A recent news article by Cortney Moore on www.foxbusiness.com titled “Albert Einstein’s Tobacco Pipe Collection Up For Auction with Bids Over $20K” related how the RR Auction Company out of Boston, Massachusetts has now put up for sale a collection of tobacco pipes that is said to have once belonged to none other than Albert Einstein.
It seems that the historic collection is a part of something known as “Remarkable Rarities”; and bidders have already driven the price up to more than $20,000. The collection purportedly includes nine intricately carved pipes once owned by Einstein that came into the current owner’s possession in the mid-1980s through their ties to the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, New Jersey – roughly three decades after Einstein’s death.
According to the letter of provenance, the owner stated:
"My father was employed at the Institute for Advanced Study (IAS), Princeton NJ as a caretaker of real estate properties owned by IAS from 1969 to 1995. When these houses became vacant he would have to clean and prepare them for the next professor to move in."
According to records published by the Institute itself, Einstein did indeed work there as a mathematics professor (at the Institute for Advanced Study) from September, 1933 to April, 1955.
This story resonated with me for two reasons. First, as a student at Princeton Theological Seminary back in the early 1980s, I often walked by the Institute of Advanced Studies (on one side of the campus) and Einstein’s home, located at 112 Mercer Street (on the other side). At the time, Einstein himself was long deceased; but his stepdaughter, sculptor Margot Einstein, still lived there.
I have always regretted that, by the time I arrived in Princeton, it was too late to meet this distinguished man, who not only postulated “E=Mc2”, but who also wrote a personal letter to FDR advocating the development of an atomic bomb to use against our enemies and bring a quick end to WW2.
In any event, this particular news story came at an uncanny time for me. I had just spent the better part of the previous week unboxing long stored items to use in decorating my new “man cave”. In one particular box, I came across a wooden pipe holder with six pipes that had once belonged to my grandfather and namesake, Cleo Jackson.
I treasure that collection! And while this man was no nuclear physicist, he was, for me at least, a giant among men. And these six pipes all in a row represent for me a “pipe” line of descent straight back to this amazing man.
Famed country music artist Randy Travis once wrote a song with these lyrics:
“He wore starched white shirts buttoned at the neck,
and he'd sit in the shade and watch the chickens peck.
And his teeth were gone, but what the heck,
I thought that he walked on water.
He said he was a cowboy when he was young.
He could handle a rope and he was good with a gun.
And my mama's daddy was his oldest son,--
and I thought that he walked on water.
If the story's told, only heaven knows.
But his hat seemed to me like an old halo.
And although his wings, they were never seen.
I thought that he walked on water.
Then he tied a cord to the end of a mop,
and said, ‘Son, here's a pony, keep her at a trot.’
And I'd ride in circles while he laughed a lot.
Then I'd flop down beside him.
And he was ninety years old in sixty-three
and I loved him and he loved me.
And lord, I cried the day he died,
'cause I thought that he walked on water.”
Now upon closer inspection, it is obvious that Travis is here referring to his great-grandfather, as opposed to his grandfather. But the principle remains the same. As a little lad, he obviously held his forbear in great esteem.
The same can be said for me. I have always thought of my grandfather as unique - sort of as a man among men. And from my perspective, at least, indeed he was.
Cleo Jackson was born back in 1909. The oldest of three children, he had to quit school after the third grade in order to stay home and farm, all because his own father had contracted pellagra, a debilitating disease that comes from a diet consisting of almost 100% corn products - corn meal, corn bread, corn muffins, grits, etc… (Obviously, corn was the cash crop of the era.) As a result, his father, John Bunyon Jackson, was was forced to declare bankruptcy.
Cleo later came of age and got married to my grandmother, Junie Mae Turner, just as the Great Depression unfolded. Thereafter, he was destined to be a sharecropper for another nineteen years before he was finally able to afford to buy an obscure, rock-strewn hillside, and finally begin to earn a living (as a hardscrabble farmer) for himself and his family alone.
