Report from Genoa: Morandi Bridge Collapse

Morandi Bridge

Before the Collapse

Collapsed

An Italian friend of mine reports on the Morandi Bridge collapse in Genoa:

Yes, here we are ok, but what a dramatic situation. That bridge was essential to the life of Genoa, as well as the streets close to the bridge that now are closed to the traffic. I've been driving on that bridge, or under, every day for 13 years, and my husband more. Right now - can you imagine? - the traffic from the part of Genoa situated in the valley of Polcevera can use only one street as large as Channing Way in Berkeley! It's the result of incompetence, corruption and ... the usual Italian problem.

I'm glad to hear that my old friend and her family are unharmed.

Condolences to those who are not so fortunate.

Baylor Professor James Vardaman: Memories and Obituary

Professor James W. Vardaman
Photo by Louis Muldrow

I've borrowed, and lightly edited, the following information and official obituary, all of which I believe was originally collected for Baylor University by Lori Fogleman:

"Baylor Mourns Passing of Professor Emeritus of History and Master Teacher James Vardaman" (Baylor Media Communications, Feb. 7, 2018)

Baylor University is mourning the passing of Professor Emeritus of History and Master Teacher James W. Vardaman, Ph.D., who died Jan. 31 in Waco. He was 89.

"Dr. James Vardaman was an iconic figure for thousands of students at Baylor University who were fortunate to take one of his classes in British, French, German, European and world history or journey with him on one of his numerous study abroad trips around the world," said Baylor President Linda A. Livingstone, Ph.D. "Dr. Vardaman was one of the University's most distinguished teachers, attaining the highest designation of Master Teacher. He was brilliant in the classroom, and he highly valued the open hours he spent with his students beyond teaching, which is a hallmark of a Baylor education."

A recent College of Arts and Sciences article stated that, "During his 33-year teaching career at Baylor University, Dr. Vardaman instilled a love of history in thousands of students and in the process he became one of the most beloved faculty members on campus. Many students would echo the sentiments of film director Kevin Reynolds, who recalled his time at Baylor by saying, "It is one of the greatest treasures of my life to be able to say, 'I took history with Jim Vardaman.'"

Many Baylor faculty members and friends have been sharing their remembrances of Dr. Vardaman, among them:

Robert M. Baird, Ph.D., Professor Emeritus of Philosophy and Master Teacher: "The contributions Jim Vardaman made over the years to the life of Baylor University were so many and diverse that if you had not witnessed it first hand, it would be hard to believe: the architect of Baylor's multifaceted study-abroad-program, shepherding hundreds, maybe thousands, of students over the years in his annual summer Baylor in London Program, the long-time chair of the Beall-Russell lecture committee that by dint of his persuasive persistence brought the likes of Bill Moyers, Edward Said, Carlos Fuentes, and Czeslaw Milosz to Baylor, and in the classroom a Master Teacher. Beyond the classroom he and his wife Betsy entertained countless students at meals in their home, many of these students from foreign countries so in need of the warm hospitality of the Vardamans. We have, indeed, lost a giant in the life of Baylor."

Wallace Daniel, Ph.D., former Baylor history professor and Distinguished University Professor of History, Mercer University: "Jim Vardaman is the very image of Baylor -- totally committed to students, to teaching and to scholarship, firm in his belief that teaching is the noblest of professions and convinced that one must strive to be the best one can be, all the time, every day. He not only expected this of himself, but it was this quality that he expected of his students, and he inspired it in them. In his legendary trips with students abroad, he brought students to the world. As chair of the Beall Russell Lectures for nearly 20 years and the international leaders whom he invited here, he also brought the world to Baylor. In so many ways, his contributions to Baylor and its students are profound."

