a girl,” he stammered, but more to himself than to me, “she’s, uh, she’s worried I’ll never get married or something . . . “  What an odd thing to think about an 18 year old guy, I thought. Perhaps she had gotten married very young and had him, and that was the reason she was so footloose, never having really grown up, so maybe in her odd mind 18 was marriage age.  He had proposed the dinner as a favor, mostly to his mother, so I said yes.  We agreed on a time for Friday night and just continued our conversation without pause.

That Friday I got ready for a casual restaurant, you know, clean jeans, clean shirt.  When I stepped out my door, there he was, dressed up!  He was not wearing his usual old tee shirt and baggy shorts (with his skinny legs...

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