Debris
«chaque notaire porte en soi les débris d’un poète.»Archive for death
Justice O’Connor’s husband “reportedly in the final moments of life”
Retired Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor was to have visited Greensboro and Elon Law School tomorrow. Sadly, her appearance has been canceled as a result of her husband’s worsening health. An announcement from the law school stated that John Jay O’Connor III, whose condition prompted Justice O’Connor’s retirement, “is reportedly in the final moments of life.”
Despite legal and political differences, I admire Justice O’Connor for her pioneering role as the Court’s first female Justice, and for the fact that she is an accomplished fly angler. She has been a good friend to Elon, speaking at the law school’s formal opening. My best wishes go out to her in this difficult personal moment.
Rock of Ages
“Rest in Peace” seems a particularly inapt wish for the father of such a frenetic beat. Better to say “Rock On, Bo!”
Cold, dead hands
Charlton Heston, whose memorable roles included Moses, Ben Hur, Michaelangelo, and NRA shill, has gone to the eternal chariot race in the sky. His gun is now ripe for the plucking.
Cheers, Alfred & Michael!
I was saddened to learn that the two men most responsible for promoting my two favorite beverages both died last week. I dedicate my morning mugs to Alfred Peet, and this evening I will hoist a glass (or two) in memory of Michael Jackson.
Holy cow!
I am too young to have seen Phil Rizutto play baseball. But, having grown up in New York, I have fond memories of him as an announcer (even if it was for my all-time most hated team, the Yankees) and as the spokesman for The Money Store (“Borrow up to $10,000 or more!”). If Steve Goodman was right and there really is a “Heavenly Hall of Fame“, it’s a sure thing Scooter won’t have to wait for admission like he did here on Earth.
A teacher’s death by a thousand cuts
As I approach the first day of teaching at my new institution, and begin to feel the usual anticipatory jitters, I take some small comfort in the probability that I will not experience such harsh treatment from my new students as poor St. Cassian did at the hands of his pupils:
He was exposed naked in the midst of two hundred boys; among whom some threw their tablets, pencils, and penknives at his face and head, and often broke them upon his body; others cut his flesh or stabbed him with their pencils, sometimes only tearing the skin and flesh, and sometimes raking in his very bowels. Some made it their barbarous sport to cut part of their [assignment] in his tender skin. Thus, covered with his own blood, and wounded in every part of his body, he cheerfully bade his little executioners not to be afraid; and to strike him with greater force . . .
