Going to Boston; Buying (and Reading) Books; Trump

Boston

At my age, the MBTA (Metropolitan Boston Transit Authority) gives me a discount on traveling on their systems — subway, bus, and commuter rail. At present, the only one I'm using is the subway, which I can ride for $1.10 per trip. They give me a card which I load with money which gets deducted each time I use it. Back in January, the card stopped working, so I had to go get a new one. I liked my picture on the old one better.

Recently, I've become aware of fare jumpers taking advantage of my entry. I tap my card to the target and the gates open. After I go through, somebody follows before the gates close. There's a loud honking sound, which would alert police if they were there. A few weeks ago, four young guys followed me through. When I realized what they had done, I confronted them. I emphatically explained that the system need the fare money to pay the drivers and to maintain the equipment and tracks. When people like them evade paying their fares, it means less funding for the system they're using. They should be ashamed of themselves. Then I stalked away.

If you read my music blog, you know that I went to Boston for symphony concerts on three Thursday evenings in January and another three in February, with the cancellation of the Feb. 9 concert reducing the February count from four. I've attended fewer Harvard Musical Association concerts on Fridays than usual. For one thing, they've scheduled several on Thursdays. For another, the weather was too uninviting on a one or two occasions.

On the one time I did go in on a Friday, I went, as usual, to Scollay Square restaurant. Surprisingly, Wendy the waitress was there and we enjoyed chatting. She told me that Seth, the former waiter, had gotten married last fall and no longer worked there at all.

I also went in twice to see my spiritual director, and once for a Handel and Haydn Society concert on a Sunday afternoon.


Books

Perhaps inspired by hearing about Seth, I finally decided to buy Water for Elephants, which he had recommended to me back in the fall of 2010. I got it for me Kindle and started reading it on my subway rides last week. It's a very engrossing book, and I highly recommend it. Hopefully, I'll still be reading it the next time I get to Scollay Square. It would be nice to be reading the book Seth recommended in the place where he made the recommendation.

And this has put me on a book-buying spree. First, I decided to get three books in the "Hinges of History" series by Thomas Cahill:

• Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea: Why the Greeks Matter,
• Mysteries of the Middle Ages: And the Beginnings of the Modern World, and
• Heretics and Heroes: How Renaissance Artists and Reformation Priests Created our World.

I already had read the first three of the series, How the Irish Saved Civilization, Desire of the Everlasting Hills, and The Gifts of the Jews, years ago, when they were first published. The series is popularized history, but I've found them a nice refresher on things which I had studied back in high school and college. (Minor annoyance: I bought the first three and Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea in hardcover, but I inadvertently ordered the last two in paperback, so they won't match the other on a bookshelf. Oh well. I'm trying to tell myself that the content of the books is more important.)

Then, in my nostalgic "remembering Seth" mood, I decided to check out the other book he had mentioned, The Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. It looked pretty interesting so I ordered it on Kindle.

Finally, a couple of hours ago, I put in an order for the highly acclaimed Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis, by J. D. Vance. Supposedly it helps us understand Trump voters, but I think it sounds worthwhile in its own right.


Trump

Speaking of Trump, he continues to astonish. Every now and then, there is some small event that suggests he's beginning to understand the job of President. His speech to Congress was, apart from the digs at Obama, actually presidential-sounding. It could have been given by a moderate Republican or Democrat, as some commentators have pointed out. But the comes the accusation that Obama wiretapped him. While it is conceivable that Obama could have ordered the FBI or NSA to seek a warrant for such a wiretap, given the denials that were immediately forthcoming it seems unlikely. On the other hand, it seems to go almost without saying that we were spying on the Russians, and if Trump's people were in touch with them, they probably would have showed up.

For Trump to say publicly that he didn't believe the Director of the FBI is shocking. It was also astonishing to hear that he was furious with Jeff Sessions for — properly — recusing himself from any investigation of Russian involvement in the campaigns.

