As with so many moments of grace, this didn’t feel like one when it first began.

I had names on the brain this week after I came across a piece of paper my Dad had saved at the time my folks were trying to decide what to name my younger brother, born in 1955. They eventually settled on the quite alliterative James Justin Jacquet, a moniker my brother Jim seems to have been fine with through the years. It’s a name that has afforded me the opportunity to call him by a few nicknames, notably Justin, Little J, and Jimbo.

It’s hard not to love July. It’s always been my favorite month of the year, even if my birthday happens to be in May and even if I do love autumn. I feel about July the way one of our newest diocesan priests, quoted in a recent issue of the Exponent, said he felt about Rome: “What’s not to like?”

As summer comes on seriously with July heat and yours truly wedges in a few vacation days, my mind turns to recreational pursuits such as the movies. A recent article in the Ashtabula Star-Beacon on that subject – concerning the 30th anniversary of the filming of “The Blues Brothers” in Chicago – took me back across the years to 1980.

With surprisingly little reluctance, I said goodbye to a long-held dream this week. I sold my 1950 Plymouth Special Deluxe Coupe to someone who knows more about cars than I ever will. He will give it a good home after undertaking the refurbishing that I never got around to.