I'll Love You Tomorrow
Page 25
Martha Stewart went to jail for an act less serious…and it is my sense that this little act of “thinking of herself, and not the country” will come back to haunt her as well in any future decision to run for a national office.
But when the history is written in another hundred years, the former President, William Jefferson Clinton (the man who forever clarified that oral sex was not a crime against his marriage vows) will get high marks both as president and for his charitable acts around the world after his two term were over. Hillary will only be remembered as the ‘First Lady’ who stood by her man, purely for political reasons and the liberals of New York rewarded her with a senatorial seat.
Ms. Misiroglu’s book begins with a quote from Herman Melville, so poignant and appropriate to my position on the callus nature of women in the twentieth century:
“We cannot live for ourselves alone. Our lives are connected by a thousand invisible threads, and along these sympathetic fibers, our actions run as causes and return to us as results.”
A very profound statement, running counter to the ‘code of the feminist’ and it is my hope that the annual carnage from abortions in the United States alone, on average of 1.6 million annually will in fact return to haunt those who conceive and those who murder these three month old children.
Ms. Misiroglu showcases Aids as a significant event of the twentieth century, as well as she highlights the elimination of Polio.
Doesn’t it seem odd to you that in a book on this century a full four percent would be allocated to two men whose contribution came in the form of a disease? Two men associated with the automotive industry…another strange thing to celebrate, an industry with a hundred-year history unable to design and build an automobile freeing this nation of its dependency on petroleum and whose place in the world power equation has been usurped by the Asians.
Of course, Gloria Steinem is in the book but they say nothing of her contribution to the outing of the sluts of America, she has other hero status. Not surprising, her race mate in the shaming of women, Hugh Hefner isn’t in the book. The pseudo-intellectual activist look down their collective hairy swatches at these babes ‘choice’ to show their vagina instead of filling them and then permitting the cold scalpel to extricate life from the womb like an oozing, festering bag of puss…so close to pussy!
It is important to note that Roe vs. Wade advocates will celebrate the 33rdanniversary of the Justice Blackmun opinion of January 22, 1973. They certainly are not likely to celebrate what would have been the 33rdbirthday of the 744,600 children who were aborted that year. Nor will they be celebrating the 13,831,900 abortions performed in the decade of 1973-83. According to the Rockford Files, a public record of abortions in the United States there are an estimated 1.3 million abortions annually in the Unites States which would represent an estimated 42.9 million children under the age of three months murdered during this War on Babies.
According to statistics, there have been 265,000 adoptions in the United States since 1973. There were 188 orphanages operated by the Catholic Church as of 1993 without detail on the total number of children.
According to former President William Clinton, a tireless advocate for those with Aids, 2,912,000 people will die annually world-wide from aids, most of them children.
Staggering numbers stacked against those who encourage and vigorously demand ‘Choice’ for women and freedom for gay men and the legacy of aids.
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Sister Penelope’, the beautiful little nun who was always available for her children died alone in Wheeling West Virginia in 1975. She took with her the name of the boy who had his arm around her in the photo she shared with Buddy Quinn, and the story of how her parents had taken her away and placed her in the convent. That action broke her fragile spirit…but she labored through the pain for the children that she would not bare as the ‘Bride of Christ’. Accepting instead, the duty to care for the forgotten children and their undeniable love for her commitment to them, though at times she could be a bit testy.
She was followed in death in 1986, by Monsignor Louis J. Hermann who died while living out retirement in a small apartment across the street from St. Francis Catholic Church and school where he attended daily Mass and watched the children run and play.
The statue of the saint which had graced the lobby at St. Joseph for all those years that Father Hermann was there… the saint, standing with a child in his arms and one at his side, looking stoically to the future, in companionship with the good priest who had arrived in 1939 as the chaplain for the new orphans home opened in 1938.
Sister Mary Como, lovingly cared for by the Carmelite Sisters at their nursing home in Nashville, Tennessee, passed away in 1982. Her small room providing a view of the Catholic cemetery called Calvary which was to be her final resting place not far from the gently sloping hill where Katherine Quinn and her lover M. S. “Ham” Hambrion had been lovingly committed to the soil in a joint grave by her beloved son, Buddy. Katherine never married Hambrion in deference to the laws of the Catholic Church, even though Hambrion did get a divorce after his sons graduated high school. They chose to live together for more than twenty years and died within weeks of each other.