All in all, it seems that he still thinks he should be running everything. He seems to believe what he wants to believe, regardless of the evidence. My hope, and expectation, is that his cabinet and the Republicans in Congress will refuse to let him get away with anything truly unconstitutional and talk him out of anything really unwise. But we should also bear in mind that he was elected on the basis of his campaign promises, so he's entitled to at least try to fulfill those promises.

A Pleasant Evening in Boston

The Harvard Musical Association had a string sextet (2 each of violins, violas, and cellos) playing a piece by Korngold (written around 1920, i.e., before he started composing movie scores) and one by Brahms. But first, I went to the Scollay Square for dinner.

Arriving at the restaurant, I saw Wendy the waitress and greeted her enthusiastically. We talked a bit about recent symphony concerts which I had attended. When she came to take my dinner order, she mentioned that they had a shrimp cocktail appetizer, but when I said I had been thinking of trying the "Drunken Shrimp," which I had never had, she said I should have it: it was one of her favorites, and the menu would soon be changing. A couple of ladies came in and were seated at the table to my right. When they were discussing what to order, I recommended the miso glazed salmon, which I sometimes have. One of them had it and liked it. If she hadn't, I would have had Wendy put it on my tab. As I was leaving, I asked if Seth still worked there. He does — on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Saturdays — so I asked her to say hello for me. (Some previous posts in which I mention Wendy, Seth, and other waitstaff.)

At the HMA I had a seat which allowed me to see all the players except the second violin, and I could see that each instrument had different music to play — they didn't have both cellos playing the same thing, or both violas or violins. Both pieces were enjoyable. The previous evening I had left Symphony Hall at intermission rather than stay to hear Brahms' Fourth Symphony. As a rule, I don't like Brahms.* But the sextet was composed when he was still under 30, and he hadn't gone all dissonant and it was pleasant to listen to, so I'm glad I didn't leave at intermission this time.

After the concert we had a supper of shrimp cardinale (here's a link to a recipe and here's another — ours had bits of green in it, maybe chives or parsley) on toast points, followed by a green salad. It was very tasty. I know, it was a lot of food for the evening, but my breakfast had been a bowl of Wheatena with 4 apricots, and my lunch had been three ounces of applesauce and 1 1/2 ounces of muenster cheese — and no beer — so a late supper may not have been really excessive. Anyway, it was good.

At the subway station, there was a man with a supply of little American flags and a sign asking for donations. I gave him a dollar, but declined the flag. I don't need another. BTW, the previous night, a young man got on the subway and started yelling about how his coat had been stolen and he needed money to buy another one at Goodwill because he'd be outdoors all night in the freezing weather because he couldn't get a bed at Pine Street Inn, the homeless shelter. The coat would cost $25, and all he had was $15. He may have been on drugs, and the story may have been a fabrication, but he seemed earnest. Two people across from me gave him a couple of dollars, and I gave him a $10 bill. He thanked us warmly, and when he left the train a couple of stops later he again called out his thanks


*I think the Reason I don't like Brahms is his extensive use of dissonance combined with what I think is called "sfrozando." The instruments sort of push the note and then let it diminish a bit. Well whatever it is, the music seems strained to me — as if someone were sitting on a toilet seat and trying to force a bowel movement and repeatedly grunting as he did so. But dissonance in general is something I don't like a lot of. As I noted on my music blog, I disliked last week's "Daphnis and Chloe" by Ravel, and I think it was also because of the extensive use of dissonance. In fact, it may be that I find atonality easier to take than dissonance which doesn't promptly resolve into consonance.

Recent Doings

New Doctor: Getting Acquainted & Physical Exam.
My "primary care physician" of the past 20 or so years retired last fall. He had been in partnership with another doctor, whom I decided to try before searching for anyone else. My first appointment with the new doc was on April 15. The nurse took my blood pressure etc. and then told me take of all my clothes and put on a johnny and left the examining room. Eventually the doctor came in, asked some questions and began the physical exam. He had me lower the johnny to my waist while he listened with the stethoscope, then to my groin to check for hernias, then to my thighs while he checked for testicular cancer. I was surprised at how light his touch was; I'd have thought that more pressure would have been needed to detect anything. He brought the johnny back to cover my genitals. Then there was some discussion during which I put my arms back into the sleeves and brought it back to my shoulders. Finally, there was the check of my prostate, which he did by having me lie on my side on the examining table. I somehow didn't feel it as much as when it's done with feet on the floor and bending over the table.

