A Manresa Retreat...

The Palm Tree Lined Drive Entering the Manresa Property

I have written previously about Frank Priest, who was one of my first sponsors in the recovery program of Alcoholics Anonymous.  Frank was a very important influence in my early recovery.  He guided me through the twelve step program with compassion but also with a level of discipline that I sorely needed.  Much of the time that I spent with Frank involved conversations about the steps, my progress in proceeding through them, and Frank's guidance on my continued growth.

Step four of the twelve step program is, "[We] made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves."  I had proceeded under Frank's guidance to complete this "inventory" step, when one day he called me at Hughes Aircraft, where I was working.  "What are your plans for the weekend?"  Coming from Frank, that could have had all kinds of implications.  I told him that I had no plans.  "There's a men's AA retreat this weekend at Manresa, and I've made a reservation for you.  I'll cover half the cost.  It'd be a good time to do your fifth step. (Fifth Step - Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.)  You need to do this.  Are you in?"

I agreed to go, but had to ask what and where Manresa was, what was a men's AA retreat, and a number of other questions.  I'd never heard of an AA retreat. The answers were fascinating.

Manresa was a Jesuit-run retreat house in Azusa, California.  This was about 40 miles from where I was working.  Frank informed me that check-in was Friday afternoon, that most guys would arrive in time for dinner, which would be served at 6:00 PM in a common dining hall.  He informed me that the tradition of conducting men's AA retreats at Manresa had begun with a recovering alcoholic priest lovingly referred to as Father Barney and that they had been held for several years.  This annual retreat was a continuation of the first one, held in the 1960s.  Although there were now a number of retreats focusing on recovery hosted throughout the year at Manresa, this was the "real deal," going back some twenty years.  Frank assured me that I would benefit from some fellowship with new AA friends, some profound discussion meetings, prayer and meditation, and completing my fifth step.

A little research reveals some interesting history about the Manresa property.  There's a Web site devoted to the "Father Barney Retreat" that continues to this day.  That site informs us, "In 1947 the property for the new Jesuit Retreat House, to be called “Manresa”, was purchased from two descendant sisters of the early Slauson family in Azusa, California.  The land was once part of the old Rancho Azusa from the early 1800’s.  A large portion of the property was sold to the Monrovia Nursery, and, was to become the largest potted plant nursery in the country.  The Retreat center was located on an island of land within the nursery property and jutted up against the foothills at the east end of the San Gabriel Valley. A very long palm tree lined driveway connected Manresa to the outside world.  The Jesuits owned and operated the Retreat House from 1947 to 1994."

I asked someone at work that week how long I should allow to drive to Azusa on Friday afternoon to arrive in time for sign-in and dinner.  I was shocked when people suggested I leave by 2:30 PM.  This was to drive from El Segundo to Azusa - a distance of around 40 miles!  Allow 3-1/2 hours!  I was told, "You'll be taking the 105 and the 605. They're both like parking lots on Friday afternoon."  I left at 2:30 on Friday.  I barely made it in time.

I recall distinctly driving into a tree-lined road that went through countless acres of flowers with hundreds of laborers tending them as I approached what looked like a mansion in the middle of nowhere.  This was Manresa, and a magic place it was.  It was an imposing somewhat modern Spanish colonial building, although I have been unsuccessful in finding pictures of the structure.  I found a parking place and walked to the main entrance, beyond which was a registration table.  I recognized a couple of the men standing near the entrance from having seen them at AA meetings in LA's South Bay area.

         The only picture I've been able to          
locate of Manresa - One of the 
Chapel Doors shown in a book of 
Mid-Century Architecture in America,
Honor Awards of the AIA, 1949-1961

I checked in and was assigned a room.  Soon I had stowed my clothes, washed up for dinner, and returned to the dining hall.  Dinner was served cafeteria style.  After we were seated, the blessing was invoked, and a series of short introductions followed.  I can't recall the name of the spiritual leader's name, but he was a recovering alcoholic Jesuit priest from Spring Hill College in Mobile, Alabama.  

One of the more interesting introductions was of a man who had just celebrated his first AA birthday.  It seems that the previous year, this fellow had attended his first AA meeting and was clearly desperate to get sober.  A number of the men at the meeting where he happened to show up were regular attendees at this retreat.  They took up a special collection, got him some clean clothes and a bath, and had brought him out to Manresa on his second day sober.  Over the serving line was an abstract painting of the Last Supper.  It was done in powerful sweeping shapes in vivid and brilliant colors.  The fellow, now sober for a year, explained that when he entered the room the first time, he saw that painting and thought he was experiencing hallucinations related to delirium tremens (DTs), an experience that he had been very familiar with.  His story brought the house down with laughter.

As I recall, we were given a schedule of AA mini-meetings, periods of prayer and meditation, and opportunities for one-on-one meetings if we wanted them.  I specifically recall periods of reflection walking through the exquisitely kept Manresa gardens.

I met Father Terry, more properly Father Father Terrance L. Mahan, head of the Manresa Retreat House. He was perfect for the job, deeply spiritual, but with an outgoing, warm personality.  I found a quote from Father Terry in a Los Angeles Times article on religious retreat houses in southern California done in the 1970s.  “It’s more and more true today that people live a mad life,” he said.  “To spend a weekend where you do not have telephones or people pressing you for one thing or another allows you to give to yourself and reflect upon your higher power, your God, whatever you might believe in.
“It can have a great deal of meaning.”

