My first six years of formal education was at Saint Victor’s Catholic Elementary School on Holloway Drive (merely a few blocks below legendary music mecca, Tower Records on the Sunset Strip). All of my teachers were nuns and as stiff as the sticks they used to reprimand most kids with – if for no better reason than to infuse us with a little dose of holy pain. So much for turning the other cheek, right?

One of the church’s head priests, an elderly monsignor who’s name has faded out of memory (mine), passed away during the years I attended. At his funeral, his red and black robed corpse was placed in beautifully decorated, open casket by the alter for all to look at. To this day, his is the only dead body I have ever seen or, been physically close enough to actually touch. I mention this in passing as today, when the event I’ve been working on for a week will take place, I will be heading to the U.N. – just hours after Pope Francis has left that very building for a non-denominational prayer at the Freedom Tower.