Sister Luke, left the Sisters of Charity in the late sixties, she married John Ziegfeld, the retired man who often drove the bus and visited the good nun in the apartment with her beloved girls she oversaw. Obvious begging the question… who was overseeing the two of them?
Joe Tough was alive and well into the 90’s. He could be found on the grounds of the orphanage until that time. At least once a year, at the annual picnic on the fourth of July… when many of the children, now grown would return to the home for the annual picnic; to play games, to drink beer, to eat wieners and brats, to remember all the kids who had gone through the orphanage and to be grateful that they had lucked into the home. Tough held court along with his best friend Richard Farmer whose own experience at the orphanage came to a disgraceful end when he, Edgar Fellyear, Frankie Murth, and Donald DeMere went on a drunken rampage, after which they all were expelled.
In 1985 with a dwindling need, the 500-acre property was sold to a developer for a reported five million dollars, ten thousand an acre…cheap at twice the price. The developer who would come without notice and bull-doze the beautiful building with everything left in it. None of the memories, salvaged…all of it turned under to reside beneath streets and lots for a place to be called Harrods Creek. A thousand homes, or more recycling the land, making it the happy place for thousands of children to run and play where others too have long since gone. All that is left, aside from many of the big oak, river birch, spruce, maple, and pin oaks and other varieties is the old gym that was newly built in 1955 in honor of the exploits of Bonnie Texel who was rewarded in kind later in life.
The old buildings at St. Mary’s Home for Girls on High Street in Nashville has come down as well, and replaced by a beautiful combined care facility for the elderly, operated by the Sacred Heart Home, it is a not-for-profit facility, where the elderly are accepted as the spaces become available, regardless of class, color, religion or creed.
And his little friend Buddy Quinn closes tonight with a message to all the orphans who ever called St. Joseph/St. Mary Asylum… home…it was, and will always be.
The End
Closing Notice
It is the hope of the author, and the Publishers, Tablo.io Publishing Company that you have enjoyed this book. We are especially hopeful in bringing this fictional story of Charles, ‘Buddy’ Quinn into your lives that you too will recognize God given gifts in each other, which may be used for the benefit of mankind. We hope in making the journey with Buddy, Joe Tough and the other cast of characters that you have recognized the frailties in every human being and that you have intellectually overlooked the more graphic coarseness, language used in everyday life of sexual descriptions… to get to the goodness that resides in all. Remembering if you will the wonderful words of the poet Elect
us Dominus Lenahan, late of County Kildaire, Ireland:
"Is cuma cé chomh beag nó nach bhfuil tábhacht, tá beagnach brónach ar gach duine againn. Tá gach duine uaigneach ag bun agus bíonn séá thuiscint, ach ní féidir linn a thuiscint go hiomlán ar a chéile agus, dá bhrí sin, fanann muid mar chuid is coibhneasta, fiú dóibh siúd a bhfuil grá acu an chuid is mó dúinn. In aois aeroimicic aero, ríomhairí ríomhairithe, géineolaíocht chun cinn ... níl aon rud níos casta ná pearsantacht an duine. Is é an t-aon chuspóir sa saol náábhar; a chomhaireamh; seasamh le haghaidh rud ar leithligh; tuiscint daoine eile a thuiscint agus a thuiscint; agus, go mbeadh sé difríocht ann go bhfuil cónaí orainn ar chor ar bith. "
“No matter how small or insignificant, each of us is a little sad. Everyone is lonely at bottom and cries to be understood, but we can never entirely understand each other and, therefore, we remain part stranger, even to those who love us most. In an age of aero dynamics, computerized robotics, advanced genetics…nothing is more complex than the human personality. The only purpose in life is to matter; to count; to stand for something individually; to understand and appreciate the failures of others; and, to have it make some difference that we have lived at all.”
Electus Dominus Lenahan (1700-1778)
BOOKS BY WELBY THOMAS COX, JR.
A CONFRATERNITY FOR CHANGE
DO THOU
GENESIS…FAREWELL TO REASON
I’LL LOVE YOU TOMORROW
THE BANK DEAL
THE DAY JOHN FITZGERALD KENNEDY PAST
THE MIRACLE OF THE IMAGES
THE OTHER SIDE OF LINCOLN
YET UNTITLED!
