In the 2004 Clive Owen movie, King Arthur, the Arthurian legend is reimagined with the knights as Sarmatian warriors, horsemen from the Eastern European/Central Asian steppes. The film’s premise is that the Sarmatians were conquered by Rome and their sons were conscripted to serve Rome by defending Hadrian’s Wall in England. This represents an alternative historical theory to the romantic medieval French version based on the quest for le Saint-Graal…the Holy Grail. While the Holy Grail isn’t part of official Catholic doctrine or theology, its medieval literary legend makes it the cup Jesus used at the Last Supper and then the vessel that caught his blood at the crucifixion. That ties it directly to the Eucharist, the central sacrament of Catholic Mass, where the chalice and the idea of Christ’s body and blood are core. The Grail was a vehicle for sin, purity, and grace. In the stories, only spiritually flawless knights can find and hold the Grail. I find the blending of Arthurian legend, Roman intervention and the mysticism of Catholicism to be very compelling. Of course, Camelot is the legendary castle and court of King Arthur, the center of his kingdom and the symbol of his reign’s ideals. Camelot was a shining seat of justice, chivalry, and order, a stark contrast to the lawless feudal warfare of the era. The Knights of the Round Table were an egalitarian fellowship bound by a code of honor: protecting the weak, pursuing justice, and serving with loyalty. The round shape of the table symbolized that no knight, including Arthur, sat above another. Camelot has become shorthand for any golden age or idealistic moment that proves too fragile to last.
Fifty-five years ago, a group of 51 of us had one brief, shining moment, and yes, it was in Rome and yes, it was surrounded by all manner of Catholic mysticism. It was not in Hadrian’s time or even his successor, Marcus Aurelius’ time, but it was on the Via Aurelia (now long ago repurposed into a TV studio), one of Rome’s great consular roads (as in, “all roads lead to Rome”). That became a popular medieval expression reflecting how the old Roman road network had made Rome the hub of trade, governance, and pilgrimage even long after the empire’s fall. The Aurelia is the SS1 that leads one straight to the Vatican. Is it any wonder that it’s where the Brothers of the Holy Cross chose to set up their school, Notre Dame International in the early 1960’s, presumably to give the order a foothold near the Holy See? What it did for many of the 52 of us who are members of the NDI Class of 1971, was to give us a spiritual pilgrimage that has a stronger draw for us than many of our other Alma Maters. After all, “Alma Mater” is Latin for “nourishing mother” and NDI is where most of us learned our Latin. It refers to the school, someone graduated from, the institution that “nourished” them intellectually and psychologically. The term carries a sense of loyalty and fondness, which is what was in evidence this morning when thirteen of us from that class (13/52=25%) gathered by Zoom call for the first time since 2021. We were led by Brent Wolfe. He is fittingly analogized as our King Arthur as the name Brent comes from the Old English and Wolfe must connect to the Roman origins of Romulus and Remus, right?
We spent two hours reminiscing and learning about all the old memories, life updates, and some previously unknown connections among us. There was a lot to unpack for a group who had some portion of their psyches stuck in the late 60’s on that hill on the outskirts of Rome. This group of 72-74 year olds was more global than most high school reunion groups, not just because we went to school in Rome, but because we mostly happened to be there because our parents were very global by nature. The class was comprised of more or less equal parts of boarding students who’s parents sent them from Libya, Saudi Arabia, Tunisia, Spain, Iran, Burma, Kenya, Turkey and Pakistan, and all the rest of us “Day Dogs” who happened to be living in Rome (many, like my mother, working for the Food & Agriculture Organization of the UN). 80% of us were Americans with another 10% Canadian (almost American?). There were several other American schools in Rome, as well as a British and a French school, but NDI was one of only two American boarding schools in town.
Other than one of the thirteen on the Zoom who still lives in Rome (Tom Munsel), everyone else seems to reside in the U.S. in one retirement locale or another. Most were now retired or partially retired or involuntarily retired, or wanting no part of retirement. Glenn LaMuraglia is still doing surgery at Mass General after 47 years there. Brent Wolfe is managing relationships wherever they need managing. The oil industry fed the school with lots of sons of oil execs, so no surprise, there were plenty of oil & gas Texans (Phil Gobe, Rich Hatcher). Information technology seemed to get its share of graduates with John Horsting, Tom Conklin and Brent Wolfe (IBM through and through). Both Bob Asselbergs and Felix Beukenkamp found their groove in real estate development. Peter Polk seemed to also have a tech background, but more significantly had his finger on the button for the country for many of the past few decades. As best I can recall, Wes Burwell spent a lot of his time running track. Ed Berger, who was headed to the world of economics, came to his senses and made a U-turn into professional photography to some high degree of accomplishment. Only I took the road into the darkness of Wall Street. The common element seemed to be that everyone still had lots of global in their lives.
Any time you get a bunch of old coots together on a Zoom call, and despite all the COVID practice we all have, there are a few who can’t get the Zoom or the WiFi working. Today was no exception. But the really funny moment was as we were going around the horn and updating the group about our lives and Rich Hatcher had just finished updating us all on his life, when someone (not sure who it was…the beauty of a large Zoom with people who don’t bother to mute) interjected that they wanted to know whatever happened to Rich Hatcher. The rest of the time was spent thanking one another for things we have done for one another (Glenn in particular seems to have been of service to many). The notable aspect of the dialogue was the genuine nature of the feelings that everyone had about our time at NDI. It was a brief shining moment many, many years ago, but like Camelot, it stands out in our minds for whatever reasons we may each have. I’m sure some of us are unworthy of the Grail, but there seem to be enough who are pure of heart. So much so, we have decided to reconvene the group annually the day before Father’s Day. That should keep the dream of Camelot alive for a few more years anyway.