PART 1 The first thing I remember about St. Anselm is not the chapel tower or the black iron gates, though both were meant to be remembered. It is the smell of cold rain on wool coats, mixed with polished wood and the faint lemon scent of expensive cleaning products.…
Part 1 – The Boy From the Scholarship Brochure I was thirteen when St. Bartholomew’s Academy learned it could punish me faster than it could protect me. That is the cleanest way I know how to say it now, though at the time nothing felt clean. It felt like damp…