All these things notwithstanding, when he died in 1975, he had managed to amass two forty-acre farms, a whole herd of cattle (along with another of swine), and right at $65,000 cash in the bank. All of this amounted to a small fortune at the time. But more to the point, he had loved, married, and honored a single woman, my grandmother; and with her, had produced three children and ten grandchildren, of which I alone bear his name.
That name is important to me. For when I received it, it bore no shame. It had never once been tarnished. And it was held in esteem, not only by me, but by every other person in our community. And I have done my best to pass it on just as I received it.
Ironically, perhaps, all of the above unfolded virtually on top of “National Grandparents Day”, which occurs each year on the first Sunday after Labor Day. And this leads me to my point…
Whose name do you bear? Are you a “Jr.” or a “III” (like me) or even a “IV”, or more? If so, how do you remember them? Do you (even) know their story? And if so, can you appreciate the time in which they lived, how they responded, and the integral effect this all had on their life (or lives)?
More to the point, how do you honor them?! If you bear their name, do you do so honorably? That is to say, do you live your life in such a way as to show that you value and appreciate what they represented in their time in this world?
It’s a long way from rural Fayette County, Georgia to Princeton, New Jersey. It’s even longer from a third grade education to a Master’ Degree. Just as it is from a net worth of $65,000 to what is considered financially successful today. But none of these things matter if I have not recognized, remembered, and honored those who came before me and imbued me the values I now have.
The Old Testament Book of Proverbs (chapter 22, verse 17 through chapter 24, verse 22) contains a collection of thirty “Sayings of the Wise”. Among these, saying five (found in Proverbs 22:28) says: “Do not move an ancient boundary stone which your fathers have placed.”
I take this to mean that God would have me to honor the boundaries set my forbears. And these boundaries are not just physical, but also ethical, moral, and spiritual!
I last saw Cleo Jackson on Monday, April 21, 1975. He was at our house that evening. I did not know that he would die the following morning, on Tuesday, April 22, 1975. (Believe me - if I had of known any such, I would have cherished each and every moment with him!)
Since then, the Lord has since blessed me with more than forty six years of life. And when I next see Cleo Jackson face to face, I sincerely hope that he will be proud of both who I became and of what I accomplished as one who bore his name.
Of course, all of this reminds me that Heaven will surely record, not just what all I have done in my earthly name of Jackson, but also what all I have done in my eternal name of Christian.
By comparison, all else will be of little consequence. In fact, it will be about as fleeting (and meaningless) as pipe smoke!
In the meantime, as Dierks Bentley puts it, "I may never make it famous, but may I never bring it shame. It's my last name!"
SOURCES:
https://www.foxbusiness.com/lifestyle/albert-einstein-tobacco-pipes-rr-auction-20k;
https://genius.com/Randy-travis-he-walked-on-water-lyrics;
https://nationaltoday.com/grandparents-day/.
SCRIPTURE:
https://biblehub.com/proverbs/22-28.htm.
NOTE: In 2003, Dierks Bentley released a hit song titled "My Last Name". The lyrics seem apropos for this blog post...
"I learned how to write it when I first started school,
Some bully didn't like it, he said it didn't sound too cool,
So I had to hit him, and all I said when the blood came,
It's my last name
Grandpa took of to Europe to fight the Germans in the war,
It came back on some dog tags nobody wears no more,
It's written on a headstone, in the field where he was slain,
It's my last name
Passed down from generations too far back to trace,
I can see all my relations when I look into my face,
May never make it famous, but I'll never bring it shame,
It's my last name
Daddy always told me far back as I recall,
Son, your part of somethin', you represent us all,
So keep it how you got it, as solid as it came,
It's my last name
Passed down from generations too far back to trace,
I can see all my relations when I look into my face,
May never make it famous, but I'll never bring it shame,
It's my last name
So darlin' if you're wonderin' why I've got you here tonight,
I wanna be your husband, I want you to be my wife,
I ain't got much to give you but what I've got means everything,
It's my last name, oh, it's my last name
I learned how to write it when I first started school..."