We talked about colonoscopies, Vitamin D supplements, and pneumonia vaccine. He was pretty clear that I needed the Vitamin D, and gave good reasons for the others. What I really liked was that he didn't  order me to do things. The way he put things recognized that I'm the one in charge of my health care decisions. So I'm quite satisfied with him.

I had been procrastinating on the pneumonia vaccine and decided to have the shot while I was there. The nurse administered it after he was through and I had put my clothes back on. My upper arm was sore until Friday.

I noticed that he had a faint Irish accent. Turns out he's from Dublin, but has been here so long that it's very faint except when he's with other Irish people or has had a few beers.


Play at Arts Emerson: Trojan Women.
On Wednesday, April 17, I went to Boston to see an adaptation of the play by Euripides. There's a pretty good summary in the Globe's review. I liked it better than "Neva," which I had seen a couple of weeks earlier. This play not only evoked some of the horror of war, but also showed the complexity of the chain of causation: was the fall of Troy the fault of Priam and Hecuba for allowing Helen to remain, rather than giving her back to Menelaus; Helen, for leaving Menelaus and going to Troy with Paris; Paris for seducing Helen; Aphrodite, for promising Helen to Paris if he declared her the most beautiful; Zeus for selecting Paris to judge among the goddesses; Priam and Hecuba for letting Paris live after it had been prophesied that he would bring about the destruction of Troy.

On the way back to the subway, I encountered a couple who wanted directions back to their hotel. With the help of a nearby map I was able to furnish the directions they needed.

Although it was the day after the Marathon bombing, things seemed normal on the subway and in the Theater District.


Symphony Concert.
Thursday evening, I attended the Boston Symphony's concert. Apart from not stopping at the Copley station the subways ran normally. At Symphony Hall, all bags were examined, but then the eveninig went as normal. (The following night's performance was cancelled because of the manhunt and the 'shelter in place' advisory.)

I posted about the concert on my music blog.

It seems to me that the actions of all of us who went to the theater or the symphony or were otherwise out and about on Wednesday and Thursday illustrate what President Obama said on Thursday at the service at Holy Cross Cathedral: "We don't cower in fear. We carry on."


A Movie and Dinner.
On Friday evening I went with a priest who had formerly been in my parish to see the movie "Quartet." It was quite enjoyable. Afterwards we went to The Black Cow restaurant for dinner. I had been there a couple of times before, but it had been renovated in the meantime. The interior had been opened up, and it seemed significantly noisier, with more patrons, largely of a younger age. No doubt it's a business success, but it was a personal disappointment to have lost the ambience of former times. Well, I still have good memories of dining there before the renovations.

Seth the Waiter.
On Tuesday evening this week there was a concert and social evening at the Harvard Musical Association. As usual on such evenings, I went to the Scollay Square restaurant, and was pleasantly surprised to see Seth there. He was equally surprised to see me, since the HMA events are almost all on Fridays: this was the first Tuesday that I can recall. He had been working Mondays and Saturdays, but now, as he told me, he's working Tuesdays as well.  We greeted each other warmly. Then he had to go back to work. Unfortunately, I was seated at a table which wasn't in his section.

Looking Ahead.
This evening (Thursday the 25th) I'll go to another BSO concert, and Friday to another evening at the HMA. I don't expect to see Seth, since he didn't say he works regularly on Fridays. Next week, the HMA has its last social evening on Wednesday, and my final BSO concert of the season is on Thursday, May 2.

Meanwhile, the yacht club reopens for the summer this Saturday. The racing season begins in earnest about a month later. The Race Committee schedule hasn't been issued yet, but I expect to be assigned to help run the races on seven or eight Saturdays from June through September. Then the concert and theater seasons will resume.

