Sea Story: Latin interpreter (1962)

DSCN0227We had been living in Rome for three years when the brand new Pope, John XXIII, stunned his own cardinals and advisers by announcing that he would convene an Ecumenical Council. No one really understood how historic it would be, on so many levels. Three years later, in October 1962, 1962-Second_Vatican_Council_by_Lothar_Wolleh_007more than 2,000 Bishops and major prelates converged on the Eternal City to answer his call. It was the first time that an Ecumenical Council included outside observers (17 denominations of Eastern Orthodox and Protestants). In my opinion, it was the first true Ecumenical Council since the Council of Trent in 1563, because Vatican Council I only had a minority of bishops (Italians and some French) in attendance by the time that Garibaldi crashed through the Porta Pia on 20 September 1870 and scattered the assembly. Most of the cardinals and bishops were still on their way. (“Ecumenical” means everyone.)

1962-Second_Vatican_Council_by_Lothar_Wolleh_006Rome was crazy with colorful clergy of all types wandering around. The American delegation was struggling. To their great surprise, there were no interpreting services at the Council, because every priest was expected to be fluent in Latin. JTH-Cardinal Spellman 1964This was not a dead language for me and my classmates taking Latin IV at school. We were using it every day, interpreting for delegates or just helping with conversation practice after serving Mass each morning.

JTH-Fulton Sheen 1964Mom and I operated the sauna and steam bath concession in the basement of the Cavalieri Hilton Hotel, which had just opened. As the first five-star, American-style hotel in Rome, the American prelates favored the Cavalieri Hilton, and many came down to our establishment to get over the stress of the day. The joke ran around the hotel, that our cool-down pool was full of holy water from the constant immersion of bishops and cardinals.

JTH altar boy 1964One night as I was closing up, I got a phone call from one of our regular clients, the Auxiliary Bishop of Newburgh, New York. He was a humble man, who did not like being called anything fancier than “Father.”

“Jonathan, could you come up to my room for a while?” he asked. “I have a document that we need help with tonight.” Thanking my lucky stars that I had finished my own homework already that evening, I took the lift up to his suite. He met me with a thick, typewritten manuscript.

“We were just given this today. I think it’s a draft Encyclical [major policy letter from the Pope]. The American delegation has a meeting right after breakfast to prepare our national response to it. But none of us can read it, especially something that thick in one night.”

“I can’t type or write that fast, Father,” I said, hefting the volume in my hands. He sat down at his coffee table, and pulled a large yellow pad of paper towards himself.

“I was wondering if you could read it to me – in English. I will take notes. I am hoping that will give us enough information to put something together in the morning.”

He was asking for a “sight translation,” something that court interpreters often do. Sight translation from Latin? Why not? I opened the manuscript and began to interpret, “Pacem in Terris…” Peace on Earth…

Today, I think that the first crack in the Berlin Wall appeared as I read, walking a circle into the carpet of his room. On Maundy Thursday, 11 April 1963, Pacem in Terris hit the world media, and the Cold War began to come to an end. It was the first encyclical not written to Catholics, but to all people. In it, Pope John blasted both sides of the Cold War, and told them to get on with taking care of their people and start working on nuclear disarmament and non-proliferation.

For more on both the Encyclical and the Council, check out https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pacem_in_terris and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Vatican_Council

========

Trip update: Last weekend for Palm Sunday, I tested going to church on Sunday in Rome. Every time that I have shown up at Saint Paul’s within the Walls (http://www.stpaulsrome.it/), they have welcomed me warmly. Stefano Vasselli, the Music Director, even let me sing in the Choir.IMG_20160321_184605

From 1961-1965, I was a member of the International Teen Club, which met in the basement of the church for weekend dances. I was also the DJ and at the end, Vice-President of the Club. The church has since put the space to better use as the Joel Nafuma Refugee Center (http://jnrc.it/), but the Teen Club years lived on in corporate memory. The first Sunday that I showed up last autumn, I felt a little embarrassed by the fame that still attached to my role in the Club.