Babs Baugh of San Antonio, longtime Baylor University supporter and friend of the Vardamans, president of the Eula Mae and John Baugh Foundation: "I never had a class with Dr. James Vardaman, but his impact on my life was profound. I had the privilege of helping him plan many of his travel experiences -- especially with friends going anywhere he wanted to go. They knew that it would be interesting to them because he knew the history of every place and would share that knowledge with us. He often began his lecture for the day by saying to the group, 'I insult your intelligence by telling you this but . . .' No one was ever insulted! With that brilliant mind came little spurts of great humor and the singing of the Marine Corps Hymn – all three verses. This great teacher loved God, Betsy, his country and Baylor University, his sister Ann Miller and his many friends. If you are fortunate enough to be one of the latter group, you will understand why we will miss him so much."

Cullen Smith, B.B.A. (Law) '48, J.D. '50, retired Waco attorney and longtime friend of the Vardamans: "Jim joined the Marine Corps at age 16 toward the end of World War II. The day he received his discharge, he drove to Waco and entered Baylor. Because he had not graduated from high school, he was accepted conditionally. Years later when a chapter of Phi Beta Kappa was established at Baylor, Jim was made a graduate member. Jim was loved by his students. I have attended two dinners honoring him. Students flew in from all over the world, literally, to honor him. On numerous occasions when my wife Ann and I have joined Betsy and Jim at local restaurants, former students of all ages would come up to speak to him. Amazingly, he always remembered them by name. It was obvious they loved him. Jim loved to travel. He led numerous tours to Great Britain, Europe and the Middle East. In cities, we would often have a local professional guide to take us around. I would begin to notice Jim standing on one leg and then the other. Finally he could stand it no longer. He would correct the guide about the facts, one after another. If we had another tour the next day, the first thing the guide wanted to know was if Professor Vardaman was present. I have heard, and I believe it is true, that on one occasion, a member of the British Parliament asked to be temporarily excused during a debate in order to check with Dr. Vardaman at Baylor regarding some facts about English history."

Dr. Vardaman’s obituary was published today (February 7, 2018):

Dr. James W. Vardaman was born on Nov. 26, 1928, in Dallas, Texas, where he grew up as the youngest of five children of Daisy and Ephraim Jeremiah Vardaman. In 1945, at 16 years of age, he enlisted in the U.S. Marines and served in the Philippines as well as on board the Pasadena. His military service provided him an introduction to the wider world, to war and the aftermath of war, to typhoons, to sergeants and their disciplinary techniques, and to fellow enlisted men in the Marines with whom he lived and served. His lifelong regard for friendships made during those years was always specific to the individual. He spoke of fellow Marines warmly by name, state, hometown and pithy remarks that were as fresh in his mind at 89 as they had been when he was 20.

He also maintained lifelong regard for those military and government leaders whose values and vision enabled them to conduct themselves by admirable and lofty standards.

Most importantly at that juncture in his life, military service in World War II gave Dr. Vardaman the door through which he walked into higher education -- the G.I. Bill. He was grateful forever. Being decommissioned at one minute after midnight on March 18, 1949, at a base in Oklahoma, he then drove all night to Waco, Texas, where he enrolled that day, the last day of registration for the spring quarter at Baylor University. As a distinguished scholar and historian later in life, he reflected on occasion that the most significant moment in his life was seeing his name and grade posted on a small piece of paper by a professor’s door in the summer of 1949. He had passed a university course – and was going to be able to become a college student at Baylor.

His intensity for learning and maximizing every day of higher education had begun. Beginning with gratitude for his sister, Ann Miller, who tutored him at Baylor, his love of all things literary and historical grew with each year of extraordinary courses and undergraduate studies. The fine history faculty, particularly Dr. Bruce Thompson, affirmed their student's aptitudes and encouraged him to consider a career as an historian because it would be a perfect fit. It was. He completed Baylor in two years, taking overloads each term. He earned his master’s degree at the University of Minnesota in 1952 and his Ph.D. in British History at Vanderbilt in 1957.