FANG SONG…NEVER SO FEW
MEA COFFEE, MEA COFFEE, MEA MAXIMA COFFEE
POOR CHILDREN OF EVE
PORTRAIT...OF MASS MURDER
THE LADIES IN WAITING
APOLOGIES FOR TRESPASSING
THE MOCKINGBIRD REPEATS NO WRONG
VIEW FROM A RIVER COTTAGE
THE MAN LATE FOR FRIDAY
THE WOMEN
A SORDID PROSECUTION
PLAGIARY
AND IN TIME IT MATTERS NO MORE
SOMEWHERE A TREE GROWS
River Cottage Studio, the designers of the art for the cover, offers, to any subscriber, with proof of purchase, an 11 x 14 color copy of the jacket or other art included in this book, suitable for framing. Please send $ 10.00 for each copy includes tax and handling to:
About the Artist/Author/Poet
“It is said that time heals all wounds…I do not believe that…I believe that wounds are covered by scar tissue which mask the damage but never cures.” Rose Kennedy
The books I have written and art I have painted is offered on my website in an attempt to remove the emotional scar tissue gathered over seventy-four years. I agree with the grand old lady, Rose Kennedy. Time does not heal, and the scar tissue never goes away. All we can do is try to keep the emotional scars contained and keep the damage from spreading to those we love through a life of simplicity, honesty and love.
I was born in Louisville, Kentucky in 1942 at the old Marine Hospital in the Portland neighborhood. My mother was quite ill from tuberculosis and was placed in a sanitarium. My father was an alcoholic whom I never knew until his death in 1970. I was raised in the Infants Home until three years of age, at which time I went to St. Thomas Asylum in Anchorage, Kentucky. There I was educated, fed, clothed, taught responsibility, hard work and the love of God and his great charity. Contrary to the liberal media’s knock on the Catholic Church, the Sisters of Charity were devoted to the orphans, and The Reverend Herman J. Lammers was a saint and my first of many angels.
I wasn’t prepared for life outside the orphanage, even though I had the advantage of the loving and guiding hand of my second angel, Father Edwin Fenwick, the procurator at St. Louis Bertrand Catholic Parish in the Limerick neighborhood of Louisville. Father Fenwick loved to laugh and read the Daily Racing Form. He taught me the love of thoroughbreds which became my passion for over forty years as the owner, trainer, and breeder of a string of the most wonderful, giving creatures the good Lord ever created. But my greatest work of life would be the six beautiful children whom I fathered and helped to raise who have collectively made me a grandfather twelve times and a great-grandfather once. All of these wonderful children and grandchildren ease my pain from the loss of my only son in 2007 in the line-of-duty as a police officer at the age of thirty-seven.
After all the responsibility the good Lord saw fit to send my way, my children have given me the greatest joy. Additionally I am devoted to my sister Shirley, my brother Don, my Aunt Polly and all my nieces, nephews and in-laws. Late in life, I discovered my second and third love. I will not say it was a talent but I will say that I have become a prolific writer and artist, I am quick to attribute the discipline necessary to write and paint to the dear Sisters of Charity who kept me under the thumb and behind the plow, making me a better person and ultimately teaching me the virtues of being a minimalist as well as a humanist in my daily life.
Today, I walk a little slower and live life as it comes, knowing full well that an inspiration or call from a family member makes the day go faster and gives rise to the expectations of another call on another day from a child I love who is “just wanting to hear my voice,” just imagine, at the end of the day, sleeping to that thought.
It should also be noted, Welby Thomas Cox, Jr. makes every attempt when the subject matter is acceptable to include one of his grandchildren as co-authors as in the case of this book he has chosen soon to be four year old Major Arthur Teed. The reason for this recognition is the hope that one day it may serve to inspire Major to write his own book and share it with Gramps.
WELBY THOMAS COX, Jr. is the author of more than thirty-three books, plays and two screenplays. He is also a prolific artist, designing, as well as painting all the jacket art for his books and multi-media interest which may be viewed on his website:
https://www.welbythomascoxjrauthor.com
http://gum.co/Dssfb
Jacket design and original art by Welby Thomas Cox, Jr. aka Thomas Welby Cox//River Cottage Studio
Copyright, All rights reserved by Welby Thomas Cox, Jr. December 15, 2015