Mrs. Hollywood in the Sunday News

Annalisa was the subject of an article in the Sunday News on Easter about a Sunday School class she will be teaching next Sunday through May 31. The Sunday News links expire quickly, so here's the text:


It all adds up to the 'God of Mathematics'
First female adult Sunday school teacher at Wheatland Presbyterian explores infinity ... and beyond


By Helen Colwell Adams, Staff Writer
How is Christian faith like mathematics?

The possibilities, as Dr. Annalisa Crannell sketches them, are nearly infinite.

Infinity itself, for instance.

"Mathematicians and Christians look at very similar kinds of things," Crannell, a professor of mathematics at Franklin & Marshall College, said. "We ask very similar kinds of questions. What does infinity mean? How do you resolve a paradox — how can God be three in one?"

Crannell will be opening that world of possibilities for an innovative Sunday school series at her church, Wheatland Presbyterian, April 19 through May 31. The series, "The God of Mathematics," is innovative for another reason.

Crannell will be the first woman to teach an adult Sunday school class at the Lancaster Township church, part of the conservative Presbyterian Church in America denomination.

"Having Annalisa and her husband, Neil Gussman … and their family here at Wheatland is a great blessing to us, and we are excited that she can use her considerable gifts in this way," Wheatland's pastor, Bruce Mawhinney, said. "She is an amazing believer and follower of Jesus Christ who not only talks the talk but walks the walk."

"I have a lot of support," Crannell said. "I have the feeling there are a lot of people who were trying to figure out how to make this happen and still be true to their values."
The logic of faith
Part of Crannell's understanding of God comes from metaphors of mathematics. John 1:1, for instance, says, "In the beginning was the Word."

"For math, everything flows logically from axioms," Crannell explained. Logic comes from the Greek logos, the "Word" of John 1:1.

"Because I know math and because I like axioms, I have a good picture in my head of how God can speak the world into existence."

Mathematicians believe in the extranatural, as Christians do.

"I believe in 2. There is no 2 in the world," Crannell said. Numbers aren't tangible or material; they are concepts.

"... In that way, math is not of this world. It helps me to understand something that's bigger than a material universe."

But when mathematicians change the axioms, "you change the universe," she explained. "… You change the kinds of things that happen in the world.

"When God spoke the universe into being, the way he spoke it formed us."

She'll be unfolding those ideas in the Sunday school series, which is open to the public. Topics include "Math and Metaphor," "Sizes of infinity," "Mobius strips and the Triune God" and "Symmetry, pattern and repetition."

Too much information? Crannell doesn't think so. "I'm used to dialogue with people who are math-averse," she said. "… How much math do you need to know? If you like puzzles, if you like doing things like Sudoku, then that's enough math."
The logic of submitting
It might seem counterintuitive for a respected female academic to belong to a church that holds, among other doctrines, that only men may serve as teaching and ruling elders or deacons.

For Crannell, it's a matter of biblical mutual submission.

"There are ways in which it's very countercultural to be a Christian at all," she said. "It's a faith that does ask you to submit … to something bigger than yourself all the time."

At Wheatland, an eclectic congregation "that really loves Christ," she said, "we're all submitting ourselves in various ways."

Plus, Crannell noted, "The church is the most segregated institution in the United States. One of the obligations we have as Christians is to try to fight that by placing ourselves with people" who think differently.

"It is very hard to do it. We need to look at people who have differences of opinion not as enemies we should shun but as people we should engage."

Crannell said the church has been enthusiastic about her series, planned after the governing Session voted to allow women to lead adult classes that do not involve teaching the Bible.

"Ordinarily our adult classes are taught by an ordained officer of the church — pastor, elders and deacons — but having a member like Annalisa teach this class is not really a new step for us at Wheatland," Mawhinney said.

"We have been planning on her doing this and trying to find a good place in our schedule for some time now. We try to use our members in areas of their expertise in our Sunday school ministry."

Crannell's membership at Wheatland is part of her faith journey.

"I came to faith very late in life, nine years ago," she said. She began attending church with Gussman, a convert to Christianity, to understand him better and found herself drawn to faith partly by math connections.

"Even atheists will talk of mathematics as something beautiful," she said. "It's something pure and holy."

For her, it's another way Christian faith is like mathematics.

"The God of Mathematics" will be offered at Wheatland, 1125 Columbia Ave., from 9:30-10:30 a.m. April 19 through May 31. For information, phone the church, 392-5909, or e-mail info@wheatlandpca.org.

More Mount Scott

On Friday I finally rode up Mount Scott which I reported four days ago. The view above is what I saw every morning as I walked to formation for 2-1/2 months. I could see it, but being restricted to Post, I could not ride it. So on Saturday while my wife took a nap, I went up Mount Scott again. On Saturday the winds were better and the temp was above 70 instead of the low 50s on Friday, so I went up in 27:10, almost three minutes faster than Friday. On Saturday and Sunday Annalisa and I ran on the flat roads near our hotel in Lawton. Today she agreed to do a "Ride and Tie" Relay with me. So we drove to Mount Scott, I got out of the car at the base of the mountain and ran up. She drove to the top, parked and ran down with the keys in her hand. Eighteen minutes later she handed off the keys as we ran past each other. I got to the top in 32 minutes, 5 seconds.

