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Paul Golias and I could have talked all night, and would have if he didn’t have family commitments. We have ink in our veins, Paul and I, to borrow a phrase from the old-timers, which I suppose we are now. It means we were born to bang out stories on manual Royal typewriters and come home to our families smelling like ink and newsprint, as we both did every day when we were much younger. Between us we have a good hundred years in this business.

We recently stood chatting on the campus of King’s College following a presentation marking the 40th anniversary of the famed Wilkes-Barre newspaper strike which gave birth to The Citizens’ Voice. Paul was a key figure in the strike and became managing editor of The Voice. His determination and leadership helped keep the paper going in those early days.

Our encounter at King’s put a smile on my face for a reason other than the obvious, however. Paul had no idea that aside from being a respected old colleague and a joy to be around, he also was the latest piece in a puzzle that was starting to put itself together. “Of course I’m talking with Paul Golias,” I kept thinking. “His name is Paul.”

I had to get going myself because I was meeting my friend Paul Martin later that evening. Earlier that day, I received an email from former student Paul Gestl asking for career advice. That afternoon, I spent some time with fellow LCCC professor Paul Sinclair talking about our annual music fest at the college, which caused me to think of former students Paul Malholtra and Reba Paul. And I needed to touch base with my brother-in-law Paul Kern, my go-to guy to collect my mail and pick up the newspapers off my front porch when I am out of town.

In case you haven’t noticed, that’s quite a few Pauls swirling around. And because I subscribe to the notion that coincidences are God’s way of talking to us, I am trying to figure out what it all means.

A couple of days after the afore described “All Paul Day” I attended the annual “smoker,” a dinner at St. Joseph Marello Church, where Father Joseph Elston, pastor and principal speaker, referenced my old, dear friend Father Paul McDonnell, calling him “the Emperor of the North,” which got a pretty good laugh.

That morning, I ran into Paul Morgan at the gym, drove home in the car I bought a few years ago from Paul Skrzysowski, and flipped on the radio only to be treated to a song by, no surprise, Paul Simon. As I opened the fridge for a bottle of water I noticed the postcard from Paul Cooper hanging on the door with a magnet. And I am 350 pages into the book “Grant,” a biography on Ulysses S. Grant recommended to me by Paul Pugliese.

This isn’t the first time I’ve found myself up to my shoulders in Pauls. That was in November 2000 when I reneged on a promise to myself and married for the second time. The celebrant was the same Father Paul mentioned above. The same brother-in-law Paul Kern scurried around taking pictures and one of the readings was from Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians: love is patient, love is kind ...

Another Father Paul — the late Father Paul Pavese, OSJ — was assistant pastor of Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church then. At the celebration of the 60th anniversary of his ordination, I recall saying to him, “Father Pavese, whenever I doubt the existence of God I think of you and say to myself, ‘Father Pavese is so much more intelligent than I and he does not doubt God so neither should I,” and he responded, “That’s very good logic.’”

I had no less than three students named Paul in my classes during the fall semester of 2000. Mary Kay and I honeymooned in London and the driver who collected us at the airport was named Paul, although he pronounced it “Pow.” While there, we of course toured St. Paul’s Cathedral.

At that time I had a pretty good idea why all these Pauls showed up. I believed it was a reminder of a day about seven years early when a failed first marriage and the prospect of my two little children being whisked away to start a new life in New Jersey had reduced me to a pulp. I was on the phone with a friend, minister Jim Clyde, and a complete mess and he told me to open my Bible to Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians, Chapter 12, where I read, “Power is made perfect in weakness, for when I am weak then I am strong.” And that was the beginning of a whole new me. A new me confident enough to embrace another walk down the aisle.

Now, nearly 18 years later, I am not sure what message all these Pauls are trying to deliver but they clearly won’t be denied. I was contemplating this Monday afternoon as I waited at Agolino’s Restaurant for my friend Michael Clark to join me for lunch.

Earlier in the day, while preparing my taxes, I stumbled upon an old newspaper clipping in my files. It was a front page photo of the late Paul Leonard when he was named “Man of the Year” by the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick. Who knows what it was doing there. On my phone was a text from my son about a comment Paul McCartney made last week about guns. I glanced out the window looking for Michael Clark and who did I see but Paul Gerosky crossing the street. On the way out I stopped to say hello to Jerry Zezza and one of the guys at the table asked me if I remember the late Paul Owens, one time manager of the Philadelphia Phillies.

Of course I remember him, I said. His nickname was “The Pope,” Jerry Zezza chimed in.

I knew that and I knew why. It was because he bore a strong resemblance to, are you ready, Pope Paul VI.

There’s something’s going on here. That’s for sure.