His teaching career included winning the top teaching award at TCU, then earning a special place in the lore of Virginia Military Institute for five years as well as taking wide-ranging opportunities for summer teaching and fellowships, including University of Virginia and University of North Carolina. However, in 1967, when several Baylor professors and Judge McCall contacted him regarding an open position in the history department, there was no question what would be his next step in academe: He was coming "home" to his alma mater. Here he thrived and received many teaching honors. He was named a Master Teacher in 1993 and elected to Phi Beta Kappa, as an alumnus.

He chaired the Beall-Russell Lectures in the Humanities for nine years, bringing to campus distinguished national and international giants, such as Nobel Prize recipient Czeslaw Milosz; the Very Reverend Michael Mayne, dean of Westminster Abbey; A. S. Byatt; Edward Said; Bill Moyers; Robert Haas and many others. He taught in and then directed many international programs for the University, including teaching in Baylor in Vienna and Baylor in London before becoming director of Baylor in the British Isles, a program housed for nearly 20 years within the confines of Westminster Abbey at Westminster School. His international teaching included serving an exchange professor to the Yunnan Nationalities University in Kunming, PRC, in 1984-85 and was followed by a memorable trip on the Trans-Siberian Railway across Russia. He began the semester-long program for Baylor in Maastricht, The Netherlands, in 1995, a program that continues to be a proud feature of Baylor’s international programs and draws students and faculty from across the University. In the 1990s and early 2000s, Dr. Vardaman also led many alumni trips across Europe, to South America, and most notably, of course, back to the British Isles and Ireland. His relationship with former students was a great treasure to him, as were his friends and family. Dr. Vardaman concluded his tenured years at Baylor in 2000 after 33 years of teaching and inspiring students to ground their worldviews within the vast narrative of humankind.

At retirement, Dr. Vardaman built a library to contain about 5,000 of his favorite books. He could be found there many hours a day for the past almost two decades. Drawing on his vast knowledge, he was the perfect reader of the great tomes across all times and spaces, countries and civilizations. He often offered up sober details about historical events and personages to his family and close friends, insights that the most learned scholars could possibly have profited from knowing. (One point among many to remember: the Magna Carta was "sealed," not "signed" by King John at Runnymede.)

In 2017, a professorship in the history department was established in Dr. Vardaman's name. As additional tributes have been lifted to Dr. Vardaman's memory and legacy this week, Michael Livingstone, a former student, has described him as "my earthquake." Another, Dr. Scott Harper, reflected on his professor in terms of the Dylan Thomas poem "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" and speaks for many when he says: "I have never known anyone like Dr. Vardaman who more raged against the dying of the light: the light of enlightenment and education, the light of justice for wrongs committed at every level of society and culture, the light of friendship and love, the light of his own life. He did not go gentle into anything."

I took perhaps only two of Vardaman's courses, but he asked me to serve as his grader for my final year at Baylor, and I not only got to know him well, I kept in touch with him over the years after I left Baylor, and I can honestly say that we were friends. But I never knew so much about him as I now know after reading memories such as these and writings of his own that I found online. I can now say not only that he was a great teacher and a great friend, but also a great man.

The World has Lost Its Historian: James W. Vardaman

Professor James W. Vardaman

"Book Junkies," Waco's Magazine
Kevin Tankersley

I received word yesterday of Profesor's Vardaman's passing. I hope to put up a better blog post about him soon, when I have more details. The photo above shows him at about 86 years old, and I think the article was published around 2016, so my educated guess puts him at about 88 as his age upon passing.

Vardaman was a great teacher. He came to class without notes and spoke without hesitation for the full 50 minutes of lecture time in profound detail, and answered questions in even more depth.

I've known a lot of historians in my own time as a historian, but I've never met anyone remotely like him - nobody with such breadth and depth and such total recall. His field was British history, but he seemed to know everything. He was the world's historian.

But he wore his knowledge lightly - and more impressive than his memory was his humanity. You might find some of that here.

My Good Intentions . . .