I love running uphill but I would have been a cripple if I ran down. Annalisa shows no ill effects from running down--even three miles down. She does not keep track of run times, so I don't know how fast she went, but it was a lot faster than I went because she had walked 1/4 mile back up the hill by the time I drove the car back down to pick her up.

Annalisa arrived at midnight Friday and goes home early tomorrow morning. My roommates would be worried we would be bored to death, because we have not watched TV or a movie or listened to the radio in the car since her arrival. She also finished reading Barack Obama's "The Audacity of Hope" to me as we drove in the car. I will be surrounded by noise tomorrow, but I have had more than 72 hours of peace and quiet. Ahhhh!!!

Then and Now: Kids and the Army

ERIC, RYAN and NIGEL underneath a C-130 on display at Fort Indiantown Gap.

One of my best memories of serving in Germany during the late 1970s was training on the countryside and meeting little kids. The kids, usually boys between 7 and 10 years old, but some girls also, would ride their bikes up from the villages where they lived to see our tanks. It always seemed to be up. We looked for high ground so we could set up observation posts. Our tanks would be below the crest of the hill and we would send an observer up to watch the approaches.

Soon after we had our tanks positioned on the hill, sometimes just minutes after, we would see two or three kids laboring up dirt paths pushing or riding their bikes toward our position. I could only imagine what it would have been like if a platoon (five) tanks parked on a hill near my house when I was a kid.

We were in the field the day after we arrived so the first time we had kids come up to our tank was just three days after our unit got to Germany in 1976. My tank happened to be lowest on the hill so the tallest boy walked up and waved. The three smaller boys with him followed close behind. My driver and I offered the kids C-ration chocolate bars. These round candy bars were made by Wilbur Chocolate in Lititz. It was years after I got out before I would eat their chocolate because those bars were so bad. They had to last at least three years which must have been a challenge, but they tasted like wax.

The German kids thought they were wonderful. "Soldaten chocolad!" they said to each other. We pulled them up on the fender of the tank and let the kids get inside and talk to each other on our helmet intercom. I let the big kid is the Commander's Override and traverse the turret. They spoke English well enough to ask if we wanted them to go to the store and buy food. I gave the oldest one (I think he was 9) a 10 Mark bill and they sped down the hill to the store.

As they left, the crew of the next tank over found out from my driver that I had given the kids money and they started laughing. "Nice going Gussman. You'll never see those kids again." I wasn't worried. The guys on the other crews got out their C-rations and started complaining about the getting stuck with canned ham and eggs or the grease that congealed on the Spam. Between bites they would yell, "Better eat your C's. Those kids are gone.

Almost an our later the kids returned. They had fresh bread, cheese, sausage, even butter, and two pfennigs change. We thanked them for doing such a good job shopping and gave them two boxes of C-rations and a handful of chocolate bars. They were thrilled. They happily sat on the fenders eating chocolate. They were saving the C-rations and it was almost dinner time.

I put our camp stove on the back deck of the tank so the other crew could see us while I cooked the sausage. My crew and I ate fresh German food sitting on the fender and the turret facing uphill to be sure the other crews could watch.

We held that position for two days. When the kids came back the next day, the other crew members ran down to see if the group of boys would like some more chocolate or to sit in their tanks. For the rest of the time we were in German on the countryside, the little kids on bikes gave us fresh food in return the green cans we were always ready to get rid of.

Last summer my sister brought her grandsons down to Pennsylvania. They spent a day with my son and I looking at tanks and trucks and artillery on Fort Indiantown Gap. I could not actually let them turn a tank turret or talk on an intercom since I am not in tanks anymore, but it was fun to show two little boys all that Army equipment. My son Nigel had been on these vehicles before, so he got to show Ryan and Eric where to put there hands when they climb up on a tank and be their Big Brother for a day.

Perceptions of Risk

I am in the middle of writing an article about perceptions of risk in medicine. Looking at how people perceive risk in medicine reminded me of my step father. My Dad died in 1982 and my Mom remarried 7 years later to a nice guy named Peter Sherlock who is a World War II veteran and a career Air Force sergeant. They were married until my Mom died in 2003. I have kept in touch with Peter since my Mom's passing. We talk every month or so.

Until August of 2007, every call with Peter would begin with him asking, "Are you still riding that damn bicycle?" Peter has a daughter my age who is an avid rider and who broke a hip in a bicycling accident several years ago. Peter thought bicycles were dangerous before her accident, but understandably became more strident after her accident. When I crashed in May 2007, Peter was beside himself when he found out I planned to ride again as soon as I got out of the neck brace.

