biography (2011); and Newman on Vatican II (2014); Newman, Councils and Vatican II in Newman and Faith (2004); and Mere Catholicism (2006).

He was also co-editor of The Cambridge Companion to Newman (2009), contributing the chapter ‘The Church as Communion’.

I had the great pleasure of meeting Father Ian Ker twice when he visited Wichita for presentations: He was the keynote speaker at a Newman School of Catholic Thought at St. Paul's Parish-Newman Center at Wichita State University in February, 1992 based on his book Newman and the Fullness of Christianity and he led a day of recollection at the Spiritual Life Center on Newman's spirituality based on his book Healing the Wound of Humanity in October, 1993.

And in 2013, he was scheduled to speak at Newman University on the "Genius of Newman" but had to cancel because of illness.

May he rest in the peace of Christ. As I continue my series on Newman's The Dream of Gerontius, I dedicate my efforts to his memory and I will pray for the repose of his soul throughout the month of November.

Memory Eternal!

UPDATE: I asked Warren Farha at Eighth Day Books to special order this for me, from Gracewing Publishers in the UK:

I look forward to purchasing it and reading it as soon as possible!

Death Comes for the Archbishop: Jean-Baptiste Lamy, RIP

Jean-Baptiste Lamy, the first Archbishop of Santa Fe, New Mexico, died on February 13, 1888. The New Mexico History website describes how he became the bishop of Santa Fe in 1853:

After the Mexican-American War (1846-1848) the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo gave sovereignty of the territories of New Mexico and Arizona to the United States. New Mexico, as a territory of Spain and then of Mexico, had been since colonial times under the jurisdiction of the bishop of Durango, but after the treaty ecclesiastical authority was transferred to the Catholic Church of the United States. In May 1849 the Provincial Council of the Catholic Church in Baltimore petitioned to Rome for the establishment of a provisional diocese (Vicariate Apostolic) in New Mexico to be headed by Lamy. In July 1850 the Vatican responded and established the Vicariate of New Mexico, naming Lamy as Vicar. In November Lamy was consecrated in Cincinnati, and he appointed Father Machebeuf to be his Vicar-General.

Lamy left immediately for his new post, going by way of New Orleans with his sister and niece whom he left at the Ursuline convent in that city. Lamy continued by ship to Galveston where he met with Bishop Jean Marie Odin who assigned him jurisdiction of three more towns near El Paso: Isleta, Socorro, and San Elizario. Bishop Odin advised Lamy not to proceed to New Mexico but rather to go to France first and bring some young French priests back with him to replace the Hispanic clergy in New Mexico whose moral and pastoral qualities he questioned. While Lamy did not follow the bishop’s advice to go to France, it was the first evidence of a cultural divide between European and native-born clergy that was to arise many times in his career in New Mexico.

Machebeuf caught up with Lamy in San Antonio and they traveled together to El Paso and then to New Mexico. Upon his arrival in New Mexico in June 1851 Lamy appeared at first to receive a warm welcome with a large and enthusiastic turnout of the populace as he made his way north from El Paso to Santa Fe. Reaching Santa Fe in August, he was again warmly greeted, but then the Vicario Foraneo (Rural Dean, in charge of the Santa Fe pastorate), Juan Felipe Ortiz informed Lamy that he (Ortiz) and the New Mexican priests under him did not recognize Lamy as the Bishop of Santa Fe. . . .

Please read the rest there.

Paul Horgan wrote a Pulitzer Prize winning biography of Archbishop Lamy (he was named Archbishop on February 12, 1875), but Willa Cather's fictionalized biography of Lamy as Jean Marie Latour and Machebeuf as Joseph Vaillant is even more famous. At the end of the novel, Cather's narrator describes the Archbishop's death:

The Mother Superior and Magdalena and Bernard attended the sick man. There was little to do but to watch and pray, so peaceful and painless was his repose. Sometimes it was sleep, they knew from his relaxed features; then his face would assume personality, consciousness, even though his eyes did not open.

Toward the close of day, in the short twilight after the candles were lighted, the old Bishop seemed to become restless, moved a little, and began to murmur; it was in the French tongue, but Bernard, though he caught some words, could make nothing of them. He knelt beside the bed: “What is it, Father? I am here.”

He continued to murmur, to move his hands a little, and Magdalena thought he was trying to ask for something, or to tell them something. But in reality the Bishop was not there at all: he was standing in a tip-tilted green field among his native mountains, and he was trying to give consolation to a young man who was being torn in two before his eyes by the desire to go and the necessity to stay. He was trying to forge a new Will in that devout and exhausted priest; and the time was short, for the diligence for Paris was already rumbling down the mountain gorge.

When the Cathedral bell tolled just after dark, the Mexican population of Santa Fé fell upon their knees, and all American Catholics as well. Many others who did not kneel prayed in their hearts. Eusabio and the Tesuque boys went quietly away to tell their people; and the next morning the old Archbishop lay before the high altar in the church he had built.

