As Remembered by Joseph M. Patwell
I graduated from Regis High School, a Jesuit high school in Manhattan, in 1961. During the second semester of my junior year, the then Mr. Carter (“Mister” being the proper title for a Scholastic) conducted a Greek Club for a few of us Greek geeks. The Anabasis and the Odyssey were easy enough in class, but Mr. Carter had us read—or try to—the First Philippic (I still have my book), very tough going. Mr. Carter was at Regis for only one year (instead of the usual three for a Scholastic) because, as one of the priests told me, “We want to get him ordained before he dies.” I was not in any of Mr. Carter’s classes, let alone his home room, and saw him perhaps only for an hour or so once a week for one semester; yet, when I graduated in June, 1961, Mr. Carter, already studying theology at Woodstock , Maryland, sent me a handwritten note of congratulation. I have always remembered “Mr.” Carter for his kindness and gentleness, and here I am, nearly 69, writing about him with tears in my eyes.
February 5, 2013