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In early August
John flew up to Boston to go to the Conference
of Major Superiors of Men (C.M.S.M.), where he ran into Brother Richard
Critz (SW Provincial), Bro. George Schmitz (EB Provincial), Fr. Willy Raymond
(EP Provincial), Bill Dorwart and Bob Epping (IP Provincial and Asst.
Provincial), and Brother Don Gibbs (MW Asst. Provincial).
John went to dinner by himself
the first night. He got to the hotel before the others. He
wanted to go to dinner at Woodman's Cafe. That cafe is special because
it serves wonderful local seafood: fried clams, steamed clams, steamed
lobsters, clam chowder, fried scallops, etc. It just doesn't get
any better. It is also the place where John's brother (Andy) came
on vacation and called John down in Texas, asking if he would like anything.
Since then John always calls Andy from special restaurants, asking if he would like anything. This torture has become a family tradition.
John was relishing the moment he could call and torture
his brother. Since Woodman's doesn't take credit cards, he stopped
at an ATM money to get cash (to have his card rejected!). He then
drove to Woodman's to get rejected again when there was no parking space,
and he saw the line was out the door and down the street. At least the clams
at another restaurant down the street were also very good, and they take
credit cards, but there was no gloating call to his brother. He called
his mother, only to get the answering machine. Life is not always
a bowl of steamed clams!
There were several Holy Cross people at the
C.M.S.M.:
Bill Dorwart and Bob Epping from Indiana, Don Gibbs from the Midwest Province,
George Schmitz from the Eastern Brothers, Willy Raymond from the Eastern
Priests and Brothers, Richard Critz from the South-West Province.
The CSC's went out to dinner a couple of times.
One of the trips was to Rockport. The idea of a seafood dinner right
on the coast sounded wonderful, so onward drove the wandering provincials
along Route 128. We all finally arrived to Rockport and found a lovely,
simple restaurant that served seafood right on the coast, with a nice view
of the bay. It was wonderful until we went to order a drink and discovered
we had found a DRY town (that is, a town where they do not sell alcohol) on the New England coast.
We explained that we are religious, but not Puritans. It didn't do any
good; we enjoyed our lemonade.
At any rate, most of us ordered lobster. The experienced
lobster-eaters quickly and neatly managed to surgically dissect the poor creatures.
George Schmitz kept on insisting on saving the tail for last. The
semi-experienced tore the lobsters apart and had a delicious, messy dinner.
The inexperienced struggled with their lobsters, sometimes tearing them.
You might say some of the lobsters really spilled their guts out.
After dinner, we all walked around the shops. There
are many little shops that sell art, candy, souvenirs. We also ran
across one young man who was bringing in some lobsters from a cage they
keep in the water. Bob Epping remarked how wonderful it was that
they could catch the lobsters already with the rubber bands on their claws!
We retired back to the hotel, where we had an evening
libation. They served us salsa and tortilla chips, but the salsa
they served would be called "catsup" in Texas.
Since John was leaving the next morning, they all bid
farewell and "hasta la pasta," since their next gathering will be in Rome
at the Council of the Congregation. |
