Our Days are Numbered: In Honor of Dr. Glenn Snelbecker
Psalms 90:12
"So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."
Last night around 9:30, I received an email from two students who head up the student Ed. Psych. group down at Temple. In the subject line, I saw my Advisor's name. I knew what it meant even before opening the email. My Advisor, Dr. Glenn Snelbecker, had passed away (Sunday morning).
When I had last met with him in the Fall down at the Ambler campus, he had some serious issues with coughing...asthma-related. He would cough and wheeze for a good bit, then be able to speak some more. I was worried about him; that he would come to work and meet with me was a testament to his character and work ethic and tough Pennsylvania Dutchness. His condition continued to not improve and on New Year's Eve, he had to be taken to the Emergency Room. From there, he never recovered, even though his last email to me less that a week ago said that he was on the road to recovery. I am going to keep that email...forever. It is or last communication where he gave me suggestions how to move my research forward and also notes his approval for me to take the Ed. Psych 999 course (hopefully, the last time, although this end as far from certain, especially now, due to his passing).
The road wound up instead leading to eternity. It makes me sad. He was a good professor and a good man. He had grown up in Dover, Pennsylvania (the school district next to Northeastern, where I work) among a people who did not in his generation, as an almost absolute rule, go to college.
He entered the Army and as a result of the G.I. Bill, wound up attending Elizabethtown College for his Bachelor's Degree and then earning his Ph.D. at Cornell. He might have been one of the few off his graduating class to attain that level of educational achievement. He knew personally how hard it was to be successful educationally when your environment has little "culture" of that type of aspirations and achievement. He was passionate about my research that seeks to give the kids who don't have all of the benefits of higher income areas a fighting chance to overcome disadvantages. I considered it a providential act of God that I was led to Temple University, to pursue Doctoral studies, in a department with a professor and an Advisor who knew the "story" of York County...a people who work hard and even live hard, who need a break. And sometimes, a kind word and a kick in the shorts.
While out in Los Angeles about a month ago over Christmastime, Lina and I stayed with her parents in Laguna Niguel. Every day the Los Angeles Times would be sitting on the kitchen table, tempting me to read it. The L.A. Times is a world-class paper that speaks in a sophisticated manner about issues pertaining to the Los Angeles area and unto the whole world. I desperately need writing and thinking outside of the Lancaster County box sometimes. It is one of the things that compelled me to pursue Ph.D. studies at Temple. I was in a rut and dying slowly and I seriously needed to expand my horizon. Temple, though really hard and grueling, was what the Dr. ordered.
Although I embrace Lancaster, it is hardly an exaggeration to say that this county is provincial, non-cosmopolitan, and pretty clueless about the world at-large. Not everyone here is a Natavist, but we have more than our share. I know that I might sound like a Prig to say that, but I am not from Lancaster County yet have spent most of my last 27 years here, so I know this place. That I will never be considered a local hardly diminishes my self-worth. Really, so what...there are signs--like flowers in the snow--that Lancaster County is starting to think more about itself in relation to others more constructively.
The work of the Mennonite Central Committee and other ministries based here are truly great lights. We, as a conservative bastion, should not curse the darkness. We need to light a candle and use the stability of Lancaster to buttress our work against the wind. We are not to just build the defensive bricks of self-protection higher-and-higher. That is ultimately selfish, no matter how we try to justify it.
Anyway, I developed a fascination with reading the Obituaries out in L.A., so much so that I found the Obits L.A. link on the web and bookmarked it the other day. Hardly a day goes by where someone who used to be "Someone" passes away (movie star, politician, Nobel prize winner, etc.) . I am not sure why I have developed what could be called a "morbid" fascination with the Obits. But, I want to study successful people for two reasons. # 1 - To learn what made them successful; # 2 - To learn what true success is.
Often I get sad when I read the Obits in that there is almost an air of desperation in them...it is often the case that the individual at some point was somewhere on the apex of fame only to have fallen off at some later point. One gentleman, whose name I do not remember, had been a star on the radio with his voices for characters. He was at the top of the profession. Then TV came, and his star dimmed, as he was a small squirrely dude who was typecast as an accessory to a bigger star. He was not tall and dashing...instead he was short and rather nerdish looking.
