Tom sent a note indicating that, while the Reubens and Matisses and Picassos are out on the walls of the Met and available for viewing by the hot polloi, Tom’s own work is available for viewing by special arrangement.
Dear Friends: I have a landscape in the Employee Art show. It’s up until Sunday, November 10th. (See image below.) Unfortunately, it’s not open to the public. You need an employee to get you in. So if you’re going to the museum, let me know and I’ll see if I’m going to be there at the same time. It’s the Greek galleries where Play It Loud, the guitar show, was.
Tom – Thanks. Your acknowledgment that we non-Chicago Metro alums can be forgiven if we feel like the ND equivalent of fly-over country in the Class Notes is most welcome. A few years ago I dragooned Tom Weyer into getting me a mention in the Class Notes which you generously fulfilled, though not without a cheeky aside that was both warranted and clever. After graduation, like a lot of us, I spent nearly 3 years in the service of our country as a US Army Officer, something I was privileged to do. One day, I saw a guy in the Officer’s Club in Korea whom I recognized but did not know from ND. I spoke to him—he was getting assigned elsewhere—but haven’t seen him since, though he lives fewer than ten miles from me. Perhaps I’ll reach out to him now that it’s on my mind. Mike Basquill. The Notre Dame Club of Philadelphia of which I was an active member in the ‘70s and ‘80s has undergone a hostile takeover by Gen X sansculottes and I’m no longer a Philadelphia resident and, to be fair, seldom awake when its confabs take place. So there’s that. I did go to the Fiftieth Class Reunion, which see, the only Reunion that I ever attended and was pleasantly surprised at how welcoming our classmates were. I had met Tom Weyer and Fred Fertig at the ND-Temple Game the previous September. Those two are a class treasure. I had a great time and met classmates I had never managed to meet when I was a student and a few that I had. The effulgent John O’Connor bought me a drink. In 1998, my wife and I went to Annapolis to celebrate our wedding anniversary and my birthday—I got married on my 34th birthday. The Naval Academy Class of ’68 was celebrating its 30th Anniversary and it was headquartered at our hotel. My wife alerted me to this and, pointing to a man who was about my age, said “That guy looks like he was in that class.” I approached the man and asked “Are you a member of the Class of 1968?” He said that he was. I told that I was, also but “not here, Notre Dame.” The entire weekend the Navy Class of ’68 welcomed me like I was one of them because of the ND-Navy relationship. It was very touching and I will never forget it. That weekend I also ran into a couple of ND guys, Rich Rogers from our class, whom I had not previously known and another FBI guy whose name I can no longer retrieve but who played football for the Irish. It’s a great time of life, Tom. Old enough to appreciate the gifts that you have been given and wise enough to know that you don’t deserve them. I hope one day to meet you. Warm regards. Joe
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