My second son, Paul, was what they call a man’s man—sleeping outdoors, communing with winter over a fire built with one match, climbing the Half Dome in Yosemite, getting in brawls. I wanted him to meet a St. Mary’s girl, but he went on to take up with a secular girl. She was all right as far as secular girls go: she only put his things out of the apartment twice. But the St. Mary’s girls have hearts that bleed for knights errant (and errored) and a beloved son is in tender hands.
Paul lived pretty much on his own. He got a job as a librarian (yes, a librarian) and earned his master’s degree. He went on to become an adjunct professor of English at Paterson University in New Jersey. But life slew him, and a St. Mary’s girl might have held off the axe. They are so elegant, so heart-oriented, such ladies.
I don’t blame fate or others; we pretty much lay out our own path. But to have missed the chance for the companionship of a beautiful lady—what a mishap!