(Written by a former physics instructor in Shanghai)

          A neighbor came to my door to say that something may have happened to Andrew.  When she had passed his apartment, the door was open and she could see his daughter-in-law talking with the administrator of the building.  She didn’t know what they were talking about but worried that Andrew was involved.  He might have gotten much sicker.

 

          I knew that he had needed help the day before and guessed that it might be sad news so I went immediately to his apartment.  His son and daughter-in-law met me at the door and described how Andrew had died in the early morning.  He hadn’t been feeling well for several days.  The daughter-in-law had eaten dinner with him the previous evening, but then went home after he went to bed. When she'd returned this morning, she found him lying peacefully in bed, but he was no longer breathing. 

 

          About a week ago, I'd seen him with his walker in the lobby, and he’d happily shown me photographs of his great grandson.  I had asked him about his health, and he had said that he felt fine except for a little pain in his leg.  I’d then had to excuse myself as a friend was waiting for me, but urged him to take care of himself and added that I’d see him again for the discussion we’d plan to have about religion.  I told him I’d postponed it too many times.  I regret now that I didn’t keep that promise.

 

            Even though he was 95 years old, I can’t believe that he has left us.

 

            He usually had good health and was able to do everything for himself.  We’d see him in the lobby every day – talking with both Chinese and American residents, as he spoke English very well.  He was always willing to discuss the research he’d done on religion and science. Known for his erudition, he also liked literature.  He taught me many things including how to go about learning learning English.  

 

            I have memories of his having told me a story about a disaster in Taiwan in which houses of many people had collapsed, but nothing had changed in his home, and none of his family had been hurt.  After the tragedy, a friend had asked about his family, and he had replied that he’d been fortunate, that everyone was fine.  Afterwards, he’d thought he’d been selfish, that he’d just been concerned that his family had been unscathed and hadn’t thought of the tragedy that had occurred in other people's lives.  

 

            He had once told me that his research in religion had led him to believe that heaven wasn’t some far off place that one might go after death; it was in one’s heart if they were unselfish and peaceful.  He certainly did his best to create a heaven right here on earth by being kind to everyone, loaning his books to anyone interested, and teaching those who wanted to learn.  I had great respect for him as a teacher.    

 

            His father had been a minister and had raised him to be a good christian.  His mother had hoped that he’d follow in his father’s footsteps, but in college, he'd chosen to study engineering, and then became an engineer in the aircraft manufacturing industry.  That occupation must not have been satisfying for he then started to study theology and became a minister who won the praise of his congregation with his preaching. 

 

            As he was so gifted, one of his friends – who was also a minister – wanted to discuss religion every time they were in each other’s company.  As a result, Andrew worked for a year on composing a report of his research on the relationship between science and religion.  Included were his thoughts about physics, astronomy, philosophy, and history.  He sent the report to his friend and also gave me a copy, as he wanted to discuss it with me.  Unfortunately, I only read part of it and never talked with him about it.  Now it’s too late.

 

            When I moved to the apartment building in which he was living, we became friends and Ilearned a lot from him.  It’s sad to think that I’ve lost a good friend and a respected teacher.  I’ll remember him forever.

           

                                                                       

  (Written by a good friend in Shanghai)

          I feel my muscles renewing themselves now after climbing one of the Tianzhu Mountains in the southwest of Anhwei Province.  The trip took ten days, and I haven't completely recovered yet.  I'll try to describe that day but my English probably won't be good enough to explain how hard it was for us.

          The mountain is one continuous forest, but there was a road at the base, and it took twenty minutes by bus to get us to the starting point - a hotel in park-like surroundings.





          After a good night's sleep, we had two rides on a tram that took us partway up the mountain so we could view the landscape.  It was filled with huge rocks among lots of pine trees, and we saw a waterfall and a cavern.

          We spent oer an hour slowly climbing up one of the peaks where we took some photos and felt proud of how far we'd come as we looked down at everything below us.  We felt that the other mountains were not nearly as tall as the one we were on.  The river - far below us - was like a silver line winding through precious green stones.

          It was exciting to be there, and all 15 of us were in agreement when one of our party suggested that we should walk down the mountain, as that would make it possible to see many more of the sights.

          We had no idea that we were making a very foolish mistake.

          It was quite easy at first, as we were seeing many new things and taking lots of photos.  Even after descending for about 40 minutes and coming to an entrance for the tram, we decided to continue on foot.

          What could we have been thinking?

          Someone should have remembered the old adage that climbingup is easy, but it's very difficult to get back down.

          The way was precipitous in spots and within the next hour just about everyone was complaining that their calf muscles just wouldn't take much more.  I was having great difficulty.  All the muscles in my legs ached and were shaking.  I just couldn't control them and had to walk very slowly - step by step - with one hand against the cliff to buttress myself.  I finally settled on a pattern of finding a place to sit every 10 minutes so I cold have a rest.

(Written by a former physics teacher in Shanghai)

 

            Last Thursday, our tutor read a story called “The Best Accountant” to our Discussion Group, and it  stimulated discussion about the abilities of people doing that kind of work.  I told a story about a clerk who had difficult determining a discount, but I didn’t mention that I also had a similar problem.

 

            During the Cultural Revolution, there were no classes in schools; however, the teachers had to be there anyway.  Some of them played Chinese chess, and others wandered like vagrants, yet the school’s accountant was always busy.  It seemed unfair, and I don’t remember who suggested it, but it was suddenly decided that one teacher would help him every day before leaving the school.  The teachers did that happily, and it provided the accountant with more free time.

 

            I had no calculator then, but was adept at using an abacus, as I had learned it when I was young.  Even though I had never kept accounts, mathematic had been easy for me from primary school through the university, so making the calculations we had to do should have been easy, but I found they weren’t.  In fact, they were so difficult for me that you may think that I’m distorting what really happened, but it’s the truth.

 

            The day my turn came, all the teachers had left the school, and only the accountant and I were still there.  I make the calculations many times and couldn’t get them to balance.  I checked again and again, and didn’t find an error.  The accountant kept looking impatiently at his watch as things seemed to be going from bad to worse.  The minutes ticked away, and when he finally helped me to check all the bills, he found the mistake right away; I had used 15.30 where I should have used 1.53.  I had put the decimal in the wrong place, and that caused a big problem.  I was grateful to him for his help but didn’t look forward to helping him again.  He laughed as he said good-bye, but I was ashamed for having done such bad job.

 

            What did I conclude from all this?  Was it poor math or mere carelessness?  It appeared to be carelessness, but it really reflected my feelings about math.  I hate adding a long list of  numbers and always accept my first total as being more or less correct.  That kind of work always upsets me.

 

            On the other hand, I used to like working with my grandchildren to help them learn the four basic fundamentals of arithmetic.  When they were little, we played a game called “24”; in which four number have to be used to reach 24 using ＋, －, ×, and ÷.  I was never unhappy when they frequently did it more quickly than I.  That game helped them in improving math, and increasing their interest in it. Some of them are now in middle school and high school, and they get high scores in math.  One of them even participated in the Olympic Math Competition. 

 

            Unlike me, they are all very good at arithmetic – even when they do it in their heads, so I’m convinced that heredity has little to do with the process..