In later years, he took a gig being the "face" on TV for the Chunky chocolate bar (really a block, if you recall). After the commercial got a lot of airplay, people apparently would recognize him out on the street and say, "Hey, there's is the "Chunky" guy on TV." He wanted to be known as a great actor and theatrical talent, he got suffocated by a Chunky wrapper instead. The comedian Jonathan Winters, noted on commenting on this gentleman's death, "He was a funny, little man." Ow, I am certain that is not how the dude wanted to be eulogized in the paper. Kind of kicking dirt on the grave.
I not only read the L.A. Times Obits...I also read the Lancaster Sunday News pages. I always try to remember what Francis Schaeffer wrote, that there are "No Little People."
So here is my tribute to my advisor Dr. Glenn Snelbecker. I wish I had told him so while he was still here:
"Thank you so much for your enthusiasm for my work. Although we butted head's more than once, and disagreed at times, I never questioned your commitment and support of my work. You were a good man who came from humble beginnings. Through hard work and smarts, you became a person and professor of excellence. I am truly going to miss you and feel sad that I did not know that your life in this world would end so suddenly. I am crying as I write this. May my tears express in some small way a payment of respect and tribute for your life, a life that you lived well. If my work with the college transition turns out to have helped a lot of kids, please always know that you played a significant part in its success. God bless you, your family, your friends, and your colleagues and students. We are truly better to have known you."
I miss you already...
Eric Bierker
Here is some consolation as we contemplate mortality. If you do not know Christ today, pick up the Bible, and read through the Gospel of John. We only have life in His name. Tomorrow may be too late...
The Sense of Mortality. Show the variety of blessings dispensed to different classes by the right use of the sense of mortality.
1. It may be an antidote for the sorrowful. Reflect, "there is an end."
2. It should be a restorative to the labouring.
3. It should be a remedy for the impatient.
4. As a balm to the wounded in heart.
5. As a corrective for the worldly.
6. As a sedative to the frivolous.
--R. Andrew Griffin, in "Stems and Twigs", 1872.
"So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."
Last night around 9:30, I received an email from two students who head up the student Ed. Psych. group down at Temple. In the subject line, I saw my Advisor's name. I knew what it meant even before opening the email. My Advisor, Dr. Glenn Snelbecker, had passed away (Sunday morning).
When I had last met with him in the Fall down at the Ambler campus, he had some serious issues with coughing...asthma-related. He would cough and wheeze for a good bit, then be able to speak some more. I was worried about him; that he would come to work and meet with me was a testament to his character and work ethic and tough Pennsylvania Dutchness. His condition continued to not improve and on New Year's Eve, he had to be taken to the Emergency Room. From there, he never recovered, even though his last email to me less that a week ago said that he was on the road to recovery. I am going to keep that email...forever. It is or last communication where he gave me suggestions how to move my research forward and also notes his approval for me to take the Ed. Psych 999 course (hopefully, the last time, although this end as far from certain, especially now, due to his passing).
The road wound up instead leading to eternity. It makes me sad. He was a good professor and a good man. He had grown up in Dover, Pennsylvania (the school district next to Northeastern, where I work) among a people who did not in his generation, as an almost absolute rule, go to college.
He entered the Army and as a result of the G.I. Bill, wound up attending Elizabethtown College for his Bachelor's Degree and then earning his Ph.D. at Cornell. He might have been one of the few off his graduating class to attain that level of educational achievement. He knew personally how hard it was to be successful educationally when your environment has little "culture" of that type of aspirations and achievement. He was passionate about my research that seeks to give the kids who don't have all of the benefits of higher income areas a fighting chance to overcome disadvantages. I considered it a providential act of God that I was led to Temple University, to pursue Doctoral studies, in a department with a professor and an Advisor who knew the "story" of York County...a people who work hard and even live hard, who need a break. And sometimes, a kind word and a kick in the shorts.
While out in Los Angeles about a month ago over Christmastime, Lina and I stayed with her parents in Laguna Niguel. Every day the Los Angeles Times would be sitting on the kitchen table, tempting me to read it. The L.A. Times is a world-class paper that speaks in a sophisticated manner about issues pertaining to the Los Angeles area and unto the whole world. I desperately need writing and thinking outside of the Lancaster County box sometimes. It is one of the things that compelled me to pursue Ph.D. studies at Temple. I was in a rut and dying slowly and I seriously needed to expand my horizon. Temple, though really hard and grueling, was what the Dr. ordered.
