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No Place Like Home. Briggsy was a horrifying bowser of a Bryn Mawr graduate—a Philadelphia Main Liner, piddler in photography, a breeder of Scottish terriers. Briggsy was abetted by her Ma and Pa, who lined Jimbo-Jumbo's "den" with photographs of clipper ships; by her bouncing redheaded sisters, Franzie, Pollsie and Nellsie.
Jimbo-Jumbo, by now, was so important a news commentator—a man qualified to let everyone know that Germany would never attack Russia and that there was nothing to fear from Japan—that Ma and Pa could overlook his divorce. Briggsy took over everything that might disturb the great mind: his checkbook, his correspondence, the task of feeding his stomach ulcers their diet of hot milk every two hours.
Late in the morning of Dec. 7, 1941, Briggsy was writing a letter from the Leverett home #n Beacon Street. Jim had just received Back Bay's accolade in Symphony Hall, where he had spoken about "the pattern of freedom, the quality of integrity, and the brand of honor which have been yours—and mine." He was out for a bitter, retrospective walk along the Esplanade, where he and Mary, 20 years ago, had seen his future so clearly, when Briggsy concluded:
"I must stop and get busy about making out a Christmas list which I haven't even thought of yet. Isn't this always the most hectic time of the entire year?"
The Author is the sister of CBS News Commentator Quincy Howe. Boston-born, she left Radcliffe after a year for dramatic study in Paris. She has delivered her monologues (typical subjects: a girls' college talk on personal hygiene; a leader of amateur madrigal singers) in London, the White House, many theaters and universities.