My 1987 Visit to the Golden Gate Bridge

(Photo credit: CNN.)

After my freshman year of college, in 1985-86, I dropped out of college (temporarily, as it turned out), and went hitchhiking around the Western U.S. during the next school year. (Important disclaimer: this is not a recommended mode of travel!) One of the highlights of these journeys was my visit to San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge. Having no car, I walked across this famous bridge, starting from the San Francisco side. It is an awesome landmark, with an incredible view. I stopped half-way across, and sat there on the bridge’s walkway for maybe half an hour, watching the waves in San Francisco Bay, as well as looking over the bridge at the Pacific Ocean. After sitting for that time, enjoying the view, I got up, and resumed my walk north, across the bridge to Marin County.

Months later, after returning home to Arkansas, I ran into statistics like these I just looked up, using Google: there were 31 suicides in 1976 from people jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge, 24 in 1980, and so on. I wondered: how exactly did they know? Do they just count bodies that wash up on the shore, or is there a guy with a yellow legal pad and a pencil, in a small office at the base of the bridge, getting paid by the City and County of San Francisco to watch for, and count, jumpers? And, if there is such a guy, what was he doing when I sat in the middle of the bridge in 1987 for half an hour? Was he watching me with binoculars? Was he saying to himself, perhaps out loud, “I wish that jerk up there in the black t-shirt would make up his mind, already! Jump, or get off the bridge! I’m late for my lunch break, AND I have to go to the bathroom!”

At no point have I ever been suicidal, but I still laugh thinking about that hypothetical guy with the yellow legal pad. Dark humor is, in my opinion, the best kind.

A Question About Algebra II

This happened over twenty years ago, and it still cracks me up. I’m not going to name the student, but I did provide a clue by using the appropriate school colors.

Chutzpah

So I just found out that, on Amazon, if you search for “robertlovespi,” you’ll find an enlarged image of a meme I made, and blogged, sold as a laminated poster. If you choose to buy it, that’s fine with me, but I won’t get any of the money, for this poster-project was not my idea. Here’s a screenshot of the item listing. Someone took my blog’s Copyright-Free Notice, and ran with it!

If you’d like to see the original blog-post (for free!), here it is, all the way from mid-2014: https://robertlovespi.net/2014/05/03/galileo-galilei-on-the-language-of-the-universe/.

The God Question

Bible on bookshelf.jpeg

During my 4th period class today, I got asked one of my least favorite questions by one of my students: “Do you believe in God?”

It’s a science class, and I want us to stay on-topic. Discussing my views on the existence or non-existence of a deity isn’t going to help with that. I sighed, and said what I always say in this situation: “That’s a personal question, and I don’t answer personal questions.”

The students then remembered that I have a Bible on the bookshelf in my classroom, and concluded, on the basis of this single shred of evidence, that I am, indeed, a believer. (The Bible is there as one of many options for my students to read during their designated reading time, just before lunch.)

Since then, I’ve been to Amazon, and ordered an English translation of the Qur’an, which I will place on that same bookshelf — probably right next to the Bible. I wonder what my students will make of that? 

My Mother’s Epic Battle with an Armadillo

I just found a hilarious tale about my mother (in L. Lee Cowan’s Except for All the Snakes, I just Love It Out Here: The News from Stone County, Arkansas, Where One Life is Put Down Straight Up, p. 120). According to this published account, I was four years old when her battle to kill an armadillo entered family legend. As you can see below, Mom credits both my sister and myself with keeping the story alive over the years. A good family friend, Bruce, played a key role in bridging the gap between my mother and L. Lee Cowan, the author of the book in which this was published. It’s an amazing thing to have found.

If you like this excerpt (shown below), please buy the book, as I have done.

LLeeCohan

The Moon Unit Proposal

moon unit

I propose that 384,400 km (238,855 miles), the average distance from the Earth to the Moon, be called a “moon unit.” Example: “The mileage of my car is over one moon unit.”

2017: The Year of Trump Dysphoria Disorder

Trump

“Dysphoria” is the antonym of “euphoria.” Exposure to facts increases your risk of developing Trump Dysphoria Disorder, or TDD. To avoid the pain and suffering associated with TDD, you may wish to avoid any media outlets which are not Fox News.

On Math Jokes (with a new re-telling of my favorite one, about a balloon race)

Math jokes are almost universally awful — or, at least, it seems that way to me, since I spend a lot of time around ninth graders. Hearing “Gee, I’m a tree” or “Pi are square? No, pies are round, and cake are square!” will generally elicit a groan from me, and each new cadre of students seems to think they invented these fossilized puns. An even worse “joke” is the giggling one should expect from, say, 7th graders, if one squares the number thirteen in their presence.

I do know exactly one good math joke, though. I didn’t hear it from a student. If you’re curious, read on. Only the embellishments are original; I didn’t make up the joke, itself, though, nor do I know who did.

My source for the image below is this fellow WordPress blogger’s photography blog.

img_6269

So a physicist, chemist, and a lawyer enter a balloon race together. Theirs is the last balloon to leave, because the lawyer had been in court, arrived late, and caused a short delay in departure. The consequences of this were serious, though, for a sudden cross-wind blew them off course, right after takeoff. Soon, they couldn’t even see any of the other balloons in the race, and none of them recognized any landmarks in the landscape below.

Soon, they had no idea where they were, and started getting worried about making it to their next classes  on time — or back to court, in the case of the lawyer. The chemist was particularly worried. “What are we going to do?” asked the chemist.

The physicist replies, “I have an idea!” He cups his hands, leans out, and yells, as loud as he can, “Hello! Where are we?”

The balloon flies on for at least two long, anxious minutes as the trio waits, silently, for an answer. Eventually, they hear, from a great distance, a voice. “Hello! You’re lost!”

The physicist looks at the other two, and says, “That, my friend, was a mathematician.”

“How,” asked the lawyer, “could you possibly know that?”

“Three things,” replied the physicist. He held up one finger. “First, it took him a long time to answer.”

“Second,” he continued, holding up two fingers, “the answer, when it finally came, was absolutely correct.”

A third finger joined the first two. “Third, the answer, when it finally came, was completely useless!”