Ed Ackerman writes The Optimist every week. Look for his blogs online during the week at pittstonprogress.com.

Paul Golias and I could have talked all night, and would have if he didn’t have family commitments. We have ink in our veins, Paul and I, to borrow a phrase from the old-timers, which I suppose we are now. It means we were born to bang out stories on manual Royal typewriters and come home to our families smelling like ink and newsprint, as we both did every day when we were much younger. Between us we have a good hundred years in this business.

We recently stood chatting on the campus of King’s College following a presentation marking the 40th anniversary of the famed Wilkes-Barre newspaper strike which gave birth to the Citizens Voice. Paul was a key figure in the strike and became managing editor of the Voice. His determination and leadership helped keep the paper going in those early days.

Our encounter at King’s put a smile on my face for a reason other than the obvious, however. Paul had no idea that aside from being a respected old colleague and a joy to be around, he also was the latest piece in a puzzle that was starting to put itself together. “Of course I’m talking with Paul Golias,” I kept thinking. “His name is Paul.”

I had to get going myself because I was meeting my friend Paul Martin later that evening. Earlier that day I received an email from former student Paul Gestl asking for career advice. That afternoon I spent some time with fellow LCCC professor Paul Sinclair talking about our annual music fest at the college which caused me to think of former students Paul Malholtra and Reba Paul. And I needed to touch base with my brother-in-law Paul Kern, my go-to guy to collect my mail and pick up the newspapers off my front porch when I am out of town.

In case you haven’t noticed, that’s quite a few Pauls swirling around. And because I subscribe to the notion that coincidences are God’s way of talking to us, I am trying to figure out what it all means.

A couple of days after the afore described “All Paul Day” I attended the annual “smoker,” a dinner at St. Joseph Marello Church, where Father Joseph Elston, pastor and principal speaker, referenced my old, dear friend Father Paul McDonnell, calling him “the Emperor of the North,” which got a pretty good laugh. That morning I ran into Paul Morgan at the gym, drove home in the car I bought a few years ago from Paul Skrzysowski, and flipped on the radio only to be treated to a song by, no surprise, Paul Simon. As I opened the fridge for a bottle of water I noticed the postcard from Paul Cooper hanging on the door with a magnet. And I am 350 pages into the book “Grant,” a biography on Ulysses S. Grant recommended to me by Paul Pugliese.

This isn’t the first time I’ve found myself up to my shoulders in Pauls. That was in November of 2000 when I reneged on a promise to myself and married for the second time. The celebrant was the same Father Paul mentioned above. The same brother-in-law Paul Kern scurried around taking pictures and one of the readings was from Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians: love is patient, love is kind ...

Another Father Paul -- the late Father Paul Pavese, OSJ -- was assistant pastor of Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church then. At the celebration of the 60th anniversary of his ordination I recall saying to him, “Father Pavese, whenever I doubt the existence of God I think of you and say to myself, ‘Father Pavese is so much more intelligent than I and he does not doubt God so neither should I,” and he responded, “That’s very good logic.’”

I had no less than three students named Paul in my classes during the fall semester of 2000. Mary Kay and I honeymooned in London and the driver who collected us at the airport was named Paul, although he pronounced it “Pow.” While there, we of course toured St. Paul’s Cathedral.

At that time I had a pretty good idea why all these Pauls showed up. I believed it was a reminder of a day about seven years early when a failed first marriage and the prospect of my two little children being whisked away to start a new life in New Jersey had reduced me to a pulp. I was on the phone with a friend, minister Jim Clyde, and a complete mess and he told me to open my Bible to Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians, Chapter 12, where I read, “Power is made perfect in weakness, for when I am weak then I am strong.” And that was the beginning of a whole new me. A new me confident enough to embrace another walk down the aisle.

Now, nearly 18 years later, I am not sure what message all these Pauls are trying to deliver but they clearly won’t be denied. I was contemplating this Monday afternoon as I waited at Agolino’s Restaurant for my friend Michael Clark to join me for lunch. Earlier in the day, while preparing my taxes, I stumbled upon an old newspaper clipping in my files. It was a front page photo of the late Paul Leonard when he was named “Man of the Year” by the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick. Who knows what it was doing there. On my phone was a text from my son about a comment Paul McCartney made last week about guns. I glanced out the window looking for Michael Clark and who did I see but Paul Gerosky crossing the street. On the way out I stopped to say hello to Jerry Zezza and one of the guys at the table asked me if I remember the late Paul Owens, one time manager of the Philadelphia Phillies.

Of course I remember him, I said. His nickname was “The Pope,” Jerry Zezza chimed in.

I knew that and I knew why. It was because he bore a strong resemblance to, are you ready, Pope Paul VI.

There’s something’s going on here. That’s for sure.