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          Thomas Francis Costello was a worrier and over thinker. His father was a tenant farmer in the Costello Barony around Charlestown, County Mayo, Ireland. One day, he got his son Thomas Francis aside and took him to a newly plowed field. He put his arm on his son's shoulder and said, "Thomas, I know your thoughts sometimes cause you trouble. That has been a Costello trait since the first potato was grown. But I want you to remember this. If you look at this freshly plowed field ready for planting, keep in mind you'll never plow a field by turning it over in your mind."

          Twenty years later, Thomas Francis remembered his father's advice as he stood in front of the door that, when opened, would introduce him to a whole new world. His palms were sweaty, and his heart raced as he reached for the doorknob, turned it slightly until he heard it click, and pushed it open. The weight of the unknown future bore down on him, making his every step feel like a leap of faith. 

          "Mr. Costello, come in, Sir. Thank you for coming. Have a seat here, in the middle," Superintendent and Chief Administrator, Dr. Howard Spencer said, his tone serious and business-like, hinting at the gravity of the situation. Costello's heart raced as he took his seat, the purpose of the meeting still a mystery to him. 

Thomas Francis Costello, 31, a sharply, well-dressed, handsome man with a square chin and bluish grey eyes, entered the conference room at the Wernersville State Asylum for the Chronically Insane. The Asylum, founded in 1891 by the state to address the growing number of people in Pennsylvania with long-term mental illness, was a significant institution in the community. Costello had worked as an attendant at the Asylum for a little over three years and was summoned to the meeting without knowing its purpose.

          "I'm sure, Thomas," Dr. Spencer explained, "that you already know the individuals around the table, but I'll go ahead and introduce them, anyway". 

          Costello nodded. 

          "Of course, you know, Henrietta Robinson, Director of Nursing and Attendants." Costello gazed at Robinson with a slight, crooked smile. Costello, an eligible bachelor with a rugged, lean look acquired from years of heavy farm work, was a "catch" for anyone at the Asylum unattached. Nurse Robinson, although a bit homely in appearance, fit that category. Her flirtatious, gushing smile slightly embarrassed him, but he respected her professional competence. 

          Robinson stepped away from her chair and, smiling, extended her hand. "Thomas Francis," she said, "so terrific to see you." He gave her a limp handshake, then quickly looked away. Facing the Board of Directors responsible for running the Asylum, it was true he did know them all, but never together in a small conference room, and for reasons unknown to him.

         Thank you," he responded to Robinson, barely above a whisper. Thoughts were entering his mind faster than the onset of an Irish drizzle in the wee hours of sunrise. He thought he was being fired, but quickly dispelled that notion. No, the board wouldn't do it, just Spencer in his office. I must have treated a patient incorrectly — maybe that's why I'm here. Perhaps I wasn't working, but how could that be? I was the hardest-working attendant at the Asylum.

          His eyes flashed to Nurse Robinson. It's her because I rebuffed her flirtations. Damn it. Costello had recently put his name on a list to purchase a Model T at a new Ford dealership in Reading, ten miles from the Asylum. Financially, an Irish immigrant would not have been able to buy a car in Pennsylvania. However, Costello had been in America for eleven years and was quite the saver. He accumulated substantial savings. His good, steady job at the Asylum impressed the Ford people — and the car dealer spoke with Dr. Spencer, who gave Costello a solid recommendation. She is going to ruin my car.

          "And Dr. Raul Bennett, the staff psychiatrist," Dr. Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts. Costello looked at Dr. Bennett, rose slightly from his seat, and stuck out his hand. Bennett reached across the table and shook it. Smiling, he said, "Thomas Francis, how are you, Sir?" He's a good man. Takes good care of the patients. He's always supportive of me and gives me advice. Thomas's respect for Dr. Bennett was evident in his every word and gesture.

          "Dr. Powell," Dr. Spencer said, pointing his hand toward the tall, grey-haired man at the end of the table. Powell was the chief medical officer and physician at the Asylum. He knew Dr. Powell well. Thomas had developed a slight cough, and once in the main lunatic room, Dr. Powell asked him about it. He said it was nothing, just a little scratchy throat. "I think I fought off a cold," he told Dr. Powell. "It's nothing, Dr. Powell, really." Thomas wasn't much for doctors and thought them a waste of time. Mother always told me that a good laugh and a good sleep are the best cures in a doctor's book. So, who needs doctors? But. He liked Dr. Powell. A good man, but I hope he doesn't let people know about my cough: goodbye job and goodbye car.

           And of course, Dr. Spencer continued, Mr. Surkowski. Costello's eyes flashed to Reed Surkowski, head of grounds and facilities. Polack bum. Like oil and water with this guy. He's preparing the grounds for planting fields, as they call it. I want to plant him there permanently. Now I have to stand the hell up and shake his hand. "Reed, how are you?" His forced politeness towards Surkowski couldn't hide the disdain in his voice.

          "Good Thomas, good. Very good, thank you." Okay, we just needed one good. Not three. 

They always ask me how to grow potatoes, as if I'm a fake Irishman. I think he's British. Grandmother Davey told me, "The day will come when the cow has use for its tail." This bum has no tail.

          "How are your stories coming, Thomas?" Surkowski asked. 

Thomas stared at him without answering. How did he know about that? Spying on me? 

"Thomas works on writing stories in his spare time," Surkowski told the board. 

          "Oh, that's wonderful," Nurse Robinson said admiringly. "What are they about, Thomas?"

          "Nothing special," he answered, without directly addressing her. "Just about life."

          "Didn't know we had an author in our midst," Dr. Spencer said excitedly. 

          "Oh, I'm no author," he answered. "Just like to put thoughts down on occasions."

          "I bet you're an excellent author, Thomas," Nurse Robinsobn said with a twinkle in her eye. 

          "Hmmm," Thomas answered, while still turned toward Dr. Spencer.

          "Okay, let's move on, shall we?" Spencer said. "To your left, Thomas, you know Matthew Doughrty, head of maintenance and food services.

          "Certainly, I do," Costello said, as he smiled and turned to shake Doughrty's hand. He's Irish Catholic like me. He and I should be running this place.

          "Okay, at this point, now, do you know why I invited you here to address the board, Thomas?"

          "No, Sir, I do not."

         "The board has decided to create a new position at the Asylum, Supervisor of Attendants," Dr. Spencer explained. "As you know, all attendants report to Nurse Robibnson, who is also head of nursing." Costello turned to look at Nurse Robinson, who was smiling, and she squinched up her shoulders. He quickly looked away. "The Board thinks that it's too much to put on the shoulders of one person." Especially her, she's dumber than a sack of bricks. So, we've created a new position, Supervisor of Attendants, and Thomas; we'd like to offer the position to you, if that is something you would like."

         Before Costello could answer, Dr. Bennett, the staff psychiatrist, spoke. "We've all watched how well you work with our patients, Thomas. They like you, even those who have lost their ability to speak or reason. They light up when you approach them."

          "Oh, yes," Nurse Robinson said, smiling. "Thomas and I have discussed many times the proper way to interact with them, haven't we, Thomas? You are a rapid learner when taught the correct techniques. Thomas nodded a half smile toward Dr. Bennett but did not look at Robinson.

          "Yes, Dr. Spencer, that would be something I would like," Costello replied.

          "I'd like Mr. Surkowski to outline for you what we expect from you as our new Supervisor of Attendants, Reed?"

          "Yes, thank you, Dr. Spencer. Thomas, we've watched how you help many of our patients with small garden patches. How did you learn how to do that?"

          "I grew up on a farm in Ireland, Reed. My father was a tenant farmer in the Costello Barony. We were one of the first farms in County Mayo to diversify our crops to get away from relying solely on the potato."

