Moristotles I & II talk

My high school Latin teacher (whose namesake I am not though we share first names¹) called me last night. I like to think of myself as Moristotle II to his Moristotle I. Or, I'm Morris Minor, and he's Morris Major...Or, he's Daedalus and I'm Icarus, from the Greek myth of the Minotaur in the Cretan labyrinth. (When Moristotle I graduated from the University of North Carolina in 1950, he did so with a double baccalaureate major in the Classics; that is, in both Latin and Greek.)

Actually, it was Moristotle I's daughter Morissa who dialed my number; I think she had given up on my following through on my promise to make the call. Here's a favorite picture of this father and his lovely daughter:

In his eighty-first year, Moristotle Mentor's resonant voice and wit remain strong, the strength of the latter playing off nicely last night against his weakening memory. Early in the half-hour conversation he asked what news here, and I told him some—for example, that we'd had our first snow in several years yesterday. Later he asked again, "What news?" and added, "if you haven't told me already."

<sigh> Now, what was it I came into this room for?

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1. Actually, it's his third name (of four) and my middle name (of three). I understand that Morris Major's was taken from the obstetrician who delivered him (and his twin sister); Morris Minor was named after my paternal and maternal grandfathers, my mother yielding to my father on the question which grandfather's name was "major," which "minor" <grin>.