Ben
Today I went to the memorial service for Benjamin Franklin Peery Jr.: the second African American ever to earn a Ph.D. in astronomy, WWII veteran, educator, music lover, bon vivant, husband, father, oldest of seven brothers, and good friend to all in my congregation.
Ben was one of the first people I met when I first set foot in the church some 18 years ago next month. As soon as I mentioned I was a grad student in astronomy, people steered me in his direction and said, "Oh, you have to meet Ben! He just retired from Howard University." Ben was indeed charming and talkative on a wide variety of topics.
He even bailed me out the first time I tried doing something for the congregation. In August 1993 I offered to organize an expedition to watch the Perseid meteor shower. One couple who resided in Laurel at the time (they have since moved out of state) said that they lived near the largest plot of undeveloped land between Washington and Baltimore and maybe the sky glow there wouldn't be so bad. Well, the sky glow was still bad out there, and then the clouds started to roll in, and nobody was seeing any meteors. And I remember standing there starting to panic and worrying that I was fast losing any cred I still had as "one of the astronomers," and then Ben spoke up in his wonderful baritone. He gave an impromptu talk on the origins of the stuff that meteors are made of, so at least people went home feeling that they had learned something.
We all miss his smile and his zest for life.
Ben was one of the first people I met when I first set foot in the church some 18 years ago next month. As soon as I mentioned I was a grad student in astronomy, people steered me in his direction and said, "Oh, you have to meet Ben! He just retired from Howard University." Ben was indeed charming and talkative on a wide variety of topics.
He even bailed me out the first time I tried doing something for the congregation. In August 1993 I offered to organize an expedition to watch the Perseid meteor shower. One couple who resided in Laurel at the time (they have since moved out of state) said that they lived near the largest plot of undeveloped land between Washington and Baltimore and maybe the sky glow there wouldn't be so bad. Well, the sky glow was still bad out there, and then the clouds started to roll in, and nobody was seeing any meteors. And I remember standing there starting to panic and worrying that I was fast losing any cred I still had as "one of the astronomers," and then Ben spoke up in his wonderful baritone. He gave an impromptu talk on the origins of the stuff that meteors are made of, so at least people went home feeling that they had learned something.
We all miss his smile and his zest for life.