Seth the Waiter …

is now Seth the bartender. I went to the Scollay Square restaurant as usual for dinner before the Harvard Musical Association concert and  to my surprise, as I was putting my bag down and taking my coat off, Seth came over and greeted me cordially. I was surprised to see him because I understand he now works only Mondays and Saturdays, He explained that he was filling in for a friend who was taking the evening off. So we spent a moment "catching up', and he went back to work. I noticed that he was tending bar and later, as I was coming back from the restroom, I asked if that's his regular job now. It is. I'm sure he's very good with the customers since he is so affable.

I was really glad to see him again, and happy that he went out of his way to greet me.

After the concert, instead of the usual baked beans and welsh rarebit we had shrimp cardinale. (You can google it.) It was very tasty.

All in all a pleasant evening.

Wendy the Waitress

On friday I remembered to go to the Harvard Musical Association concert and social evening, and had dinner at Scollay Square. I asked the waitress, Wendy, if Seth still worked there on Mondays and Saturdays. He does, she said.  So if I had remembered to go last Monday, I'd probably have seen him. Oh well.

Wendy immediately noticed my book and asked if it was by Malcolm Gladwell, which led to a bit of conversation about his books. Seeing where my bookmark was in the book, she suggested that I might finish it that evening, and in fact I did. Later, we got to the matter of my being in Boston for a concert. She was immediately interested. She likes to go to Boston Symphony concerts on Tuesday evenings, and I was able to tell her that she's in for a treat next Tuesday,  since I had heard the same program on Thursday and enjoyed it a lot.

She was also very attentive, as Seth and other waiters have been, clearing dishes as soon as I had finished with them.

All in all, I think she's a good replacement for Seth. Obviously there won't be the slight sexual overtone that was there for me with Seth, but I think I'll enjoy whatever conversations I'll have with her.

Seth the Waiter — A Farewell of Sorts

Last Friday, before the chamber music concert, I went as usual to the Scollay Square restaurant for dinner. After I was seated, Seth informed me that he now has a full time job. He is working in constituent service for his state representative, and will rarely, if ever, work on Fridays at the restaurant. He may work on Mondays and Saturdays. Since I'm very unlikely to be in Boston for dinner on either of those evenings, it could well be that I won't see him again.

This probably final encounter seems to have meant something to him as well. At one point late in the meal he came to my table and said, "Well," and then couldn't think of something appropriate to say. Later he said he'd like to know what books I was reading, and gave me a slip of paper on which he had written his work e-mail address (which gives his last name).

He did his work as a waiter very well. Perhaps he became "too friendly" for purists, who think that a good waiter never has a personal conversation with a patron. But his service was so good that after a couple of times there, I had to tell the manager how good he was, and I'm sure my satisfaction at having him for a waiter showed when he came to my table. I was very pleased when he showed an interest in what I was reading, and talking briefly about the books was something I was happy to be able to do.

So, no more encounters with Seth, although I'll probably send him an e-mail once in a while. But there are good memories.

Seth the Waiter et al.

On November 5, there was the first regular "social evening" at the Harvard Musical Association (meaning chamber music concert followed by a supper or refreshments), and as usual I went to the Scollay Square for dinner. Seth the Waiter was there this time and he greeted me cordially. There was also a new busboy, who was rather attractive and seemed more interested in doing his job than the one they had last winter (who looked like Dustin Pedroia, only taller).

I told Seth a bit about my trip to Germany and Ireland. He had driven a bit in New Zealand when he accompanied his sister there last winter, so he knew what it's like driving on the left. (I still have to tell you about the trip and maybe post some photos and links to other photos and videos. If I had more self-discipline and weren't such a procrastinator, maybe I'd have gotten to it by now.)

Seth asked about the book, as always. It was touching the holy, the same one I'd been reading at Petit Robert Central two weeks earlier. Seth expressed polite interest but wasn't as fascinated as the waitress there had been. He told me of a couple of books he was reading/had recently read: The Shadow of the Wind and Water for Elephants. Links are to New York Times reviews of the books. (With my recent trip to Ireland still in mind, I thought he said "Waterford Elephants." LOL He wrote the titles for me, because I knew I'd never remember them.) At some point he also made a passing mention of his girlfriend.

