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~ Wallace's Attempt at Humanities

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Monthly Archives: September 2016

“PATRICK”

17 Saturday Sep 2016

Posted by rteach in BIOGRAPHY

≈ 4 Comments

Thoughts on “Patrick” direct me to tackle, maybe define, an elusive subject: Human FRIENDSHIP. True friendship is valuable and vulnerable at the same time.

To comprehend, or define human connection, this writer is drawn to the gorgeous prose of Eudora Welty. In literary richness, Welty gave “home” a soft description in “Some Notes on River County,” – her travelogue about the Natchez Trace. My substituting “friendship” for “home” works nicely; both can be described as a little fire – that rarely goes out.

Occasionally, It flares up – to smolder for a time; it is fanned or smothered by circumstances…but has been intact forever by the fluttering within it…the result of some ignition. Sometimes it gives out glory, sometimes its little light must be sought out to be seen, small and tender as candle flame, but always as certain. All of this became friendship for me….with “Patrick” – better known as Hugh Kirkpatrick (Pat) Leary.

And then this came on the computer screen: “Raymond. Not certain of the exact next steps but if something can be worked out I would love to see you for a few minutes. Pat… (08/14/16).” Patrick was now in hospice….and totally comfortable at home, thank God.

There it was in all its simplicity…no fear, totally resolute, and a soft, but complete acceptance – a quality in Patrick, I had not necessarily noted earlier. This would be our final meeting and THE LESSON he’d bequeathed to me, and all of his many friends, would be absorbed.

It was probably at Cleiland Donnan’s Richmond Junior Assembly Cotillion where Patrick and I first tripped over each other. He was much better in the cotillion culture than I. Even though he attended Thomas Jefferson High School, he spent his social life in the midst of Collegiate School ladies. My younger sister went to Collegiate in the 7th grade, opening that door for me.

In the Fan District (West Avenue) Patrick always insisted he lived “in town” – not down town. Whether it was 1130 West Ave. or later to 1518, he was kind of old Richmond, West Ave – constantly socializing at the Hub (Stuart Circle Pharmacy). Like my mother, he always said: To-Ma-Toe, and My-O-Nayse instead of To-May-Toe, or Mayonnaise.

Truthfully, our friendship grew in the booths of El Patio where under-age beer drinking blossomed. The “Patio” was out on Midlothian Pike, and held in high esteem by youthful imbibers as a drinking oasis. Later, this exercise took on a larger tradition at the exotic Taxi Stand, Farmville, VA.

After a start ‘n’ stop at VMI (Pat always credited Ned Addison as being there for him); he – a month older, matriculated a year behind me – at Hampden-Sydney College. On fraternity pledge day he led the march to the Kappa Sigma house with Ed Bryant, Jack Osterman, Jack Hamilton, Jim Repass, and Cary Mayo – all Virginians. Beginning later as college roommates, our friendship grew in fundamental ways, leading us to shared social lives for years to come.

Our friendship included vacation jobs together; we were employed at the Hub Fashion Shop, owned by Mosey Greenberg, located on North Broad Street – both at Christmas and Easter times. Catching the bus line to and from work, Pat would head to West Ave while I went to Crestwood Ave. in Henrico County. We became less naïve about Richmond’s minority culture, learning to fit sport coats both for “The Rabbit” and Kirby Carmichael of WANT–AM, Richmond’s minority radio personalities.

Then there were the days of the Odd Couple. By 1962, we decided to share an apartment after college. Landing at the brand new York Court Apartments, our roles were predictable. Pat was Felix (Jack Lemmon) while, alas, Wallace became Oscar (Walter Matthau). Leary was a tyrant about keeping the place clean…always planning the menus for the two of us, keeping liquor in the place, and admonishing me about my messy habits. It was a delightful interlude until Nancy Robertson intervened. Marriage came to Patrick, and I was off to the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences in Charlottesville, VA.

Decades passed – we were neighbors on Kingcrest Parkway….sadly, Patrick would become a widower twice – two devastating journeys. Nancy, classmate friend of my sister, viewed as a generous person, a lovely mother of two daughters. LeAnn, his second wife, brought him new resilience but died with cancer in five years. It wiped all of us out for Patrick.

His 75th birthday (February 19, 2013) was celebratory; Patrick gave himself a birthday dinner party at his favorite Pegasus Restaurant….with his friend, Margaret Johnson, assisting in the plans. Those of us still around, drank and broke bread after many years of separation. It was his final social conquest. Patrick loved parties, bringing people together, and presiding over them – especially the presiding part.

