Jennie

At the rear of Jesse Auditorium, Orval Stark peered at his daughter Jennie from afar as she assumed her seat in a wooden chair. She smoothed her graduation robes and touched her cap.  He felt someone brush his arm. A young man handed him a program, embossed with “University of Missouri, June 1913.”  Pride. Guilt. Sadness. All three emotions rushed over him. She has accomplished so much. But do I deserve any credit?  Though some might say his motherless children learned to be proficient in life skills because his own were lacking, he told himself he raised them to be independent. Of that, he was most successful.  The hall remained almost empty, so from where she was, Jennie vaguely made out her brothers seated in the balcony. Her vision was not the best for such a distance, so she removed her glasses and attempted to clean them with her robe.  But, wait… My goodness! I simply cannot, cannot believe it!  The young woman’s mouth hung open. Off came her spectac...