Search Site   
News Stories at a Glance
Painted Mail Pouch barns going, going, but not gone
Pork exports are up 14%; beef exports are down
Miami County family receives Hoosier Homestead Awards 
OBC culinary studio to enhance impact of beef marketing efforts
Baltimore bridge collapse will have some impact on ag industry
Michigan, Ohio latest states to find HPAI in dairy herds
The USDA’s Farmers.gov local dashboard available nationwide
Urban Acres helpng Peoria residents grow food locally
Illinois dairy farmers were digging into soil health week

Farmers expected to plant less corn, more soybeans, in 2024
Deere 4440 cab tractor racked up $18,000 at farm retirement auction
   
Archive
Search Archive  
   

 

Being really smart doesn’t always get used in real life


 

I just finished reading a book about Albert Einstein, written by Walter Isaacson, and I don't know what possessed me to do it. It was difficult reading, and the author used a lot of words I was unfamiliar with, like "usufruct."

Perhaps I wanted to read it because when I was a kid, whenever I'd say something particularly brilliant (as I did on a regular basis), members of my family would say, "Who do you think you are, Einstein?"

For any younger folks reading this, I can't stress how big a figure this little German was back in the 1950s and ‘60s for his Theory of Relativity, or E=MC2. I read the entire 500-page book and I still can't explain it.

In a survey of incoming freshman at Princeton University in 1939, Einstein was voted the second-greatest living person in the world. Of course, I must question just how exceptional these Princeton students were, because the person they voted to be the greatest person in the world was Adolph Hitler.

I also must question just exactly how smart Einstein must have been, because according to his second wife, Elsa, he didn't drive because "it was much too complicated for him."

Then there is this tidbit about the German genius: HE MARRIED HIS COUSIN. Not a second or third cousin, but a first cousin. In fact, his first wife, Mileva, was a first cousin to Albert on both sides of his pedigree.

If Einstein was so smart, he should have noticed the early warning signs of inbreeding, because Mileva herself suffered from serious mental health issues. Toward the end of her life she suffered a debilitating stroke and afterwards, for three months just prior to her death, she just kept repeating the words, "No, no, no!"

Of course, my wife has been doing this to me for 47 years and she and I are in no way related.

Einstein's first son turned out okay but their second son, Eduard, was deeply disturbed, became increasingly violent, and had to be institutionalized in an insane asylum.

Einstein was no dummy, though. When he divorced Mileva he wrangled a deal that left him with all their assets, and all poor Mileva got was the promise that if Albert ever won the Nobel Prize, the money that went with it would all go to her. She had to wait 17 years for the payoff.

I was telling my friend ReRide about this divorce decree, and he moaned, "Why didn't I think of that? I just became uncoupled from my third wife and she got the house, the kids, and any money found in the couch." Of course, the odds of ReRide winning any Nobel Prize are about the same as Hillary Clinton voting for Donald Trump.

Einstein got married again and proceeded to cheat on Elsa, as he did on Mileva. Einstein didn't believe that men and women were ever meant to be monogamous. He certainly wasn't. He also called himself "a militant pacifist" and when asked to name his religion, he said he "was a deeply religious non-believer."

Elsa was a vegetarian who dearly loved hot dogs. Figure that out! Einstein solved that problem by declaring hot dogs a vegetable.

I myself have seen the dangers of allowing two beings who are closely related to mate. Although I never saw any evidence of inbreeding with our cattle, I did see it with our small farm flock of sheep from which we raised club lambs for FFA and 4-H kids.

One day our legendary herd sire, Studly, broke down two fences to get in with a bunch of ewe lambs he sired that were just reaching puberty, and darned if one didn't get in the family way. Since they were just sheep, I thought I'd chance it and see the science experiment through to the end – and darned if the ewe didn't give birth to a babe that couldn't stand on her own four feet and had a kink in her neck that made her look sideways upon the cold, cruel world.

The poor baby didn't live two weeks, and it emotionally scarred both my wife and me. That's when I learned my lesson to never let two closely related animals, including humans, mate – I call it Einstein's Second Theory of Relativity.

 

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of Farm World. Readers may log on to www.LeePittsbooks.com to order any of Lee Pitts’ books. Those with questions or comments for Lee may write to him in care of this publication.

10/16/2019