Amazon

Only recently did I learn that books shipped to South Korea don't reach their addressee unless the addressee's official ID number is included, which explains why I wasn't receiving the various books that I'd ordered or that friends had sent to me.

When I finally knew of this need for my ID, I ordered the book you see above, a book I'd promised to review, and which I will review as soon as I can see enough light beyond the end of this semester's dark tunnel . . .

More on Friendship

Another Aristotle Quote on Friendship

My old friend replied to what I'd written:

I just don't know what to say. I appreciate what you said, but I could have said the same about you. I remember well our times together, and our long conversations. I can't think of anyone else that I talked with like that.

As to being smart, you, after all, were the Valedictorian. I ran second, maybe in part because of unwise choices I made at the time. You might remember that I was a little undisciplined. And unwise, which doesn't sound very smart to me.

I believe that anyone who read your description of us, and me, would admire you. You write so well, and that is no accident. You've worked hard for a long time to become a good writer.

I think of you a lot, though my work life has kept me from writing regularly. When I see that scary stuff on the news, I wish that you and Sun-Ae and the kids could come back.

Hopefully I'll be able to back off of business a little, after forty years in the wine business, and be better and checking in with you. In the meantime, please remember that I'm out here, and that I care about you, and our friendship. Please take care of yourself, and don't kick that bucket for a long time. And if I could ever be helpful in any way please call me.

As for unwise choices, I think we are all culpable there. What is youth, if not a time for foolishness? Anyway, we survived, and we wised up, so maybe our foolishness played a role in that process.

On Friendship

An Aristotle Quote on Friendship

I have been thinking quite a bit about friendship recently, not in the abstract philosophical sense, despite the Aristotle quote above, but in a concrete reflection on a particular friend, to whom I wrote the following email:

I've been thinking about friendship, lately, and I thought of something you said at the lunch during our celebration of the fortieth anniversary of our graduation, namely, that our friendship was unusual because we didn't have much in common. I had to think about that a bit, but you were right.

Except that we had one central thing in common: we were smart. Or you were. I just pretended to be.

Anyway, being smart (or passing as such in my case), we found that we could enjoy interesting conversations together, and I remember hours-long conversations on various things. We had opinions and expressed them.

We also worked together, hauling hay or doing other farm work, and otherwise helping each other, which once again gave us time to talk, and we took long walks on your folks' farm, which again gave time for talking.

Our friendship was therefore not so odd. More to the point is why we've stayed friends. I think that we've remained friends because you have the overriding virtue of loyalty. Added to that is your quality of helpfulness. When I think about your helpfulness, I realize that you were always willing to help.

You have many other good qualities, of course, many of which find usefulness in your work, and I admire you for them and for your success in your chosen field.

Anyway, that's about it, and I wanted to say it because I'd kept putting it off, kicking the can down the road, and I realized that if I didn't ever get around to telling you, I might end up kicking the bucket instead of the can, without having ever gotten around to telling you.

Thanks for being a loyal friend (and for being helpful) . . .

By the way, I'm not about to kick the bucket anytime soon - I just thought I should say some things about our friendship because one never knows . . .

Having crossed my sixtieth birthday this year - on May 14, 2017 - I find my thoughts turning to how much time remains, to which I don't know the answer, of course, except for knowing the truism that the time remaining will not be enough.

Graduation: Off We Went . . .

Beetle

My old friend Mike Hubbeling has shown up to leave messages a couple of times on my blog this past year, but I didn't manage to locate him on the internet until yesterday.

He and I became acquainted at Baylor, mostly through the NoZe Brotherhood, to which we both belonged, but we lost contact after graduating, and went off in different directions, as described below in Hubbeling's account of what he did next:

I grew up in the too-small-for-a-stoplight town of Pomeroy, Iowa. Presented with three free choices for where to send my ACT scores, I puzzled over what to put beside Iowa and Iowa State, and thus ended up attending Baylor. I was an odd mix of practical and not-so-much in college, as I got a business degree, but spent my idle hours being a Noze Brother. That's a traditionally irreligious, irreverent secret society for those unfamiliar.

