I have a confession. I have spent most of my life trying to be funny. I probably fail more than I succeed, but I am constantly pitching one-liners that I secretly hope will be quoted at my funeral. Imagine my dismay, then, when I never see anyone writing them down.<\/p>\n
For instance, there was the time I was walking down the hallway in high school and saw a guy who was wearing half a globe as a hat. I couldn\u2019t resist, so I went up to him and said, \u201cHey, it must be hard to get ahead in the world.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nothing. He just stared blankly at me, with the top half of Asia cocked over one eye. That guy will not show up at my funeral. So, I am reduced to the shameless indignity of quoting my own jokes for fear they will be lost.<\/p>\n
Fortunately, that won\u2019t happen to Bob Helsten. The much beloved Bible professor died in Ohio Nov. 9 at the age of 94. When I asked his neighbors, colleagues and former students to share stories, there was a steady supply.<\/p>\n
He was a short man, and someone once asked how much he weighed. \u201cStripped down naked,\u201d he said, \u201cI weigh 145 pounds. But you can\u2019t trust those scales in the drugstore.\u201d<\/p>\n
Bob had a running battle of wits with the late Dr. Jack Ryan. One day Jack was strolling with his daughter in Harding Park. He passed by Bob\u2019s house and saw him cleaning his vehicle, with all four doors open. Jack shouted, \u201cAre you airing your car?\u201d Bob glanced up: \u201cYes, are you carting your heir?\u201d Whenever they parted, Jack would say, \u201cHave a nice day.\u201d To which Bob replied, \u201cDon\u2019t tell me what to do.\u201d<\/p>\n
Bob was born in Seattle and grew up in Berkeley, California. One of his favorite lines went like this: \u201cWhen I came to Harding in 1943, little did I know then . . .\u201d He would pause, and then add, \u201cThat\u2019s pretty much it.\u201d As a student, he soon developed a reputation as a wit who could crack up his friends in chapel. Those were the days when Dr. Benson would call him into the office to reprimand his exuberance. Little did Benson know he was talking to future Bible faculty.<\/p>\n
Bob met his wife Mary at Harding, and in 1947 they moved to Germany, where they did mission work for six years. When he returned to Harding in the late \u201950s, he taught classes in German, Bible and the history of Christian thought.<\/p>\n
He found humor everywhere: \u201cNow, we all know that Abraham was a nomad. That doesn\u2019t mean he didn\u2019t get angry.\u201d While writing on the blackboard, he\u2019d turn around and ask, \u201cIf our knees bent the other way, what would chairs look like?\u201d Then back to the board he\u2019d turn. \u201cHe would give a wry smile,\u201d one student recalled, \u201cand get a mischievous look in his eyes when he was about to deliver a joke.\u201d<\/p>\n
While teaching German, he\u2019d ask: \u201cWhat is the number one language in the world? It\u2019s Chinese. One out of six people speak Chinese.\u201d Then he would count off six students in the front row and ask the sixth person, \u201cCould you please say something in Chinese for me?\u201d<\/p>\n
In the late \u201960s, the Cold War was raging, and Dr. Ganus gave frequent lectures on the virtues of capitalism at the local Civitan Club \u2014 lectures that were widely attended by students. On a few occasions, Bob played a prearranged role. Near the end, he would emerge from the crowd and pretend to be a communist sympathizer, challenging Dr. Ganus, who debated with him on the spot. Helsten was so convincing in the part that students would often yell, heckle and drown him out with patriotic singing.<\/p>\n
But in every other setting, he was a man of gentle kindness. He loved animals and always saved his steak bones for the neighborhood dogs. He loved his family and went to his mother-in-law\u2019s house every day when she was struggling with dementia. He typed out daily instructions (\u201cToday is Tuesday . . . take your pills . . . doctor\u2019s appointment at 3 . . .\u201d). He even loved strangers. His daughter told me that Bob often dropped by the local nursing home to give a big hug to the most ill-tempered, least-liked woman there. \u201cYou\u2019re the only one who understands me,\u201d she would tell him.<\/p>\n
He was a creative preacher. Once during a sermon, he illustrated the story of David and Goliath by taking out a sling. He put a rock into it while narrating the story and began to swing it in circles over his head. \u201cThen David let it go at Golitath like this,\u201d he said, and the entire congregation hit the floor. They hadn\u2019t seen him take the rock out of the sling.<\/p>\n
He tried to keep up with popular culture. He was no matinee idol, but he nicknamed himself \u201cCarlton Helsten.\u201d Or, when he overheard students talking about \u201cSaturday Night Live,\u201d he would say, \u201cYeah, they have some funny skits. But some of them are rather risqu\u00e9. I usually have to change the channel after about 45 minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Once in his later years, he fell at College Church of Christ and hit his head. When the paramedics arrived, they asked him a series of questions. One was, \u201cHow old are you?\u201d Bob didn\u2019t miss a beat. \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d he mumbled. \u201cIt changes every day.\u201d<\/p>\n
Bob was a lively, happy man. He dressed as an elf at Christmas. He loved taking cruises. He could fix anything. He adored his family and was married to his wife for 72 years.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have entertained us, you have associated with us, you have instructed us, you have inspired us, you have loved us.\u201d That\u2019s how the senior class felt in 1974, when the Petit Jean yearbook was dedicated to him. When he retired from Harding in 1990, his colleagues wrote him letters. One spoke for many when he said, \u201cHarding has lost a giant spoonful of sugar. You always made the medicine go down in the most delightful way.\u201d Indeed, he did.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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