I met a gentleman named Mike at Manresa who had been sober for several years.  He had also served time in prison for murder.  I asked him to hear my fifth step and he accepted.  It was a transformative experience.  There's something very liberating about putting the past behind us and moving forward.  I still had many steps ahead:

Step 6 - Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

Step 7 - Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

Step 8 - Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

Step 9 - Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

Ah, yes, those amends.  I had those to still look forward to.

I recall that on Sunday morning, as we gathered for breakfast, the priest who was leading the retreat rose and asked for our attention. "The Catholic Church is kind of funny in its attitude about Holy Communion.  Even though Jesus was really inclusive in His ministry, the Church only wants Catholics to receive Communion in the church.  As far as I'm concerned, if any of you plan to attend my Mass at 9:00 AM in the chapel, you're all honorary Catholics.  I won't be checking IDs."  His remarks really captured the spirit of fellowship that prevailed that weekend.

I shall long remember Manresa the place and Manresa the experience.

Even today, when I reflect on those who have contributed to my sobriety, I think about Frank and my many other sponsors, people like Mike and the other folks I've met in AA, and the clergy, recovering and otherwise, who have helped make the spiritual journey so uplifting,

An Encounter with the Jesuits... Circa 1969

I returned to school in 1967 to earn an engineering degree at the University of Oklahoma.  Fortunately, I found a good-paying job in the Office of Financial Aids that gave me great flexibility in the hours that I could work.  To avoid conflicts with my classes, I worked almost every Saturday (the office was open from 8:00 AM to Noon).

The financial aids department was on the second floor of the old Carnegie Building between the Evans Hall, the Administration Building and Monnet Hall, which served as the Law School building.  It faced the North Oval, more officially, the Parrington Oval.  Our offices were across an open reception area from the university's counseling services department.  On one wall of this open area was a book rack filled with brochures from many different professional organizations, other colleges and universities, and recruiting organizations.

One Saturday, probably in the Spring of 1969, I arrived at work early and happened to notice a brochure in that book rack that was to shape my life for several months.  It was a recruitment brochure published by the Missouri Province of the Society of Jesus (The Jesuits), an order of Roman Catholic Priests who were known for their educational and missionary achievements.  I had known a couple of individuals who had entered the Jesuit order and I had the highest regard for them.  One was a Father James Kelly from my home town, who never missed an opportunity to visit my grandmother when he visited his family in Schenectady.  I have no clue what the connection was, but I vividly remember "Father James" coming to our home.  I was always entranced by his tales of missionary work in Central and South America among indigenous people.

I picked up the brochure and took it to my office.  It was still early and there were no clients.  I read through the brochure and was very impressed.  Some of the work that the St. Louis Province was engaged in interested me.  I had thought seriously of the priesthood when I was younger (Doesn't every Catholic boy?).  I had recently experienced a fairly robust re-energizing of my Catholic faith by my involvement with a unique interfaith experiment called the "Community of John XXIII."  So without too much hesitation, I sent in a post card attached to the brochure expressing interest in talking to their "recruiter," a young priest named Joseph Damhorst (I think they referred to him as a Director of Vocations or some such title).

A couple of weeks later, I was in my apartment on a Saturday afternoon when someone knocked on my front door.  I answered it to be greeted by a very tall individual who introduced himself, "Hi, I'm Big Joe Damhorst.  Some folks call me Damn Big Joehorst..  I'm with the Jesuits at Rockhurst College.  I'm here because I was in Oklahoma City on business and had recently gotten a postcard from you.  You are Bob Mead I hope."  I invited Joe in and offered him a drink and a seat.

Father Joe Damhorst and I had a wonderful conversation over the next several hours about life and vocations in general, the Catholic priesthood as a calling, and even more specifically a life of service to God as a Jesuit.  Our conversation was long ranging and very personal.  I recall his describing the challenge of ensuring that the young men entering the Jesuit seminary were mature enough to make an informed decision with such profound meaning in their lives.  They were not looking for high school graduates with zero life experience.  I was an unusual respondent to their publicity brochure because I was older, already a college graduate, a military veteran, and still single at 29 years of age.

By the time Joe left, I had decided to look further into this special life of service, I had some reading to do, some time of prayer, and I agreed to go to Rockhurst College in the coming weeks to spend a few weekends at the Jesuit residence, and make some individually-directed spiritual retreats under the guidance of Joe Damhorst.

A few weeks later, I took a Friday off and left Thursday afternoon for Kansas City.  I think I slept in my car somewhere enroute.  I arrived Friday afternoon having found the Jesuit house using paper maps (remember those?).  One interesting memory I have of that first weekend was that one of the priests had lost his father the day that I arrived.  The Jesuit community, I would estimate about twenty priests, had a memorial Mass in their modest chapel, after which they ordered pizza and beer to celebrate the man's life.  I recall the contagious joy of celebrating a Christian life well lived and the knowledge that this good man was now in the presence of his creator.  One interesting memory: I met a retired Jesuit priest named Thomas Bowdern that weekend who was the former President of Creighton University.  He was an activist for racial equality and women’s rights in the 1960s.  I learned that his brother, William Bowdern, was also a Jesuit, and was the priest who had performed an exorcism in 1949 on which was based the movie, "The Exorcist."  Needless to say, it was a memorable weekend, filled with new friendships, great fellowship, and spiritual growth.  I had much to think about on the drive back to Norman, Oklahoma.

