Cousy, Russell, the Celtics, and What Really Matters in the End

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     My father died on June 3rd. This Saturday, November 3rd, it will it will be five months.
     There are predictable ways in which his passing is top of mind. First and foremost are family gatherings where his presence is missed. There are the Armenian events of which the Armenian Youth Federation Olympics held every year over the Labor Day Weekend is the prime example. Certainly, as we are in the height of the college football season, I think of the commentary he would have been making in every game I watch. While he was a great track coach, I think he might have also been a great football coach. I pass by family photos every day in which he is well represented. I see these photos and his passing is again front and center or shall we say a bit more front and center. There are no surprises, just the gentle easing of grief as time passes by. He, my sisters, and grandparents who have all passed are always on my mind.
     Earlier this week, I had a different kind of reminder, an unexpected, maybe even surprising reminder of his passing. I was listening to National Public Radio during my morning commute.  They were featuring a recently published book, The Last Pass: Cousy, Russell, the Celtics, and What Matters in the End by Gary M. Pomerantz. The book, per the title, is about these two stalwarts of the great Celtic teams of the 50’s and 60’s that won 11 NBA titles. But, it had a twist. The focus of the book was how racism did and didn’t define the relationship of Cousy and Russell.  It is written from Cousy's perspective as Russell just doesn't speak to the press these days.  From NPR, “They became teammates in 1957, just after Martin Luther King Jr.'s Montgomery bus boycott, and would play together through turbulent times of the civil rights movement — in Boston, a city roiled by bigotry.” It is basically a Cousy confessional ot how he could have been a better and more supportive friend to his teammate.
     Well… I thought to buy the book, but not for me. I thought quite naturally, “I will get it for dad, he will enjoy reading it.” I am not sure the Bob Cousy or Ted Williams had a bigger fan than my Boston born and bred father. Needless to say, the moment I thought that pleasant thought, I had the surprising and stark realization that those days were gone. It caught me off guard. I would not be buying anymore gifts for my dad. I was reminded in an unexpected way that he was gone.
     I am not sure, given his condition these past few years, if dad would have even been able to read the book. As it is about Cousy and Russell, he might have no matter how long it took. Also, I am not sure how he would have reacted to the racism theme of the book but then again it was about his beloved Celtics, so it is hard to tell. Bottom line, I would have bought him the book.
     I may, however, read the book on his behalf and no doubt hear his ongoing commentary in my head while I do.

A Little Disappointed?

     I am a little disappointed. I know I shouldn’t be, but I am.
     I am a little disappointed that I did not win the huge Mega Millions record jackpot of $1.6 Billion.
     I know. I know. I know I had no chance of winning. I am a statistician and studied mathematical probability. I know that the probability of winning was 1 out of approximately 303 million. Actually, mine were 3 out of approximately 303 million since I bought 3 tickets.
     So, if I knew that the chances were that infinitesimal, why was I a little disappointed.
     I do not play the lottery on any regular basis. I only play it, as this week, when the jackpot is so high that it is all over the news and a topic in general conversation everywhere. I bought 3 tickets a week earlier when the jackpot was a measly $1 Billion. As no one won, the pot skyrocketed to the record level. So, I bought 3 more.
     Knowledge of probability or not, the sum was so huge I could not help doing what countless others were doing… contemplating what I might do with a windfall of that much money. What would I do with that much money? What would I do for family and friends? What I first do for myself? When I asked this last question the word Maserati popped into my mind. Maybe I would buy a small fleet of Maseratis for folks I adore. I would endow a chair, for sure, at North Park University. There were lots of other ideas, some charitable and others more for myself and my family. There was, after all, a chance, small as it was, that I could win all or a share of that jackpot. It was impossible not to dream a little… and thus impossible to not be a little disappointed.
     Tickets were $2 each. The jackpot was $1.6 B and there were approximately 303 million possible tickets. Why not just buy all possibilities? It would cost $606 Million and I could double the money. If the pot had to be split there was a chance I might break even or maybe even take a loss. The real problem with this scheme was even more fundamental. First, how would I get the $606 Million to buy the tickets. If I had that kind of money, I wouldn’t need to lottery winnings to begin with. Secondly, it would take forever to print out approximately 303 million tickets even if there were five entries per sheet.
     Aside from the probabilities, another reason I knew I wouldn’t win was because I lived in a suburb or a major city. The winners all seem to be from some backwater place that you never hear about except for when they announce where winning lottery tickets were sold. I was joking with friends that I had no chance of winning since I didn’t live in someplace like Fenton, Arkansas, Darcy, Kentucky, or Humboldt, Oklahoma (all names I made up). Case in point, the winning ticket for this record jackpot was sold in Simpsonville, South Carolina.
     At the end of the day, sure, I was a little disappointed. But, when I reflected on the kinds of things I might do with the money, I only thought about getting myself that Maserati paying off some bills, and then… I thought about charities and family. It dawned on me that I was already one fortunate person and life was indeed pretty good. So, while I was amongst the throng of folks a bit disappointed that we did not win the $1.6 Billion, I feel like I won something bigger in the long run.

