The kind-eyed man spoke. “Greetings, brothers and sisters, and thank you for being here with me on this day.” His voice was sweet and soft but sure. A yet more profound hush descended upon the fields. Those gathered there – the man’s family of four hundred-plus children – hung on his every word, breath, fluctuation of emotion and subtlety of gesture: the creasing of the crow’s-feet limning his eyes as he smiled benevolently upon them; the gentle but assured way with which his fingers held the microphone stand, as if he were long accustomed to addressing multitudes through this technological medium, a performer and man of prestige and renown, but without the pomp and arrogance of men in similar roles. Strands of his snow-white hair gusted in the Ocean-salt wind, adding an imperial and noble
