When Low is Best
So I realize things are a little tougher to figure out these days. And there are times when I swear I’d rather be represented by Manny, Moe, and Curly Joe than the Governator, the old TC “Gang of Five,” and whomever it is who keeps leaving out my contact info at the end of these columns. Then again, sometimes you never know when help is on the way.
Like I knew there was a Bailout of some sort going on (I read about it in all the papers.) I just didn’t figure it would be limited to some hard luck CEOs. And I’ve always been uncomfortable judging folks who weren’t bruin fans. But how do y’all feel about being judged by banks? Don’t know about you guys but to me it feels like having the Crips and Bloods jump all over my case just because I have a few parking violations.
And just when I was prouder of my alma mater than Joey Chestnut can eat hot dogs on the Fourth of July the school goes totally ghetto. The USC president, athletic director and basketball coach clam up like a bunch of Watergate defendants, undoubtedly following the sound legal advice traditionally reserved for cheats and liars. If somehow Coach Pete Carroll is implicated in the death of Karl Malden, I’m gonna give up following organized sports and spend most of my leisure time watching the Clippers and bruin football.
I guess in an attempt to get away from it all, I went out and played some golf this morning. And I say “some” golf because according to patient/foursome member/tool collector Steven D., during my eighteen holes and somewhere around 4 hours at Santa Anita, I only played 3 holes of golf requiring some 23 minutes. The rest was just a long angry walk in the park spiced up with some dark blue dentalesian soliloquies.
Then, out of the abyss, a miracle.
After several decades of my hiding, I ran into Mr. Robert Low, my Government teacher from Mark Keppel High. And I guess I’m insufferably Old School. I’ll never text and I know you’re never supposed to say never but I’m also never gonna tweet (I am on Facebook.) I use my cell phone the way the bruins win BCS championships and I know one day I’ll get hauled in for verbally and physically abusing my computer. And even though I met him around the time the Beatles landed, it will never be Bob. It will always be Mr. Low.
Mr. Low was my all-time toughest, most memorable and best teacher during my 4-year stint at Mark Keppel. I did more Government reading the summer before my year with Mr. Low than I did during the year with all my other classes combined. Our group of about 20 or so students in “Accelerated” Government included a few National Merit Scholars, assorted future doctors and lawyers, and maybe the best sportswriter this side of Jim Murray. So in that select company, who wouldn’t try handing in a book report, having scanned only the inside cover? Oh, and the book? Pretty lightweight stuff; only Senator Fulbright’s Old Myths and New Realities, his landmark commentary on “The arrogance of power.”
“Mr. Von Bulow, would you mind stopping by for a word before leaving class?” And later, “Mr. Von Bulow, should you choose to return a book report in the future, I suggest you first read the book.”
Years later, after I’d been practicing dentistry in Temple City for a while, I opened up a “City of Covina” envelope (another parking ticket?) It was correspondence from then and now Covina City Councilman, Mr. Robert Low. Mr. Low had spotted one of my nasty little notes to the Times’ Sports Viewpoint; he recalled the halcyon years at Keppel with classmates pediatrician Bill Visser and sportswriter extraordinaire Scott Ostler.
I still have the note.
And what better time to re-read Senator Fulbright’s views on “The arrogance of power?” Think I’ll pass a copy forward to the next hard luck CEO I meet.
