It had the kind of grace and weathering that’s sculpted by a life well lived the marks of joy, hard work, and suffering, but also confident goodness. But that’s not what I meant then-or what I mean now-by the word “beautiful.” The beauty was in her face. She was a beautiful woman-in her early fifties, poised, trim, well-dressed, feminine. His dad was a great guy, but his mother was extraordinary. We were book buddies and debate partners, we took Latin and Greek together, and we shared the experience of reading bits of Catullus and Virgil, Xenophon and Homer in the original.īob had wonderful parents. I haven’t seen Bob in many years, but I still think of him with affection. This essay is excerpted and adapted from comments delivered on April 29 at the Scala Foundation’s conference “Art, the Sacred, and the Common Good.”īack in my Jesuit high school days, when dinosaurs walked the earth-this was the 1960s-Bob R.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |