Next year (2024) will be the year of my 60th reunion from Harvard College (whew!); that’s what happens when you are 80.

The other day I received the invitation to put together a few paragraphs for the 60th Reunion directory. Harvard sends out a reunion directory each five years – you can imagine that I have quite a collection.

So, yesterday, I wrote and submitted the material to be published in the directory. They ask you specific questions, and then give you the ability to add anything you want. One of the questions that they ask, not surprisingly, is about any graduate degrees. I told them that I had an LL.B. from Yale that I received in 1967.

After I submitted my response, I got a thank you and a note from “Nicholas”, who identified himself as the directory’s editor. Here is our correspondence.

Nicholas: Hi, Arthur. “I see that you said that you received an LL.B. from Yale Law School. I checked their website and they give a J.D., not an LL.B. Did you get a J.D.?”

Me: “Hi, Nicholas. No. When I went to Yale, they gave out LL.B.’s. Later they started to give out J.D.’s instead of LL.B.’s. But I have an LL.B. I never asked to have it converted.”

Nicholas: “Art, can I change it to J.D. to be consistent with what Yale gives now?”

Me: “Nicholas, it wouldn’t be true. I don’t have a J.D. But, since one day the entire solar system will die and be eaten up by a black hole, maybe it doesn’t really matter. So do whichever you want.”

Nicholas: “Understood. I will leave it as it is.”

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One more thing for today.

We had dinner last night at a new Italian restaurant that recently opened on Upshur Street NW in Petworth. When I say recently, I mean during August, I think, although the restaurant marquis had been up for quite a while.

(A digression: San Matteo. I hadn’t put two and two together until yesterday. San Matteo is Italian for Saint Matthew. Duh. Everyone else must already have known this since they about 13, but sometimes I am slow. Also, there is no town called San Matteo in Italy – so the name doesn’t lead you to any particular form of Italian cuisine. And, the city of San Mateo in California only has one “t” – why would that be? End of digression.)

From the outside, it’s a small restaurant, with three or four sidewalk tables. You walk in and the narrow restaurant as a very modern bar with stools on your right and about four high tables for two on your left; there are two tables between the end of the bar and the front windows. Nicely laid out, very sleek in shades of brown, but – not much room, you say.

THEN, they lead you through that room, past a window to the kitchen, into a back room (a recent addition, to be sure) which is very large and airy, with windows on three sides, which can open. I didn’t count the separate tables, but I would guess there may be twenty, nicely but informally set. Very light. Very welcoming. From the street, you would have no idea.

And, on a Thursday evening at about 7:30, it was all quite crowded. Now, here is the dilemma – they made some serious mistakes, but I would go back again.

The menu is fairly small – maybe 8 pasta dishes and 4 non-pasta entrees, plus a bunch of salads and starters. I ordered a pasta amatriciana. The homemade pasta, bucatini, was perfect. There was a rich tomato sauce. Everything seemed just right. But….there was no spice. And an amatriciana is supposed to have a tang to it. What happened?

I called the waiter and asked if he had any flaked red pepper. He said, “pepper, sure”, and went away, returning with a normal black pepper mill, which he put on the table. I was surprised, but I used a little pepper, just to give it a little spirit, and it worked, but it wasn’t right.

After the meal, and after checking the menu and seeing that one of the ingredients was said to be Calabrian chilis, I asked him about it. His response: “Some of our guests don’t like things spicy, so we can make it both ways. You could have asked for the peppers.” “I did ask and you brought me a black pepper mill”, I responded. “Oh”, he said, “I thought that’s what you wanted. My fault.”

I left it at that – but what happened? Had he said to the chef: “the guy that ordered this looks like he must be 80 years old – he probably doesn’t want it spicy.”? Why would they make and serve a spicy dish without spices as their default? How is a customer supposed to know they even have a choice?

I put this to the restaurant being a month or less old. As I said, I think the food (including Edie’s large salad and my non-spicy pasta) was really well put together. It just isn’t what I ordered.

Anyway, we are now on day five this week taking care of our 2 1/2 year old grandson. Will we ever recover?