He swore he would name his first son Benedict. Not for Benedict Arnold (his favorite revolutionary war general was Horatio Gates), not for eggs benedict (he preferred eggs florentine) and not for Popes Benedict I - XVI (he was strictly a John Paul II man.) But Benedict it was, and Benedict it had always been, at least as long as the idea of procreation had been fathomable. B would like reading Steinbeck, he hoped, and would learn to appreciate the subtle differences between roquefort, stilton and gorgonzola.