I Met a Hero in Harvard Yard

Or I might say, “Sauron forgot about a hobbit.”

There is one thing everyone ought to know about blacktop.  It cracks.  Ice then gets into the cracks and before you know it, there’s a regular furrow, and some windswept dirt, and something with stubborn roots sets up in it, like dandelions with their brave yellow caps, or pokeweed, or ordinary grass.  In the long war of grass against asphalt, give me the grass every time.

The goodness of the natural world reasserts itself.  God does not abandon us to our sins.  A boy whose bones are rickety from life indoors will grow strong straightaway, if you put him on a mountain for a month or two.  Women whose souls are withered by the poisons of feminism don’t necessarily have to find a special diet for the antidote.  Just removing the poison, and giving them a chance to breathe freely again, will often do the trick.

I’ve said hard words about higher education.  I’ve called Princeton my mater ferox, or the black hole where faith and reason go to die.  (more...)

I Met a Hero in Harvard Yard