Answering Machines and Victrolas

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      I was in a staff meeting for the School of Business and Nonprofit Management where I teach. During the agenda item on what faculty could do to assist in recruiting students, we reviewed a program where faculty call recently accepted students to congratulate them and encourage them to commit to North Park University. It is a great program in concept. I noted, “In not recognizing the number of the incoming call, no one answers the phone and I end up leaving a message on their answering machine.” Everyone laughed. I asked, with a dumb look on my face, “What??” Someone filled me in saying, “Answering machine? It’s called Voice Mail this century.” 
     Well, yes. Technically, they were right in laughing at me. I was certainly referring to a most outdated technology. Laughter aside, everyone knew what I meant. 

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      There is a precedent however: my father. This, occasional, trait of mine for using outdated terminology seems to be following in his footsteps. For as long as I can remember, he would occasionally refer to the refrigerator as an icebox. “Where are the apples?” He would respond, “they’re in the icebox.” Or he might ask, “Go to the icebox and get…” whatever. He used the term early enough in my life and often enough that I assumed that icebox and refrigerator were synonymous terms. In my view, to a certain degree, they are. It is where items you want to keep cold are stored. It matters not what method is used to cool the stuff in the box. I used to use the terms interchangeably, until, I was old enough to realize what an icebox actually was and how antiquated the term actually was. 
      The same logic applies to the answering machine and voice mail example. When I call someone, they don’t answer, and I hear a recording of the person’s voice telling me that they are not there and to leave a message, I have no idea if I that recording is from an antique answering machine or voice mail provided by their cell or home service provider. Actually, if I know I am calling someone’s cell phone, duh, I am fairly certain it isn’t an answering machine when I hear their recorded voice.

Uhuru Furniture

     My dad had another one of these that I found even more amusing. He used to call any music playback device, that required a needle to function, a Victrola. Of course, most everyone else called them record players or phonographs. For some reason, I never took the name Victrola to by synonymous with record player. I never really knew the origin of that term. I did figure it out about the same age I found out how an icebox differed from a refrigerator. Victrolas were actually the brand name of phonographs made by The Victor Talking Machine Company from 1901 – 1929 (www.victor-victrola.com). 
     The brand is still alive today, www.victrola.com, as one can purchase a variety of retro looking record players... er... I mean...Victrolas: 

Victrola was born in 1906 in Camden, NJ when first introduced to the American public by the Victor Talking Machine Company. Full of entrepreneurial ideas and known for its use of quality materials, Victor (later becoming RCA) was the largest and most successful turntable manufacturer of its time.

More than 110 years later, the legendary Victrola trademark has been revived in the US and is now owned by Innovative Technology – The Victrola Brand will once again symbolize the same high-quality, nostalgic turntables of the past for this century’s music listeners of all ages.

    I would expound more on all of this but have to go and check my answering machine as the light is flashing. 

