I live in a County of transient memory.

     One reason for this absence of historic memory is that nothing either great or terrible has marked the County's history. It is not haunted by a legacy of devastation or defeat or epic loss like Faulkner's South. Quite the opposite. Since at least the 1850's, in fact, it has prospered from wars that took place elsewhere. Except for Jubal Early's abortive three-day raid in '64, and the four years of tension before and after, even the Civil War passed it by. But the farms of Montgomery County fed both sides, as they had earlier fed the combatants in the faraway Crimea. It was Twentieth Century war -- especially victory in Twentieth Century war -- that made Montgomery County, Maryland, during the last half of the Twentieth Century one of the very wealthiest Counties in America per median family income -- the most telling measure.

         Uninterrupted growth in wealth does not a haunted history make.

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"Jack," says Uncle Pat.  "When nobody endorsed you, you refused to be endorsed."

"I attacked Organization endorsements."  Dad jabs the air with an heroic finger, laughing the laugh he laughed when he was caught.

"But now that you have matured with experience."  Uncle Pat's forehead furrows wisely.  "You have come to appreciate that getting endorsed is not such a bad thing."

"And I didn't ask for it!"  Hands out, head shaking, again bug‑eyed.  "They asked me!  It's a free country.   If they believe I am eminently well qualified to be a Judge of the Orphans' Court -- if they feel moved to endorse my ability, and my integrity, how can I repudiate anyone who endorses my integrity?"

They all laugh; I give up trying to understand.

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