The ancients would’ve been impressed by Mum’s choice of company for her young ones.  The strictures of chivalry were as nothing in the face of her lofty ideals. I am sure, had she been around Europe in the middle Ages she’d have been consulted to help with spousal picking and approval in that era of strategic marriages.

You could only be friends with the crème de la crème of society; and that is not saying much considering where I grew up. Anyone whose father was a drunkard, a womanizer or just plain unpleasant was not a friend. Of course pragmatism ruled, and such demerits were often ignored if the same dad happened to be the landlord, or the kindly kiosk owner who allowed you to shop on credit.

Still, I did get to have some very good friends this way, and some very bad ones too. When you are young it is easier to think that a good friend has to be a good person of high moral character and integrity; a scholar as well as a gentleman. But as with all else in life, reality and vicissitudes soon catch up, and quickly alter the longest held beliefs. Some of my best friends have been people that my dear old Mother would never have countenanced me associating with; she’d still be cursing and admonishing to date.

Not to say that I hang out with gangsters and outlaws, but some of my friends- by the rules of 'society' do leave a lot to be desired. But they are my friends not because they fulfill the perfect description, but because they’ve proved themselves to me over time.