Five of us took the New York Central from Chicago to Cincinnati in August, 1950, arriving with hours to spare before our 6 p.m. novitiate-arrival deadline. Our destination was suburban Milford, 15 miles east of the city. Killing time, we cabbed it at one point. One of us wanted to buy a fielder’s glove. We asked the cabbie where we could find a sporting goods place. He picked up on the sporting part and was about to suggest a brothel. We cut him short smilingly. Athletic goods, yes. Sexual athletics, no.
On my last night, Brichetto and I and two or three others had a good hour or so chatting in the kitchen over a beer. As we broke up, he commented that this is how we Jesuits should get together with each other, referring to our relaxed camaraderie.
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