Dr. Kenneth Grider

Recently I read the following story about the American genius, Albert Einstein, and thought of a professor I had in seminary.  Here is the Einstein story:

Einstein was once traveling from Princeton on a train when the conductor came down the aisle, punching the tickets of every passenger.  When he came to Einstein, Einstein reached in his vest pocket.  He couldn't find his ticket, so he reached in his trouser pockets.  It wasn't there, so he looked in his briefcase but couldn't find it.  Then he looked in the seat beside him.  He still couldn't find it. 

The conductor said, 'Dr. Einstein, I know who you are.  We all know who you are.  I'm sure you bought a ticket.  Don't worry about it.' 

Einstein nodded appreciatively.  The conductor continued down the aisle punching tickets.  As he was ready to move to the next car, he turned around and saw the great physicist down on his hands and knees looking under his seat for his ticket.

The conductor rushed back and said, 'Dr. Einstein, Dr. Einstein, don't worry, I know who you are.  No problem.  You don't need a ticket.  I'm sure you bought one.'  Einstein looked at him and said, 'Young man, I too, know who I am.  What I don't know is where I'm going.''

This story about Einstein reminded me of one of my theology professors in seminary, Dr. Kenneth Grider.  Dr. Grider had been raised in the Ozarks in Arkansas, and as a young man had felt called to preach.  Through miraculous events he had escaped the poverty of his family, gone to college, and eventually earned his PhD in theology at the Univeristy of Glasgow in Scotland.  He also had taken studies at Oxford University in London.  Once in chapel he told his life story which he called, “From the Ozarks to Oxford.”

In addition to being a brilliant theologian, Dr. Grider was an excellent professor and by all accounts was a great friend to the students.  He was often found in the downstairs recreation’s “ping pong room” playing table tennis with students, occasionally including me.  He was an excellent player and seldom could be beaten.

I first met Dr. Grider at a reception for the new incoming seminary.  (Note:  Three year graduate school seminaries categorize students as juniors, midlers, seniors.)  He was the sponsor for the junior class and served as the host for that early first meeting.  He demonstrated his excellent memory system by having students call out their names, twenty-five at a time.  He then would identify each one correctly by name.  He never forgot my name.  In fact, several years later I saw him at a General Assembly and he called me by name!

 

In his teaching he seemed to rattle off historical names and dates without effort.  However, in every day, practical matters he was forgetful.  I once asked him in class why he could remember so many historical and theological facts and forget something that happened yesterday—his answer was, “it’s a matter of concentration.”

 

The flip side of Dr. Grider’s memory genius was in day to day, commonplace things.  He often entertained us—albeit very briefly, for there was always class material to be covered—with self-deprecating accounts of forgetfulness.  One such day he came into our class after lunch apologizing for being late.  He said he had been looking for his hat, but had finally given up, thinking that he had left it at the restaurant where he had just had lunch with some of the morning students.  Then he said, “Forgetting my hat is not unusual, but the problem is, I cannot remember where we ate!”

 

Another time he told of his driving the ten miles to downtown Kansas City to take care of some business.  On such trips the simpler way to travel was by city bus, for it didn’t require the hassles of driving in traffic and having to find a place to park.  On this day, however, he did take the car—but absentmindedly took the bus home, leaving his car downtown!

 

Dr. and Mrs. Grider lived not far from where Winona and I lived, and one evening he and I met by coincidence at the local convenience store.  We exchanged pleasantries, then he paid for his bag of items, and left.  Quickly, however, the clerk realized that the bag of items was left behind, so he rushed out to catch the “absentminded professor” just in time!

 

Another day he told us that on the evening before he needed to get an important letter or bill payment in the mail.  Before driving to the postal drop box his wife asked him to stop and get a loaf of bread at the nearby market.  He came to the market first and purchased the loaf of bread, then drove by the drop box.  He mailed the loaf of bread and brought the envelope back home!

 

Maybe it was those very idiosyncrasies which made him, not only for me, but for most of the students, one of our favorite professors.  Or perhaps it was because he always remembered our names!