It has almost been a year to the day that Anton Renna, S.J., passed away. Fr. Renna was my Mr. Keating. He was the one who taught me to love Dead Poet’s Society, Good Will Hunting, Whitman, Walden and Lord knows how much else. He nicknamed me Puck, he convinced me to go to BC, he wrote my recommendation and encouraged my arts and my writing and that even a lanky guy could be a leader. He is, and will ever be, as much my captain as Mr. Williams. Somewhere, I feel both are Yawping across heaven somewhere. Probably together. An agelss, aging priest and the closest thing to a cartoon character we ever saw in real life.
I have longer stories. I’ll save those.