* Stokowski at 90 conducts The London Symphony Orchestra

The Secret

One of the great experiences of my life was watching Leopold Stokowski rehearse the Ithaca College Choir for a concert in Carnegie Hall.

He had come to campus and the rehearsal was open to the public. Few attended.  I was one. He was 87 at the time. 

He had to be driven from New York to Ithaca because Stokowski refused to fly.  Even when conducting in London, he took other means---an ocean liner ---to go across.

.

Softly he walked on stage, wearing a striped suit, polkadot ascot and checkered shirt, as if  he had been dressed by Stravinski's fiirebird himself,  his face ablast with the blotches of age, his hair a dandelion puff, his gate a measured shuffle------  almost as if he was wearing slippers.

At one point the choir was a bit off, and he clapped them softly to attention, saying words which still resonate in my head;

You must learn to concentrate; it is the secret to everything.

Indeed.

* Swanson (Yale '80) Champions Bill and Melinda Gradgrind and their recipe of 5000 ingredients to produce civilized conversationalists.in the good ol' U.S. of A.

Swanson '80 critiques  The Anti-Yale

This is not in any way a correction of your [previous] post, just my own comments.

When I entered Yale , they told us we were expected to participate in class.  When I attempted to do this, in many though not all of my classes, the response I got was to have the professor roll his eyes in his head and basically say contemptuously, "I don't know WHAT [roll eyes in head] you are talking about!"  (I never got this reaction from any of my college professors.) I was transformed from Jamie Swanson to "Jamie Gibberish."

Since leaving school, I seem to have faced a relentless pressure to dumb things down, dumb things down, dumb things down.  Make things dumber, and dumber and dumberer.  See Dick run.  See Jane jump.  Run, Dick, run.  Jump, Jane, jump.

I have not followed the controversy involving Hirsch [previous post], so I don't want to defend him.  But it seems there needs to be some standards set in education.  I've read the comments about Euro-centrism and multi-culturalism.  I'm sorry, but I'm not seeing this achieved.  All I seem to see is dumber and dumber and dumber.  And the relentless push for dumber and dumber.  Does this mean I support "Gradgrindism"?

No, I don't think so.  There has to be some appropriate medium or middle ground.

I was watching the CBS Evening News the other night, not paying that much attention.  They had a segment featuring a British commentator or analyst from Oxford.  I don't remember exactly the situation he was analyzing, but he concluded by saying (in part),

"Plus ça change."  After he concluded, the camera went back to the female anchor, who made some comment to the effect that she did not understand what the commentator was talking about.  In other words, DUH!

Now, does one have to be a professor at Oxford University to know that Plus ça change is short for plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose, i.e., The more things change, the more they remain the same?  I've only seen that expression thousands of times.  Was the Oxford professor being stupid in addressing an American audience in language they could not be expected to comprehend?  I don't think so.

So I don't know what to say about "core curriculum."  Perhaps it is needed, albeit with moderation.

_____________________________________________

The Anti-Yale Replies

Core.

Core means core.

5000 items on a list for 12 grades (do the math) is 460 items a year!

One on the list I quoted from the Times was "Pickwickian". Reading Dickens would take all year.  PLUS 459 other items.

ABSURD.

I picked up Plus ca change plus c'est la meme chose from my 40 year friendship with my acting instructor at Ithaca College, Vergiu Cornea, not from a curriculum. 

LINK http://vergiucornea.blogspot.com/ 

Some people are interested in high brow culture.  Others not.

Hirsch wants a world of Kulture Vultures, all competing on the same wavelengths. 

BORING.  The Death of Creativity.  Hoity toity dinner conversationalist pretentiousness.  UGH.

JD Salinger chose  Cornish, New Hampshire not Paris for his home.

He loved church suppers, not $500 dinners at  Le Coq d'Or.

He and Holden Caulfield hated phoneys.  Hirsch is 'real' but he wants to create regiments of standardized phoneys.

He's a human nature chef.  A recipe therapist for a gloriously unstandardized world:  Add these 5000 ingredients, cook on high heat for twelve school years, mixing occasionally, and everyone will meet my dinner-conversation expectations.

BLAH.

Un American.

Paul D. Keane,
M.A., M.Div. M.Ed

PS

I'd like to post your comment and mine together as another blog post.  Permission? 