My late husband Mark and I went to Santa Fe twice. Once in 1989, before we were married--separate hotel rooms, if you please--and again in 1993. We flew to Albuquerque and rented a car in 1989 but drove a rented van from Wichita to Taos (where we stayed) and Santa Fe with our first Westie Ruffis accompanying us in 1993. During both trips we visited Archbishop Lamy's great Romanesque Cathedral of St. Francis. Cather depicts Archbishop Latour's last sight of that cathedral:

Wrapped in his Indian blankets, the old Archbishop sat for a long while looking at the open, golden face of his Cathedral. How exactly young Molny, his French architect, had done what he wanted! Nothing sensational, simply honest building and good stone-cutting—good Midi-Romanesque of the plainest. And even now, in winter, when the acacia trees before the door were bare, how it was of the South, that church, how it sounded the note of the South!

No one but Molny and the Bishop had ever seemed to enjoy the beautiful site of that building—perhaps no one ever would. But these two had spent many an hour admiring it. The steep carnelian hills drew up so close behind the church that the individual pine trees thinly wooding their slopes were clearly visible. From the end of the street where the Bishop’s buggy stood, the tawny church seemed to start directly out of those rose-colored hills—with a purpose so strong that it was like action. Seen from this distance, the Cathedral lay against the pine-splashed slopes as against a curtain. When Bernard drove slowly nearer, the backbone of the hills sank gradually, and the towers rose clear into the blue air, while the body of the church still lay against the mountain.

We attended performances at the Santa Fe Opera during both vacations: Massenet's Cherubin in 1989; Handel's Xerxes in 1993--both starring Frederica von Stade. Mark and I often talked about going back to Santa Fe, but never did. We thought about staying at the Bishop's Lodge outside of Santa Fe, which includes a chapel built by Archbishop Lamy on its grounds. Sadly, the Lodge is closed now, undergoing some delayed renovations, and the chapel is becoming dilapidated (as of May 2019):

The historic chapel was established by Bishop Jean-Baptiste Lamy in the 19th century. The rest of the expansive facility has been around since the 1920s, according to a bulletin published by the Santa Fe Historical Society in 1987. Lamy built the chapel on a property north of the city that he bought for $80 as a personal retreat in 1869, the same time period that the Catholic bishop oversaw the construction of what became the Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi.

SFR showed pictures of the chapel as it stands today to Mac Watson, chair of the Historic Santa Fe Foundation and a frequent visitor of the chapel before the site was closed for renovation.

"The roof shingles are in terrible shape, and given the amount of rain and snow we've had this year, it is hard to think that a great deal of water has not gone through the roof and inflicted damage to the interior," Watson tells SFR. . . .

I don't find any other updates on-line but I hope the chapel is taken care of soon.

Newman Memories on the Ides of November

“My theme is memory, that winged host that soared about me one grey morning of war-time. These memories, which are my life—for we possess nothing certainly except the past—were always with me."--from Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh.

November is a month for memories: we remember the faithfully departed; we remember the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month at the end of the war that was to end all wars; we remember all the blessings we have received and give thanks for them. My brother and sister and I remember our father's birthday on November 6 and our parents' wedding anniversary on November 25--they are both dead, but those events, not just the celebration of their memory are always with us. Without them, we are not. They are our life. And I do mean "our life" as well as our lives--they are our life as a family.

So I've been preparing for my presentations next week at the Spiritual Life Center for a Newman Retreat Friday, November 15 and Saturday, November 16:

Newman’s writings have long been esteemed by scholars. Now, with his canonization, his influence is being lifted up for all to see; not just for theologians, but for the whole Church. Among many other things, Newman is famous for his explanations of the way doctrine develops, the way God saves us through his Church, and the way people come to know and accept truth. Retreatants will walk through his teachings under the direction of Stephanie Mann and Fr. Tom Hoisington, both of the Wichita Diocese. Stephanie Mann will give two presentations: one focusing on the impact Newman has had in our diocese, and the other on the importance of Newman for the laity in light of his being raised to the altars. Fr. Hoisington will present on Newman’s personalism- his explanation of how an individual subject makes response to objective truth in a way that is both personal and universal- an essential area of Newman’s thought that is often misunderstood and underappreciated. New this retreat, participants will enjoy a Friday evening social time with music, appetizers and drinks as they enjoy each other’s company and build a Catholic Culture. Musician Jack Korbel will provide entertainment. For those who cannot attend the entire retreat, please consider joining us for Friday evening's celebrations for this new Saint!

The Friday evening presentation is made up of memories of all the different programs I've attended since 1979. And for the month of November, especially while we are remembering all the faithful departed, I'm using the word "late" often in my presentation.