          "I see," Dr. Powell, the medical doctor at the Asylum, said. "It was the potato that caused the Irish famine, wasn't it. Did they stop growing?"

          "No, Sir, Dr. Powell," Costello replied. "It was potato fungus that killed the potatoes. My mother and father lived through it but survived."

          "There were thousands killed; that was so terrible," Nurse Robinson interjected. 

          Thomas turned to Robibnson. "Nearly nine million Irish died because of the potato fungus infection," he replied sternly.

          "Oh, I'm so sorry," she responded, covering her mouth with her hand. You can't get any dumber than her.

         "Curious, Thomas," Dr. Bennett asked. "How did you get to America, and did you come because of the famine? I hope you don't mind me asking."

          "Not at all, Sir," Thomas replied. "My father was a tenant farmer in the Costello Barony in County Mayo. Around 1885, Ireland passed several laws allowing tenant farmers to purchase and sell their land. My father sold some of his land, made good on the farm products he had been selling, and then sold his entire farm. That gave him enough to bring his family to Philadelphia."

          "You said the Costello Barony," Mr. Surkowski asked. "What is that, a barony?"

Baronies date back to a time in Irish history when the land was divided. Counties — such as County Mayo — had baronies, or townships, named for the Anglo-Norman Costello family. Now this is going back to the 12th century."

          "Very interesting," Dr. Powell injected. "Thomas, you say your father was a farmer. Was he strictly a potato farmer?"

          "Yes, he was," Thomas answered. "But after the famine, many Irish farmers knew they had to diversify. Move away from a one-crop farm to prevent famine from happening again. My father was one of the first."

          "How did that work? Dr. Spencer asked. "How did your father diversify?"

          "It didn't happen overnight; it was a gradual, slow process. First, we acquired dairy and beef cows, as well as pigs. And slowly, he added crops other than potatoes. With livestock, we had to feed them, and the only way to do that was to grow crops, which we called fodder crops. We grew oaks, corn, and hay and mixed them for the animals. We also began growing cash crops, which we could sell to the market. Slowly, my father, a tremendously hard worker, had a farm that was worth a considerable amount of money. He bought it low and sold it high."

          "That's amazing," Nurse Robinson uttered. "Did you help your father, Thomas?"

          Thomas looked at Nurse Lacs and replied, "Yes, of course. I worked by his side." Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, get me away from this annoying woman.

          "So that's how you and your family were able to come to America?" Dr. Spencer asked. "Did you come through Ellis Island?"

          "Our ship stopped at Ellis Island, where we were processed. We then came directly to Philadelphia."

          "Why Philadelphia?" Mr. Sukowski inquired.

          Irish children learn early about America. We know that William Penn founded Philadelphia and Pennsylvania. We were a strong Irish-Catholic family, and Mother and Father wanted a new life where there was religious freedom and where we wouldn't be discriminated against because first, we are Irish, and second, we are Catholic."

           "It's well known at the Asylum," Mr. Sukkowski said, "that you go to church every day. Is that true, Thomas?"

          "Yes, I go to morning Mass at St. Ignatius here in Wernersville before coming to work." (

          "I see," Dr. Spencer said. "This is all very interesting. I think the board made a good selection by offering this job to you, Thomas. Do you have any questions to ask of us?"

          "Only one, Sir. I want to expand on the garden patches because I have seen how our patients respond to gardening. It would help if we had more attendants familiar with agriculture.

          Dr. Spencer smiled. "It's interesting you ask that, Thomas. I think you are reading my mind. We are preparing to hire attendants from local farms. We've placed posters in numerous post offices, requesting that the children of farmers apply for jobs here. Two have been offered jobs. You will be the first to meet them."

          "That's great. Thank you."

          "Thomas, I'll let you get back to your work. The board has some other business to discuss, but we are pleased to have you in the new supervisory position."

          Thomas pushed his chair back slightly and stood. "Thank you all very much. "With that, he left the conference room with a new job.