Humor 7/26/99: Disorder in the Court & In Praise of Teachers
Hi everyone,
This past week for me was fairly fun, but tiring. I went line dancing
with some friends in Mountain View, went to San Francisco to have sushi
and listen to the SF Symphony. The SF symphony hall is very unique.
The musician are in a wooden-panel enclosed "pit area". There are seats
on all four sides, but on one of the sides, the seats go all the way
up. The whole SF civic area has been remodeled, and it looks majestic.
Unfortunately, because my office building is too cold, and because I
didn't remember to wear enough clothing in San Francisco (The coldest
winter I spent was a summer in San Francisco. - Samuel Clemens), I got
sick on Friday and Saturday. I think that I'm pretty much over it now.
One of the advantages of being up in the Bay area for the summer is
being able to visit a lot of different churches and see what they are
like. Yesterday I met up with Serena Chen (formerly Lau) and her
husband Chris. Serena and her sister Antonia and I went to Taiwan in
1985 to attend a summer program. I last saw them ten years ago.
Anyway, I went to visit Serena & Chris' church, Jubilee in San Jose. I
thoroughly enjoyed the service. It's a huge service, maybe about 2000
people or more. Worship was awesome. We sang for about an hour.
Everyone was standing and clapping and swaying the whole time. There
were people dancing in the aisles. Ron Kenoly was the music director at
the church and was there on Sunday. MC Hammer is now a pastor at the
church. Phil Keaggy is coming to concert at this church on Friday.
Their music team had three drummers, violin, piano, several bass and
guitars, some horns, and many singers. The worship leader was also
excellent.
This week's thought provoking question is: "If you had to spend a
fun-filled Saturday, but can only spend $20, how would you do it?" (I
got the idea for this question from a Chinese movie.)
This week's humor was forwarded by Dominic Wong, followed by an
inspirational story forwarded by Ethel Lai. Enjoy!
-Josh.
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>From a little book called "Disorder in the Court." They're things people
actually said in court, word for word.
Q: What is your date of birth?
A: July fifteenth.
Q: What year?
A: Every year.
Q: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
A: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
Q: This myasthenia gravis - does it affect your memory at all?
A: Yes.
Q: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
A: I forget.
Q: You forget. Can you give us an example of something that you've
forgotten?
Q: How old is your son - the one living with you?
A: Thirty-eight or thirty-five, I can't remember which.
Q: How long has he lived with you?
A: Forty-five years.
Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you when he woke that
morning?
A: He said, "Where am I, Cathy?"
Q: And why did that upset you?
A: My name is Susan.
Q: And where was the location of the accident?
A: Approximately milepost 499.
Q: And where is milepost 499?
A: Probably between milepost 498 and 500.
Q: Sir, what is your IQ?
A: Well, I can see pretty well, I think.
Q: Did you blow your horn or anything?
A: After the accident?
Q: Before the accident.
A: Sure, I played for ten years. I even went to school for it.
Q: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in the voodoo or
occult?
A: We both do.
Q: Voodoo?
A: We do.
Q: You do?
A: Yes, voodoo.
Q: Trooper, when you stopped the defendant, were your red and blue
lights flashing?
A: Yes.
Q: Did the defendant say anything when she got out of her car?
A: Yes, sir.
Q: What did she say?
A: What disco am I at?
Q: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
A: Yes.
Q: And what were you doing at that time?
Q: You say the stairs went down to the basement?
A: Yes.
Q: And these stairs, did they go up also?
Q: Mr. Slatery, you went on a rather elaborate honeymoon, didn't you?
A: I went to Europe, Sir.
Q: And you took your new wife?
Q: How was your first marriage terminated?
A: By death.
Q: And by whose death was it terminated?
Q: Can you describe the individual?
A: He was about medium height and had a beard.
Q: Was this a male, or a female?
Q: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice
which I sent to your attorney?
A: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
Q: Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?
A: All my autopsies are performed on dead people.
Q: All your responses must be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
A: Oral.
Q: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
A: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
Q: And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?
A: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy.
Q: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
Q: You were not shot in the fracas?
A: No, I was shot midway between the fracas and the navel.
Q: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
A: No.
Q: Did you check for blood pressure?
A: No.
Q: Did you check for breathing?
A: No.
Q: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the
autopsy?
A: No.
Q: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
A: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
Q: But could the patient have still been alive nevertheless?
A: It is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law
somewhere.
____________________________
In Praise of Teachers
In 1972, I returned to Miami Beach High School to speak to the drama
class. Afterward I asked the drama teacher if any of my English teachers
are still there. Irene Roberts, he tells me, is in the class just down
the hall.
I was no one special in Miss Roberts' class - just another jock who did
okay work. I don't recall any one special bit of wisdom she passed on.
Yet I cannot forget her respect for language, for ideas and for her
students. I realize now, many years later, that she is the
quintessential selfless teacher. I'd like to say something to her, I
say, but I don't want to pull her from a class. Nonsense, he says,
she'll be delighted to see you.
The drama teacher brings Miss Roberts into the hallway where stands this
32-year-old man she last saw at 18. "I'm Mark Medoff," I tell her. "You
were my 12th-grade English teacher in 1958." She cocks her head at me,
as if this angle might conjure me in her memory. And then, though armed
with a message I want to deliver in some perfect torrent of words, I
can't think up anything more memorable than this:
"I want you to know," I say, "you were important to me."
And there in the hallway, this slight and lovely woman, now nearing
retirement age, this teacher who doesn't remember me, begins to weep;
and she encircles me in her arms.
Remembering this moment, I begin to sense that everything I will ever
know, everything I will ever pass to my students, to my children, is an
inseparable part of an ongoing legacy of our shared wonder and eternal
hope that we can, must, make ourselves better.
Irene Roberts holds me briefly in her arms and through her tears
whispers against my cheek, "Thank you." And then, with the briefest of
looks into my forgotten face, she disappears back into her classroom,
returns to what she has done thousands of days through all the years of
my absence.
On reflection, maybe those were, after all, just the right words to say
to Irene Roberts. Maybe they are the very words I would like to speak to
all those teachers I carry through my life as part of me, the very words
I would like spoken to me one day by some returning student: "I want you
to know you were important to me."
By Mark Medoff
from A 4th Course of Chicken Soup for the Soul
Copyright 1997 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Hanoch McCarty &
Meladee McCarty
--
_____________________________________
Joshua Li
420 James Road #1
Palo Alto CA 94306
(650)565-8674
Permanent Email: joshli@post.harvard.edu
http://personal.anderson.ucla.edu/joshua.li/