Faire Hilda in repose!

—RE: “Keep doing this as long as you can.”
That was my opening line in a feeble attempt to start a conversation — and it wasn’t much.
I was hiking by myself on Lehigh Valley RailTrail the other day, dog-less of course, and a tall blonde girl jogged past with her dog.
I didn’t say anything, but then she came back the other way.
I stopped and “keep doing this as long as you can,” I said.
In other words: “talk to me, PLEASE!”
She stopped to talk = AMAZING!
Stopping a pretty girl counters the infamous Hilda Q. Walton, who convinced me all males, including me at age-5, were SCUM.
Had my hyper-religious parents come to my defense back then, Faire Hilda woulda crashed in flames.
But they heartily agreed.
“NO PRETTY GIRL WILL TALK TO YOU!” followed by “GO TO HELL, BOBBY! DO NOT PASS ‘GO;’ DO NOT COLLECT $200; GO DIRECTLY TO HELL!”
No four-legged chick-magnet; just me and that pretty girl.
She was wearing a “Roberts lacrosse” tee-shirt.
As far as I know Roberts Wesleyan college, like Houghton, is a religious college. (Houghton is where I attended college: Class of 1966.)
I figgered I better not say anything, since I don’t wanna prompt religious posturing.
I’ve had it happen. Tell another Houghton-grad I’m also a Houghton-grad, and they fawn all over me. Celebration of our common superiority as Christian versus non-Christian.
I’m almost anti-religion. Friends wonder how in Hell’s name I attended Houghton when I’m agnostic.”
“Compromise with my father,” I say. He wanted me to attend Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, to become a Bible-beater like him.
(My father attended Moody.)
But at that time Moody wasn’t a four-year college, and I wanted a college degree.
Our compromise was to allow me to attend Houghton instead of Moody, since Houghton was also religious.
Houghton made my father mad as Hell, since they didn’t “straighten me out” = beat me into becoming a Bible-beater.
None of my siblings could attend Houghton. Houghton was verboten after me!
I realize now my opening line was just a gambit. It’s a repeat of something I said earlier to another pretty jogger.
It’s lame; but the girl stopped.
I also immediately mentioned my dog’s recent passing. Perhaps saying that made her more inclined to tarry.
“I hereby say hello, hoping you’ll talk to me.”
And now, with the background I have, the fact a pretty girl would stop to talk to me is amazing.
Except it’s become normal. A simple exchange of emotions = “talk to me” followed by “I’m sorry.”

• Sorry readers. ALL-CAPS, bold-face, underlined. I wanted to avoid stuff like that, but FAIRE HILDA IN REPOSE!