Although I embrace Lancaster, it is hardly an exaggeration to say that this county is provincial, non-cosmopolitan, and pretty clueless about the world at-large. Not everyone here is a Natavist, but we have more than our share. I know that I might sound like a Prig to say that, but I am not from Lancaster County yet have spent most of my last 27 years here, so I know this place. That I will never be considered a local hardly diminishes my self-worth. Really, so what...there are signs--like flowers in the snow--that Lancaster County is starting to think more about itself in relation to others more constructively.
The work of the Mennonite Central Committee and other ministries based here are truly great lights. We, as a conservative bastion, should not curse the darkness. We need to light a candle and use the stability of Lancaster to buttress our work against the wind. We are not to just build the defensive bricks of self-protection higher-and-higher. That is ultimately selfish, no matter how we try to justify it.
Anyway, I developed a fascination with reading the Obituaries out in L.A., so much so that I found the Obits L.A. link on the web and bookmarked it the other day. Hardly a day goes by where someone who used to be "Someone" passes away (movie star, politician, Nobel prize winner, etc.) . I am not sure why I have developed what could be called a "morbid" fascination with the Obits. But, I want to study successful people for two reasons. # 1 - To learn what made them successful; # 2 - To learn what true success is.
Often I get sad when I read the Obits in that there is almost an air of desperation in them...it is often the case that the individual at some point was somewhere on the apex of fame only to have fallen off at some later point. One gentleman, whose name I do not remember, had been a star on the radio with his voices for characters. He was at the top of the profession. Then TV came, and his star dimmed, as he was a small squirrely dude who was typecast as an accessory to a bigger star. He was not tall and dashing...instead he was short and rather nerdish looking.
In later years, he took a gig being the "face" on TV for the Chunky chocolate bar (really a block, if you recall). After the commercial got a lot of airplay, people apparently would recognize him out on the street and say, "Hey, there's is the "Chunky" guy on TV." He wanted to be known as a great actor and theatrical talent, he got suffocated by a Chunky wrapper instead. The comedian Jonathan Winters, noted on commenting on this gentleman's death, "He was a funny, little man." Ow, I am certain that is not how the dude wanted to be eulogized in the paper. Kind of kicking dirt on the grave.
I not only read the L.A. Times Obits...I also read the Lancaster Sunday News pages. I always try to remember what Francis Schaeffer wrote, that there are "No Little People."
So here is my tribute to my advisor Dr. Glenn Snelbecker. I wish I had told him so while he was still here:
"Thank you so much for your enthusiasm for my work. Although we butted head's more than once, and disagreed at times, I never questioned your commitment and support of my work. You were a good man who came from humble beginnings. Through hard work and smarts, you became a person and professor of excellence. I am truly going to miss you and feel sad that I did not know that your life in this world would end so suddenly. I am crying as I write this. May my tears express in some small way a payment of respect and tribute for your life, a life that you lived well. If my work with the college transition turns out to have helped a lot of kids, please always know that you played a significant part in its success. God bless you, your family, your friends, and your colleagues and students. We are truly better to have known you."
I miss you already...
Eric Bierker
Here is some consolation as we contemplate mortality. If you do not know Christ today, pick up the Bible, and read through the Gospel of John. We only have life in His name. Tomorrow may be too late...
The Sense of Mortality. Show the variety of blessings dispensed to different classes by the right use of the sense of mortality.
1. It may be an antidote for the sorrowful. Reflect, "there is an end."
2. It should be a restorative to the labouring.
3. It should be a remedy for the impatient.
4. As a balm to the wounded in heart.
5. As a corrective for the worldly.
6. As a sedative to the frivolous.
--R. Andrew Griffin, in "Stems and Twigs", 1872.
Comments
Love, Mom
Just as a clarification, we do not know the exact cause of death. The asthma was wearing him down, but he was getting better at the time of his death. It could have been from something totally different. And it was very fast, and he was at home with my mom, which is where he would have wanted to be, not in a hospital.
I just caught your blog . . . I was unaware that Dr S had passed. I am truly, deeply sadened. He was as you say a wonderful, committed, passionate man that the world is less rich without.
Thank you for the tribute. I was beautiful.
Jessica McPherson