A few years ago my cousins Gary and Mark, and I, were talking one day. I presumed to attempt to make a contribution to a certain topic of conversation, when Mark claimed that because I’m a theology and philosophy major-I’m not. I majored in literature- he wondered how could I possibly have had any idea of what I was talking about. A while after that I got into a debate with one of Mary Anne’s three kids, my nephew Michael. When I provided a rebuttal for something he said, he complained that it sounded as if it were something I’d mooched from a philosophy lecture and that for as far back as he could remember my approach to life has always boiled down, as far as he could recognize, to philosophy, theology and the Beatles.
Ever since my middle twenties I’ve always been quite smitten with theology and philosophy. Unlike other academic disciplines, as far as I’m concerned, those are the only two that an individual can, by necessity, count on having a need for over the course of his entire everyday life outside the classroom, one hundred per cent of the time. They’re all about human nature. The Beatles have been my very favorites literally throughout my entire lifetime. Their decade, the infamous legendary 1960’s, provide my sense of style and imagery. I’ve always always had quite an exceptionally intense sense of humor, and a hyperactive imagination, that can be referred to as a bit on the lopsided side. If my last name were ever to be used as an eponymous adjective, it would refer to a world where the things that must be taken very seriously would always undeniably be understood from an entirely conservative point of view. I very long ago recognized that liberalism is the custodian of all things evil and destructive. The left, in both secular and religious sources, dating back to the days of the Old Testament as well as Virgil and Homer, has always been associated with the forces of evil. Of course, in order to add an unavoidably necessary touch of levity to things, that would have to be combined with all my hippie flower power imagery and quite a nice wholesome dose of silliness. My lifelong infatuation with the past is most certainly not restricted to the 1960’s. Life in my world could send someone to places ranging from Regency England to ancient Macedonia.
To refer to something as Trasciatti.esque would be to evoke a world that somehow combines the intellectual and serious with the silly and lopsided, a world where everyone can be pretty much counted upon to behave reasonably well, but in which everything ends in suffixes ranging from -in to -agogo.