The busboy was reasonably attentive and smiled nicely as he removed the plates.

They used to have a hanger steak item on the menu, which got removed when they did their second round of going to less expensive items. But it was back as a special, and I had it. I think the sauce was different. This time it was a rather nondescript brown gravy, whereas previously it hadn't been thickened — more like a deglazing of the pan with red wine. Well, it was still a decent meal.

Another Restaurant Experience

I had to trade my Thursday evening Boston Symphony ticket for Friday afternoon because there was a meeting on Thursday of the Task Force Against Discrimination. I already had a ticket for Opera Boston's production of Fidelio for Friday evening. The symphony concert was due to get out shortly before 4:00 and the opera to start at 7:30, with a preview talk at 6:30. It didn't seem to make a lot of sense to dash home and dash back into Boston, so I made a reservation for 5:00 at a fairly new place called Petit Robert Central.

So what to do in the hour between the end of the concert and my dinner reservation? Well it so happens that the restaurant is in the building across the street from the Franciscans' shrine where I used to go to Mass when I worked in Boston. So I decided to drop in there and pray for a while. They have priests hearing confessions (Sacrament of Reconciliation, for you young'uns) all day, and at some point it dawned on me that I could avail myself of the opportunity to be shriven (be absolved of my sins). So that's what I did. As always, the priest was very kind and encouraging. (In 60 years of going to confession, I don't think I've ever had a priest yell at me.) He basically said I should remember and think about all the good things I have been doing, the things that make God very happy with me.

On to the restaurant. I got there about five minutes before 5:00. There were a few people in the bar area and maybe one couple in the dining area. The reason I chose this restaurant is that their menu includes a number of items you don't find very often, especially on the dinner portion. Tripe, tongues, and sweetbreads are all things I like, but rarely find. The waiter said I was getting the last of the sweetbreads, and it seems that they've just published a new menu which doesn't have the lamb tongues on it either.

As I was waiting for my drink, I noticed a tall guy delivering food to a nearby table, and I wished I had him for a waiter. Well, it turns out they all cooperate on bringing things to the table, and he served my appetizer and main course.

Another person noticed the cover picture on the book I was reading, touching the holy, by Robert Wicks. It shows a pair of hands holding three rounded rocks, one on top of the other. (You can see the picture if you go to amazon.com and search for the title.) It reminded her of something she had seen on a visit to the Peace Pagoda. People would balance rocks on top of each other, and apparently the more you could balance, the more peaceful your soul (or something similar). She had a photo that she showed me. She wanted to know about the book, and I told her the title and author, which she wrote down, and I gave a very brief description of what the book is about. For all his interest in knowing what I was reading, I don't think Seth the Waiter at Scollay Square was ever that interested in any of my books.

When I had paid the check and stood up to leave the tall busboy passed by (perfectly timed) and wished me a good evening. As I thought about it later I was reminded of the scene in "Maurice" where Alec Scudder, the assistant gamekeeper, passes the gentlemen out for an evening stroll on the estate and says, "Good night, sir" to Maurice, whom he had seen for the first time earlier that day. No doubt I'm reading way too much into the encounter.

If you want to hear about the musical performances you can go to this post on my music blog.

Busboys and Theology of the Body

Thursday evening I was having dinner at the yacht club where I help run sailboat races, and reading the book on Theology of the Body while I was waiting for each course to be delivered. There was a good-looking busboy, who removed some items when I was finished with them.

In the book I was reading passages on celibacy, specifically what Jesus calls being celibate "for the Kingdom of God." Celibacy is supposed to free the celibate to devote himself to the work of building the Kingdom. It is also supposed to be a sign to all of the condition of all in heaven where, as Jesus says, "they neither marry nor are given in marriage." So there is a renunciation of the good of marriage for the sake of a higher good, "living a transformed life of sincere self-giving…".