But he hasn't said a word about bicycling since August of 2007. Peter perceives bicycling as very risky. But when I told him I re-enlisted, he was almost gleeful. He thought that was great. He said, "You won't regret it. Best job in the world." When I told him I was going to Iraq, it did not change his opinion at all. "You'll be fine," he said.

Obviously, lots of people perceive risk differently than Peter, but it is fun to call him and hear him be as "Rah! Rah!" as an 86-year-old can get on serving in the military. And he never asks at all whether I am "riding that damn bicycle."

Saying Goodbye to Fort Sill--The Bike

After I wrote the silence post I thought about how much I will miss riding on Fort Sill. According to my obsessive exercise spreadsheet I have ridden more than 1100 miles (1154, but who's counting) since we landed in Oklahoma. I can look at that as 82 hours of training, which it is, but more importantly as about 70 hours of solitude. I guess I have ridden 150 miles with the Chaplain and the other racer in our unit, but I am almost always riding alone. That means many hours of solitude and quiet. Without the bike, my life here would have been very different.

So with my final ride just days away, I have some bike updates. My usual loop is a 28-mile circuit around the artillery and machine gun ranges. Until Wednesday, I could not cover that distance in less than 1 hour and 43 minutes. But on Wednesday, we had calm air all day. So after the Rappel Tower, I road my usual loop as fast as I could almost giddy with the lack of wind. I covered the distance 11 minutes faster than ever before.

Today I tried to ride from Fort Sill to the Oklahoma City airport to meet my wife. She arrives at 1045pm tonight. We could not leave until 2pm and the airport is 90 miles away. If the wind had been west or south, I might have made it. But OKC is northeast of Fort Sill and the wind was out of the North Northeast at 15mph with gusts. By 315pm I had covered only 16 miles so I turned around and road west to Mount Scott.

Mount Scott is not exactly the Alps, but it is the highest mountain around here. It is also just off post so I could see it every morning since we got here, but not ride it. Today I went up the 3-mile, 9% climb that goes up 1400 feet to an amazing view of the entire area. The road wraps the entire circumference of the mountain as it climbs and ends right on top. It took 30 minutes to go up and five back down.

I passed a herd of longhorn cattle on one side of the road at the base of the mountain and a herd of buffalo on the other side. This is definitely a beautiful place in a dry, wild sort of way.

Silence is not an Option

At the end of every training session we have an After Action Review--as with everything else this is only referred to as an AAR. Usually we collectively are asked to give three examples of what was Outstanding, three things that should be Sustained, and three that should be Improved. Just as with civilian life, these sessions are supposed to be open to all comments.

But I got shouted down for my "Improve" comment.

After we finished six hours of rappel tower training we had an AAR. It was somewhat difficult to hear the leader because speakers on the tower had been blaring and continued to blare metal music. My Improve was shut the music off. If I had said change the music to country, hip-hop, or something else I would have divided the crowd. But suggesting that the sound be shut off was like suggesting we all dress in orange or blue or that we all become Vegans. Silence is simply not an option in this world. Even the people who don't like metal music wanted some kind of music. Our chow hall has big screen TVs on both walls, one on ESPN, one on Fox News during every meal. My roommates like Gangsta Rap and Horror movies. Other rooms are primarily Country or Metal with a preference for comedies or war movies, but there is no silent room.

This weekend when my wife is here we will not be watching TV, leaving the radio on all the time, or eating in restaurants that have big-screen TVs on the wall. While most everyone flies home, I will be staying in Lawton and enjoying four days of quiet.

When the rest of my unit returns to America, they will be looking for some form of entertainment they have been missing. I will want to be back in my very quiet home and back at my job in a very quiet museum with people who can do their work without 24/7 music. AAAHHHHH!

Once in a while people ask me if there is anything I miss, anything people could send me. If you figure out a way to put quiet in a postal package, please send it.

Rappel Tower

Today we spent most of the day at Fort Sill's Treadwell Rappel Tower. For most soldiers it was not their first time to slide down a rappel rope, some even had air assault experience rappeling from a helicopter. I was one of about ten rookies who had never rappelled before. It was fun, but because the tower is set up for basic trainees, they use a figure-8 loop on the harness that makes the ride down very slow. I did get to swing out and drop about ten feet at the end, but nothing too fast.

DOWN THE ROPE
In addition to the rappel ropes, the tower had four rope obstacles. Each of these was harder for me than the tower. We first climbed up a three-rope bridge, which wasn't too bad. Then we went down a single rope head first and face down (see photo) which hurt my chest a lot. Then we went back up a two-rope bridge, which is harder than three. Then up to the top of the tower and down a 40-foot cargo net. Several soldiers went again, some again and again, when everyone had a chance to go once. Between the harness (I thought it could make me a soprano) and an aching shoulder from the cargo net, I only went once.

THE RAPPEL HARNESS

THIS GUY GOT IT RIGHT