I'll be the first to admit I was skeptical.

When my friend Trip told me he was going to invite History to dinner I just laughed. Why would a legend want to dine with a group of students? I was sure he had far more important things to do, universities to build, committees to serve on. I put my chances of sharing a meal with History right up there with my shot at taking in a movie with the Pope.

Then one day, Trip burst into my room. He asked me if I'd made any plans for the third Thursday in February because he had found a way to take History to dinner.

All it took was a simple call. Ambitious as Trip was, he had phoned History's secretary to see if it would be possible to take the man to dinner. The next day an affirmative reply arrived from his secretary. She said that History didn't normally do this, but in this case he'd make an exception.

So that was how it all happened. On the third Thursday in February, four Sorinites and two lovely ladies from Pangborn frequented the Morris Inn for dinner with one Father Theodore Hesburgh as their distinguished guest.

That's right. I, along with my friends, had the honor of dining with the man many refer to as one of the greatest to have ever lived. His secretary said he had made an exception, but somehow, deep down, I think Father Ted obliges every request he can.

I respectfully refer to Father Ted as History because his life reads like a textbook on that same subject. Name an important event that took place in the latter half of the 20th century and it's likely that Father Ted was involved in some capacity. He has been on countless presidential committees, won well over 100 honorary degrees, and now he was having dinner with a small group of awed freshmen.

The meal was everything I envisioned and more. While we wanted so badly to learn more about him, he took great care to learn more about us. Discontented by knowing only our names, Father Hesburgh made sure he knew where we were from, what our majors were and what we liked best about Notre Dame all before the night ended.

Father Hesburgh had the fish. My friends and I had the time of our lives. He told every last story, candidly spoke of his meetings with the famous and told us what he thought of higher education today. I now know how it was that Father Ted became president, and how he coaxed President Carter into letting him fly in the plane that set the world speed record. I'll never forget those stories, just like I'll never forget that meal.

Throughout our dinner, Father Hesburgh emphasized that Notre Dame was about the students. He noted emphatically that he was always willing to speak with his students, and he said he expected his staff members to follow suit. As I savored my last bite of filet mignon, I realized this man practiced precisely what he preached. Here he was, eating dinner with the students, never once thinking of turning them away.

We walked our distinguished guest back to his library office when our meal concluded. My friends were quick to note how incredible it was that we had just escorted Father Hesburgh back to the building that bore his name. At that moment, I think we all felt that we had become a part of History and that History had become a part of us.

• A History Lesson