I spent a lot of time during that weekend and several subsequent weekends in prayer and meditation and long conversations with Father Joe trying to discern whether I truly was being called by God to this life.

On one weekend, I traveled to Columbia, Missouri, where another Jesuit colleague was serving as both a faculty member in the department of Electrical Engineering and as the Catholic Chaplain at the University of Missouri.  I had asked Joe what might my career path as a Jesuit and an engineer look like.  He responded by suggesting I spend a weekend with this other engineer who had been ordained a few years earlier and then gone on to get doctorates in both theology and electrical engineering.

I made a number of retreats, met a large group of exceptional priests, developed a deep respect for the Jesuit order in general and their procedure for vetting potential seminary candidates.  I learned that the Jesuit way of life involved a dedication to six fundamental values, six values that are known as the principles of the Jesuits:

• Magis, meaning “more.” This is the challenge to strive for excellence.
• Women & men for and with others: Sharing gifts, pursuing justice, and having concern for the poor and marginalized.
• Cura Personalis: “Care for the individual person.” Respecting each person as a child of God and all of God’s creations.
• Unity of Heart, Mind, & Soul: Developing the whole person and integrating all aspects of one's life.
• Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam: All effort must be for the Greater Glory of God
• Forming & Educating Agents of Change: Teaching behaviors that reflect critical thought and responsible action on moral and ethical issues.

Father Joe Damhorst,
living today in Denver

 Ultimately, I concluded that this was not the life that God had in store for me, but Joe Damhorst and I corresponded for quite some time after I had reached that conclusion.  I felt then and still feel that my time with Joe and his fellow Jesuits was an important part of my spiritual journey.

Many years later, when I sought a place in which to get married, it was more than a coincidence that the priest who married Margo Burge and Robert Mead, Father Jeff Burton, was a Jesuit.  I have the utmost respect for this uniquely dedicated society of individuals who have devoted their lives to missionary work and education.

By the way, I have recently learned that Father Joe is still living and resides in the Denver area.  You can rest assured that he will be made aware of this post.

Mike Leding...

Mike Leding, on right, with Yours Truly, on left,
in a church-sponsored musical, ca. 1954

I grew up in a neighborhood full of kids.  The Mead children started out their educations at St. John the Evangelist Catholic School.  Most of the kids we knew at school lived within a radius of a few blocks.  We knew them and their families well through church and school activities.  But we also knew other kids who lived in our neighborhood -- Jimmy and Ruth Ann Livingston, the Goble boys (Rob, Louis, Johnathan), Sandy Carr, the Albert kids, the McCones, Carol Pray, Mo Lynch and so many others.  There was never a shortage of kids for a game of hide-and-go-seek or stick ball on a Summer evening.  Remember, this is about a pre-Television, un-air-conditioned time.  Kids played outside and parents sat on porches to enjoy an evening breeze.

But one young man was closer than the others - more like a brother or cousin than just a neighbor.  That was Mike Leding.  Not surprisingly, we still stay in touch.

The Leding House at 1047 Gillespie St.

Mike lived at 1047 Gillespie Street, only a stone's throw away from the Mead household on the corner of Union and Gillespie Streets.  Michael lived with his mother, Rosemary, and his Grandmother, Rose Cummings, whose husband Richard, a machinist at General Electric, had passed away in the mid-1930s. It was a house that had been occupied by his family for at least four generations.  The 1910 census shows his great-grandmother, Margaret Cummings, a 69-year old widow, as the head of the household.  Her son, Richard and Mike's grandmother, Rose are living there with their infant son.  Mike's mother would be born to this same household in 1914. Mike's family lived in the downstairs "flat" of a two-story, two-family dwelling.  Upstairs lived Mr. and Mrs. Sauter, as far back as I can remember.  Gillespie street was lined with this type of upstairs/downstairs kind of two-family homes.

Mike's father had also tragically passed away when Mike was an infant.  Mike was just about a year younger than me, but we grew up as "buddies."  We entered school at the same time, so we were classmates at St. John's until 7th grade, at which time my parents chose to put me into the public school system.  We were altar boys together, and in choir together, and in Boy Scouts together, and in school musicals together -- the list goes on.

My grandmother, Eva Ann Neddo McLaughlin, lived with us from the time I was about 3 years old when my grandfather William McLaughlin died.  She and Rose Cummings, Mike's grandmother, were very close friends.  At a time when many Roman Catholics attended daily Mass, Rose and Eva could often be found trekking together down Union Street at 6:45 AM on their way to 7:00 Mass.  They remained close friends, spiritually and socially, until Rose Cummings passed away in 1952, shortly before Christmas.  Mike was home with his grandmother at the time of her death.  That had to be a major "growing up" experience.

Mike's mother was a charming, attractive, and very sociable individual.  And there is no doubt she was a very capable lady as well.  She kept the Leding household intact while working full-time for the General Electric Company.  For many years, she served as the Administrative Assistant to Dr. C. Guy Suits, the Director of the General Electric Research Laboratory.  Rosemary Leding was near the top of the GE food chain.

Because Mike had lost his dad, I think my father felt an obligation to try in some way to fill the void that resulted.  We included Mike Leding in our vacation plans, for example, and when the Meads went to Lake George each August, we made sure that Mike was included as a guest for at least a week.  I believe my dad had a very warm spot in his heart with regard to Michael John Leding.