Come on Facebook!

thatsnonsense.com

     There is some of fishy goings on these past few days on Facebook. Friends of all kinds are sending me messages telling me that they have gotten a duplicate friend request from me. The implication is that someone has cloned my profile and trying to get access to all my friends. I guess the cloners do this for… well it is not exactly clear. Do they use the cloned me to disseminate false news? Will they eventually make a plea for money to my friends on a fake GoFundMe like site? Maybe, it is a social media rival trying to destabilize Facebook, forcing users to leave Facebook for… and I can’t even think of where I or others would go. Or, are they simply trying to clone everyone and create a parallel Facebook of all cloned profiles? At least this last, low probability at best, option has cool philosophical implications. I would love to be able to check on what my cloned self is up to and how that cloned self is interacting with my clone friends on a parallel Facebook.
     Given that the first message I got from a trusted friend seemed plausible, I took it seriously. I searched to see there was indeed a parallel me on Facebook. I could not find a clone. That was good. So, I googled what to do if I thought my Facebook was either hacked or cloned. Not surprisingly, I was advised to change my password. I did. It was also suggested that I “secure” my account by evoking a “secure my account” dialogue box on Facebook. I did that even though it did not give me any sense that what I was asked to do could possible lead to a more secure account. OK, I idid what I was supposed to do was done.
     The following day, I got more such IMs suggesting that my account was cloned. After getting a few, I noticed that the messages were all the same or a too close in wording to be coincidental. Here is the most common message:

Hi....I actually got another friend request from you yesterday...which I ignored so you may want to check your account. Hold your finger on the message until the forward button appears...then hit forward and all the people you want to forward too....I had to do the people individually. Good Luck! PLEASE DO NOT ACCEPT A NEW ONE FROM ME AT THIS TIME.

     What else should I do? I copied the above message and googled the whole thing. Yesterday, there were a few news items talking about this being a hoax. The report said that the was not an uptick in people’s accounts being cloned. The reports urged people not to forward these messages as the IMs suggested. Today, googling the same message there are many more news items saying the same thing. Oddly, there was nothing from my favorite reputable news sources: The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, Newsy, or NPR.
     What surprises me is that Facebook has not posted a notice about this. They are obviously working behind the scenes trying to figure this out. I look at my IM icon and it shows 9 new messages and a few seconds later it shows 2 or 0. Clearly, there is some filtering going one. I would think being forthcoming and giving folks status updates would be better than letting people get frustrated about this, forward this hoaxy message, and think about just not using or even quitting Facebook. But then, what do I know? I’m not a Facebook executive.
     In the meantime, please stop sending me these IMs.

If I am Right...

https://weheartit.com/entry/60586323

     There is a thing about religion that I have never really resolved. Actually, it is about all the religions and their seeming inability to get along.
     Sure, we have our World Council of Churches and who knows how many other high and low level meetings of leaders of this sect and that religion, this branch and that synod, and so forth. There are divisions within what seems like the same religion, e.g. Protestants and Catholics, Sunnis and Shia, Jews and, sadly, just about everyone else.
     I grew up with division. The Armenians are a small, but I am required to add, proud and enterprising, people. We will proudly tell you that we are the first Christian nation. We are a people of devotion and dedication to our sacred church and its rites and sacraments. But, we have the equivalent of two popes though we call them Catholicos and that is but one of the things that divides us.     Don’t get me wrong. Religions and faith are so very important. They help us answer the questions that have no empirical answers. This biggest of these questions is “What happens when we die?” Do we just die and basically cease to exist? Aesthetics would say “yep!.” Agnostics would say “can’t really tell, now can we?” These answers are OK for atheists and agnostics, but they leave so many more people view this as a hopeless perspective. It makes them uneasy and unsettled. Most of us want someone to tell us that, “death is only the end of this life, your essence will live on.” Maybe we will be reincarnated, over and over, until we get it right. Maybe if we lived a good exemplary life we will go to Heaven, Nirvana, or Valhalla. In essence, the vast majority of the world’s religions assure us of an afterlife of some sort. This is important stuff. We want to know. We need to know. We need to believe and have faith in the answer to this question. Religions help us answer this question. They are good, they are necessary, and everyone has faith in the beliefs, teachings, and writings that fortify this faith.
     Herein lies the rub. We do believe, truly we do. We believe so hard and have so much faith that for so many of us when confronted with a person with a different set of beliefs we are confused and start thinking, “We can’t both be right.” The next thoughts are, “For my belief system to be right, yours has to be wrong. For what I believe to be true means that your, different beliefs are false.” It often comes down to just that. If what I believe is the word of God and what you believe isn’t. It can easily evolve to “What I believe is the word of God and what you believe is evil… and thus you are evil.”
     Of course, this doesn’t universally apply. People are capable of seeing similarities as much as they can see differences. But, in the history of the world, rulers have often played to these kinds of differences to motivate the populace to do what they want from fighting wars to ridding a country of a particular ethnic or religious group. Yes, the rulers are motivated by economic and political gain and the use of these differences are used to get the people to do their bidding. This is not just a historical thing, it happens in our world today.
     Also, I know that theologians and biblical scholars have well thought out theories, commentaries, and commentaries on other commentaries that clears all this up using rhetoric, languages, and references that laymen have no hope of understanding. In my naïveté  I almost think they make things unnecessarily complicated and erudite.
     These differences are in base beliefs. No amount of reasoning or preaching will easily sway someone who fundamentally believes differently.

