Happy Anniversary, Dear Pharaoh

Two years ago today, we awoke to the announcement that Justin Rigali would indeed be coming to Philadelphia as The Most High. Of course, as he had learned it the prior Christmas, and word had gone out inside the walls here two months beforehand -- Philly privilege -- the only surprise was the timing.

And it's been an interesting two years. Conclave aside, JR has given about six media interviews -- he is a shy one. He's extremely efficient, works so hard that the auxiliaries can't bitch at their workloads (though some would like to), and he relies on mind-blowing levels of collaboration and consultation. Everyone is asked, all (clerical) voices are heard, and a careful decision is reached. There's a lot to be said for the Rota method, which he learned under Paul VI and the Great Benelli in the Secretariat of State.

Pharaoh is celebrating his Philadelphia anniversary in appropriate fashion, leading our big donors on a pilgrimage of Europe. He hasn't been home since, um, before the pallia; the Arciprete has been Salon Central for the month of July. He might come back with the money people, but then it's off to Cologne -- and then a getaway to the mountains with the curial clan. Or back to the vacation home in Missouri. Or both. But probably not the Shore house, though, which is odd considering his LA roots. Ostia yes, Ventnor no.

I've still to see this Italian leather jacket which, I'm told, is as luscious as butter. Philly boys have never lacked for style, because the Holy Father told us not to. And the archbishop's a perfect fit.

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