As we grew older our lives somewhat drifted apart.  I followed the public school system through junior high and high school.  Mike remained in the parochial system, eventually graduating from the highly-regarded Vincentian Institute High School in Albany, where he was trained by the Brothers of the Holy Cross.

While I moved on to the University of Rochester, Mike attended the College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, MA, where he majored in accounting.  We'd see each other when we'd get home for holidays, especially at church, but we had developed different sets of friends while in high school, so our socializing was fairly limited during our college years.

After graduating from Rochester, I had a date with Uncle Sam to pay back my four-year obligation as a commissioned naval officer.  One day, while I was home from school for a weekend with my parents, I received a phone call from Mike wanting to discuss the issue of military service.  Viet Nam was heating up, we all faced the universal draft, and he was looking at his options, one of which was to pursue a Navy commission through the Officer Candidate School (OCS) program.

I shared with Mike that he'd be a perfect candidate for the Navy's Supply Corps with his accounting and business background.  As it turned out, Mike applied for and was accepted to Navy OCS.  Coincidentally, I was to report aboard my first ship, the USS Hugh Purvis, a destroyer undergoing a shipyard overhaul in Boston, at the same time Mike was to report to OCS in Newport, Rhode Island.  My parents drove us to Boston where we stayed overnight with Michael's cousin, Loyola Hogan, who was a nurse serving in a Boston hospital and who lived in a brownstone on Beacon Hill.  In one evening we learned that it would be in our best interests and that of the Navy if we were never again together on shore leave. My head throbs just thinking about it.

Mike went on to excel in Navy Supply School in Athens, GA.  And then, he became the Paymaster on the USS Springfield (CLG-7).  He suffered through a 3-year assignment on the French Riviera.  War is Hell!

One very beautiful result of Mike's assignment in Europe was that when he completed his obligated service as a supply officer, he flew his mother to Europe, whereupon they had a two week excursion around the continent.  I'm sure Mike has a million stories from that memorable expedition.  After his Navy tour was over, Mike returned to school, earning an MBA from Columbia's Business School.

Mike has lived in Tampa for many, many years.  Most years when I can remember, I call him to wish him a happy birthday and we get caught up on family news.  This year, when called, Mike mentioned a couple of interesting items.  The first was that Dr. Anthony Fauci, long time Director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, is a classmate of Mike's from his Holy Cross years.  Small world.  The other subject that Mike brought up was his father, whom he never got to know.

I've wondered about Mike's dad since I was a little kid.  My parents said that he was a wonderful man, extremely bright, and on a "fast-track" career path at the General Electric Company.  Sadly, he was diagnosed with leukemia and died in 1942.  Michael was 18 months old when he lost his father.  I learned during this year's birthday call that Michael had donated some of his dad's papers, found among his mother's belongings, to the University of Notre Dame archives.  One of the items was the typewritten valedictory address his father had delivered as Valedictorian of Notre Dame's class of 1933.  I was elated to find out that his dad was so accomplished.  But I also learned that he had graduated with a 96.5 average in electrical engineering.  And, Oh, by the way, played varsity football, earning a position as Left Tackle in his junior year.  The 1932 Notre

1932 Notre Dame Varsity Team
Michael J. Leding, Left Tackle

Dame Football Review described him this way, "Michael John Leding is another South Bend boy making good at Notre Dame. And Mike is that rarest of individuals, a student with a 95 per cent average in his studies. Maintaining a scholastic record of this kind and at the same time absorbing the bumps of a tackle assignment on a football team is one of those "believe it or not" feats.

"Leding has another year's eligibility and should he return to join the lists of those contending- for the left tackle post next year, stands a good chance of being one of the leaders. Of course, there will be big Ed Krause, two-year first stringer and all-American, to meet. 

"Mike himself has plenty of heft, is tall, rangy and powerful. He is six feet, two inches tall, weighs 180 pounds and is 2l years old. He is a graduate of Central high in South Bend where he played a lot of baseball, a sport he gave up after coming to Notre Dame. Summers he holds a job as municipal playground director."  

There can be no doubt that my friend's father was an exceptional and well-rounded individual.

Michael has kindly given me permission to publish his father's valedictory address in this blog.  It reveals the mind and spirit of a man who was taken from us way too soon.

-- Valedictory Address, Class of 1933, Notre Dame University --

Michael John Leding

"About 20 years ago each member of this class received admission into that natural society commonly called the human family. Great indeed was the courage of the Mother who bore each one of us. The greatness of her courage was manifested by her willing descent into the valley of the shadow of death in order that we might have life. The greatness of her courage and the courage of the father was manifested by their voluntary acceptance of “the grave obligation to see to the religious and moral education of their child as well as to its physical and civic training, and moreover to the provision for its temporal well-being.” 

"Thus we were placed, as regards education, in the first natural and necessary element in the social environment, the family. In those first days our mothers were, as they are now, indeed the most beautiful creatures in the world, closely resembling God as they tenderly nourished, sustained and warmed us, their children. In the well-ordered and well-disciplined Christian family with instructions from our parents, instructions exemplified by their clear and constant good example, we came upon our first conception of right and wrong. We were brought up in a holy and filial “fear of God the beginning of wisdom.” 

"However, we belong also, to a society not of the mere natural order. Most of us were fortunate enough to become through baptism members of a supernatural society, the Church, which supplied us with a further environment, one associated with the family in a most intimate and harmonious manner. The church, as did our natural Mothers, generated, nurtured, and educated our souls in the Divine life of grace, with her Sacraments and her doctrine. 