* Cloaked in "The Common Core," Bill and Melinda Gradgrind Seize Control of American Education

LINK to The Gradgrind Foundation

 LINK TO NYT ARTICLE
(excerpted below)

The Common Bore
Mr. Hirsch’s newfound popularity comes largely because of the Common Core, a set of learning goals for kindergarten through 12th grade that have been adopted by almost every state in the last few years.

Mr. Hirsch [E.D. Hirsch] was already an accomplished scholar of literature, and head of the English department at the University of Virginia, when he began formulating the ideas that would become “Cultural Literacy.” He said that if poor students were ever to achieve equity in American society, they needed to be taught a core body of knowledge. Most of the book was a mixture of research, cognitive psychology and a call to action. But what made it famous was the appendix, known as “The List.”

Its 5,000 facts, names and concepts, which read like an index to human history and culture, served as an inventory of what he and his colleagues thought essential for success in America. The list began with “1066,” ended with “Zurich” and included, just to name a few terms Mr. Hirsch thought you should know, “Babbitt,” “Dachau,” “faux pas,” “Houston, Sam” and “Houston, Tex.,” “I-beam,” “Pickwickian,” “Spare the rod and spoil the child,” “Trappist monks,” “Turkey in the Straw,” “vanishing point” and “vasectomy.”

“Cultural Literacy” vaulted to the top of best-seller lists, where it sat alongside another book that saw education losing its backbone, “The Closing of the American Mind,” by Allan Bloom. But it was eviscerated as promoting a Eurocentric view of the world, and elevating rote memorization over critical thought.

A critic from those days, Henry A. Giroux, (LINK), Henry A. Giroux, said his sentiments about Mr. Hirsch’s theories were unchanged. “He is normalizing a view of teaching and content which, in the current moment, enshrines the standardization of knowledge and assessment, which I believe is very deadly for what it means for students to learn and think creatively and critically,” said Mr. Giroux, a professor of English and cultural studies at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario. “There is a corporate-driven, pedagogical machine out there that would reduce classroom learning to rote memorization, embraces high-stakes testing and derides any kind of critical pedagogy as a pathology.”

* Yale's Beinecke Rare Book Library is Final Resting Place for my Miss Wilder Collection

Miss Wilder with her brother, Thornton

LINK 

to the

Miss Wilder Collection 

Itself

* What's in a Word: The Holocaust? The Great Fratricide?

Appomattox Courthouse:
Ending The Great Fratricide

To Be or Not to Be: Rapprochement

The New York Times reports 
this morning that an Iranian information agency denies Iranian President Rouhani ever used the word "Holocaust" in this interview (above).

 Only a translator can tell.

Diplomacy rests on such absurdities. 

It is as if General Lee and General Grant would refuse to meet at Appomattox  unless both agreed to refer to the Civil War as The Great Fratricide, which of course it was.

One should remember that General Grant allowed the Confederate soldiers to keep their pistols, a mark of civility and trust, and compassion for those needing to maintain social order. He also allowed them to keep their horses and mules for planting season.

Why can't present day adults grow up?  

Mr. Rouhani called the Nazi's killing of Jews a "crime"  

That's plenty good enough for historical accuracy.

* The Bishop, the Biographer and the Country Bumpkin: Yale 1985

The Rt. Rev. Paul Moore, 
Episcopal Bishop of New York: 
Yale Trustee

The Authorized Biography
of
Thornton Wilder,
by
Gilbert Harrison

The Country Bumpkin at Yale, 1976-1985

South African Shanties
outside Woodbridge Hall, 
 the President's office at Yale,
 protesting Yale's dillydallying attitude
               toward Divestment                    

1985: Heady Times

It was 1985 in New Haven. Yale was diddling with the apartheid divestment issue----how could they stay rich if they couldn’t invest in third-world exploitative countries?---- and I was five years out of Yale Divinity School.  The year before I had traveled to Manhattan to hear  the Episcopal Bishop of New York, Paul Moore, a Yale trustee, speak at the Yale Club on gay rights. I was working on a project about AIDS at Yale which would wind up on  60 Minutes (LINK) and needed important Yale allies.

I spoke with him after his speech and he called me up by phone months later saying he wanted to stop over for a drink after the Board Meeting in New Haven.

