During my sophomore year Dr. Isaac Samuelson shuffled into my life.  I say shuffled because that was his usual gait, head down, thoughts up somewhere.  Dr. Samuelson, as I knew him in those days, taught courses in math and philosophy.  Other students talked fondly of ‘Old Ike’ and since Mathematics was a required course for me.  I decided I might be able to slide though his Basic Math class.

As it turned out, I could not slide through his class and that was a good thing.  He was a formidable teacher.    In appearance he had unruly black hair graying at the temples, sleepy eyes, well dressed (thanks to the good taste of his third wife) but always rumpled by mid-morning.  Coatless in the classroom, tie loose, sleeves turned up, he threw strings of numbers on the board then tuned, his soft brown eyes hunting for someone who was not paying attention.  “Grant, what’s the next step?”

How rude, interrupting my thought of the girl I met at the party last night wondering if I should pursue her, but then I was daydreaming because he lost me at 4X plus 5Y over 10Z minus something equals something else and so on.  Numbers are not my thing.  Without the cash register at B&P to figure totals, taxes and change due, the store would go broke or make a big profit, depending on the direction of my error.