"But man is a social being, with obligations Beyond those of the family and those of the Church. Consequently, we had to be trained in the arts and sciences in order that we might take our proper places in civil society. Thus, when we had attained the age of six years or so, it was necessary for our parents to give over a portion of their responsibilities to a social institution, the school. Here the good nuns and kind teachers looked after our many wants and educated us in subjects known from experience to be the most beneficial for us. 

"From the grade school we passed to high school. Not all of us continued with a Catholic education; some of us had to enter city or state schools where the surroundings were not entirely conducive to our spiritual advancement. However, in the home our parents still were able to counteract false doctrines and false ideals as they arose and were thus able to keep us directed towards the Supreme Good, our last end. 

"We were ready for college. Many of us preferred state schools again, but our mothers, ever watchful for our welfare, ever conscious of their divine mission, in many cases for the last time used their rightful authority to insist on our enrollment in a Catholic College. As we now look back, we see as they did, that the place for a Catholic student is in a Catholic school.

"In college we no longer had easy access to our mothers with our cares and troubles. We were placed upon our own responsibility. However, when we entered this University we gained another Mother, our Alma Mater, not so tender, so warm, so indulgent as our natural Mothers, but by the very fact that she is more uncompromising, more disciplinary, she proves that she is just as concerned, just as solicitous, just as anxious for our welfare. Here we came into the full use of our reason. We no longer learned merely by rote, simply for the sake of performing a task required of us. Here our real pursuit of knowledge began. Here we were educated to fit the mold of a true Christian, patterned by our present pontiff, Pope Pius XI, since now we have learned “to think, judge, and act constantly and consistently in accordance with right reason illumined by the supernatural light of the example and teaching of Christ”. Our intellects were “given force steadiness, comprehensiveness, we gained versatility and command over our own powers”. We learned to reach out towards truth, to grasp it and to understand it.

"Here at school, away from the anxieties of the world, we have prepared ourselves for life by performing daily, in the correct manner, the duties, both moral and educational, allotted to us. We need not worry for the future if during our college days we have at all times applied ourselves to the best of our ability to the problems that college life has been presented to us.

"Moral courage has been the great lesson taught us at Notre Dame. At such a school as this men attain the virtue of moral fortitude, which points out the pitfalls of excess and defect, warns against the perils of rashness which thrusts them into danger opposed to reason, and reveals to them the weakness of cowardice which makes men shun dangers to which they can and should expose themselves.

"We shall need courage to uphold the Christian ideals Notre Dame has implanted in us. Notre Dame conscientiously fulfills the motive of the Church which, as Newman says, “does not cherish talent, genius, or knowledge, for their own sake, but for the sake of her children, with a view to their spiritual welfare and religious influence and usefulness, with the object of training them to fill their respective posts in life better, and of making them more intelligent, capable, active members of society.” All Notre Dame asks is that we be true to the ideals she has inculcated in us - - true to God, Country and Notre Dame.

"And so, Notre Dame has alloyed and beaten into shape the pure raw metal furnished her.

"In a short while we shall pass from the status of undergraduates to that of alumni. Four years ago we were anxious to see this day come, but as the end draws near deep-felt emotion, swelling within our hearts, makes us wish we could continue our stay. But time must go on and we must move forward to take our respective places in life. Although we may never again meet many of our school friends in person, our pleasant association with them will often come to our minds and we shall live again in memory happy hours in the classrooms, the joyful sessions in the dormitory, the elevating services in the Church and at the Grotto.

"So, we come to the end of our college career - - to the commencement of life. God prepared us for our parents, our parents prepared us for Notre Dame, Notre Dame has prepared us for life. May we now by our life prepare ourselves for God.

"As we say farewell to our Alma Mater let us pray for courage - - courage of the type shown by our Mothers, courage of the type taught by Notre Dame, or simply – – courage of the type that will enable us to live as true Notre Dame men." 

What a magnificent and inspiring work this is!  And it's made even more remarkable by virtue of the fact that it was written by a man in his early twenties.  Of course, with 20/20 hindsight, we realize that less than 10 years hence, many of the men in that audience would be called to defend their country.  Some would never return.  They would have to call upon every ounce of the courage that Michael John Leding, their Valedictorian, had described on that joyful day of their graduation.

And I might add that the acorn does not fall far from the tree.  Mike Jr., my friend, has many of the same gifts that were evident in his father.  He has always been a hard worker.  When we were young, Michael had a newspaper business selling papers from a table set up in front of St. John the Evangelist church on Sunday mornings.  He was out in the weather, winter or summer, in rain, sleet, or snow, selling those papers.

Mike Leding --
 "Voice of the Spartans"

His life, like that evidenced in his father, has been marked by service to others.  He has for many years been the voice of the University of Tampa Spartans, a commitment that few would take on.  The UT Website informs us that Michael Leding was inducted into the UT Hall of Fame in 2016, describing him this way, “Mike Leding has been a Spartan supporter and directly affiliated with Spartan Athletics since 1984. The long-time donor has been the primary public address announcer for men's basketball since 1987 and for the women's program since 2003, and has also been the voice of the Spartans at baseball, soccer and softball games. He has made financial contributions to both basketball teams and the athletic department since 1984. He was the men's basketball radio color broadcaster during the early seasons of the program's rebirth. His support has also manifested itself in letters to the editor in the local media when he thought their coverage of the success of Spartan athletics was lacking. In the mid-80's, Mike was the University's Vice President of Business and Finance, followed by being its Vice President of Institutional Advancement while also being an adjunct professor in the College of Business for a period of years. He has never apologized for being a "homer" and irreverent on occasion, when the circumstances merited it, to fire up the Spartans while being a p.a. announcer.”

