My life apropos this book

Here I will share those aspects of my life that have prepared me to write this book.

I was born and raised on a farm in northeast Nebraska USA. One of ten children, I had my daily chores, which changed according to age. At 4 or 5 I had to set the table for the meals. A little older, I had to clear the table after the meal and help with the dishes.

On the farm we had to be practical and close to nature – down-to-earth as well as knowing how nature works, especially the weather. Farmers are always keen on what the weather will bring. And experience counts. Growing up on a farm is a lived-experience. 

When I was 12 or so, as soon as I came home from school I had to gather 350 eggs from the chicken coop, put them in the cases (30 dozen per case), making sure that the eggs were clean. I enjoyed this task, since I was alone in the cellar for one or two hours. With all those siblings, I yearned for any moment when I was by myself. Is it possible that these hours alone let emerge the kind of contemplation and unhurried meanderings of mind– the beginning of a philosopher? 

At the age of 14 I left home to attend a Catholic seminary, where I studied to become a priest. I quit before I was ordained. After eight years of high school and college, I left, but with the gift of an education far superior to any that I would have gotten in rural Nebraska. (There were no foreign languages at Crofton High School, and the football coach taught history…on the side.)

During these eight years I became thoroughly competent in Latin and German. And I learned enough Greek that, with some effort, I could translate the Greek philosophers. Above all I learned how to study and to think critically. I learned to appreciate music, art, literature. (At home we had two books: the Bible and a Medical Book for Everyman.)

And I was required to major in philosophy. A roly-poly priest taught philosophy. He often rambled in his lectures, but we felt his love for philosophy and his feverish joy. And I caught the fever. 

Since my peers at the seminary came from all over the country, including cities (!) I learned a lot about living. Many of them were much more experienced in real life, such that I was at first a bit afraid of them. Their noses had sniffed way further than I knew was possible! I learned things about the world that would not have happened in rural Nebraska.

The next step was being granted an NDEA scholarship to Duquesne University in Pittsburgh for graduate study in philosophy. At that time Duquesne was the only philosophy graduate program in North America that “dared to” focus exclusively on phenomenology and existentialism. This led to the most in-depth learning environment when it came to this branch of philosophy. (Note: Even at that time questions and doubts were expressed about the benefit/usefulness of this zeroing in on phenomenology and existential philosophy.)

During my three years at Duquesne University I reveled in my ability to read the German texts in the original – from Kant-Fichte-Hegel to Husserl-Heidegger.

The next step – and certainly crucial in preparing me for the writing of this book – took place when I applied for a Fulbright Scholarship and was granted a Deutscher Akademischer Austauschdienst award. I spent two years at the University of Tübingen, writing my dissertation.

The time spent in Germany helped me to immerse myself in the language, on several levels:

• on the street level, e.g., buying groceries in the store and at the farmer’s market,
• having conversations about intellectual matters with German friends and neighbors,
• sitting in on lectures and seminars taught in German, ranging from philosophy to literature to history, to Freud!
• conversing with fellow students in philosophy, especially talking about Heidegger.

A straightforward way to say the advantage here is that I was able to “think” in German, rather than to translate the words. During four years of German in high school and college, the courses were taught in German. From the beginning! On the very first day of class, when I was 15, the German teacher spoke in English for twenty minutes, giving the basic directives. After that – for the next four years – no English was allowed in the classroom. Any student who stumbled into English had to pay a fine of five cents per word.

The finest example of this method is that I never had to translate from English to German, because we were already speaking in German all the time. And the Austrian priest, also roly-poly, would teach by doing, demonstrating the German word without ever using the English translation. The best example of this is the prepositions. The German preposition auf takes the accusative when it is describing motion and the dative when it is describing what is not in motion: Ich setze mich auf den Tisch (motion). But Ich sitze auf dem Tisch (no motion). Our teacher would demonstrate this difference by actually sitting on the table. (We students all enjoyed it when he demonstrated the preposition unter: going under (den) and being under (dem) the table!)

One of the biggest benefits of having learned German so young and so well is that – during my four years living in the Black Forest, near Freiburg – I was able to attend virtually every lecture and seminar given by Friedrich-Wilhelm von Herrmann. In German, of course! Professor von Herrmann was secretary to Heidegger during Heidegger’s final years and was instrumental in the creation and production of Heidegger’s Gesamtausgabe.

While also a serious student of Husserl, von Herrmann dedicated his life to Heidegger’s work. His understanding of Heidegger’s thinking was unsurpassed, and I learned so much from him. (Not that my own thinking is bounded by where von Herrmann went in his thinking, but for sure my own thinking is what it is because I could learn so much from him.)

Professor von Herrmann was also my friend.

All in all, knowing German so well was one of the greatest gifts of my life. When reading Heidegger, from the beginning in graduate school until today, I do not translate the German, but I think in German This is a tremendous benefit when translating some of his works.

Finally, I would be remiss if I did not mention the four philosophers-phenomenologists who benefited me on my way to becoming a philosopher, phenomenologist, and Heidegger thinker. First and foremost, F.-W. von Herrmann (d. 2022); then John Sallis, my dissertation director and primary teacher in my learning process; then Parvis Emad (d. 2023), a friend for many years and co-translator of four books by and on Heidegger, plus many essays; and Andre Schuwer (d. 1995), an advocate with a warm heart.

Professors Emad, von Herrmann and I were the three founding co-editors of the journal Heidegger Studies, beginning in 1985.