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::: center home >> being here >> last donut? >> blindsided

Blindsided
Fellows' Reading Group
October 29, 2015

Our weekly reading group meetings are planned quite carefully. This week I had everything thought out well in advance. I had a lovely mimolette cheese and a brie. The mimolette is a hard, salty cheese with a sharp, pungent tang. As a general matter, I find bries too bland. This one had been bought weeks in advance so that it could age according to the schedule on the wrapper. It would become, they promised, a tastier, creamier cheese.

Since two cheeses make for an unimpressive table presentation, Joyce had gone yesterday to buy grapes. And we had some nice, super thin crackers to carry the cheese from plate to palate.

We were all assembled and began to work through the usual list. Who is up next time? Who will be the “it” that makes a short, advance summary? Then there is a lot of trading to see who is scheduled for which slot. All this took some time and I started to notice that little cheese was being eaten. How could this be? These are irresistibly delicious cheeses. Joyce was also hovering about. Something wasn’t right. I turned to Michel and quipped:

“What’s going on? Next time, should I get Kraft cheese slices?”

He laughed nervously. I was too absorbed in my plight to sense that he was covering something.

“Can we get on with the reading group,” he growled with uncharacteristic impatience.

Control was handed over to Nancy, who seemed a little too eager to volunteer. She took the symbol of authority, which is the 5 minute hourglass used to limit the length of speeches. I did not know that this moment was the trigger they had all agreed upon.

“Any new rules for us . . . ?” I queried.

“Everyone stand up,” Nancy commanded. Reflexively, I obeyed. As I rose, Nancy corrected me: “Not you . . .”

Oh . . . They were all standing round the table, beaming at me, while Nancy handed each a small sheet of paper.

I’d been completely blind-sided.

Recently I’d been given a promotion at the university. The Fellows had received invitations to attend the inaugural lecture and reception the following week. I’d been blocking out the details since I am quite embarrassed by the fuss. This would be an advance celebration.

I thought I had the afternoon completely in control and all figured out. The Fellows all knew otherwise. They were just waiting for me to get through the preliminaries.

Mike produced his guitar and they all began to sing. It was the Monty Python philosophers’ song. It was just the right song, given that I am an Australian philosopher. This I later learned was Michel’s idea. Better still, they had artfully adjusted the words so that everyone in the Center was mentioned. That was Cailin’s doing. It was quite hilarious. See for yourself:

It was quite a moment and I’ll confess that something happened that rarely happens: I was completely lost for words! At that moment, Joyce appeared with my camera and began to take what looked like a video. (There’s a still frame from the video at the top of this page.)

When it was over, I was speechless. Or at least that was my speech—-that I was speechless. But it wasn’t over.

“Where’s the cake?”

At that moment Joyce was already rushing through the door with the cake that she had procured precisely for this moment. It was suitably decorated with words of congratulations. Now I understood. That’s why they were holding back on the cheese.

Later, over dinner at the 1947 Tavern, I told everyone that being Center Director was the best job I had ever had. What made it so good was that, each year, a group of fellows would come to the Center, eager for exciting experiences in philosophy of science. My job was to see it happen. And my reward was to see it happen.

That this group of Fellows would go to all this trouble will surely be one of the best moments of my decade as Center Director. I am very fortunate to be part of a community of very kind people.

 

John D. Norton


 


 

 

 

 

 
Revised 11/3/15 - Copyright 2012