Mike also served his Holy Cross class for many years as their class correspondent, publishing a class newsletter to keep his classmates informed.  Knowing Mike, perhaps a better description would be “informed and entertained.”  He has the gift. 

Mike Leding, I feel privileged to have grown up with you and to have known you all these years.  God bless you and your family, and may we and our friendship endure for many more years.

Famous Cousins Department

Martin Van Buren, Eighth President of the United States

I have been trying to spend at least a few minutes every evening researching my genealogy. I use Ancestry dot com as a tool, but also Wikitree, a New England genealogical site called "American Ancestors," and some other on-line sources. A few nights ago I ran into the name Van Buren in my direct lineage. I decided to run that rabbit trail as far back as possible and got as far as Johan Van Buren Heer Van Grieth, born in 1495 in Buren, Gelderland, Netherlands.
The thought crossed my mind, “I wonder if I have any connection to Martin Van Buren, the eighth President of our republic.”
I Googled Martin’s genealogy and started tracing his lineage backwards to see if it would intersect mine. Voila! Martin Van Buren and I are third cousins, four times removed. His second great-grandfather is my sixth great-grandfather, Martin Cornelisson Van Buren, born in 1637 in Houten, Utrecht, Netherlands. I therefore share some DNA with the man credited with founding the Democratic party. I now refer to President Van Buren as "Cuz."
I started this genealogical pursuit when I was in high school. I noticed the other day that I have over 1,300 individuals identified in my Ancestry file. It never gets old. The quest for further knowledge of my “tree” is still exciting. BTW, with the pandemic going on, my hair looks a lot like my cousin’s.

Astronaut Robert Springer

Astronaut Robert Springer in 1982

In 1982, I was working for the University of Alabama in Huntsville in the Division of Continuing Education (now part of the College of Professional Studies).  My boss, Dr. Gary Workman, and I had been doing some research work for NASA.  Based on the connections we had made, Gary was asked to chair an annual NASA banquet that honored Huntsville's scientific achievements and major contributors to its technical success.  The committee that organized the event had asked NASA to provide a speaker, and they had nominated a newly-minted astronaut, U.S. Marine Corps Lieutenant Colonel Robert C. Springer.  He would be flying in from Houston to address a gathering of several hundred attendees at the Von Braun Center.

On the night of the banquet, Gary called me just as Margo and I were about to leave the house and advised me that I was probably going to provide the shuttle service to pick up the speaker at the airport (I think Gary was subtly suggesting that I vacuum up any stray dog hair in our car!).  It seems that Colonel Springer's plane from Houston to Memphis had run so late that he had missed his connection to Huntsville.  He was now scheduled on a later flight that would arrive in Huntsville after the banquet had started but probably still in time to deliver his address about NASA's long term plans for the Space Shuttle and beyond.

The hour for the banquet to begin arrived.  Gary explained the situation to the assembled crowd as the Von Braun catering staff began serving the first course.  Colonel Springer had said he would call Gary to alert him when his flight from Memphis was about to leave.  About midway through the main course, the call came, and Margo and I left for the airport.

We greeted Colonel Springer as he departed his flight and took him immediately to the Civic Center.  Most of the crowd had waited, even though the last coffee had been served about an hour before our arrival.  Robert Springer delivered his prepared address and was very well received.  Then the fun began.

Margo and I had volunteered to take the Colonel to his motel.  But he hadn't eaten since lunchtime.  It's now after midnight.  In Huntsville, Alabama.  In 1982.  We thought hard about where we might get food.  Finally it dawned on us that the Shoney's at the intersection of University and the Memorial Parkway was open all night.  We were relieved to see all the lights on as we pulled into the parking lot.

      Astronaut Springer     
in 1990 

After we had coffee with Colonel Springer while he enjoyed some pancakes, we delivered him to his hotel and thanked him for his dedicated service (He had flown over 500 combat missions in Viet Nam as a Marine Corps fighter pilot.).

A few days after this event, Margo and I received a hand written thank you note along with an autographed official NASA astronaut photo.  We followed Robert Springer's NASA career, until his dream was realized and he flew on the shuttle on STS-29 in 1989, and STS-38 in 1990, after which he retired from both NASA and the Marine Corps.  We felt blessed that our paths had crossed under such unusual circumstances. 

A Unique Elementary School Experience...

Sister James Edward, Sisters of the Holy Names, with friends, around 1950

I attended kindergarten at Elmer Avenue Elementary School in Schenectady.  It was less than a mile from home and I walked there and back every day at the age of four.  It was a different time.  When it was time for me to start elementary school in earnest, there was never any doubt that I would follow my older brother and sister to the school associated with our church, St. John the Evangelist, about which I have written many blog entries. 

At the time I started at St. John's, the school was housed in two rather large Victorian residential buildings.  First though third grades were held in a building that had at one time served as the residence of Mr. Bert Curley, the first organist and choir director of the church, starting in 1905.  It was behind the church, facing Eastern Avenue.  By 1945, the building housed a couple of restrooms, some classrooms, and a room upstairs that could be used by a school nurse.  There was also a closed solarium or sun porch that was used as a lunch room.

