Wisdom of the ages

There are really very few reasons for writing a book. Having written several, I know this first-hand. One is to make loads of money (no, I didn’t; most writers don’t). Another is to share a story that maybe—just maybe—might be interesting to someone else. (Of course, if you can make a little money at it, so much the better. I did write a few of those.)

Finally, there’s the book you write because you want to pass along your personal story to future generations. And, if you’re very, very lucky, it might make for halfway decent reading.

Bert Hoffman—that’s Albert Hoffman Jr.—did just that.

Having lived long and gained much experience, the long-retired Bethlehem Steel sales engineer wanted to tell somebody—anybody—about his life and values growing up Catholic in the last century. He thought there might be a lesson in it.

So he wrote “Letters to Paul.” Paul, Bert’s nephew, didn’t really receive the letters; the literary device of writing “letters” and then collecting them into a book is even older than Bert, who’s well into his ninth decade. Bert took no chances that a publishing house might turn down his sometimes preachy ruminations (after all, most writers collect rejection slips) so he turned to a “vanity” publisher and paid to have his handwritten words turned, virtually unedited, into a slim volume of homey, straightforward and solid advice. The tales, built around a family history, offer some good lessons to the future from the past.

Passing along the wisdom of the ages is something our current generation neither does well nor accepts easily. If I can make a wild comparison, that’s a sense of the special section in this issue (Pages 21-29) celebrating the beginning of Pope John Paul II’s 25th jubilee year.

There is a connection. The pope, now frail and elderly, wasn’t always so. A generation ago, he was seen as young (especially for a pope), vital and active. He would, people said, be able to speak to young and old. Of course, he did that—and still does.

But truth be told, the previous generation always teaches the next. Though, as any parent knows, it takes a long time before evidence surfaces that the younger generation was even politely listening. I concede that as the father of five grown (I think) children.

But back to Bert and his self-published wisdom.

Bert’s not shy; no one with a long career in sales can be. He’s earnest about his beliefs and Midwestern Catholic values. He’s also willing to put his money where his mouth is—and not just by publishing his own book: Bert’s also a great supporter of Catholic schools, having bestowed many thousands of dollars to benefit them over the years.

What sort of wisdom is there in “Letters to Paul”? Here’s a nugget: Bert talks about getting into fights as a kid. None were wanted and some he lost; some he won. One battle was a long one. Just before he thought he was beaten and turned tail for home, it was the other kid who burst into tears and fled. The lesson? “Never give up; you don’t know just how close you are to victory.”

Since I have great empathy for struggling writers trying to peddle their books, “Letters to Paul” is available by contacting me or through Amazon.com. It won’t win a Pulitzer, and probably won’t make much money, but it has honest charm and good advice.

Also in this issue of TCNW, we’re pleased to return to a long-ago tradition of including stories in Polish to benefit the archdiocese’s already large and growing Polish-speaking community. It’s something we will try to continue as long as resources—and space—make it possible. Our partner in this project is Father Tom Paprocki, former chancellor and pastor of St. Constance Parish on the city’s Northwest side.

Tom Sheridan
Editor and General Manager