I moved to Houston after graduation, as in 1980 that was perhaps the only place to easily find employment. The job there with Arthur Andersen was an odd fit, but the obvious upside was that it put me in place to meet, and eventually, marry Teri. We moved to Austin, had fine, upstanding, well-paid jobs for a while, and walked away. Had two girls and found that to be the best idea ever. We spent 20 years making plates, sometimes for the rich and famous, but usually for whoever liked them. We produced 2 National Merit Scholars whilst home schooling. We have done a fair bit of ranch work, some of which will be reflected in the posts to this site.

Very interesting. Particularly the effectiveness at homeschooling! Way beyond my effectiveness! Anyway, if you want more familiarity with Mike and Teri's ceramic artwork plates and such, then visit a few websites they use to show their art, such as this one for Teri (ceramics) and this one for Mike (ceramics).

A Reader's Progress Report . . .

Collected Verse

Brother KimoNoZe reports:

PS Enjoying Radiant Snow. Nice work.

Good words to hear from an erudite, literary fellow like Brother KimoNoZe.

Nose to the Grindstone?

Nose Already Ground!

Google Images

All is grist that comes to the mill, so stay away!

Unremarkable Truths?

Friends Forever?

Google Images

A man is known by his friends, 'cause who would really know him if they don't?

Death of an Old Friend

Jack McCollum

Photo

from

Baker Funeral Home

Salem, Arkansas

My brother Shan emailed me the sad news that my old friend Jack McCollum had died:

Sad news: Jack McCollum died a few days ago. He had been in bad health for a long time. I knew you would want to know. He was a good guy with a bad problem with alcohol.

Sad indeed, but even back in high school, I had expected Jack to develop an alcohol problem. I recall him driving around town with me in the passenger seat and him so drunk that he imagined the cops were tailing him when there wasn't a policeman anywhere to be seen.

Shan had it right, though. Jack was a good guy with a bad problem. Excessive drinking was his only flaw, and even then, he was a friendly drunk. Nobody ever had anything bad to say about Jack.

I knew him well. We not only went to school together, we even worked together in the hay fields, and that was the kind of work that bonds young men to one another in friendship.

Jack was the kind of guy you could call on at three in the morning on a cold snowy night to come help you get your car out of a ditch, and he'd get up out of bed and drive over to help you.

He was that kind of good guy. You can read his obituary here.

Scott Corey in his 'annual' e-bulletin

Old Coot Hikin'

(aka Scott Corey)

I hadn't heard from my old Berkeley friend Scott Corey (UCB Poli-Sci PhD) for a couple of years, and that's because two years have passed since his last annual e-bulletin, as he admits in his own words:

It has been two years since my last bulletin, but I'll try to be reasonably brief. The two best things have been getting past the need to work two jobs, and getting to hike farther out in the mountains. Since quitting the second job, I've been able to join the choir at the Methodist Church, and been in two local plays. The West End Theater is the best community theater I’ve seen, and it has been good for me to sing and speak in public after years of singing as I scrubbed floors. I was Mr. Brownlow in "Oliver!" More recently I had four roles in the "radio theater" (performed to an audience) version of "It's a Wonderful Life." The hardest was the Announcer, who needed to be a bombastic egomaniac.

Yes, I agree. There just aren't very many prominent bombastic egomaniacs that one might choose to model oneself after. Be as that may, didn't Scott mention hiking?

Hiking took off when Garrett Olney, a semi-retired Plumas County judge, asked if I could use a hiking partner. He has a four wheel drive truck, so we can get to trailheads I could never reach in my Saturn SL. He has a wealth of local knowledge that he relates as we hike to places like Dead Man's Springs, or Pilot Peak. He also shares my liking for cross country shortcuts and no-longer-really-there trails. But the best thing is the caliber of intellectual conversation. For me, dragging up a rocky trail or a snow covered slope, sore and dehydrated, while discussing police shootings, the Supreme Court decision on gay marriage, Second Amendment issues, and terrorism is just about the best thing on Earth.