The other building was on the east of the church, facing Union Street.  It held fourth through eighth grade classrooms and a solarium that served as the music room.  It also was the residence for the nuns who ran and staffed the school, so it included their kitchen, dining room, and sleeping quarters.  The nuns were of a French-Canadian order, The Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary.

My first grade teacher was a young nun named Rolande Cassidy who had entered the order in 1937.  She had taken the name Sister James Edward (at that time, new sisters took the names of saints whom they particularly admired.)  We always knew her as Sister James.

We've all heard the stories of nuns who are threatening disciplinarians.  My experience with the nuns who taught me through sixth grade certainly doesn't support that myth.  Starting with Sister James Edward and subsequently Sister Alice, Frances Ovila, and others, my perception was of a group of selfless, kindly, loving and devoted women in service to their God and church.  There were of course moments when I deserved and received discipline at the hands of the good sisters, but I have no recollection of anything damaging to my psyche.  These were wonderful years, taking place immediately after the end of World War II.

There were disadvantages to attending a small parochial school at that time.  We had no formal physical education program because we had no gymnasium (the "new" school, built in the 1950s that replaced the old buildings included a gymnasium).  And there was no formal science education as there were no lab or science classroom facilities.

On the other hand, we were thoroughly versed in the written and spoken word and certainly in the tenets of our faith.  We wrote essays or "papers" starting in the third grade.  We were expected to use proper grammar at all times, and the nuns I knew were not shy about correcting our speech.  We learned cursive writing from the second grade on, with daily writing drills.  And one of my fondest memories was starting each day reciting the Pledge of Allegiance facing the flag with our hands over our hearts, followed by the Lord's Prayer.  It was a simpler time, but those skills have served me well.  I'm still accused of being part of the Grammar Police.

Even though my parents transferred me to a public school starting in seventh grade, I remained close to many of my old St. John's classmates.  In 2003, they reached out to me to invite me to a 50th reunion of our elementary school class!  I flew to Albany and rented a car for the appointed weekend.  On Friday night, I joined Mike Leding, Noreen Quinn (Now Noreen Bennett, and others at a pizzeria for an informal Friday night gathering.  There were wonderful recollections among a group of old comrades.

On Saturday evening, we were to have a formal banquet at the old Mohawk Club, now called the Stockade Inn in Schenectady's historic Stockade Area.  The Guest of Honor was to be none other than Sister James, now constrained to a wheelchair and blind, but still living and eager to attend.  I dressed up and arrived at the Inn a few minutes early.  I bumped into Maury Lynch in the lounge.  We had probably not seen each other for 45 years.  Soon we heard a commotion coming from the ballroom and meandered that way.

As we entered the ballroom with its tables arranged beautifully with fresh-cut flowers and elegant place settings, I spotted someone in a wheelchair at the opposite end of the setup.  "Where's that old nun?" I called out, echoing a greeting often used by our old pastor, Father Arnold J. English, when he was being  somewhat mischievous.  Without hesitation, I heard back, "I can't see you, but it's either Michael Leding or Bobby Mead!"  I knew I was in the right place.

We had a fabulous banquet.  Mike acted as Master of Ceremonies, his natural calling.  My favorite line of the night, as Mike was asking Sister James to say a few words, "Sister, you're the only woman in the crowd who doesn't color her hair,"  We basked in a sea of memories and stories and recollections until late in the evening.

It was not long after that wonderful evening that I received the news that Sister James had passed on.  I like to think that God allowed her that last party as a favor to us before He called her home.

Images of St. John's...

I've posted here several times that the church I grew up in was St. John the Evangelist parish in Schenectady, New York.  I recently had the opportunity to scan a photo album that was issued at time of the church's dedication in 1905.  Thanks to my old friend, classmate, and fellow codger, Mike Leding, for loaning me this precious album. Enjoy.  Be patient -- The file may take a while to load.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1k-7DHdnDA2FzPD7Qloh7afSZU6_5Fuje/view?ths=true

Reminder of the Past...

The other day, I opened a medicine cabinet that we seldom use.  I spotted a prescription bottle and picked it up.  It was dated September 3, 1983.  That was the day I was discharged from a 28-day treatment program for alcoholism and drug addiction.  The pills, a few of which are left, are a drug called Anatabuse.  Antabuse is the brand name of the prescription drug disulfiram, which is used to treat chronic alcoholism.

The medicine blocks an enzyme that's involved in metabolizing alcohol.  When Antabuse is combined with alcohol, it may cause symptoms such as:

• Headache
• Nausea or vomiting
• Flushing of the face
• Chest pain
• Weakness
• Anxiety
• Blurred vision
• Confusion
• Sweating
• Difficulty breathing, or choking
• In extreme cases, death

Antabuse isn't a cure for alcoholism, but it may effectively discourage some people from drinking.  As I was approaching the end of my 28-day treatment program, I was terrified that I might compulsively drink again and that the next time would prove fatal for me.  Alcoholics do things like that.  I was willing to do anything that was recommended by the "experts," Dr. Bill Goodson and Dr. Bob Wise.  They recommended two things that this little bottle of pills reminded me of.

Dr. Goodson is a psychiatrist.  He recommended the use of Antabuse.  His theory was that if you knew that drinking while taking the drug might kill you, or at the very least make you so sick you'd wish you were dead, it might just work as a deterrent to compulsive binge drinking.  In my case, he was certainly correct.