IMG_20160321_185701Making rehearsal at 0930 meant catching the 0822 train to Rome’s Termini station and a brisk walk. We rehearsed a wonderful collection of special music for Holy Week, so I decided to come back for Tenebrae on Wednesday and stay for the Triduum. I was back in Formia in mid-afternoon. I repeated the commuting act the next day, because the sport coat and slacks that Nando Marcucci was making from the fabrics that Cheryl and I bought this summer were ready for a first fitting. After the fitting, DSCN0311I went back to the Church for the regular Monday rehearsal of the Mozart Requiem, which a local chorus that Stefano directs would perform after Tenebrae on Wednesday. I had sung the Requiem twice before, so Stefano said that I could join them. I was back in Formia by 2330. Tuesday I rode to the Naval Support Detachment laundromat in Gaeta, and worked using their WiFi while the clothes tumbled around. IMG_20160324_142842Wednesday I rode by the ATM in Gaeta, then caught the afternoon train to Rome, with my bicycle. Tenebrae was a moving service, with music by Tallis (Lamentations of Jeremiah). The Requiem performed to a full church, and it went very well. We sang Mozart’s Ave Verum Corpus as an encore. On Thursday, I rode the entire length of the bike path along the Tiber before going to the Church, a 70-km day. The Triduum Liturgy (a single service in three days) began that night with music by Gabrieli, Blow, and Duruflé. It will conclude tonight with the Great Vigil of Easter. Saint Paul’s is a beautiful church. Like Saint Paul’s in Charlottesville, it has great acoustics, and provides a moving environment for special events that include music and ritual.

Next week, I will outline the Intercontinental 2016 tour. I am always looking for new topics to include in the blog. Do you have any questions or suggestions?

Smooth roads and tailwinds.

Jonathan

Sea story: Zulu-Five-Oscar — busted! (1971)

1969 graduationThe Cold War had raged for about 20 years when I threw my hat into the air, collected my commission as an ensign in the U.S. Navy, and later that summer reported for duty on board USS Lawrence (DDG-4), a guided missile destroyer homeported in Norfolk, Virginia. You have read some sea stories from that ship, and there are more to tell. But this week the subject is the Cold War, fleet security, and my very distant connection to that legendary commander of the US Sixth Fleet (COMSIXTHFLT), then-Vice Admiral Isaac C. Kidd, Jr. Continue reading

Sea story: my first musical audition (1965)

2014-05-10 15.11.19

Plebe year: endless disappointments

I was a weird kid. I knew what I wanted to do when I grew up – always. Be a Naval Officer. And to do that I knew that I wanted to go to the Naval Academy in Annapolis. One of my persistent daydreams as a boy and a teenager was to march in the Drum & Bugle Corps. When I started Plebe Summer in June of 1965, that was the first activity that I checked into – and my first of many disappointments. The midshipmen in the D&B Corps all were accomplished musicians, usually first chair in their high school band or orchestra with at least four years of top-level playing. I was not even eligible to apply.

Cramming for another trivia test

Cramming for another trivia test

But I liked music, and I noticed an announcement on the Chapel bulletin board about auditioning for the three Choirs (two Protestant and one Catholic). Chief Musician Joseph McCuen, USN, the organist at the Naval Academy Chapel, directed the Catholic Choir. He also directed the Naval Academy Glee Club. Slim, short and almost always smiling, the silver-haired musician made an announcement about auditions at our first Sunday in Chapel. I genuinely liked church, and I like participating by more than sitting in the pews. I wrestled with my pessimism about auditioning after the D&B Corps experience, but my roommates encouraged me to try for it. The delay put me at the very end of a line that stretched out into the street. The odds looked terrible, I thought. It wasn’t that big a choir. At least while we were standing in that line, no upperclassmen would harass us, so I stayed.

Chief McCuen was sitting at the upright piano in his office. He motioned to the chair at the end of the piano, then asked me why I wanted to be in the Choir and about my musical background. My answers took less time than the questions, though today I cannot remember what I said. He pulled an Armed Forces Hymnal from the pile on top of the piano and opened it to a hymn near the middle.

“I’ll give you the first note, then you sing the bass line,” he said, tapping his finger on the lowest line of notes.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t sir me. I’m a Chief. You’re an officer.” He hit the note. I noticed that all the lowest notes were on the same line and that they were all round circles. Nothing sticking out of them.

Eternal Father, strong to save…” I sang in the steadiest monotone I could muster, careful to make each note the same length. He stopped after one line.

USNA Catholic Choir, 1965

Catholic Choir, 1965

“That’s good.” He said, closing the cover on the keyboard. “You’re a second tenor. Rehearsal is at 2000 in the Choir Loft. White Works uniform.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Don’t sir me. Everyone in my choir calls me Joe.” He smiled and shook my hand. “It’s going to be the only four hours of sanity you get every week for a year. Welcome aboard.”

Back in Bancroft Hall, my roommates were elated. I did not understand why they were so pleased for me.

“JT, you’re such a dummy sometimes,” said Larry, who was in the Drum & Bugle Corps. “You have just gotten out of all Sunday morning formations and marching to Chapel forever!”

Sixth Feet Music Show -- 7 years after that first audition

Sixth Feet Music Show — 7 years after that first audition

“Why?”

