As an emerging teenager in the eary 1940s, in no way was I perfect, and I did not consider myself to be so. However, I was a romantic idealist through and through. I read biographies of Robert E. Lee and Abraham Lincoln and was familiar with stories of Roland and Oliver, Sir Gallahad and Robert Bruce. I had also immersed myself in historical novels by authors such as Rafael Sabatini and Sir Walter Scott and read westerns by Zane Grey, William McLeod Raine and others. In these stories the heroes were always brave and honorable and invariably respectful toward all women. As for the principal women characters, they were kind and gracious and virtuous beyond repute.

In some unconscious way these historical, legendary, and fictional heroes became my ideals, and I wished to emulate them. In a sense I thus became a 1944 version of Don Quixote de la Mancha.

I wasn’t quite as deranged as poor Don Quixote. I didn’t charge any windmills. My chief delusion was in my attitude toward the opposite sex. Influenced by my idealistic inclinations and a wonderful mother and virtuous sisters, I viewed young girls to whom I was attracted in a very unrealistic way. I was aware of naughty girls, of course. But those poor, fallen creatures did not attract me. On the other hand, there were some girls who radiated such beauty and goodness that it seemed to me that they resided on some higher, ethereal plane.

So it happened that when I had my first serious love affair, I virtually worshipped the girl. Here I was, a mere mortal, and this angelic being had stooped to pay some attention to me — perhaps to truly love me. It felt as though I had been touched by a breath of heaven. There was not a hint of the carnal desire in my feelings for the girl. My love was pure, beautiful and almost celestial. But this unrealistic Quixotic approach contained the seeds of rejection and disappointment. After a few months, the young lady wearied from being treated as a saint, and she found someone who would deal with her on a more earthly plane. Young Quixote was dumped.

It was a bitter lesson. I became a bit more realistic in my approach to life and relationships. Nevertheless, I remained idealistic and somewhat naive, and I’m still an optimist.

There have been disappointments, of course, but the good Lord has blessed me bountifully — a loving wife, a beautiful family, many friends, and a long, healthy life.