I will not forget “Patrick” in my final years. Those days of The Weavers, Joan Baez, and Edith Piaf are branded forever. Carol Burnett sang it best: I’m so glad we had this time together; Just to have a laugh, or sing a song. Seems we just got started and before you know it, Comes the time we have to say, ‘So long.’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MUGWUMPERY, ANYONE?

11 Sunday Sep 2016

Posted by rteach in SOCIAL HISTORIES, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

That’s right….MUGWUMPS!

Bill Kristol, editor, The Weekly Standard, tweeted:  Always wanted to be a Mugwump (Not that I really knew what one was)…5/9/16.

Kristol could be accused of self-deprecation with his wry observation. The famous editor, an avowed “Never Trump” leader, takes me back to my Mills Godwin H.S. American History classroom – full of students who delighted with the newly-learned term:  Mugwump.

Mugwump was derived from the Algonquian Indian word, mogkiomp (“great man” or “big chief”), first used by Charles A. Dana in the New York Sun. Over a century ago, Mugwumps were Republicans of a more idealistic nature. In the 1884 election, they supported Democratic presidential candidate, Grover Cleveland (D), because they viewed their own candidate, James G. Blaine (R), as corrupt.  It is believed that Mugwumps redefined political parties in the 1880s.

The slogans then were equivalent to those we hear today in the Election of 2016. Donald Trump’s “Crooked Hillary” equaled the Democrats screaming: “Blaine, Blaine, James G. Blain, continental liar from the state of Maine.” Hillary’s “Donald Trump is racist” supports the tradition of Republicans screaming: Ma, Ma, Where’s My Paw? Gone to the White House, Ha, Ha, Ha. It appears today that certain groups of “Republicans” hate Trump’s crude, almost hostile invective…more than Hilliary Clinton’s smooth, refined lying and dishonesty.

In this helliacious storm of the 1884 election, it was widely believed Grover Cleveland fathered a child out of wedlock prior to his run for, and eventual election to the White House. Human behavior appears to struggle with a seamy side in both centuries and political party campaigns. Obviously, in 1884 the nation was not entangled with this massive global economic challenge – not even involved in email, nor tweet-driven dynamics – so both candidates avoided the technological traps that plague our culture today.

In that election of “rum, Romanism, and rebellion” yell, many historians came to believe the Mugwumps actually swung the 1884 election to Grover Cleveland (D) by helping him win New York and its 36 electoral votes. Those Republicans who refused to support James G. Blaine (R), changed sides – the New York Sun labeled them “little Mugwumps”. Often they experienced a difficult time of it. The word, Mugwump, was not especially complimentary as the sense of the term morphed into “turncoat”.

Eventually “Mugwumps” became a bulls eye for critics who saw them as politicians, who, either could not, or would not; make up their mind on some important issues. They appeared unable to take a stand or hold a view when their position demanded that they did so. Lastly, the old joke began to embed the culture not unlike “Kilroy Was Here” in World War II: a Mugwump was a person sitting on the fence, with his mug on one side and his wump on the other. It generated Mugwumpary. As now, sloganeering had a sizeable influence conveying a political dynamic in 1884, and 2016.

In U. S. political slang ‘mugwump’ came to mean any independent voter – later the term was adopted in England. In the 1880s, fresh Mugwumps carried impressive names: a young Theodore Roosevelt, George Curtis, and Henry Cabot Lodge: all to return to the Republican ranks after the defeat of James G. Blaine. Even the highly respected William Dean Howells reservedly supported them in limited fashion.

It is a reminder of what’s rippling now in Donald Trump’s direction with the likes of Mayor Michael Bloomberg, Brent Scowcroft, Ted Cruz, and John Kasich. Theirs’ is deeply personal….but their dispute over issues carries legitimacy. Half have avoided the Hilliary train so far, so their mugwumpery appears slightly detached and sparsely integrated.

The larger point of Mugwump tradition is that certain political times make that bend in the road so torturous for some sensitive loyalists – in both parties, that they simply cannot bring themselves to conform. Democracy does this with impunity and seeming delight.

Mugwumpery is a historic decoupling between factions within the political parties…both struggle with it, and will for years to come. Ah, for the good old days of “Lord Roscoe”. “Stalwarts”, “Half Breeds”, and ”Conklingites”.

 

 

 

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Ray Wallace, Jr.

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