I was a humble apartment superintendent two blocks from Yale on the border of the ghetto. I doubted my three room apartment would be suitable digs for entertaining a Bishop.   And to top it off, I didn’t drink.  So I borrowed a bottle of scotch from an 85-year-old friend of mine who knew Bishop Moore, Miss Isabel Wilder, sister of the late author, Thornton Wilder.

I recall our chatting about his early education at the St. Paul’s School, and he was flummoxed when I said I’d never heard of it.

It was incomprehensible to him that I wouldn’t know all the tributaries of privilege which fed the royal river of the Ivy League.

I must have seemed a hayseed or country bumpkin in some respects, down to borrowing Miss Wilder's scotch.

And maybe I was.

We did find two areas of common interest.  He knew the parents of Sam Todd, a Yale Divinity student who had disappeared on New Year's Eve in New York in 1984, and I had written an investigative report submitted to the Todds and the president of  Yale and later published in Connecticut Magazine (LINK) about the disappearance saying that there was sufficient evidence to hypothesize he had run away.

The other common interest was Miss Wilder herself.

Bishop Moore was a friend of “Gil” Harrison,  the official biographer of Thornton Wilder ( The Enthusiast, Ticknor and Fields, 1983) and he said Harrison had always wondered what Miss Wilder had thought about his chapter on Thornton’s homosexual experiences.

As I recounted in a previous post here, I happened to have been the sounding board for Miss Wilder’s distress when she read Harrison’s manuscript: “They sent me the manuscript with no warning. I am reading along and I stumble on some old homosexual experiences they dug up that Thornton had. I’m an old lady. I can’t be treated like that. It’s not right.”

I tried to soothe her anxiety by saying with a wave of the hand dismissing it as an inconsequentiality, “They say that about all bachelors.”

I believe I succeeded in not looking shocked or horrified and I hope I allayed her fears of an adverse public reaction. Gay Liberation was a radical idea back then.

Bishop Moore was fascinated that I had been there at that crucial  moment.  “I’ll tell Gil.”

Bishop Moore and I stayed in touch until his death from brain cancer in 1993 at age 83.

After his death, his daughter, Honor Moore, outed her father as a gay man in a  New Yorker article. (LINK)

Miss Wilder outlived him by two years and died at 95 in 1995.  

She was a second mother to me, my own mother having died ten years earlier in 1985, the year  the country bumpkin borrowed Miss Wilder's scotch.

Yale never fully divested itself of its South African stock.

The attempt by Congress to restrict marriage to heterosexuals (The Defense of Marriage Act) was deemed unconstitutional by the Supreme Court in 2013.

The sun comes up every morning.

 And it sets every night.

* In-ing a Very Cool Old Lady: Miss Isabel Wilder

Me at a gathering arranged
 by Miss Wilder, circa 1978.

Miss Wilder and my parents
at the 1985 dedication of
The Thornton Wilder Room
at Miller Library in Hamden, Connecticut

1976 -1995: A Friendship 

Bridging the Generation Gap

I met Miss Isabel Wilder in 1976, soon after her brother, Thornton, the famed author of Our Town  and The Matchmaker (later to be “Hello Dolly”) died at age 78. I had met him the year before and corresponded with him twice.

They had lived together their entire lives, making his loss the equivalent of losing a mate after three quarters of a century. Since they were both published writers, their intimacy was more than familial, it was an artistic marriage of the minds.

One Yale Ph.D in Romantic Literature asserts,”Not since Dorothy and William Wordsworth has there been a brother/sister literary team like Isabel and Thornton Wilder.”

Miss Wilder and I began our association  as citizens of “our” Town, Hamden, Connecticut, she contributing her brother’s  furniture and books from his Deepwood  Drive study for a permanent display in his name, now at the Town’s Miller Library since 1985. 

Number 50 Deepwood Drive in Hamden was the home Thornton Wilder built for his mother and siblings with the profits from his first blockbuster, the 1928  novel The Bridge of San Luis Rey

It is modeled after Goethe’s cottage, I am told. Thornton Wilder called it “The house The Bridge built.”

Miss Wilder and I  started as associates and became friends for twenty years. It is easy to know her age at all dates I will mention here since she was born in 1900.

I promised myself when I met Miss Wilder that I would NEVER ask her a question about her brother, since I assumed she had been pumped for such tidbits all her life. I kept that promise, only revealing it to her after fifteen years in 1991  when enough time had passed for her to judge in retrospect whether I had meant what I said. 

