Notre Dame Classmates. Salzburg-Innsbruck Program, 1967-68.

I was a Notre Dame student from 1966 to 1970. I spent my Sophomore year in Salzburg and Innsbruck, Austria. For a working-class boy from Euclid, this was close to a miracle. There were 36 of us in this program, and many of my classmates have had extraordinary careers and lives. From left in the black and white photo, you can see Jim O'Connell, now a very famous and much honored physician to the homeless in the Boston area. To his right, Brian Wilson, a pediatrician in Hilo, Hawaii. Then Al Issenman, a professor at Northwestern. Bob Wingerson, from the Detroit area left of Al. Then Charlie Schaffer (not sure what he's doing); then Tim Berry, a successful journalist and now a business owner in the Pacific Northwest; Jim Peters and Colm Gage next; then Steve Tapscott, professor at MIT, distinguished poet and translator; me next; Leo Lensing, distinguished professor of German and our class's valedictorian; Paddy Laflin; and on the right, Dick Riehle, well-known character actor (probably been in a hundred movies and many tv sitcoms). Tim Berry posted both of these photos on Facebook.

The Notre Dame boys of the Schmelzergasse Pension. Innsbruck, Austria. I'm fourth from right. 1967.

Notre Damers. Maybe Schloss Klessheim, outside Salzburg. I'm front left, pointing. 1967.

Love Poem by Pablo Neruda, Translated by Steve Tapscott

Sonnet XI

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.”

― Pablo Neruda, Love Sonnet XI. Translated by Steve Tapscott

Tengo hambre de tu boca, de tu voz, de tu pelo
y por las calles voy sin nutrirme, callado,
no me sostiene el pan, el alba me desquicia,
busco el sonido líquido de tus pies en el día.

Estoy hambriento de tu risa resbalada,
de tus manos color de furioso granero,
tengo hambre de la pálida piedra de tus uñas,
quiero comer tu piel como una intacta almendra.

 Quiero comer el rayo quemado en tu hermosura,
la nariz soberana del arrogante rostro,
quiero comer la sombra fugaz de tus pestañas

 y hambriento vengo y voy olfateando el crepúsculo
buscándote, buscando tu corazón caliente
como un puma en la soledad de Quitratúe.