19 August 2025

While I was going to a Roman Catholic boarding school in Austin, Texas, St. Edward’s High School, between 1958 and 1961, I noted something that made me stop to think. The brothers that taught me were from the Congregation of Holy Cross, the same congregation, with nuns and priests that runs Notre Dame University in Indiana.

Some of those brothers would be sent to obscure places in Africa. All they had to do was open a suitcase, put a few pairs of shoes, a bible, some pants and that was it. I found that liberating and for under 5 minutes (and only once) I thought I might become a member of the congregation.

Many years later when my Rosemary and I got into our flashy Audi to visit our daughter in Lillooet I told her, “What would happen if we hired an arsonist to burn our house down while we are gone?” She smiled and replied that it was almost a good idea.

Now in my Kits home surrounded by all the Mexican curios that Rosemary and I went to buy in all those little Mexican towns while we are living seem to be a weight around my neck. Will my daughters or granddaughters want any of it. Will they understand the significance of my father’s mate for drinking that quintessential Argentine tea?  I have a collection of 100 T-shirts. What of all those frames hanging in all my walls, will my family have space for them? 

Today I saw a gray box in my bedroom closet. I opened it. What you see in this scan is what was in it. Perhaps the only memorable object is the long tortoise shell wand with a lens on one end that my great aunt in Manila used when she wanted to inspect something in detail. Will any of my girls want to wear my hosta watch?

Perhaps death is liberating in that one is nowhere with nothing.