The new year is quietly making its way homeward through desert sands and Siberian snows. As I’m already under the benign influence of Bacchus and his band of merry satyrs in pointy crimson hats, this post may end up somewhat askew, like a picture put up by an Irish workman in an English house.
In Chapter 5 “Solomon” continues his discussion of the just man in an unjust society, where, when the just is rewarded, his former persecutors are dismayed:
I served in the U.S. Army from Feb. 1978 to Feb. 1982. The first three years were under Commander-in-Chief Jimmy Carter, who died Sunday at age 100, and the final year under Commander-in-Chief Ronald Reagan. I’ll tell you what it was like.
A number of people have asked to continue the Italian lessons, which we shall do at a slower pace so long as there is one student. I do ask everyone is working on these lessons to respond to each post, if it is only to say, “Present.”
I shall in the future try to post these Greek lessons on Monday. But, since I promised to begin in January, here we are.
I’m not personally acquainted with Mrs. Assad, but I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice woman who just happened to be an accomplice of a historically significant war criminal. I could well have met her – she had been living in London until 2000, when she met her future husband and moved to Damascus – as I had many Arab friends at the time. The point is that accomplices of criminals, and on occasion the criminals themselves, are often perfectly nice people.
I have begun to wonder how many generations it takes for immigrants to lose their ethnic identity.
As I have noted here on a few occasions, good Catholics though they are, Italians are as distant from Christianity as any pagan.
On my century-spanning big list of favorite movies, there are more titles from the fifties than from any other decade.
