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Of Many Things
Patricia A. Kossmann
I’m probably the only person who has kept track, but I wish to announcewith a good measure of reliefthat I have survived my first year on staff at America. I’m reminded of the promo line from the old Superman television show, describing our eponymous hero as "faster than a speeding bullet." I don’t mean that the year has literally flown, by any means. Rather, it seems as if I’ve been swept along on a supersonic jet that never stops for refueling! The pace of a weekly schedule, consistent deadlines, is a world away from the process of getting books published. But one adjusts.

What has been a real challenge is the return to life as a mass-transit commuter. It took me the better part of the first two monthsafter trial and error, watching how others "do" it, taking a wrong train home on day one, trying one of these and one of those (MetroCards, that is, in endless "variety") before finding which worked at the best price. Finally, I "arrived"; I’m a veteran commuter once again, a bus and subway rider like hundreds of thousands in the New York metropolitan area.

It’s funny, but no matter how many years one has been away, time (and people) seem to stand still. After I got back into the system, it was suddenly the same: the sights, the fights; the shoving, the crowding; the working, the drowsing; the CD’s, the cell phoneswell, maybe not the latter as much. Then there’s the entertainment. Musicians and singers still perform on many subway platforms. In recent weeks, though, commuters on my train have been soothed by the strains of Stravinsky (courtesy of a blind violinist). No one can call New Yorkers dull.

The occasional underground entertainment notwithstanding, being part of America’s editorial team, and having such an intellectually stimulating group with whom to work, is the best reason for returning to mass transit. Apart from the expected proofreading (which, though sometimes demanding, can also turn into an "Eye Spy" contest in house), editing assignments and weekly editorial meetings, there is the matter of booksboth those for review in the magazine and titles selected for the Catholic Book Club, which this office oversees in concert with the editors.

I think having spent a full year now at America qualifies me to give you the real scoop about working here. If not, please at least indulge me on my first anniversary. Presuming there is some interest among our readers for "lists"the best and worstI offer below a sampling of each. I’ve deliberately not numbered the lists, because their ranking changes from day to day. Anyway, here goes:

The Worst

not being given enough magazine space for book reviews

Of Many Things
James Martin, S.J.
An older Jesuit once told me he felt that priests have a much harder life than laypeople. We’re always "on call," he explained, and have so many responsibilitiescelebrating Masses, hearing confessions, living in community, preparing homilies and the like. Laypeople can set their own
Of Many Things
George M. Anderson
Praying on a New York City subway train? Those who view New York as chaos incarnate might consider such an undertaking impossible. In fact, though, many commuters find some of the very conditions of subway travel to be ideal for prayer. If you are lucky enough to have a seat, the fixed position is i
Of Many Things
James Martin, S.J.
Heretical as it is for someone living in New York, I must confess: I almost never go to the theater. But before you peg me a hopeless philistine, I might explain that there are a number of, well, reasonable reasons for this. First of all, have you checked the price of a Broadway ticket lately? Not a
Of Many Things
Dennis M. Linehan
It can be argued that the most prolific theological educator in the United States today is the Rev. Andrew M. Greeley. He might shrink from that title and, in fact, styles himself "author, priest, sociologist." The order is alphabetical. Those who are familiar with the man and his writings
Of Many Things
George M. Anderson
It was barely after 6 a.m. on a Thursday, but already lines had formed at the Greyhound gates on the lower level of the Port Authority bus terminal in New York City. On the longest linefor the 7 a.m. bus to Washingtona baby was crying in its mother’s arms. I was in a nearby line for the bus to