exploded with a cry of outraged injustice: "But it was my wishbone!" He
repeated the sentence like a mantra throughout my visit.
I remember with great amusement his helping in the smuggling of contraband spirits past the front desk at The Breakers Hotel for Aunt Betsy's Golden Jubilee Celebration.
Having just read about the game "Stump Tom Boyle," I can resonate.
Many years ago when Tom had a year off thanks to a generous severance package from his first job, he spent a week with me in New Jersey. We visited numerous museums in New York and Newark. No matter what country or religion was represented in an exhibit, Tom could acquaint me with its cultural background. I especially remember my astonishment at his explanation of the Assyrian equivalents of the Torah and the Talmud.
My most vivid memories, however, are of a much younger Tom--c. 5 years--whose favorite books were Winnie the Pooh and The Complete Works of Shakespeare. His first introduction to tragedy came the day he shared a wishbone wth his brother Mike and Mike won the wish. Tom vociferously and repeatedly protested the injustice of it all: "But, Aunt Betsy, it was MY wishbone!"
I am uploading few photos we put together for the party on April 25th.
They are all in Random order, except the Christmas photos; those are in chronological order