A regular activity of mine is trying to locate a book in my bookcase, some book that I have read and enjoyed and wish to read again, or at least to read again some sections of it. That I almost always find the book is amazing. I have so many books on my shelves that if one more book enters my room, I may have to move out.
A few weeks ago I had a wonderful experience in the theatre. I went over to Broadway to see a revival of Thornton Wilder’s play “Our Town.” The distinguished playwright Edward Albee claimed that “Our Town” was the best American play ever written. I would not argue with him.
I wish a friend of mine were here with me in my study as I am writing this column. About two weeks ago, he told me about his experience trying to get his teenage sons interested in great films. He claimed that whenever he recommended a film, the first question they asked would be, “How old is this film?” The second question would be, “Is it in color?”
Recently, I had two experiences of beauty that moved me to reflect on what happens to us when we experience exceptional beauty. I would describe both experiences as “ecstatic.”
The last time I turned on my radio was about seven or eight years ago. I hope the batteries still function! I have found that I cannot read anything that has any depth if I am listening to music that has lyrics. Instead of concentrating on what I am reading, I begin to concentrate on the lyrics.
In the summer issue of the newsletter by Commonweal Magazine, there was an essay by Pat Ballan entitled “Every Picture Tells a Story.” The essay was about a painting of Joan of Arc that is present in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhattan. I wonder if I have ever thought of paintings as telling a story.
When Cathedral College Seminary opened in 1967 in Douglaston, I was appointed by Bishop Bryan McEntegart to be a full-time professor on the faculty. In fact, the bishop had sent me in 1964 to get a doctorate in philosophy so that I could be a full-time member of the faculty at the four-year college seminary he was planning to build in Douglaston, Queens. In the early years of the college seminary, there was an adjunct professor teaching English. His name was Irwin Geisman, and he taught full-time at Fordham University.
When I was in my fourth year of college (and my third year in the major seminary in Huntington), one of my philosophy professors, Father Frank Tyrell, assigned a philosophy paper to our class, which was equivalent to a thesis.
There is a documentary about the technological revolution titled “The Social Dilemma,” available on YouTube, which I have my students at St. John’s University watch and discuss in class. The documentary features interviews with various individuals, including some who have worked in Silicon Valley and others who are actors.
For years, I had a strong aversion to historical fiction. That aversion goes back to when I was a student in college. The aversion lasted for many years. I had no desire to read books that were a combination of history and the author’s imagination. I wanted facts that were not mixed with some author’s created ideas.
