Some insight into Mitt Romney

Mark Hendrickson over at Crisis Magazine has a most interesting reflection on Mitt Romney given both of them attended Cranbrook at the same time.   It puts the hair-cutting episode into perspective.  But this is the part I found interesting.

In the interest of doing my little bit to flesh out Mitt Romney’s character, let me share a couple of first-hand observations of Romney at Cranbrook:

The one quality about Mitt Romney that stood out more than the others was his abundant joy. He was one of the happiest guys I’ve ever seen, although he had his serious side, too. His love for life was palpable.

I’d surmise that Mitt’s joy stemmed from his happy family life. When the demagogues sneer that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, they are right, but not in the way they mean. Mitt’s good fortune wasn’t his father’s money, but that his parents imparted to him great emotional wealth. He had to have a lot of emotional security and self-knowledge to be able to enter into such a successful, enduring marriage at such a young age, and I think that was George and Lenore Romney’s truly valuable bequest to him.

Romney’s joy is no mere trivial factoid. It has relevance for this presidential race. I would prefer POTUS to be a happy, secure individual, and one who has loved and been grateful for his country all his life.

Let me share another vignette with you, one that speaks to Romney’s character: At Homecoming of his senior year, a couple of the regular runners on Cranbrook’s cross country team couldn’t compete that week. That meant that Mitt, who was further down the depth chart of a very strong team, would finally get to run in a varsity race. When the runners burst into view on the far side of the football field during halftime, Mitt astounded everyone by being near the lead. He had pushed himself to run the race of his life. But then, about 100-150 yards from the finish line, he reached his physical limit. Starved for oxygen, his legs started to shut down. His stride gave way to an unsteady stagger. Runners started to race past him. Then, winded and ashen, his face contorted in acute distress, he collapsed on the track some 30 yards from the finish line.

He could have quit and stopped the agony. He had nothing to gain, it seemed, for every other runner had passed him, but still he didn’t give up. Instead, he literally crawled and dragged himself yard after yard on the cinder track, until finally he crossed the finish line and received some first aid. It was a heroic effort.