An American Idyll | Page 4

Persia."
Can you see my father? "Persia?"
"Yes, Persia."
"And what, for goodness' sake, are you two going to do in Persia?"

"We don't know just yet, of course, but we'll find something."
I can see my father's point of view now, though I am not sure but that I
shall prefer a son-in-law for our daughter who would contemplate
absolute uncertainty in Persia in preference to an assured legal
profession in Oakland, California. It was two years before my father
became at all sympathetic, and that condition was far from enthusiastic.
So it was a great joy to me to have him say, a few months before his
death, "You know, Cornelia, I want you to understand that if I had had
the world to pick from I'd have chosen Carl Parker for your husband.
Your marriage is a constant source of satisfaction to me."
I saw Carl Parker lose his temper once, and once only. It was that first
year that we knew each other. Because there was such a difference
between his age and mine, the girls in my sorority house refused to
believe there could be anything serious about our going together so
much, and took great pains to assure me in private that of course Carl
meant nothing by his attentions,--to which I agreed volubly,--and they
scolded him in private because it would spoil a Freshman to have a
Senior so attentive. We always compared notes later, and were much
amused.
But words were one thing, actions another. Since there could be
nothing serious in our relationship, naturally there was no reason why
we should be left alone. If there was to be a rally or a concert, the
Senior sitting at the head of the dinner-table would ask, "How many are
going to-night with a man?" Hands. "How many of the girls are going
together?" Hands. Then, to me, "Are you going with Carl?" A faint
"Yes." "Then we'll all go along with you." Carl stood it twice--twice he
beheld this cavalcade bear away in our wake; then he gritted his teeth
and announced, "Never again!"
The next college occasion was a rally at the Greek Theatre. Again it
was announced at the table that all the unescorted ones would
accompany Carl and me. I foresaw trouble. When I came downstairs
later, with my hat and coat on, there stood Carl, surrounded by about
six girls, all hastily buttoning their gloves, his sister, who knew no
more of the truth about Carl and me than the others, being one of them.

Never had I seen such a look on Carl's face, and I never did again. His
feet were spread apart, his jaw was set, and he was glaring. When he
saw me he said, "Come on!" and we dashed for the door.
Sister Helen flew after us. "But Carl--the other girls!"
Carl stuck his head around the corner of the front door, called defiantly,
"Damn the other girls!" banged the door to, and we fled. Never again
were we molested.
Carl finished his Senior year, and a full year it was for him. He was
editor of the "Pelican," the University funny paper, and of the
"University of California Magazine," the most serious publication on
the campus outside the technical journals; he made every "honor"
organization there was to make (except the Phi Beta Kappa); he and a
fellow student wrote the successful Senior Extravaganza; he was a
reader in economics, and graduated with honors. And he saw me every
single day.
I feel like digressing here a moment, to assail that old principle--which
my father, along with countless others, held so strongly--that a fellow
who is really worth while ought to know by his Junior year in college
just what his life-work is to be. A few with an early developed special
aptitude do, but very few. Carl entered college in August, 1896, in
Engineering; but after a term found that it had no further appeal for him.
"But a fellow ought to stick to a thing, whether he likes it or not!" If
one must be dogmatic, then I say, "A fellow should never work at
anything he does not like." One of the things in our case which brought
such constant criticism from relatives and friends was that we changed
around so much. Thank God we did! It took Carl Parker until he was
over thirty before he found just the work he loved the most and in
which his soul was content--university work. And he was thirty-seven
before he found just the phase of economic study that fired him to his
full enthusiasm--his loved field of the application of psychology to
economics. And some one would have had him stick to engineering
because he started in engineering!
He hurt his knee