[A timely repeat from May 4, 2017] Years ago, I was asked to teach Sunday School at our Lutheran church. A September to May obligation. I said “sure” and was promptly given the 6th grade class. We had a textbook which I was supposed to use religiously (no pun intended). But I have to confess that from the beginning I often ad-libbed. Uh oh – Mister Petersen is going rogue . . . . .
While I stayed with the basics of the curriculum, I took liberty to discuss relevant questions within the context of the day’s chapter. And I would bring in occasional people and things to enhance the one hour class. The most memorable improv was when I conducted a Seder at the time of Passover. I enlisted the help of two Jewish friends for guidance. One gave me the blue Haggadah (the order of the Seder) which was in English and in Hebrew (I still have it). And both tutored me in this solemn ritual. They wanted to make sure I had the protocol down to a tev (or “t”).
Donna helped prepare the kosher meal. And I set the table in the 6th grade area. Plates, platters and potables (grape juice instead of wine). Then the students began to arrive. They looked around like – whoa! Mister Petersen is off the grid. And they sat down – and I began with an explanation of Passover. And the Seder. And its significance. And a Passover prayer. The hour went quickly. Elijah made his obligatory appearance. The food was consumed. And I did the cleanup. I guess I did okay because the next year I was asked to continue teaching 6th grade Sunday School. I did so until finally one year I said “no mas.”
Fast forward twenty plus years. The Sunday School Seder was long forgotten. Until we saw some old friends from church. And their son Eric. He walked right up to me “hello Mister Petersen!” And he immediately began to bubble about the Seder being the most memorable time of his Sunday School career. Gosh. Kinda makes me wish I hadn’t said “no mas.”
Author: scottpetersen
Lawyer, guitar player (the Blues), magic man, chess player, father, grandfather, husband, linguist, etc.
It’s all about the dash
[A repeat from March 23, 2017] I read an interview with Julius Erving – Dr. J – the legendary star of the Philadelphia 76ers. Dr. J was asked the question “What’s the best advice you ever got?” He responded that it was learning one simple lesson: “It’s all about the dash.” The “dash” . . . . .
Dr. J explained that in the cemetery, every tombstone has two numbers: the year you were born and the year you die. And there’s a dash in between. THAT — Dr. J said — is what it’s all about. “The dash [is everything]. What you’ve done with your life and how you lived it are in that dash.” At some point, we are all going to have two numbers. And a dash.
In my post of April 26, 2014, I suggested that it’s better to be a thermostat than a thermometer. Thermostats take control. Thermostats are on the playing field. Scoring points. Making a difference. Making a dent. Thermometers sit back and . . . . just tell you the score. The dash on your tombstone can be a thermometer. Or a thermostat.
What’s in your dash?
Jumping out of airplanes
First – it wasn’t me. . . . .
[A high flying repeat of April 17, 2014] Last Saturday, Donna, Lauren, Trent, Eve and I drove out to Rock Island, Illinois, for an Augustana College alumni event. On Sunday morning, we had brunch with friends and started our 3 hour drive home. One of us got very hungry along the way and we decided to stop at the Flight Deck Restaurant which is attached to the Rochelle Municipal Airport (Koritz Field) just off Interstate 88 at Route 251. Airport restaurants are known for good cuisine since pilots will often fly in for a meal and fly back out. Little did we know what adventure was in store.
We sat and ordered. Eve was hungry. And wanted to move. My granddaughter has one speed. Fast forward. So she and Trent walked outside – into a fenced buffer near the taxiway. And Eve took off running with Trent speed-walking alongside. I stayed inside – watching out the big window. And then it happened. Things started falling out of the sky. Mercy! They were sky divers – parachuting down. Using rectangular (“square ram”) parachutes. I dashed outside and watched another half dozen or float from the heavens and land — like they stepped off a curb — a sand wedge distance away. This was a first for Eve. And it was a first for me.
We learned that another “stick” of sky divers would be floating down in 20 minutes or so. It was easy to wait as our lunch arrived. After lunch, we went back out and watched another dozen or more float down and land with precision in the field. Some were jumping tandem (2 on the parachute). In all, it was really an incredible experience. We learned that the airport is home to the Chicagoland Skydiving Center. Skydivers jump from 18,000 feet(!) and land with pinpoint precision right outside the window of the restaurant.
I told Donna it would be great to find a little B&B close by, drive out on a Friday and have dinner at the Flight Deck (recommended by the way) and maybe arrange a “jump” on Saturday morning. The first part was fine. The last part didn’t go over at all . . . . .
Grilled Peanut Butter
[Here’s a repeat from December 20, 2012] Did you ever have a special dish added to a restaurant menu? I did. Once.
