Tonight Teresa and I made a pact. It was that, like Jean Val Jean, who heroically saved Marius from death and afterward, despite many opportunities, never confessed the good deed to a puzzled Marius as the years rolled by, until the truth came out through a circumstantial slip on Val Jean’s death bed, that we too vowed to be perfectly modest, never pleading for our innocence or glory when misrepresented, but shamefully and silently enduring our outward labels and the weight of our inner greatness until we keel over and die, trusting that in so doing, our greatness will be immensely amplified in due time, and, wearing saintly crowns in the hereafter, we’ll then be at liberty to toot our horns to the eternal shame of our inferiors.