Bob Wise, a clinical psychologist with an exceptional understanding of addiction, suggested a legal contract between me and Margo.  If I were to drink alcohol again, in any amount, I would have to move out of the house for thirty days, to be allowed to return only when and if she agreed to it.  A second offense would result in a permanent eviction, only to be ended after an intervention by professionals including a divorce attorney.  I agreed, and we signed a formal contract with witnesses.  This was very serious stuff.  I was desperate to stay sober and clean.

Now, over 36 years later, years of freedom and happiness free of booze, this discovery served as a gentle reminder of my continuing vulnerability.  Thank God for these little nuggets of wisdom that seem to pop up in the most unexpected places.

The Story of Our Lives in the Springtime...

What Goes Around Comes Around...

In 2011, I was part of a group of Camber Corporation employees who went to Texas A&M University’s College Station campus in response to a request by a former Camber client.  This gentleman, a retired Marine Corps Colonel, was working for the Texas A&M System, involved in managing proposals to obtain large Government contracts.  

At the time he contacted Camber, he was involved in responding to a request for proposal (RFP) issued by the Department of Health and Human Services’ Biomedical Advanced Research and Development Agency (BARDA).  It was BARDA’s intent to have one or more Centers for Innovation in Advanced Development and Manufacturing (CIADM) set up by the successful bidder(s) responding to this RFP.  The centers were in direct response to a report published in August 2010 entitled “Report to the President on Reengineering the Influenza Vaccine Production Enterprise to Meet the Challenges of Pandemic Influenza,”  

These centers would involve the construction of large and complex laboratories and production facilities capable of developing and producing massive quantities of a vaccine in response to a deadly influenza pandemic.  (I seem to recall that the goal was 120 million doses of vaccine within six months of the adoption of a specific product).   Can you see why I have been reflecting on this recently?

We assembled in a conference room at an appointed time.  In came the Colonel, neatly dressed in a dark business suit, looking very professional.  “I don’t have much time,” he said.  “I’m trying to get thirty faculty members to respond to seventy questions from the Government.  They want the answers by tomorrow night.  Have you ever herded cats?”  He explained that the reason he had called us to meet with him was that in his prior position, while on active duty, our company, Camber Corporation, had provided exceptional support services that helped him excel in his job performance. He then asked if we could introduce ourselves and describe briefly how we might help him in his proposal-developing effort.  He was in a hurry.  The operative word was “briefly.

”

Unfortunately, some of my colleagues missed the message.  They rambled on about their impressive resumes and broad professional experience.  Some droned on for several minutes. Finally, it was my turn to speak as the last in line. I took less than thirty seconds for my response, ending with, “Colonel, I’d love the opportunity to support you on this proposal.”  He contacted us when we returned to Huntsville.  I was the only one he wanted to hire to come back to College Station.  I’m convinced to this day that my brevity and consideration of his request was the main reason I was called back.

One of the skills I had mentioned in my brief oral portfolio was planning and scheduling large, complex programs.  When I had arrived back in College Station and presented myself to our new client, he made my job clear.  “I need for you to develop a detailed schedule of the way we will execute this job from beginning to end.  I have write-ups from the researchers and the medical experts and the construction firms that are going to build the facilities.  I need you to read all their narratives and put it all together in a cohesive schedule.”  The proposal was due in about three weeks.  I told him I’d give it my best shot.

Soon, I was poring over a pile of inputs from team members.  There were multiple large construction firms that had joined the team.  Part of the job involved constructing a large office complex, a state-of-the-art biological laboratory facility with the highest possible biological safety level as defined by the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) and NIH, and of course, the vaccine production facility, which would look like a moderately-sized factory.  Each of these construction firms had taken a different approach toward their portion of the schedule. Where one went to exquisite detail in describing their approach, another was described in vague, summary detail.  Integrating them would be a challenge.

Regarding the laboratory facility, someone had laid out a precise roadmap that included the sequence with which equipment had to be installed and tested.  I would need to determine the lead time for acquiring much of the laboratory gear in order to illustrate the ordering process in detail that would enable the orderly integration of the lab.  I began to construct the overall framework of an integrated schedule, making dozens of phone calls to clarify how the pieces would come together to create this massive pandemic response complex.

Three weeks later, just in time to be included with the massive proposal, my job was successfully completed.  I presented the proposal team with a schedule of nearly 1,500 tasks, all logically integrated, with data on who was assigned to perform the task, where it would be performed, start and end dates, accounting codes, and references to the Statement of Work sections that had required the task.  By employing the database functions contained in the scheduling software, a user could reorient the display to satisfy many different stakeholders. 

The A&M Team was extremely pleased with the product I contributed to their proposal.  More importantly, they went on to win one of the awards.  Initial funding was around $176 Million, with future growth potential of well over $1B.

Dr. Brett Giroir

I worked on this proposal seven days a week while I was in College Station.  One of the proposal team members with whom I worked (literally side-by-side, as our offices were in adjacent spaces) was Dr, Brett Giroir, who was at that time Vice Chancellor for the Texas A&M University System, and had come to the A&M System having served as Director of DARPA's Defense Science Office from 2004 to 2008.  Just a few days ago. I was watching the Corona Virus Task Force daily briefing when I saw none other than Dr. Giroir step to the podium.  He is now a four-star admiral in the U.S. Public Health Service Commissioned Corps, who currently serves as the Assistant Secretary for Health under the Trump administration.  Among his collateral duties, he concurrently serves as the director of the U.S. coronavirus diagnostic testing.  Talk about a small world!