The late Bishop David Maloney

The late Father Joseph Gorentz

The late Father Richard Stuchlik

The late Father Charles Taylor

The late H. Lyman Stebbins

The late James Mesa

The late Ralph McInerny

etc,

etc,

etc.

The schedule for Friday night, November 15, includes my presentation "focusing on the impact Newman has had in our diocese" and then we'll have a social hour with a musical performance by Jack Korbel!

On Saturday, November 16, we'll begin the day with Morning Prayer at 9:00 a.m.; then I'll make a presentation on St. John Henry Newman and The Laity: Notes for 21st Century Catholic Faithful; Mass follows, then lunch, and Father Hoisington will then present on Newman's Personalism.

Registration is open at the Spiritual Life Center through November 14!

Thanksgiving and Giving Thanks

Thinking of and thankful for the memories of my family home and Thanksgivings past. It has been seven years since the last Thanksgiving with my father. Tomorrow is my parents' wedding anniversary. It may be a trite saying, but we must always be thankful for all we have because we never know when we will lose it.

It is something to have wept as we have wept, 

It is something to have done as we have done, 

It is something to have watched when all men slept, 

And seen the stars which never see the sun.

It is something to have smelt the mystic rose, 

Although it break and leave the thorny rods, 

It is something to have hungered once as those 

Must hunger who have ate the bread of gods.

To have seen you and your unforgotten face, 

Brave as a blast of trumpets for the fray, 

Pure as white lilies in a watery space, 

It were something, though you went from me today.

To have known the things that from the weak are furled, 

Perilous ancient passions, strange and high; 

It is something to be wiser than the world, 

It is something to be older than the sky.

In a time of sceptic moths and cynic rusts, 

And fattened lives that of their sweetness tire 

In a world of flying loves and fading lusts, 

It is something to be sure of a desire.

Lo, blessed are our ears for they have heard; 

Yea, blessed are our eyes for they have seen: 

Let the thunder break on man and beast and bird 

And the lightning. It is something to have been.

~G.K. Chesterton ("The Great Minimum")

Tolkien and Lewis at Eighth Day Books

My husband and I enjoyed celebrating one of Eighth Day Books' two anniversaries Saturday night (the May anniversary is of its moving to its present location at 2838 East Douglas; the September anniversary is of its opening; last year was its 25th anniversary!). I baked a carrot cake and Warren's wife Chris had prepared a nice selection of snacks--a group of our friends met and we sat and talked about books, and education, and faith, and family for about three hours.


But now, to my purchases that evening: The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary from OUP and Medieval Literary: A Compendium of Medieval Knowledge with the Guidance of C.S. Lewis from Fons Vitae! When Warren showed me the latter I immediately thought of C.S. Lewis' The Discarded Image: An Introduction to Medieval and Renaissance Literature, which I own in the old Cambridge University Press paperback, and which is filled with notes taken on mimeographed pages, recycled from the WSU History Department! I also bought two beautiful cards from the Laughing Elephant press, with illustrations by Marie Angel and quotations by Fyodor Dostoevsky and Jakob Bohme, like this one:

Only at Eighth Day Books, I think, could one find such a combination of erudition and beauty, friendship and delight, wine and cheese, snacks and cake, memories and future hopes--we are planning a reunion of our Ignatius J. Reilly reading group there in a few months--so many of the joys of life. Speaking of memories, one of my most cherished memories of Eighth Day Books was the night we all gathered for my book reading and signing! Here's a picture of my late father and my sister. Thinking of him this Memorial Day, I recall how proud he was of me that night, how much he enjoyed the festivity, and of course, how much I and all my family miss him!

December 7, 1941: Some Living History

My late father served in World War II in the Army Air Corps and my mother worked at Boeing in Wichita after the war started--where they met. Several years ago, we made some tapes of my parents' memories of the births of their three children, and when it came to making mine, my husband asked them about December 7, 1941. Seventy years ago today! I need to review that tape to recall my father's first reactions on that date, but I was able to reconnoiter with my mother:

She and two of her sisters were sharing an apartment in Emporia, Kansas. As it was Sunday morning, they were waiting for a friend to pick them up and drive them to Mass. They had the radio on, and heard the news that Pearl Harbor had been attacked. They went to Mass that morning, but everything started changing quickly. My mother did not return to college at the Kansas State Teacher's College in Emporia (now Emporia State University), partly because all the young men left to enlist! She came to Wichita and started working in the HR department at Boeing.

Thus she was in Wichita and available to go on a blind date with my father one July 4--they were engaged; he went off to training and was stationed at Kimbolton in England. A nose turret and waist gunner on a B-17, he returned to Kansas after his tour of duty--they got married and the rest, as they say, is history!

One connection that my father would not have been aware of was that Katherine of Aragon died at Kimbolton Castle on January 7, 1536--and how could he know that he would have a daughter who would be interested in English history and write a book about the English Reformation?!