And as I left I began to question how the attraction I felt toward the busboy fit in with the meaning of celibacy. Was there something hollow in my celibacy if I indulged my desire to look at him? Have I really renounced sex "for the sake of the Kingdom of God?" Have I given myself to God?

On further thought, I think this passage from a bit earlier in the book is relevant: "The celibate vocation does not entail a change in human nature. A person who takes up the path of celibacy must still battle lust. A faithful life of celibacy — like a faithful marriage — requires the redemptive power of Christ. Like everyone else, the celibate person must submit his lusts to the power flowing from the redemption of the body."

So it's not surprising that I continue to find guys attractive. And I think it's important for anyone who is trying in any way to control his sexual activity to realize that it is unrealistic to expect not to find people attractive — indeed, it would probably be unhealthy to try to suppress sexual feelings completely. So for those who have decided that they are not going to have sex with other men — as well as those who are living in a monogamous relationship — you should understand that your decision does not keep you from being attracted to different guys, and these attractions don't mean that you have failed to live up to your decision. The question is whether you let them lead you to abandon your commitment.

I might add that celibacy does not equal solitude. Those of us who see celibacy as the moral choice for us are still called to love of neighbor, and we can certainly seek good friendships and interactions with others. And I think that what I'd really like with people like the busboy is some sort of friendly interaction (however brief), in some way to become a person to them, not just "table 4."

I'm not saying that I'm perfect by any means, but I'm saying that I think I have basically kept my commitment, even as I realize that I could be better in a number of ways. And I'm encouraging you to realize that it is possible to live such a way of life, and perhaps to be happier in it than I have been. But don't have unrealistic expectations of being free of sexual desires.

While I'm talking about restaurant staff, I can add that on Friday, before the performance of "Alexander's Feast"* I went to the restaurant where Seth the waiter worked. He wasn't there. I was waited on by a very pleasant young woman — the first time I had seen her. Toward the end of the dinner, I asked if Seth and Phil had left. She said Phil had left but Seth still worked there. So I hope to see him on some of the Fridays when I go to concerts in Boston.


* I posted about this on my music blog.

Seth the Waiter Redux

This evening there was a concert at the Harvard Musical Association, and as usual on such occasions I went to the Scollay Square Restaurant for dinner beforehand. The maitresse d' showed me to a table, and as I was putting my things down, who should come over but Seth, whom I've posted about before, but whom I hadn't seen there for a couple of months. I asked if this was "his" table. Yes, it was. He then said, "We'll be having dinner together."

He later inquired about the book I was reading, and I showed it to him — "Pope John Paul II's Theology of the Body in Simple Language" — and I told him a couple of the basic concepts that the Pope extrapolates from "in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them," and "they were naked but felt no shame." Namely that our bodies physically show our spirits, and that the way we are most representative physically of God is when husband and wife have sex.

Later still he mentioned that he had talked with Phil, the other waiter, and learned that during my visits in the past couple of months Phil and I had got along pretty well. Later it occurred to me that my response should have been, "I don't want you guys fighting over me." I told him that when I thought of it, and he said I need not worry because he had made it clear that when he was there I was his. (Not the exact words, but the general idea.)

The concert was pretty good. The Vienna Piano Trio performed works by Mozart and Schumann. In between they did "10 Miniatures" by Johannes Maria Staud, an Austrian composer born in 1974. The first 4 miniatures had been composed a few years ago and the trio had performed them. At their suggestion the Association commissioned him to write 6 more miniatures, and they gave the world premiere at our concert this evening. They are vigorous, spectacular in places, but not tuneful. Not too tough to take. At the end they gave an encore by Brahms.

So, all in all, it was an enjoyable evening.

World War II — Muggeridge's Take

I've mentioned the book by Malcolm Muggeridge that I've been reading when eating alone in a restaurant: "a third testament" with chapters on various notable Christian thinkers. Last Friday I finished reading it and offered it to Seth the waiter, who graciously declined the offer.