Cf.: https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/dierksbentley/mylastname.html.
It seems that the historic collection is a part of something known as “Remarkable Rarities”; and bidders have already driven the price up to more than $20,000. The collection purportedly includes nine intricately carved pipes once owned by Einstein that came into the current owner’s possession in the mid-1980s through their ties to the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, New Jersey – roughly three decades after Einstein’s death.
According to the letter of provenance, the owner stated:
"My father was employed at the Institute for Advanced Study (IAS), Princeton NJ as a caretaker of real estate properties owned by IAS from 1969 to 1995. When these houses became vacant he would have to clean and prepare them for the next professor to move in."
According to records published by the Institute itself, Einstein did indeed work there as a mathematics professor (at the Institute for Advanced Study) from September, 1933 to April, 1955.
This story resonated with me for two reasons. First, as a student at Princeton Theological Seminary back in the early 1980s, I often walked by the Institute of Advanced Studies (on one side of the campus) and Einstein’s home, located at 112 Mercer Street (on the other side). At the time, Einstein himself was long deceased; but his stepdaughter, sculptor Margot Einstein, still lived there.
I have always regretted that, by the time I arrived in Princeton, it was too late to meet this distinguished man, who not only postulated “E=Mc2”, but who also wrote a personal letter to FDR advocating the development of an atomic bomb to use against our enemies and bring a quick end to WW2.
In any event, this particular news story came at an uncanny time for me. I had just spent the better part of the previous week unboxing long stored items to use in decorating my new “man cave”. In one particular box, I came across a wooden pipe holder with six pipes that had once belonged to my grandfather and namesake, Cleo Jackson.
I treasure that collection! And while this man was no nuclear physicist, he was, for me at least, a giant among men. And these six pipes all in a row represent for me a “pipe” line of descent straight back to this amazing man.
Famed country music artist Randy Travis once wrote a song with these lyrics:
“He wore starched white shirts buttoned at the neck,
and he'd sit in the shade and watch the chickens peck.
And his teeth were gone, but what the heck,
I thought that he walked on water.
He said he was a cowboy when he was young.
He could handle a rope and he was good with a gun.
And my mama's daddy was his oldest son,--
and I thought that he walked on water.
If the story's told, only heaven knows.
But his hat seemed to me like an old halo.
And although his wings, they were never seen.
I thought that he walked on water.
Then he tied a cord to the end of a mop,
and said, ‘Son, here's a pony, keep her at a trot.’
And I'd ride in circles while he laughed a lot.
Then I'd flop down beside him.
And he was ninety years old in sixty-three
and I loved him and he loved me.
And lord, I cried the day he died,
'cause I thought that he walked on water.”
Now upon closer inspection, it is obvious that Travis is here referring to his great-grandfather, as opposed to his grandfather. But the principle remains the same. As a little lad, he obviously held his forbear in great esteem.
The same can be said for me. I have always thought of my grandfather as unique - sort of as a man among men. And from my perspective, at least, indeed he was.
Cleo Jackson was born back in 1909. The oldest of three children, he had to quit school after the third grade in order to stay home and farm, all because his own father had contracted pellagra, a debilitating disease that comes from a diet consisting of almost 100% corn products - corn meal, corn bread, corn muffins, grits, etc… (Obviously, corn was the cash crop of the era.) As a result, his father, John Bunyon Jackson, was was forced to declare bankruptcy.
Cleo later came of age and got married to my grandmother, Junie Mae Turner, just as the Great Depression unfolded. Thereafter, he was destined to be a sharecropper for another nineteen years before he was finally able to afford to buy an obscure, rock-strewn hillside, and finally begin to earn a living (as a hardscrabble farmer) for himself and his family alone.
