Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Douglas L. Peterson dies
I learned today on the CSUEB View that one of my CSUH professors, Douglas L. Peterson, has died.
The View article says that Prof. Peterson left CSUH in 1977, but I know I had at least one class from him in the early 1980s. I remember one episode very clearly.
I was a young and nervous underclassman, still trying to decide on a major. I had written my first paper for Prof. Peterson's class, and was surprised when he started reading the paper aloud in class one day. (He didn't say who had written it.) He read my thesis paragraph, then looked up over his half glasses and said to the class, "I don't agree with that." My heart sank a little. He read more, then gave another disapproving remark. The pattern repeated. With each of his comments, I'm sure I slumped deeper into my chair. He eventually read the entire paper, taking it apart bit by bit.
When he finished, he looked up and said (I paraphrase), "I didn't agree with much of what this writer said, but he presented his arguments well and thoughtfully. It's a well-written paper. I gave it an A."
It was there and then that I decided to be an English major. That a teacher could put aside his opinions on my ideas and judge my writing on its merits impresses me to this day. It's a goal I aspire to when I edit others.
The View article says that Prof. Peterson left CSUH in 1977, but I know I had at least one class from him in the early 1980s. I remember one episode very clearly.
I was a young and nervous underclassman, still trying to decide on a major. I had written my first paper for Prof. Peterson's class, and was surprised when he started reading the paper aloud in class one day. (He didn't say who had written it.) He read my thesis paragraph, then looked up over his half glasses and said to the class, "I don't agree with that." My heart sank a little. He read more, then gave another disapproving remark. The pattern repeated. With each of his comments, I'm sure I slumped deeper into my chair. He eventually read the entire paper, taking it apart bit by bit.
When he finished, he looked up and said (I paraphrase), "I didn't agree with much of what this writer said, but he presented his arguments well and thoughtfully. It's a well-written paper. I gave it an A."
It was there and then that I decided to be an English major. That a teacher could put aside his opinions on my ideas and judge my writing on its merits impresses me to this day. It's a goal I aspire to when I edit others.
Labels: CSUH, language, obituary, people, writing
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Ray Orrock Dies
I was sad to read that Ray Orrock, columnist for the Daily Review, has died. I read him daily when I was growing up and until he retired a few years ago.
I liked so much about him. His unadorned wit. His power of observation. His devotion to friends and family. His love of sports cars. The fact that he was a cartoonist. And the fact that writing was a second career for him -- he had originally worked in the public sector, if I recall correctly.
One of Mr. Orrock's taglines was "I'd buy him a drink." (As in, "If I met the guy who invented flavored lipstick, I'd buy him a drink.") About a week after my 21st birthday, I had the good fortune (with the help of some friends) to meet Ray Orrock for a drink at a bar on Winton Avenue in Hayward. It was a great visit.
I really wanted to buy him a drink, but Mr. Orrock insisted on paying. What a gentleman.
Mr. Orrock said in one of his columns long ago that he wanted a palindrome on his grave marker. Here's what he came up with: "Risk Corroded a Jaded Orrock, Sir." Brilliant. I hope he gets his wish.
I liked so much about him. His unadorned wit. His power of observation. His devotion to friends and family. His love of sports cars. The fact that he was a cartoonist. And the fact that writing was a second career for him -- he had originally worked in the public sector, if I recall correctly.
One of Mr. Orrock's taglines was "I'd buy him a drink." (As in, "If I met the guy who invented flavored lipstick, I'd buy him a drink.") About a week after my 21st birthday, I had the good fortune (with the help of some friends) to meet Ray Orrock for a drink at a bar on Winton Avenue in Hayward. It was a great visit.
I really wanted to buy him a drink, but Mr. Orrock insisted on paying. What a gentleman.
Mr. Orrock said in one of his columns long ago that he wanted a palindrome on his grave marker. Here's what he came up with: "Risk Corroded a Jaded Orrock, Sir." Brilliant. I hope he gets his wish.
