"Mr. M. is the Wisest Man I Have Ever Met"

The writer of this article, which appeared in the online magazine of Loyola University in Chicago, is referring to her high school math teacher. Her high school math teacher is our nephew and godson Patrick.

There are many adjectives I could add to describe Patrick, but I just want to say that kind and generous would be at the top. It is his rather unusual use of one of his math classes that is my subject here. On a visit to our house a couple of years ago he told the story of one of his students who wrote a letter to her grandmother which delighted her. She died soon after.  When I read Lauren's article I knew I had to accelerate my rate of writing letters. I can hear the clock ticking away for some of my contemporaries. I was actually a very good letter writer not so long ago. I knew my sister-in-law loved letters and would have given anything to receive more from her children.  So I tried to fill the gap. In her case it was pen and paper letters, because she wanted nothing to do with computers. After her death the snail mail letters were fewer. I see nothing wrong with e-mails (as long as they are long and substantive.) I have twenty one grandchildren who need to hear more from me—and I hope it spurs them to reply.

So I decided that Lent was a good time to get back to letter writing.  I wanted to concentrate on paper letters, composed on the computer since my handwriting has become so bad, with a few photos to illustrate family activities. Surely one letter a day was doable. Lent started last Wednesday and to date I have not written a single letter. I have to complete my letters in the morning: one day we had lunch with some good friends (which was wonderful) but I came home and had to take my nap, two days were eaten up with ill effects from my nasty medication. I have to do better and I must not let the enthusiasm I regained from Lauren's article on Patrick get away.

In a wonderful example of synchronicity after I read the Loyola article which I found on Facebook, I came downstairs and found in our mailbox a letter from Patrick.