You were my English Composition teacher from the Monastery. Everybody said you were the most conservative priest in all of the orders of the Canons Regular, and that I was the most wayward seminarian in the history of the Catholic Church. Yet, we became great friends, and you were the first to recognize that writing may be among my “more accessible talents”. Thank you, I shall never forget the word “puce,” and losing to you by one point in “The Scrabble Game of the Century.” Rest well with God. I’ll be along soon enough, and there will be a Scrabble rematch in heaven—unless of course you want to have the rematch immediately. In which case, you will have to meet me in purgatory—cause I might be there a while if your prediction is correct. Until then, I will cherish and keep the memory of you and the gratitude of what you taught me forever.