Sounds right up my alley . . . or hiking trail! Good way to work off stress! And that's needed:

The job is more stressful than ever . . . . And then there's politics. Our county went for Trump, but by smaller margins than the rest of rural Northern California. I am very dismayed that someone could get elected after speaking as he has. Despite my well-earned weariness with political correctness, I am disgusted that legitimate concerns of so many people have to be saddled with the baggage of Fox News claptrap. One colleague from Berkeley days has challenged me to start writing on the subject. The idea is that there aren't too many people who have, simultaneously, a good education, moderate politics, and extensive familiarity with rural, white, working class perspectives. So I guess I'll see what I have to say, and what can be heard.

Yeah, that pretty much leaves Scott as the chosen one. Good luck, Scott. You'll need it now. Trust in the Lord, but keep your powder dry.

It's a Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

Raining Hard at the 41st Class Reunion

And hard rain it did, driving classmates back indoors to the oddly, if appropriately named 'pool' room where swimming is not only not allowed, it's simply' not possible . . .

Kelly Zeigler

Kelly Zeigler

Another photo from Jimmie Jones, this time of Kelly Zeigler, though the picture's not the best.

Kelly's the guy who got me interested in Cub Scouts, which led to an interest in Boy Scouts, through which I met the Scoutmaster, Mr. Holland, who died a few years back when he was 92 and one of my oldest friends.

One thing leads to another . . . and another . . . and another . . .

But back to Kelly.

Kelly had the strongest willpower of all us boys, and I think all the other boys would agree.

Say amen, somebody.

Just Good Friends

Danny Davis and Anita May

Yet another class-reunion photo from among the many sent me by Jimmie Jones, this one showing Danny Davis getting a big hug from Anita May!

Danny was a friend from baseball times - specifically, the Little League Tigers team, on which we both played, Danny as pitcher and me as catcher.

Danny was a good pitcher. I recall that he had excellent ball control. He didn't throw quite as hard as our other pitcher, Mark Young, but Mark could be a bit wild, and I was always a little afraid whenever he was pitching.

Just as in the photo above, Danny always had such a broad, friendly smile . . . and mischievous eyes. Like he knows something you don't . . .

Roger and Jimmie

Roger Bryant and Jimmie Jones

Here's another photo from among the many that Jimmie sent me, this one of him and Roger Bryant. Roger seems to be the host here, busy grilling the steaks and hot dogs, but not too busy to help Jimmie open a beer.

Roger was a very good baseball player. His position was catcher, like me, except that Roger was actually good as a catcher. He wasn't afraid of the ball or the bat, he didn't let a ball get past him, and he could throw a baseball straight to second base without having to stand up first, a useful skill to have against a player trying to steal second.

He and I also hauled a lot of hay together when we were 15 through 17, and that's pretty much how we became friends. Before working together, we were just two guys in the same class at school and on different teams in baseball. He was a hard worker, and so was I, and that used to be important among men . . . though we were just boys.

He once remarked that he didn't want to grow up and mature because he'd noticed that guys who'd 'matured' seemed to lose their sense of humor and feel insulted even at good-natured ribbing. I've always thought that was pretty insightful, at least for the Ozark culture we grew up in, a culture in which a man wouldn't take an 'insult.' There wasn't a lot of self-irony among grown-up men back there then . . .

Tonya and Grandchildren

Tonya Smith

(née Bassham)

and

her Grandkids

Here's another photo in the series that Jimmie Jones sent me. This time, the person caught on camera is one of my oldest friends, Tonya. Just recently in an email, I reminded her of how young we were when we first knew each other:

I was thinking of you the other day and recalled that the first gospel song I ever heard was one you were singing when we were playing together at about 5 years of age. The song was "Do Lord," and the line that captivated me was "way beyond the blue." Those words were a wonder to me because the blue above looked boundless, so anything beyond the blue must be very far away. But that was just a little boy thinking . . .