Another Devotion? On Humor?

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     I joined the full-time faculty at North Park in August of 2014. Until then, I had written exactly one homily in my sixty-one years. At North Park, department and faculty senate meeting begin with a devotion/prayer. So, each year since, I have had to write one or two. Truth be told, when it is my turn, I struggle with them. It is tough to find a topic or theme. It is a challenge to find the appropriate Bible passages. Lastly, it is equally challenging to write a good prayer that is authentic, meaningful, respectful, and of value to those hearing it.
     For some reason, I was asked to prepare three of them in the past five weeks. I have done it twice for our School of Business and Nonprofit Management. The first was for our faculty retreat in late August and the second was yesterday. The third which was the subject of my last blog, Overwhelming Perspective, and for a Faculty Senate meeting a week ago.
     I have actually started jesting that I am considering enrolling in the North Park Seminary as I am writing so many of these. I have learned something, actually reminded of something is closer to the truth, in writing these three devotions in short order. The more I do them, the easier the become.
     So, here I am posting another devotion on my blog. This one is on Humor. I seem to be getting bolder in my theme choices as I do more of these:
     God is indeed the creator of our universe, our planet, and we are reminded that we are created in his image.
     Sometimes, I listen to folks talk about God’s will. Often it in reference to an illness or tragedy that has befallen us, a loved one, or even a group of people. Perhaps it is God’s will. Perhaps it is the nature of creation where tribulations and good fortune are random variables that are part of God’s design. This whole probability thing? That is for my next devotion.
     At other times, I listen to folks talk about being a Christian. The talk and message is righteous, serious, but also refers to the joy found in accepting Jesus Christ as one’s personal savior.
     I rarely hear anyone talk about the role of wit and humor of God. If we are, indeed, created in God’s image and some of us are bestowed with the gifts of wit and humor, are these gifts not from God? Otherwise, the only conclusion is that we developed these traits on our own and they are not Godly.

     Humor and wit, even their playful cousin sarcasm, can help provide joy and insight when properly used. I have to note here, that while I think I am witty and humorous, I cannot claim that I am provide joy and insight with every lame joke and self-deprecation.
     Of course, I did an internet search on God and Humor, The Bible on Humor, and such. The result? A big fat dud. There are a few references that provide Bible passages mostly about joy and rejoicing… but not quite humor.
     I use what I believe to be humor and wit is to keep things in perspective and to provide insights. There is of course a time and place, but I want to emphasize that there is indeed a time and a season.
     A time and a season? Naturally, I turned to Ecclesiastes 3 (NIV):

1 There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: 

2 a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot,  

3 a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build,  

4 a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, 

5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

6 a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, 

7 a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, 

8 a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.

     Let us pray.

Dear Heavenly Father: 

Help us balance the serious and whimsical so that we may have the proper perspective on this gift of life. Allow us to see the divine creation in laughter and joy as much as seek your help and solace in times of illness and great sorrow. 

Help us to hone our wit and humor to make others feel better and happier.

Help us understand, Lord, that if we can master this balance, we may indeed be able to treat each other with more respect and greater dignity which for a group like our faculty, will lead to greater productivity and accomplishments. 

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Amen

     I do believe this devotion and prayer were well received. We never had such a jovial faculty meeting!