All these things notwithstanding, when he died in 1975, he had managed to amass two forty-acre farms, a whole herd of cattle (along with another of swine), and right at $65,000 cash in the bank. All of this amounted to a small fortune at the time. But more to the point, he had loved, married, and honored a single woman, my grandmother; and with her, had produced three children and ten grandchildren, of which I alone bear his name.
That name is important to me. For when I received it, it bore no shame. It had never once been tarnished. And it was held in esteem, not only by me, but by every other person in our community. And I have done my best to pass it on just as I received it.
Ironically, perhaps, all of the above unfolded virtually on top of “National Grandparents Day”, which occurs each year on the first Sunday after Labor Day. And this leads me to my point…
Whose name do you bear? Are you a “Jr.” or a “III” (like me) or even a “IV”, or more? If so, how do you remember them? Do you (even) know their story? And if so, can you appreciate the time in which they lived, how they responded, and the integral effect this all had on their life (or lives)?
More to the point, how do you honor them?! If you bear their name, do you do so honorably? That is to say, do you live your life in such a way as to show that you value and appreciate what they represented in their time in this world?
It’s a long way from rural Fayette County, Georgia to Princeton, New Jersey. It’s even longer from a third grade education to a Master’ Degree. Just as it is from a net worth of $65,000 to what is considered financially successful today. But none of these things matter if I have not recognized, remembered, and honored those who came before me and imbued me the values I now have.
The Old Testament Book of Proverbs (chapter 22, verse 17 through chapter 24, verse 22) contains a collection of thirty “Sayings of the Wise”. Among these, saying five (found in Proverbs 22:28) says: “Do not move an ancient boundary stone which your fathers have placed.”
I take this to mean that God would have me to honor the boundaries set my forbears. And these boundaries are not just physical, but also ethical, moral, and spiritual!
I last saw Cleo Jackson on Monday, April 21, 1975. He was at our house that evening. I did not know that he would die the following morning, on Tuesday, April 22, 1975. (Believe me - if I had of known any such, I would have cherished each and every moment with him!)
Since then, the Lord has since blessed me with more than forty six years of life. And when I next see Cleo Jackson face to face, I sincerely hope that he will be proud of both who I became and of what I accomplished as one who bore his name.
Of course, all of this reminds me that Heaven will surely record, not just what all I have done in my earthly name of Jackson, but also what all I have done in my eternal name of Christian.
By comparison, all else will be of little consequence. In fact, it will be about as fleeting (and meaningless) as pipe smoke!
In the meantime, as Dierks Bentley puts it, "I may never make it famous, but may I never bring it shame. It's my last name!"
SOURCES:
https://www.foxbusiness.com/lifestyle/albert-einstein-tobacco-pipes-rr-auction-20k;
https://genius.com/Randy-travis-he-walked-on-water-lyrics;
https://nationaltoday.com/grandparents-day/.
SCRIPTURE:
https://biblehub.com/proverbs/22-28.htm.
NOTE: In 2003, Dierks Bentley released a hit song titled "My Last Name". The lyrics seem apropos for this blog post...
"I learned how to write it when I first started school,
Some bully didn't like it, he said it didn't sound too cool,
So I had to hit him, and all I said when the blood came,
It's my last name
Grandpa took of to Europe to fight the Germans in the war,
It came back on some dog tags nobody wears no more,
It's written on a headstone, in the field where he was slain,
It's my last name
Passed down from generations too far back to trace,
I can see all my relations when I look into my face,
May never make it famous, but I'll never bring it shame,
It's my last name
Daddy always told me far back as I recall,
Son, your part of somethin', you represent us all,
So keep it how you got it, as solid as it came,
It's my last name
Passed down from generations too far back to trace,
I can see all my relations when I look into my face,
May never make it famous, but I'll never bring it shame,
It's my last name
So darlin' if you're wonderin' why I've got you here tonight,
I wanna be your husband, I want you to be my wife,
I ain't got much to give you but what I've got means everything,
It's my last name, oh, it's my last name
I learned how to write it when I first started school..."
Cf.: https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/dierksbentley/mylastname.html.