Nittany Lions

   
   "Nittany Lions"
   
   First of all, may the Holy Standard-Bearer Saint Michael deliver us from the lion's mouth, that we may inherit the Holy Light promised to Abraham and his seed.  
   My mother always wanted to go to Penn State (a real school); however, her father wouldn't allow it, knowing she was a bit boy crazy.  He was a Serb, and his best pal was Italian; thus, knowing--he told her strictly:  "You're not allowed to date Italians or Serbs."  She would say:  "But Daddy--he's so good-looking."  And my Pap would say:  "He looks like a monkey."  And once, threw a kid off the front porch.  Good for him.  That's what fathers do.  
   There have been two men I've known that I never gave any crap.  Pap was one of them, for he could crush me like a beer can.  Dude was solid--still is, I'm sure.  
   So, his daughter had to go on some damn idealistic crusade out to the City of Angels, leaving Pittsburgh behind.  What an adventure.  And a damn football-playing Irishman went with her.  They say he was my father.  One tough son of a bitch.  He was golden--still is.