Ruminations by John McGlynn: What’s in a Name?

As an altar boy at Saint Anthony’s in my youth, when the Roman Catholic vernacular was Latin, I had to memorize all the Latin prayers of the Mass but my first true experience in trying to communicate in a foreign language was when I was in high school and the study of...

Ruminations by John McGlynn: Borders

Without translation I would be limited to the borders of my own country. The translator is my most important ally. [The translator] introduces me to the world. Italo Calvino As a youngster, “vacation” was for me an unknown term. Never once in my memory did my parents...

Ruminations by John McGlynn: Jigsaw

I never knew my maternal grandfather, Hubert Schauf. He was out in a field on Lost Hill Farm, when a massive heart attack took his life in 1949, three years before I was born. The only confabulistic memory I have of my paternal grandfather, John A. McGlynn Sr., is...

Ruminations by John McGlynn: Giving Up

As I begin to write this rumination on 2 March 2021, I recall that it was exactly one year ago the office of the president announced the first case of Covid-19 in Indonesia. With no outside activities to mark the days and no celebrations to distinguish one week from...