The final chapter of the book is on Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German pastor who was executed by the Nazis shortly before the end of WWII. At the conclusion of the chapter, Muggeridge writes:

Looking back now across the years, I ask myself where in that murky darkness any light shines. Not among the Nazis, certainly, nor among the liberators, who, as we now know, were to liberate no one and nothing. The rhetoric and the cant have mercifully been forgotten. What lives on is the memory of a man who dies, not on behalf of freedom or democracy or a steadily rising Gross National Product, nor for any of the twentieth century's counterfeit hopes and desires, but on behalf of a Cross on which another man died two thousand years before. As on that previous occasion on Golgotha, so amidst the rubble and desolation of "liberated" Europe, the only victor is the man who died, as the only hope for the future lies in his triumph over death. There can never be any other victory or any other hope.

The Warm Sacred Night, Part 2: "Seth" the Waiter

My first time in the Scollay Square my waiter introduced himself as "Seth," and he may have been the best waiter I ever had — certainly in the top level. On subsequent visits the waitresses were very good, but not quite up to "Seth's" level. Eventually I started asking if Seth had an open table.

On one of my early visits, Seth asked what I was reading, and I showed him: "Truth and Tolerance" by Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger. I told him a bit about the subject. After that our interactions took on a slightly friendly tone. There was a period of a couple of months when he was not there. When he showed up, I mentioned his long absence, and he explained that he had been in Israel. On another occasion, I learned that he is a college student majoring in Political Science. He is now a senior. I think he's Jewish, not only from the time in Israel (which was enough), but also because last night I noticed that he is wearing a "chai" — a Hebrew letter meaning "life" and also a version of the name of Abraham — just below his throat.

It was kind of heavy going, but eventually I finished the Ratzinger book last spring and I began "a third testament," by Malcolm Muggeridge, a revised version of the scripts from a 7-part TV series he had done, with segments on St. Augustine, Pascal, Blake, Kierkegaard, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, and Bonhoeffer. Yesterday I was reading the chapter on Kierkegaard.

Seth asked what I was reading and I handed him the book. He remarked that it looked interesting. I asked him if he knew who Muggeridge was. No. So I said an atheist (agnostic would have been more accurate) British journalist who eventually came to believe in God. Then I remembered and mentioned when Seth came back with the appetizer or something that it was Muggeridge who introduced Mother Teresa to the West with his book "Something Beautiful for God." Seth said he'd look for it.

Toward the end of the meal, I was at the end of the chapter, which Mugg closes with a quote from the last thing Kierkegaard wrote. I showed it to Seth and invited him — when he had a free minute — to read most of it, beginning after the reference to Christianity, which was hidden behind the card I use as a bookmark. He took the book immediately and read
"every man, every individual, is equally close to God...How close and equally close? Because Loved by Him. Consequently there is equality, the equality of infinity, between man and man. If there is any distinction, it is that one person bears in mind that he is loved, perhaps day after day, perhaps day after day for seventy years, perhaps with only one longing, a longing for eternity so that he can really grasp this thought and go through life with it, concerning himself with the blessed occupation of meditating on how he is loved — and not, alas, because of his virtue. Another person perhaps does not remember that he is loved, perhaps goes on year after year, day after day, and does not think of his being loved; or perhaps he is glad and grateful to be loved by his wife, by his children, by his friends, by his contemporaries, but he does not think of his being loved by God. Or perhaps he laments not being loved by anyone and does not think of being loved by God. Infinite, divine love: it makes no distinction! But what of human ingratitude? If there is an equality among us men in which we completely resemble each other, it is that not one of us truly thinks about being loved!"
He handed back the book, and I suggested that maybe one had to be my age to really appreciate that passage. He disagreed. I wonder what the other customers must have thought if they noticed this action.

I paid my tab with a credit card, tipping over 25% of the pre-tax amount. I figure that I should always tip on the heavy side when I'm alone at a table, preventing the waiter or waitress from being tipped on multiple meals. But this was even a couple of bucks more because of the personal interaction. And as I put on my coat and started to leave, he said "Good night, Mr. [Naturgesetz]." (At that point he would not have seen the tip I added.)