“Because the Choirs have to muster a half-hour before the services to warm up. Didn’t you realize that’s why there were so many guys lined up to audition?”

Thus began fifty years of singing in Choirs, Music Shows and Choral Societies. Joe asked me to join the Naval Academy Glee Club at the end of Plebe Summer, and I have been studying music and singing ever since.

==================

IMG_20150930_145138Trip update: I had an appointment at the US Naval Hospital Naples (which is near Aversa actually) at 0830 on Wednesday of this week, so last weekend, I decided to make a week-long trip of it. On Monday I rode to Pescara, and spent the night, so I could take a faster train to Aversa on Tuesday. Most trains up and down the Adriatic Coast don’t stop in Fossacesia; the ones that do stop everywhere. I got to Aversa in two hours less time than ever before.

After the hospital appointment (every was OK, all part of my checking into the system), I rode to the train station at Aversa and went to Formia to choose an apartment. IMG_20151020_150526One of the two finalists rented before I got there, so yesterday, I signed a contract for a two-room, ground-floor flat in the historic center of Formia. Not much if you want a permanent home, but quaint, with easy access for my bicycle. It will be a perfect base of operations for my wanderings around Europe. Today, I am on my way back to Rome and Pescara. Then back to Piane d’Archi both to pack up and say goodbye, and to plan my travels this spring. It should take a couple of weeks to touch all the bases (while the Formia landlord finishes having the new flat painted, and the utilities turned on).

==============

Until next week,

Smooth roads and tailwinds,

Jonathan

Sea story: Riding on rims (1975)

When USS WH Standley (CG-32) moored at Naval Base Charleston, South Carolina, in the summer of 1975, there was a different thread of excitement running through the crew, in addition to the usual thrill of being back in homeport. We had received a challenge from the other Belknap-class cruiser in town to a “cruiser Olympics.” It was rare enough for both ships to be home at the same time, so some sort of celebration was in order. Continue reading

Sea story: Acapulco and (almost) back: my first car (1969)

1969 graduation9th co wr-0001We heaved our caps into the air, and hugged our girl friends when they pinned our new Ensign shoulder boards on our white uniforms. Four years at the US Naval Academy were over, and that very day we began spreading out to our future lives. Continue reading

Sea story: Who, him? He’s NATO. (1986)

Springtime. In North America, the trees sprout that lighter green that Carol calls her favourite colour in nature. In Italy, it has stopped raining for weeks on end, and the sun kisses the terracotta and tufa gently, not hinting of the burning heat that lies ahead in the summer. In England, the grass is greener than ever, and the days are cool and sunny. Continue reading

Sea story: Preparing for the Climate Ride (2012)

South Padre Island, Texas, 30 March 2012.*

It was almost midnight. I was all settled in to my hotel room, but restless from sitting in the car all day. An hour later I was following the pencil beam of my headlight straight into the darkness. Swinging the beam to the east, I saw twenty-foot high dunes. Only one car passed me on Park Road 100. Six km after the lights of town ended, I began to wonder how long my light would last. Continue reading

Sea story: S.Y. Carlina: four months before the mast (1963)

“I got it!” Charley Attard shouted in my ear. I could hardly hear him over the storm. “You get some sleep.”

I felt the helm stiffen as he gripped the wheel, and I let go. I stepped back in the dark cabin as Charley swung into my place. Grabbing a hand rail, I let myself down as the deck pitched. Another green wave smashed into the windows, and for a second there was silence until the water ran off the coach roof and over the side. Then the howling wind took over. Continue reading

Sea story: Showing the Flag in Alexandria (1974)

“On the bridge! This is Lieutenant Hine, Lieutenant Handel has the Deck!”

“This is Lieutenant Handel. I have the Deck.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” the seven men on the bridge watch shouted.

I headed down the starboard side toward the signal bridge. The sky was brilliant with stars, but no moon. We were cutting through the smooth, dark waters of the Eastern Mediterranean at an easy 20 knots, heading East-Southeast.

I felt a mixture of excitement, elation, and exhaustion as I headed for the door leading to my stateroom, eight decks below. Tomorrow, we would be arriving in Alexandria, Egypt, for the first official visit by an American warship since 1958. Sixteen years is a long time in Mideast politics, and a lot was hanging on this visit.  Continue reading

Sea story: How Did I Get Here? My first professional translation (1962)

My mother was always impulsive and eager to please. She also was fascinated by the Roman story of Cornelia, and loved to show off her “two jewels,” as she called my brother and me. I think she went overboard during my 15th summer, but I have been ever grateful that she did. Continue reading