The Hoosier Philosopher

 I've been talking a lot about Marcus Aurelius lately, and it would only be appropriate to mention the other great philosopher, in this case the Hoosier philosopher, who shaped my early days: my grandfather Herbert, aka Jum, my Dad's Dad. Over the decades in class I've often found myself mouthing some odd aphorisms, which, upon reflection, probably came from my grandfather. A short list of these rules of life would include:

"If you want to run with the big dogs you have to be able to pee in the high weeds." I said this in class decades ago and a student paused and said, "OK, I think I know what that means, but where in the hell did that come from (I was even more pretentious in my youth, trying, vainly, to hide my rustic upbringing)?" I figured out pretty quickly that it was a Jumism that had been lurking beneath the surface, waiting for this moment to emerge.

"Women are like streetcars, if you miss one go to any street corner and they'll be another one along in about five minutes." This came from the man who one day saw a teenage girl, fell in love with her on the spot, married her, and remained married to her until his death over fifty years later. So, yeah, we took it with a grain of salt, although it's not bad advice.

"You'd starve to death with a ham sandwich in your back pocket." OK, not all the advice was positive. Still, it was a folksy, and generally painless, way to point out that I was acting like a dumbass.

Jum was a kind, patient soul who I never saw raise his voice (although, doubtless, my own father might not have the same memory); he's the man I should have turned out to be.

Here's a picture of Jum working in his basement shop. I was allowed to help, and by that I mean he would give me a hammer and nails and a board and I was encouraged to bang on things happily. It's much how I would "help" my grandmother Alice run her country story, which mainly took the form of me sitting behind the counter and drinking Chocola.