He would have felt far less hesitant if he had only had some Catholic friends of his own intellectual level--someone who would be able to talk to him intelligently about the faith. But as far as I know, he had none. He had a tremendous respect for the good Catholic people we met, but they were too inarticulate about the Church to be able to tell him anything about it that he could understand--and, also, they were generally too shy.
Then, too, after the first day, it became clear that Montauban was no place for us. There was really nothing there worth painting. It was a good enough town, but it was dull. The only thing that interested Father was the Musee Ingres, filled with meticulous drawings by that painter, who had been born in Montauban: and that collection of cold and careful sketches was not enough to keep anyone at a high pitch of inspiration for much more than fifteen minutes. More characteristic of the town was a nightmarish bronze monument by Bourdelle outside the museum, which seemed to represent a group of cliff-dwellers battling in a mass of molten chocolate.
However, when we happened to inquire at the Syndicat d'Initiative about places to live, we saw photographs of some little towns which, as we were told, were in a valley of a river called the Aveyron not very far away to the northeast of the city.
The afternoon we took the peculiar, antiquated train out of Montauban into the country, we felt something like the three Magi after leaving Herod and Jerusalem when they caught sight once again of their star.
We all go through life looking for a star to follow, searching for the purpose of our lives. The Magi following the star is one of the greatest metaphors of this--risking everything to find the center of the universe in the form of a little child. Purpose and meaning come in many shapes and sizes and forms.
Happy Valentine's Day. You know, I've been really lucky. Close to 30 years ago, I met the love of my life. We've been together, more or less, ever since. It hasn't been a smooth road. Rather, it was more like the Magi's journey through mountain and desert and arid plane. Yet, on this day dedicated to love in the year 2020, we are still together.
And our love for each other has brought into my life two other loves--my daughter and son. Learning to be a father has simply been an education in learning to love unconditionally and selflessly. I would do anything for my kids, and I think they know it. They are my guiding stars, helping me get through the deserts of my life.
Some people never find their guiding stars. I have three, and they continue to shed light in my darkness. I know I'm sounding sentimental here. I don't really care. A little sentimentality on Saint Valentine's Day is acceptable. I embrace it.
Tonight, I'll be performing in the Valentine's Day show of the Red Jacket Jamboree at the Rozsa Center on the campus of Michigan Technological University in Houghton, Michigan. Two of my guiding stars will be there--my wife and son. I know that when I step out on stage at the beginning of the evening, I will see there smiling faces looking up at me.
And Saint Marty will be bathed in their light.
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