angels, balls, and genes

Here is a look at the recent deductive reasoning that has been swirling in my head: "I hate statistics. I am not good at statistics. However, my grandfather was a fairly talented Professor of mathematics. We share many (presumably) of the same genes. Therefore, surely I must be able to excel at statistics." These thoughts both buoy me and damn me. As in, "Oh buoy, I sure hope I understand the chi-square distribution before Friday's exam...dammit." The fact is, I may have very different mathematical predispositions than my grandfather (apparently there is a decent amount of controversy about the existence of a "math gene." I found this out while doing the obligatory pre-post-wikipedia-research.); my father certainly thinks that this is the case with him. So, my faith in this hoped-for-predisposition may be entirely in vain, right? Maybe not.

Faith is, at its core (and by design in my opinion), irrational. The things we put faith in, are for the most part only valuable to the extent that we make them so. I recognize that this is tantamount to equating Jesus with a four leaf clover (read, Catholicism); however, I am not afraid to state that His significance is a result of deeply personal experiences which are based upon feelings, thoughts, and a bit of irrational hope. And yet, many believe (including myself, most of the time) that He holds tremendous power. And who is anyone to question that experience? Alright, back to Grandpa's DNA.

My faith as it relates to success in statistics boils down to this: I'll pray for divine intervention and hope for genetic adequacy. If indeed the divine intercedes on my behalf, I'd like to make the request that Grandpa Franz be the Clarence to my George Bailey. And Grandpa, if you are headed this way, I'll welcome you with an apology: I'm sorry about that time we were playing catch in the backyard and I threw the baseball at you and it hit you in the testicles and then I proceeded to laugh hysterically/uncontrollably for 5+ minutes.

In the case that I'm saved by DNA, I'd like to thank your aforementioned testicles for making that possible. Either way, cheers to Grandpa Franz. And may my faith be fortified.