When I was in college, I was a night owl. I studied until the wee hours. Often as the second hand approached midnight, a few other guys and I would hitchhike to the Round the Clock Restaurant in downtown Rock Island. And I would order a grilled peanut butter sandwich. With a dill pickle on the side. And a tall glass of milk. The interesting thing was that grilled peanut butter was not on the menu.
Let’s back up a few months. It’s a zero dark thirty night at the Round the Clock, I had noticed a “peanut butter & jelly sandwich” on the menu. I was not about to order a PB & J, but it occurred to me that a grilled peanut butter sandwich might be just the ticket. We slid into the booth and I ordered a “grilled peanut butter sandwich.” The waitress looked at me like I was a moon rock. I said “same as a grilled cheese but use peanut butter instead of cheese.” I felt like Jack Nicholson in the “Five Easy Pieces” diner scene. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wtfNE4z6a8 She walked away shaking her head. She used gestures to explain the order at the window to the kitchen. She pointed at the nerdy kid in the booth. At least it worked (unlike Jack Nicholson’s experience).
After a few weeks of this, when I walked in the door, the waitress would give me that knowing look “grilled peanut butter“? she would ask. I’d nod and smile “yes ma’am.” A few months later, “Grilled Peanut Butter Sandwich” made its debut on the Round the Clock’s menu. And I became a legend. At least in my own mind.
Therefore . . . .
[A repeat from May 18, 2021] Henry Joel Cadbury (1883-1974) was a Biblical scholar and Quaker historian. He served as a professor of divinity at Harvard. He was Chairman of the American Friends Service Committee. And he accepted the Nobel Peace Prize in 1947 on behalf of the Religious Society of Friends.
When addressing his fellow Quakers, he would often speak of how there are two kinds of people in the world: “Therefore” people and “However” people. He explained that when faced with life’s problems and difficulties, many folks will say “Therefore” I need to do something. “Therefore” I need to help. These folks would then go on to correct the problem – or seek ways in which to do so. It is the “Therefore” people who continually look for reasons, ways and means to help.
“However” people have a different view. When faced with the same problems or difficulties, their response might be “I see the problem, however there’s nothing I can do about it. . . . .” Cadbury’s conclusion was that the world needs more “Therefore” people. We each have the capacity — to be a “Therefore” person. Each day is an opportunity — to make a difference.
Mother Teresa’s eloquence gives inspiration to “Therefore” people:
I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.
Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.
Therefore. . . .
Word Quirks
[A repeat from November 9, 2011] I have always been interested in language – and words. And I began “collecting” interesting tidbits about words around the age of 10. Here are some interesting facts that are fun to know.
Only 3 words in the English language have the vowels in perfect order: facetious, arsenious (derived from arsenic) and abstemious (abstaining)
Longest word without repeating a letter: uncopyrightable
Longest word you can type on the top row of a typewriter: typewriter
Longest word typed with left hand: stewardesses
Longest word typed with right hand: lollipop
Only word derived from Malaysian language: amok (to run amok)
Only one word has 3 consecutive double letters: Bookkeeper. Sweettooth is also one if spelled as one word
Only 3 words that are palindromes (same backwards as forwards): racecar, kayak and level
Only one word ends in “mt”: dreamt
Longest word without vowels (A – E – I – O 0r U): rhythms
Longest one syllable word: screeched
Most used letter in English language: E
Least used letter: Q
I wear a mask
[A repeat from December 29, 2021] And so do you. It is the mask of human frailty.
Each one of us wears that mask. A mask that conceals our faults, weaknesses, bad thoughts, words and deeds. We can put on a good face to others and yet with honest self-appraisal, we are acutely aware – that we are far from perfect.
Human frailty began with human existence. From Adam and Eve – through the Old Testament (Moses, Abraham, Jacob, King David), the New Testament (Peter, Thomas, Saul of Tarsus) and throughout world history – right up to the present day. We see human frailty among those in politics, business, religion. We are keenly aware of human frailty — everywhere.
Soren Kierkegaard said “Do you not know that there comes a midnight hour when everyone has to throw off his mask?” And so it will be. Yet is there anything we can do? Abraham Heschel suggested that we try to build our lives as if they are a work of art. The painting of our lives is not complete until the last drop of paint is applied to the canvas. And so it can be. Each life remains filled with amazing potential for good – in spite of individual faults and failings. Kindness should triumph over greed. Good character will shun arrogance. Kind and tender people make the world sing – and make life joyful. We need more of it. So – today is a new day. And the paint is not dry . . . . .
