September 9, 2013 Emmy and Einstein. You may know the story. After escaping Nazi Germany, Albert Einstein bought a house near the campus of Princeton University. Many of the best known people in the worlds of science, art, politics, you name it, came to visit the professor at this home. Emmy was a frequent visitor too. But not quite of the same kind as the others. She was a ten-year-old schoolgirl who heard that a very nice man lived there, who was real good in math. Since Emmy had trouble with math, she would often go to his house for help because he told her he’d be glad to do that. When her Mom heard about this later, she called the daughter aside, and told her in no uncertain terms that this was a world famous man, and that she should not bother him. The mother went immediately to Einstein’s home, and when the professor came to the door, she offered a strong apology for the bother. Einstein said quickly: “She is not bothering me. When a child finds such joy in learning, then it is my joy to help her learn. Please don’t stop her from coming here. She is welcome at my house anytime.” Emmy challenges us because she found joy in learning. All too often, we think of learning as a chore, something we have to do. Whether with our ordinary education, or religious education, we seldom see it as opportunity for joy. When someone like Emmy comes along, we are instructed. “It took a while, but I came to see education as escape,” an inner city kid I love a lot once said to us. “I knew that nothing would really change in my life until I made my mind up to study, graduate from high school and work my way through college.” He did it all, and worked his way out of a difficult neighborhood into a better one, is now the boss of several small companies, and often goes around speaking about the power of learning to change things. “You have to want out of some things bad enough to get into the ways you can do it, and education is at the top of the list.” Well said. I came to college with eight dollars and forty-three cents. (Every time I tell this, our kids say, “Get out the violin, here it comes again). I knew I wanted to come to Millsaps, and was determined to do it. On high school day at Bay High where I attended, different people came and talked about their colleges. A guy named Jamie Tamplin stood when it was his turn and said: “I’m here to represent Millsaps, the best school in the state.” And he sat down. That’s when I decided where to go to college. Looking back, all the reps that day probably thought the same thing about their schools, but the way he put it spoke to me. I drove onto the Millsaps campus with a twenty-five dollar Chevy (it had been under water after hurricane Bonnie in ’47) that looked pretty good after I painted it blue with a house brush I borrowed. I ended up in the office of the president of the college who kindly announced that I could be admitted for the winter semester in January. It was September then. “No,” I said, “I have to go to class on Monday when they begin. I don’t have any other place to go. My folks live nineteen hours away, and I’m down to the last few gallons of gas, and I only have about eight dollars left.” The president sat still for a moment or two and asked: “How’d you get here?” “In my car out there,” (I pointed out the window). “What’s it worth?” he asked. “Worth?” I answered, “I don’t know, about two hundred and fifty dollars, I’d say.”(Didn’t tell him about the twenty five—he didn’t ask.) He smiled nicely and said: “Give me the keys.” Looking back, those were some of my happiest years. The joy of learning was often postponed until after graduation, but all of those things that make college good were very good to and for me. If those doors has been closed that day, if the different people that sent me from one office to another hadn’t tried so hard, heavens knows what would have happened. Because people went the ‘second mile,’ to help a kid who didn’t know better, I found my head and heart excited and blessed by the joy of education. Thank goodness Albert Einstein didn’t send Emmy away. I wonder what ever became of her? God knows… Always love always, Keith
Posted on: Mon, 09 Sep 2013 10:45:10 +0000
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