In Scranton, Pennsylvania...

Years ago, a seed of desire was planted in our family, and for some time we have raised petitions to Our Lady to help us to make a happy dream come true. Now, our prayers are beginning to be answered, and we are embarked upon the adventure of sending our oldest son to Gregory the Great Academy in the foreseeable future. Deo gratias for this development, and may He continue to guide our steps! It will be a tremendous change for the family in innumerable ways, but we are prayerful for good things all around - and anyway we still have some time before he is off, of which we will take full advantage with souls renewed in dedication to do the very best things in life.

Recently, during our town's Burns Festival weekend, we loaded up the van with family and friends and took to the town square to sing some Scottish folk songs. There, we experienced the sheer enjoyment of playing and singing in freezing temperatures in the sunset-gold of the early evening in an old fashioned setting, also setting to smile the faces of passersby and those who paused to listen for a while. It was a surprise and delight when a local (and kilted) musician strolled up with his mandolin and joined in without a hitch. Our oldest boy sang with freedom and fervor, and that was perhaps the best part. The next day, we reveled again with family and friends on the farm during our First Sunday gathering, honoring Our gracious Lady as usual but with many songs of a Scottish flavor.

But back to Gregory the Great Academy, an establishment of education in virtue and true, good, and beautiful things - it is a place alive with poetry and song, piety and good literature, exertion of body and mind, that gives a boy a chance of becoming a man who might really see the stars (and maybe his whole family too, right along with him). And that's pretty worth the effort to have our boys take part, we believe. Last year, inspired by our son's attendance at the Greg's summer camp for boys, our oldest daughter wrote and illustrated a poem about - or an Ode to - Gregory the Great Academy which encapsulates the many things of which it is about. She drew from our growing experience and knowledge of the place and the boys who go there over the last several years - it gives an adequate glimpse. Please enjoy it here, and pray for the happy success of faithful souls trying to have a really good time: 
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"In Scranton, Pennsylvania"

If any know of a young lad
Who is in search of adventure,
There is a place which will lure,
And soon a journey must be had
To Scranton, Pennsylvania.

This lad will be in company
With other rowdy boys;
They pick up tools instead of toys,
Being inspired by St. Gregory
To work in Scranton, Pennsylvania.

They pray and work together,
At other times they play,
And soon this lad will want to stay,
For every friend has become a brother,
In Scranton, Pennsylvania.

At school he commits to memory
Euclid’s work, Burns’ poetry and song;
Though it’s hard and the days are long,
This lad enjoys all his study
In Scranton, Pennsylvania.

He has begun to live a life of honest poverty:
“A prince can mak’ a belted knight, a marquis, duke an’ a’ that,
But an honest man’s aboon his might guid faith he mauna fa’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that, their dignities an’ a’ that,
The pity o’ sense an’ pride o’ worth are higher rank than a’ that.”

Stevenson’s books he has read,
And he has juggled at least three balls;
His voice, with others’, rings in the halls,
Many times for shanties he has led,
In Scranton, Pennsylvania.

This lad has become a minstrel boy,
And furthermore a saint;
When he feels tired or faint,
He knows these times will be a joy,
When he recalls his work in Scranton, Pennsylvania.

In church he can sing the Ave Maria
With others in beautiful harmony;
Outside he plays soccer or rugby,
He sings folk songs of Ireland, Scotland, America,
While he stays in Scranton, Pennsylvania.

He can chant Latin and sing the French Je vous salue Marie;
Along with this to juggle he did learn,
Balls, rings, blocks, and clubs that burn;
He’s fought the Battle of Lepanto, he has climbed many a tree,
To see the view of Scranton, Pennsylvania.

How has this lad, during his four year stay,
At the end can pray, farm, and play music?
He has butchered pigs and held a newly hatched chick;
He even lived as Robin Hood for a whole day
In Scranton, Pennsylvania.

He saw what was beautiful and heard what was true;
He lived with some men of the same kind,
The kind that strive to nurture the soul, body, and mind,
So that good fathers and priests may come from this school,
From Scranton, Pennsylvania.

This lad may someday celebrate Mass,
Or he might marry and raise a family,
Either way, we pray that it may be:
“Praesta beata Trinitas, Concede simplex Unitas:”
That all will see what happens in Scranton, Pennsylvania.

This lad and his friends have become men.
They have said, “We twa hae run about the braes,
An’ pu’d the gowans fine,
We’ve wandered many a weary foot,
Sin’ auld lang syne.”

“Then let us pray that come it may (as come it will for a’ that)
That sense and worth o’er a’ the earth shall bear the gree an’ a’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that, it’s comin’ yet for a’ that,
That man to man the world o’er shall brothers be for a’ that.”
Deo Gratias for Gregory the Great Academy!

(So I repeat: If you know any boy
Who is in search of adventure,
There is a place I assure
That will bring him much joy,
And it’s in Scranton, Pennsylvania.)

He will go, a yearning boy,
And come back a reliable clown of God.