For Father's Day, I dug this out of the family archives: a picture, from 1963, of two fathers. Mine is second from the right, looking decidedly uncomfortable in his tux; the holier of the two, the Holy Father himself, Pope John XXIII, is of course the old chap in white robes, third from the left. My dad was for some years an itinerant radio engineer and electrician specializing in bells. On this occasion he was in the Vatican installing electronic carillons with his two colleagues, the other guys in penguin suits; the one to his left is Jim Roche, owner of Roche's Chemists, a chain of chemist's shops, or drugstores, known throughout Ireland. (Jim was the money man of the three.) One day the Pope, much like his predecessor Julius II dropping in to check on Michelangelo's murals, came by to see how the bellmen were getting on. The Vicar of Christ shook hands and proposed a group photograph, distributing blessings and best wishes. My dad said he even made a joke, not surprising, since John XXIII was a humorous man (best-known quip, when asked how many people worked in Vatican City: "About half"), although he spoke rudimentary English and Italian with a strong Bergamese accent. Dad was no churchgoer, but he was impressed by Pope John. Both are long dead, the Pope soon after this picture was taken, my dad in 1980. Happy Father's Day to their memories.