Even after that I kept my word. 

That doesn't mean I wouldn't offer a kind ear when she chose to speak about him or about her burden as his literary executor, but I never opened and never pursued in more than a gentle comment or with affectionate silence.

The latter is what I used with a blase, dismissive wave of the hand  the day she sputttered about having stumbled upon the  chapter  on Wilder's sex life when reading  the pre-publication  manuscript of Gilbert Harrison's authorized biography, The Enthusiast. (Ticknor and Fields, 1983).

I was about to drive her to the Graduate Club for a working lunch with her editor as her brother's literary executor,  Donald Gallup,   and she grumbled. "They send me a manuscript to read without any warning . And I come upon some old homosexual encounters they dug up about Thornton. I'm an old lady after all.  It isn't right."

I wondered if she was sounding off with me to test public opinion, and I ventured to ease her worry, "They say that about all bachelors," and waved it off as an inconsequence.  She later told me that as a punishment, when she had to speak at the testimonial inaugurating publication of the book, she spoke only kind words about the author, but never once referred to the book itself.  

That is a lady.

In the name of full disclosure let me say up-front that Miss Wilder paid for my four month internship in 1987 as an English teacher in Vermont schools, a career from which I just retired  in 2012, after  25 years.

I never revealed that fact until after I retired. Most people in Vermont wouldn’t have believed it.  Or cared. 

Vermonters don’t name-drop.

She also underwrote two of my other projects as a student activist, one in 1977 related to Kent State where I had witnessed the student murders  by Ohio National Guardsmen in 1970,  and the other in 1984 at Yale where I was a Divinity student from 1976-80, and where in 1984, I discovered the first woman in America  known to have transmitted AIDS (then mistakenly  thought to be a gay disease). 

She asked that her part in both of these  endeavors remain anonymous.

I have honored that promise even after Miss Wilder’s death in 1995,  but in the spirit of Voltaire who said “To the living  we owe respect but to the dead we owe the truth,” I reveal them here now, outing her as one very cool "old lady".

The first project she paid for was called Kent State F.A.C.T. (First-Amendment Conservation Task-force.)  It was a a watch-dog group of two Kent faculty members, the eight parents of the four students killed at Kent State,  and other civil liberties advocates, who were concerned that student freedom of speech was again being jeopardized when students staged a sit-in (a tent-city) on the site of the shootings which the Kent Board of Trustees had approved for a new gymnasium, a building which conveniently would have made historians think the National Guard who shot the students in 1970 had been trapped in a near cul-de-sac..  That project cost about a thousand dollars in 1977 money. Civil liberties were preserved but the Gym was built anyway: architectural revisionist history. 

Miss Wilder’s only condition for paying for this project was that (LINK) “You must agree to give up Kent State” (which I did until after her death in 1995).

She didn’t want me to become a one-trick pony.

 And I didn’t

The second project, AIDS Information Dissemination Service (A.I.D.S.), involved printing and publication of a brochure describing transmission of AIDS. by sexual behaviors and by contaminated needles, after I had discovered a prostitute and heroin addict who was still on the streets of New Haven after having transmitted  AIDS to her infant, who never left Yale New Haven Hospital in his short two year life. 

At this time the H.I.V. virus had not been discovered and the disease was superstitiously attributed to American gay men since they seemed to be the primary victims. Later epidemiologists monitoring cases of AIDS in Africa would certify it to be a heterosexual disease in that country , but that was unreported by American media at the time and gay men, it was sadistically and perversely hoped by society at large , would be the only victims, so why bother alerting society in general !

 To combat this prejudice and to alert the public, a brochure was written by a Yale biology professor and myself in blunt, sexual street-language about what NOT to do if you wanted to stay safe. 

At first the Yale Health Service refused to be associated with it because of its blunt language. Later, when 60 Minutes (LINK) did a segment on the New Haven prostitute, President Giamatti of Yale intervened, and saw to it that the brochure was distributed to all Yale students, a distribution which was paid for by Miss Wilder.

By the way,  I was embarrassed - - - even a bit shocked - - - when Miss Wilder, at age 84, insisted on reading the brochure in my presence which she had paid for. 

She never batted an eyelash.

Am I reading too much into these philanthropic gestures on Miss Wilder’s part at age 77 and 84 when I  interpret them as  a rather cool old lady’s vicarious participation in the activism and liberation of the 1970’s and 80’s?

