HENRY
Robert E. Winterton, Sr., 33

Personal caring, one Brother to another, is what makes us a fraternity-and a family.

He was short, heavy, and frowned a lot Some said he was a troll, others characterized him as a leprechaun. He was irascible, irritating, and sometimes loud. He had a penchant for complaining and finding fault. He boasted of having "taken a demit" every time the Scottish Rite raised its dues over the past 50 years, but he never explained how he managed to remain a member in order to exercise his proclivity for demitting. He once cast a vote against a dues increase, only to offer (during new business) personally to pay $15,000 to pave the Lodge parking lot. He wasn't stingy; he just enjoyed complaining. For 50 years, he was successful at getting under the skin of just about every Master.
Then Henry was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. The disease worked quickly Soon, the Lodge was in charge of his care, a 24-hour-a-day duty almost immediately. Henry lost weight, mobility, and comprehension. In a matter of months, he became a child of three. Delivered to the Lodge one evening too late for a formal dinner and informed of his tardiness, he stood in the doorway weeping like a child who had missed a birthday party. The tables and chairs had already been stacked and put away by the stewards.
Henry still stood at the door, his shoulders heaving with each breath.

Wasn't someone going to do something? Are we a fraternity? And if so, what does that mean? Are we a family, or do we just go through the motions? Do we stand for anything real, or do we just mouth the words? The ghost of Masonry Past stood silent witness to the events and was ready to cast judgement.

"Get a plate of food-quick!" someone said. It was the Master's voice, The Senior Warden, a young man, covered the length of the dining room in seven or eight running strides. Reaching Henry, he nearly shouted, "How are you, Henry? Are you hungry? It's good do see you. Let's go eat!"



By the time Henry's shuffling steps delivered him to the table, he was smiling like a kid at his first Big League ball game. Almost instantly, a plate of steaming food was placed on a sparkling tablecloth, a napkin was tucked in his collar, and someone was saying, "The coffee is hot, Henry. Be careful." Then, all the officers of Lodge, some in full tuxedos, others with their sleeves rolled up, seated themselves around Henry's table. An old Past Master approached the table, "What's going on here, boys?" Surprisingly, the answer came from the youngest one at the table, a junior Steward in his late 20s, "He's our Brother, and he's not going to eat alone"
Well, maybe it does work! Maybe we mean what we say. Maybe we really are a family of Brothers bearing some responsibility for each other. Little events like this one will determine the truth of the matter, not the words of a catechism. 

Robert E. Waterton, Sr. was raised in El Cajon Valley Lodge No. 576 in 1972 (Master in 1988), became a 32( Mason, Valley of San Diego, in 1984, K..: C.: C.: H.:. in 1991, and 33( 1.: G.: H.: in 1995, A member of the Grand Lodge of California's Speaker's Panel since 1987, he was Grand Chaplain of the Grand Lodge of California 1989-90, and Chairman, Grand Lodge Education Group, 1991-92. Presently, Personal Representative, Valley of San Diego, he is also a member of the York Rite Bodies, Al Bahr Shrine Temple, ONES., Order of the White Shrine of Jerusalem, So. California Research Lodge, Scottish Rite Research Society, Joseph L. Shell Daylight Lodge No. 837, The Philalethes Society, The Royal Order of Scotland The Robert the Bruce Association, York Rite College, and National Sojournes/Heroes of '76.

HENRY
Robert E. Winterton, Sr., 33*

Personal caring, one Brother to another, is what makes us a
fraternity-and a family.

He was short, heavy, and frowned a lot Some said he was a troll,
others characterized him as a leprechaun. He was irascible,
irritating, and sometimes loud. He had a penchant for complaining and
finding fault. He boasted of having "taken a demit" every time the
Scottish Rite raised its dues over the past 50 years, but he never
explained how he managed to remain a member in order to exercise his
proclivity for demitting. He once cast a vote against a dues increase,
only to offer (during new business) personally to pay $15,000 to pave
the Lodge parking lot. He wasn't stingy; he just enjoyed complaining.
For 50 years, he was successful at getting under the skin of just
about every Master.
Then Henry was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. The disease worked quickly
Soon, the Lodge was in charge of his care, a 24-hour-a-day duty almost
immediately. Henry lost weight, mobility, and comprehension. In a
matter of months, he became a child of three. Delivered to the Lodge
one evening too late for a formal dinner and informed of his
tardiness, he stood in the doorway weeping like a child who had missed
a birthday party. The tables and chairs had already been stacked and
put away by the stewards.
Henry still stood at the door, his shoulders heaving with each breath.

Wasn't someone going to do something? Are we a fraternity? And if so,
what does that mean? Are we a family, or do we just go through the
motions? Do we stand for anything real, or do we just mouth the words?
The ghost of Masonry Past stood silent witness to the events and was
ready to cast judgement.

"Get a plate of food-quick!" someone said. It was the Master's voice,
The Senior Warden, a young man, covered the length of the dining room
in seven or eight running strides. Reaching Henry, he nearly shouted,
"How are you, Henry? Are you hungry? It's good do see you. Let's go
eat!"



By the time Henry's shuffling steps delivered him to the table, he was
smiling like a kid at his first Big League ball game. Almost
instantly, a plate of steaming food was placed on a sparkling
tablecloth, a napkin was tucked in his collar, and someone was saying,
"The coffee is hot, Henry. Be careful." Then, all the officers of
Lodge, some in full tuxedos, others with their sleeves rolled up,
seated themselves around Henry's table. An old Past Master approached
the table, "What's going on here, boys?" Surprisingly, the answer came
from the youngest one at the table, a junior Steward in his late 20s,
"He's our Brother, and he's not going to eat alone"

Well, maybe it does work! Maybe we mean what we say. Maybe we really
are a family of Brothers bearing some responsibility for each other.
Little events like this one will determine the truth of the matter,
not the words of a catechism. 

Robert E. Waterton, Sr. was raised in El Cajon Valley Lodge No. 576 in
1972 (Master in 1988), became a 32* Mason, Valley of San Diego, in
1984, K..: C.: C.: H.:. in 1991, and 33* 1.: G.: H.: in 1995, A member
of the Grand Lodge of California's Speaker's Panel since 1987, he was
Grand Chaplain of the Grand Lodge of California 1989-90, and Chairman,
Grand Lodge Education Group, 1991-92. Presently, Personal
Representative, Valley of San Diego, he is also a member of the York
Rite Bodies, Al Bahr Shrine Temple, ONES., Order of the White Shrine
of Jerusalem, So. California Research Lodge, Scottish Rite Research
Society, Joseph L. Shell Daylight Lodge No. 837, The Philalethes
Society, The Royal Order of Scotland The Robert the Bruce Association,
York Rite College, and National Sojournes/Heroes of '76.