It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World
The one movie that probably best describes the state of the world today is the title of this post. But what a movie! I saw “Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” in 1964 – shortly after it was released – at the old Michael Todd Theater on Dearborn Street in Chicago. I’ve watched it a couple of times since then even though the running time is more than three hours. What a production!
Stanley Kramer produced and directed this amazing comedy based on the screenplay by William and Tania Rose. The film features – are you ready? – scores of famous actors and actresses. In the credits we see Spencer Tracy, Milton Berle, Sid Caesar, Buddy Hackett, Ethel Merman, Mickey Rooney, Dick Shawn, Edie Adams, Phil Silvers, Dorothy Provine, Terry-Thomas, Jonathan Winters, Jim Backus, Joe E. Brown, Eddie “Rochester” Anderson, Peter Falk, Buster Keaton, Don Knotts, the Three Stooges – and so many others. What’s interesting is that another score or two of noted performers appeared without credits! These include Jack Benny, Jerry Lewis, Harry Lauter, James Flavin, and on and on. . . . .
Stanley Kramer originally wanted to add a fifth “Mad” to the title but decided against it. He later regretted it. In 1964, the film was nominated for six Academy Awards. It won just one — “Best Sound Effects.” While Kramer had previously avoided comedies, “Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” inspired him to direct and produce “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” which starred Spencer Tracy. Kramer’s success with the movie made him consider bringing back the former cast members for a sequel — “The Sheiks of Araby.” But it never happened.
If you’ve not seen it, you will enjoy it! Check out the 3-1/2 minute trailer. Please – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BAtxv62H6c
The Cemetery of the Books
[A repeat from August 24, 2014] Years ago, in another life, I traveled to Spain and Portugal frequently. I would normally come back with suitcases chock full of handwritten manuscripts. Some dating to the 1400’s. There were the Spanish garrison records for Gibraltar (from before the British occupation), a thousand page manuscript history of the Church in Santiago de Compostela (1540-1822), the Jesuit diaries in Goa (India) dating to the early 1500’s and so on.
As we all say when time goes by – “those were the days.” In Lisbon, during one visit, I found it. I found the cemetery of the books. This was a term made popular by Carlos Ruiz Zafon in his must read book The Shadow of the Wind. The cemetery of the books in Lisbon was a 3 or 4 story warehouse on a narrow street in the Bairo Alto. It was chock full of manuscripts, rare books and manuscript books. It was not a museum or archive. It was literally a cemetery of rarities. Which one could buy for a song. Few people knew about this place. And somehow I had stumbled upon it. For those who are squeamish, stop reading here.
The books and manuscripts I would pull off the shelves were literally crawling with dust mites and lice. All manner of insects. Vermin scooted in the corners and along the walls. But oh my – the things that were there. I would load up suitcases with books and manuscripts – carefully wrapping them in plastic bags – and bring them home. Once home, I would put the plastic bags in a large freezer for a month or two (a recommended Rx for dealing with the creepy crawlers) and later leaf through what I had found. Create listings and sell them. But on one sad trip to Lisbon, I arrived at the cemetery of the books and – it was no more. It had burned to the ground a month or two before. I still have an item or two or three left from these forays. Regrettably the cemetery of books is no more. If it was still there, I might still visit Lisbon every few months. . . . .
A Charity “D”
[A repeat from February 10, 2021] There is a movement today for schools to drop grading systems (to reduce stress and competition among students), to eliminate the SAT (to reduce and simplify demands on students) and to drop “honors” classes (to combat academic tracking). Since some students are “not prepared” for the potential challenge of grades, some academics think it is better to eliminate the challenge. Rather than fix the problem, we simply dumb down our schools.
When it comes to math, I take off my socks and shoes to count to “20.” Math is not my strong suit. When I was a junior in high school, I was required to take a course in algebra. And I was dismal. And after a few weeks into the course – I was failing. And I continued to fail well into the semester.
My teacher – Miss Delp – approached me one day after class and asked if I wanted to fail. Obviously I did not. But understanding this stuff was very difficult for my small brain. So she made me an offer. She said that if I came in after school for tutoring – at least twice a week for the rest of the semester – she would give me a “charity D.” If by some miracle I excelled, I might even get a C minus. So I agreed.
Now for all that sank in, she might well have been teaching me in quantum physics. But I stuck to it. And thankfully, so did Miss Delp. And at the end of the semester, I was quite proud. I got a “D+” in algebra.
I believe there is merit to challenging students to excel. And to grade according to achievement and effort. When we take away incentive (to me a very important word), everyone loses. Today – I still have no clue what the product of two constants, three coefficients and a variable is (did I say that right?). But I am certainly grateful – to have been challenged mightily. And to have had the support of an extraordinary teacher who pushed me to succeed.
Renaissance Hombre 