I have a few, and by that mean, a handful few indulgences when it comes to television, and to the naked eye, they seem even more trivial. One of my old friends I have recently been in contact with was humored to imagine me watching American sitcoms here in Belgium. Many of the days Justin and I spent together were mired in "all-too-serious discussions of life and the meaning or lack thereof," so to send him a short list of the shows I actually watch here was rather funny, in a middle-aged, "ha ha" epiphany kind of way. I think.
The one show I did leave out on my list for him, however, was "The Big Bang Theory," which is a Chuck Lorre production, though without Charlie Sheen in it. The Star, or at least by default of the show is the über-genius Physicist, Sheldon Cooper, portrayed by Jim Parsons, who is the most misfitted misfit in a world of misfits. I remember first watching the Big Bang a few years ago and just could not stand it, but over there years, like stinking Limburger cheese, it grew on me, and I became endeared by poor Sheldon and his plights of not fitting in, and knowing that feeling all too well. Raised in Texas as the story goes, and as Parsons was, Sheldon just never fit in and eventually found his way into the big leagues of Theoretical Physics.
When I was at Amarillo High School, intermittently, though ultimately graduated from there, there was a true genius amongst us, Andrew Chamblin. Ultimately, Andy, as we were wont to call him, proved his mettle on the world stage, being a protégée of both Roger Penrose and Stephen Hawking at Oxford and Cambridge respectfully. If you are not familiar with the gravity of what that means, it is beyond rock-star status. It is like Bono calling you up one day to sub in for U2 because he has a sore throat. Something along those lines.
Andy was on the cutting edge of Theoretical Physics, like Sheldon, though there was a difference, one that may have been fatal, yet at the same time opened him up to the world, giving him a broader perspective upon things.
His main field of interest, last I could ascertain was the domain of Branes and multi-dimensional models of black holes and the pressing question of what exactly the universal constant means, not to mention being involved in the sexy science of String Theory.
However, Andy is dead now for several years. Complications connected with living a life outside of the experimental cage led to some fatal complications in Andy's health, and his untimely death at 36. To put into perspective of what he did, he has a bust at Pembroke College in Cambridge next to Sir Isaac Newton, and has memorial dedicated to him each year with a physics lecture in Cambridge with the likes of Brian Greene and Paul Davies, (the latter with whom I was fortunate enough to share high table at in Pembroke for one of the memorials) and a musical recital dedicated to Andrew in Oxford, each year. Not bad for a kid from the sticks of Amarillo.
I was in contact with Andy in the last months before he died, but did not know he was so sick. We were tossing around ideas about collaborating on physics-based short stories and he had sent me a short "screenplay" of sorts to review about Amarillo. I sent a heavily edited version back to him at one point, and never heard back. I thought he was offended, or had just moved on. I inquired further and learned that he had died.
One thing that Andy was amazing about is that he had a huge range of interests, well beyond physics and math, despite being an off-the-charts genius in both. He was also human in that he was known to be a horrific cheat and liar on the golf course as he was on the golf team. Yet, he also built a home-made harpsichord in high school and was one of the very few people who enjoyed word play and literary references as much as I did. We shared Calculus class and every day Andy and I would bore the entire class with endless puns and obscure references, as I still seem to do with people. It made high school bearable for me.
I was not a big fan of education, and the fact that I became involved with education was a direct result of my not wanting to be part of the problem, but in my egotistical way, to be part of the solution. I wanted to be an educator who did not ignore the human component.
Tonight, watching a re-rerun (all we have here) of The Big Bang Theory, I was reminded of Andy and of how he was not like Sheldon, when Penny asks Sheldon, "So, Who is Radiohead?" after Sheldon had just proclaimed that because he studies physics he has the keys to the universe. By his patented dead-pan blank stare, it is clear that he has no idea who Radiohead is, thus temporarily giving Penny, the "uneducated" waitress of the Cheesecake Factory the edge.
Some, like Dr. Chamblin, do seem to be tapped into a higher order of understanding, and I don't think that they are products of education, as much as I love to think that good teachers do it all. I was fortunate to have many good, if not great, teachers, but, there is something more out there.
We still need to know who Radiohead is, or the equivalent, no matter how high the ladder we climb, or fall from. Andy did know such things, and he is a model for me to realize that life is precious, life can be fleeting, and if we are not careful, we can become mere Paranoid Androids.
Rest in Peace, Andrew, may we never become mere unthinking Androids, at any cost...
The one show I did leave out on my list for him, however, was "The Big Bang Theory," which is a Chuck Lorre production, though without Charlie Sheen in it. The Star, or at least by default of the show is the über-genius Physicist, Sheldon Cooper, portrayed by Jim Parsons, who is the most misfitted misfit in a world of misfits. I remember first watching the Big Bang a few years ago and just could not stand it, but over there years, like stinking Limburger cheese, it grew on me, and I became endeared by poor Sheldon and his plights of not fitting in, and knowing that feeling all too well. Raised in Texas as the story goes, and as Parsons was, Sheldon just never fit in and eventually found his way into the big leagues of Theoretical Physics.
When I was at Amarillo High School, intermittently, though ultimately graduated from there, there was a true genius amongst us, Andrew Chamblin. Ultimately, Andy, as we were wont to call him, proved his mettle on the world stage, being a protégée of both Roger Penrose and Stephen Hawking at Oxford and Cambridge respectfully. If you are not familiar with the gravity of what that means, it is beyond rock-star status. It is like Bono calling you up one day to sub in for U2 because he has a sore throat. Something along those lines.
Andy was on the cutting edge of Theoretical Physics, like Sheldon, though there was a difference, one that may have been fatal, yet at the same time opened him up to the world, giving him a broader perspective upon things.
His main field of interest, last I could ascertain was the domain of Branes and multi-dimensional models of black holes and the pressing question of what exactly the universal constant means, not to mention being involved in the sexy science of String Theory.
However, Andy is dead now for several years. Complications connected with living a life outside of the experimental cage led to some fatal complications in Andy's health, and his untimely death at 36. To put into perspective of what he did, he has a bust at Pembroke College in Cambridge next to Sir Isaac Newton, and has memorial dedicated to him each year with a physics lecture in Cambridge with the likes of Brian Greene and Paul Davies, (the latter with whom I was fortunate enough to share high table at in Pembroke for one of the memorials) and a musical recital dedicated to Andrew in Oxford, each year. Not bad for a kid from the sticks of Amarillo.
I was in contact with Andy in the last months before he died, but did not know he was so sick. We were tossing around ideas about collaborating on physics-based short stories and he had sent me a short "screenplay" of sorts to review about Amarillo. I sent a heavily edited version back to him at one point, and never heard back. I thought he was offended, or had just moved on. I inquired further and learned that he had died.
One thing that Andy was amazing about is that he had a huge range of interests, well beyond physics and math, despite being an off-the-charts genius in both. He was also human in that he was known to be a horrific cheat and liar on the golf course as he was on the golf team. Yet, he also built a home-made harpsichord in high school and was one of the very few people who enjoyed word play and literary references as much as I did. We shared Calculus class and every day Andy and I would bore the entire class with endless puns and obscure references, as I still seem to do with people. It made high school bearable for me.
I was not a big fan of education, and the fact that I became involved with education was a direct result of my not wanting to be part of the problem, but in my egotistical way, to be part of the solution. I wanted to be an educator who did not ignore the human component.
Tonight, watching a re-rerun (all we have here) of The Big Bang Theory, I was reminded of Andy and of how he was not like Sheldon, when Penny asks Sheldon, "So, Who is Radiohead?" after Sheldon had just proclaimed that because he studies physics he has the keys to the universe. By his patented dead-pan blank stare, it is clear that he has no idea who Radiohead is, thus temporarily giving Penny, the "uneducated" waitress of the Cheesecake Factory the edge.
Some, like Dr. Chamblin, do seem to be tapped into a higher order of understanding, and I don't think that they are products of education, as much as I love to think that good teachers do it all. I was fortunate to have many good, if not great, teachers, but, there is something more out there.
We still need to know who Radiohead is, or the equivalent, no matter how high the ladder we climb, or fall from. Andy did know such things, and he is a model for me to realize that life is precious, life can be fleeting, and if we are not careful, we can become mere Paranoid Androids.
Rest in Peace, Andrew, may we never become mere unthinking Androids, at any cost...
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