As Sabina says in Thornton Wilder’s The Skin of Our Teeth: 

“Think it over."

* Just Jerry

                          

               J.D. Salinger: New England residents swap tales about encounters with the author 

             

LINK to original article

A Vermont teacher heard many stories about Salinger, from a student who often watched "Jeopardy!" with him to the author's love of church suppers.

By Paul Keane / September 20, 2013

Author J.D. Salinger hid away for decades in plain sight in Cornish, N.H., a feeding town for the high school where I taught English in Vermont for 25 years.

As such, I had access to all kinds of folklore and harmless gossip about the reclusive writer for years.

One of my students was his next-door neighbor and used to go over to his house every night and watch "Jeopardy!" with him, a game show which apparently Saliinger "loved."

Recent posts

'Catcher in the Rye': 10 memorable quotes

She told me that on Halloween, Salinger would not give out candy. Instead he handed out pencils. This must have been a huge disappointment to sugarized kids, but if their parents had an ounce of literary sense, they would have realized their child had just been given the equivalent of Excaliber by King Arthur himself.

A pencil from Salinger! Imagine what that would bring on "Antiques Roadshow." Or better, imagine how it might energize a fledgling writer, perhaps King Arthur's intent?

Rumor had it that Salinger's second wife (who was half his age) volunteered in our school for years, but I was too polite to try to find out, although other teachers confirmed it. Privacy is privacy, after all.

One of my students was running a cash register at Price Chopper (or a similar grocery store five minutes from my school) in West Lebanon, N.H. one day and noticed that the white-haired man behind the middle-aged woman at the register looked just like J.D. Salinger.

When the woman handed her a credit card with the last name Salinger, my student flashed the woman a look, and the woman flashed her a look back which said, "That's him, yes, but don't say anything."

For years, one of my colleagues and his wife would attend local church suppers. J.D. Salinger loved church suppers and was always first in line at them. My colleague and his wife would often eat with him but learned from observation that he would get up and leave if anyone approached him about his identity as a writer. He wanted to be "just Jerry," not J.D. Salinger.

In later years, after infirmity set in, Jerry would still be first in line at church suppers, but he would stand there using a ski pole as a cane to steady himself. That's snow country class.

I know of one exception to this rule of public anonymity: Another one of my colleagues was the son of one of the owner's of Lou's, a famous Dartmouth breakfast joint in Hanover, where Salinger (and Robert Frost!) ate regularly.

One day, he asked Jerry if he would sign a copy of "The Catcher in the Rye" for his son (now my colleague), and Jerry complied. That signature on "Catcher" today is worth $10,000, according to a recent estimate.

Another one of my students had an aunt who bought the home owned by J. D. Salinger in his first marriage. The aunt describes a tunnel between the house and the garage which Jerry had built "to avoid journalists" and paparazzi. At one point in his career, a national magazine sent a photographer to stake him out until he got Salinger's photo. After three days, he got it, not at his tunnel-equipped home, but at the Windsor post office.

Another one of my colleagues has a brother who is a local mechanic and repaired "Jerry's" car for years. He too asserts it was "just Jerry."

Perhaps most fascinating, for me, is the story of a local N.H. volunteer firefighter, a story which adds credence to the report that, beginning in 2015, five more Salinger manuscripts will be published by the estate of "just Jerry."

The fireman recounts that one day, his department was called to put out a fire at the Salingers' Cornish home. The fire was in the basement where Salinger had his study and at one end of the study was a wall safe.

Salinger was so grateful that the fire had been extinguished without destroying his study that the next day he appeared at the volunteer fire company and handed them "a check for $18,000," said the firefighter.

The firefighter looked at me and said, "There was something in that safe he was very grateful we saved." And then he added, in case I didn't get it, "Manuscripts."

What his authority was for such a conjecture, I know not.

But I trust local gossip. Especially when it's just about Jerry.

Paul Keane, M.A.,M.Div.,M.Ed, is a Monitor contributor.

* The Electric Holy Water Humility Test : a Francificate not a Pontificate

The Merry Celibates

* My article on J.D. Salinger Folklore is in today's Christian Science Monitor

Click this LINK

* Turn Schizophrenia's "Voices" into a Video Game

Link to NY Times' 

T. M. Luhrmann Op-Ed

* There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Hamlet (Act 1, scene 5)

In a universe 

composed of invisible particles,

 the Beyond, 

(with a capital "B") 

sometimes pokes its head 

through the radio waves 

which 

we label 

"human being" .

