Jeanne d'Arc

I am by no means a sensitive new- age male, so occasionally I get hit with "How come you are always surrounded by strong women?" To me, it's obvious. But there may be a second reason, or one that precedes rational analysis.

My very small, very odd, private Catholic grammar school had a copy of this statue in every room.



We won't even talk about the nun who did welded metal sculpture and then went on to be a missionary in Dahomey, or the one who had charge of the altar boys and who climbed ropes in sandpits, in full habit, pre- Vatican II.

And for naturalists: shortly before Fran Hamerstrom, eagler, student of Aldo Leopold, and major character (when I lamented David Letterman's condescenscion when she butchered a pigeon on his show, she tartly replied that all publicity was good), died, we found out that her childhood estate was my school-- a square mile of woods surrounding a half- timbered mansion. Here is a pic, in her day.



The ballroom, to the right of the door, became the chapel, but kept the immense chandelier.

She probably didn't entirely approve-- she was rather anti-religious-- but it must have amused her that we both collected specimens there in our childhoods.