11:30. We line up our subway riders. Three headcounts later, we lead them into the Met. Security ushers us past the coat check and into a large, carpeted room with felt-covered benches. An attendant instructs them on the Museum rules, then opens a group check-in closet. Row by row, the freshmen deposit their backpacks. “Alright.…

Wednesday, April 5th: NYC SAT day. Vinnie, Johan and I are in the campus cafeteria to chaperon a field trip. Arriving freshmen show Vinnie their permission slips and sign the attendance sheet. Sixty students will visit the Met. Since only a single bus is available, thirty-one of them will travel by subway with the three of us.…

A guest at Viviana’s Christening sang “Mac the Knife.” The song now plays non-stop in my head this morning. That guest’s rendition blends perfectly into Bobby Darin’s classic. Muscles from the base of my skull to the tip of my coccyx bone tighten like a drawn bowstring. Whether the ever-repeating “Mac the Knife” is the…

She lay in bed last night, heartsore. Our recent open house yielded a paltry number of visitors. Another in a neighboring village boasted a double-digit turn-out. She wonders aloud if we’ll ever leave “Dad’s Mausoleum.” I wake stiff and tired. Our kitchen skylight rattles with rain. I feel martyred by a coffee-maker’s failure to automatically…

The Angolan pastor of Our Lady of Fatima R.C. Church in Yonkers, NY calls Suzy and Ralph. They walk down the center aisle of the guilded church to our applause. The God-parents follow, carrying Viviana. The procession is so like a wedding. Even the baby’s batismal  garment, with its bonnet, resembles a wedding dress. We…