* More than the Curator of Zillion Dollar Museum? Habemus papam !

Link to  NY Times article

Pope Talks Turkey 

about 

Gays, Abortion, Contraception

* Myopia, Ignorance, or Ageism at the Yale Daily News?

"I became a Department of One" 

[at Yale].

 HAROLD BLOOM

Why does this  article in the 

Yale Daily News 

today 

about David Brooks' admonition 

that the Humanities are 

withering on the vine 

at American universities, 

ignore the prophet of that alarm,

Yale's own 

Harold Bloom?

* Ken Dryden: Summer Construction Worker, Ithaca, 1967-68 (Before he was famous.)

Pushing  Georgia Buggies

 and 

Shouldering Hycos

1967-1968

Around 1967/8 I worked construction each summer at Ithaca College with Streeter Construction Co., building the new performing arts center, with another I. C. student, whose father was Treasurer of the College and had secured the jobs for us.

Three Cornell hockey players were on the crew too: Ted Coviello, John Hughes, and Ken Dryden.

I recall Dryden as a hard working, quiet, tall  guy, who never mentioned his Cornell hockey credentials (which of course had preceded him in the crew's coffee break gossip) , and wasn't afraid to push a Georgia buggy full of cement right along with the best of us.

The Dillingham Performing Arts Center
at Ithaca College,
 which Ken Dryden , myself, and other students
from Ithaca College and Cornell
 helped build as summer workers pushing Georgia Buggies
 full of cement 
and carrying on our shoulders
  75 lb. metal girders called hycos
on the  Streeter Consrtruction Company's crew,
1967-68.

* A Poetic Remembrance of Forgetting

LINK to NYT  Video Article

* My Churchill Cigar Now "Goes Down a Storm With Visiting School Groups"

No cigar?

July 15th, 2013

Finally, in the Archives Centre’s 40th year, a small 
but significant gap in our
holdings has been plugged: 
we have one of Churchill’s cigars!

                       Churchill’s cigar, 

                          courtesy 

                                           of 

                                Mr Paul Keane

                         Reference: WCHL 6/75.

This iconic gift has come to us thanks to Mr Paul Keane, one of

 Churchill’s many American fans. In 1961, when Mr Keane was

 just 16, he waited for more than 24 hours in the rain on a New

York pier for a chance to see his hero disembark from Aristotle

 Onassis’s yacht Christina. His patience was rewarded at last,

 not only with a sight of Churchill, but also with the gift of matches

 from the Christina, one of Churchill’s handkerchiefs, and last

 but not least, the famous cigar.

Now Mr Keane has sent the cigar, together with a scrapbook

full of memorabilia of his adventure, to the Archives Centre, and

 our conservator is making a special display box for it, so that

 future visitors will be able to see this fragile, but very precious

 piece of Churchill history.

Mr Keane has written about his adventures, at 

churchillandboy.blogspot 

and 

churchillscrapbook.blogspot.

Katharine Thomson

Tags: Winston Churchill

Posted in Archives Centre, Our collections | Add a comment »

Allen Packwood, Director

Sarah Lowery, Archivist

The Churchill Centre

Churchill College Cambridge

Dear Allen and Sarah,

Thanks for the photos of Sir Winston's cigar and its final resting place. 

It is a beautiful presentation.

Donating it to you is one of the best decisions I ever made.  Your (Allen's) statement that "the cigar now goes down a storm with visiting school groups" is a true gift to this retired teacher. 

It's been a totally rewarding experience from beginning to end ---all 52 years of it !

Best,

Paul

Paul Keane

Dear Paul

I attach a couple of pictures of the cigar in its specially made box!  It is sitting on a piece of smooth Japanese paper  in a 'trough' made from archival card and is held in there by 3 straps of inert polyethylene.  All totally and easily reversible.

Hope you like it!

Best wishes

Sarah

---

From: Allen Packwood
Sent: 11 September 2013 10:09
To: 'Paul Keane'
Cc: Sarah Lewery
Subject: RE: Tom Friedman article and inquiry

Thanks Paul, am copying to Sarah. The box has certainly been completed, and I am sure she will be able to send you a photo. The cigar now goes down a storm with visiting school groups.

Allen