Tonya responded with humble words about her singing, followed by more anecdotes:

I am sure the song was American Idol worthy. I am such a good vocalist (that is a sarcastic statement for sure). It is so strange what sticks in our minds. My most vivid memory is cooking the crawdads. You had a skillet, butter and "MATCHES". We were quite the chefs. And I remember the day we moved. The most 'tragic' day of our lives. And what? We were 1/2 a mile away. But still very traumatic. The days your cousins came to visit were not good for us either. Mom wouldn't let us go over cuz you guys had 'company'. Oh, the things that we stewed over at such an early age.

I disagreed with her on the singing:

I think all children can sing. Your rendition of "Do Lord" was perfect. It was way beyond the blue!

As are these memories . . .

Class Reunion 2016: Pamela Corsaut and Anita May

Pamela Corsaut and Anita May

My high school class had another reunion this past summer of 2016, which I didn't attend because I can't afford to go each year, so I'm saving up money and energy for the 2025 reunion, when we'll celebrate the 50th anniversary of our graduation. Meanwhile, I'm being kept within the loop. For instance, my old classmate Jimmie Jones sent the photo above - along with a hundred more, on a USB! By snailmail! Which was quite a touching gesture in our digital times. Thanks, Jimmie!

Anyway, the two ladies above are Pamela and Anita, and I chose their photo because they have such genuine smiles and such striking eyes - especially Pamela, I must say. The last time I saw Pamela, she was heading for Florida. She used to introduce herself with the invitation to pronounce her family name either "Core-saw" or "Core-sawt." I compromised and called her "Pamela."

Readers will recall that I've encountered problems with my middle name, "Jeffery," which has regularly been misspelled as "Jeffrey" - and often still is! So, I empathize with folks who have problematic names.

If you two ladies happen by this blog post, here's a big "Hello" to both of you - and be sure to greet everyone else who made the party . . . and even those who didn't.

A Note from a High School Friend

One of my high school friends who attended last summer's fortieth anniversary has since read my first novella, The Bottomless Bottle of Beer, and wants to re-read it:

Your book was entertaining the first time I read it. I want to re-read it and catch all the details and nuances I missed by having read through it quickly the first time. I am truly impressed by all your talents and your intelligence. You are an amazing man.

This friend has also promised to review the book on Amazon. Grateful for the promise, but embarrassed by such praise, I responded:

I'm not really so amazing or intelligent. As I tell my friends, I'm second rate, but if I apply myself well, I can do some first-rate work. That's my secret. My only point of genius is that I can write well . . . and I've had lots of practice.

And that's the truth, as Lily Tomlin used to say . . .

Dr. Tim Anderson: Flabbergasted by Own Book!

My old friend Tim Anderson, whom I first met when we were both 18, attending Baylor, and living in the same dorm, has very recently seen his book see publication after his seeing it through various stages, and he is flabbergasted to finally see the actual result: a book bigger than his head! Which is odd since the book sprang from that same head . . .

Be that as it may, we had a brief exchange of emails, the first words being words of his, and these words of his refer to the photo above:

Tim: "Check this out . . . a sort of selfie."

Jeffery: "So . . . how many Tim Andersons are there in the world? Seriously, congratulations! May I put this photo on my blog?"

Tim: "Nahh . . . if you're gonna blog me, let me at least give you a better picture. Vanity."

Jeffery: "But the picture was the reason . . ."

Tim: "Ok, go for it . . . just don't make a fuel out of me."

Jeffery: "No worries, you won't look fuelish!"

Foolish, maybe, but never fuelish . . . so no auto-da-fé for you, my friend, despite the Spanish context! Anyway, this is great news for scholars who are curious about the construction and use of millstones in Southern Spain. Actually, the thesis - now, a book - is quite an interesting work in showing the links between this technology and the ongoing history of the region over the centuries . . ..