Wish Christmas could last longer than just one day? Actually, it already does — 12 days to be exact, from Christmas Eve until this Friday, the Feast of the Epiphany, which celebrates the visit of the Three Wise Men to the baby Jesus. (Remember the Christmas carol about eight maids a-milking, 10 lords a-leaping and a partridge in a pear tree?)

I plan to observe Epiphany the same way I always do: playing the cantata Johann Sebastian Bach wrote for the occasion, “Sie werden aus Saba alle kommen” (“They will all come forth out of Sheba”).

I first heard it when I wrote a paper about it for a college course, History of Music 10. Every time I hear it I remember the wonderful professor who taught that course, William Waite.

This Friday I expect to get an email from another guy who took Music 10, Randy Alfred, who sends me one every year with “SWASAK” in the subject line. He never writes anything more. He doesn’t need to because I know it stands for “Sie werden aus Saba alle kommen.”

Randy grew up in Newton, Massachusetts, where his favorite teacher in junior high was a history teacher named John Rosemond. Then Mr. Rosemond moved to Los Angeles, where he became my favorite teacher in high school.

So on the first day of college I marched up to Randy and handed him a letter of introduction from Mr. Rosemond, and we’ve been friends ever since.

In college my favorite teacher was Rev. B. Davie Napier, the master of my residential college who later served as president of the Pacific School of Religion in Berkeley. He was a brilliant but unpretentious man who truly lived his life in imitation of Christ.

Then I came to Berkeley, where I met two more great teachers: Nelson Polsby, professor of political science, and Jan Vetter, professor of law. Polsby was the most original thinker I’ve ever met, and the most fun. Most of his ideas were greeted with skepticism at first, only to become conventional wisdom 20 years later.

And Vetter was not only the smartest person on the law school faculty, he was also the kindest, even though he gave me the lowest grade I ever got — so low, in fact, he was required to provide a written explanation. And here’s what he wrote: “Mr. Snapp demonstrates a remarkable command of legal rules and principles. Unfortunately, they are not legal rules and principles that are observed by any jurisdiction with which I am familiar.”

Busted!

I still run into him all the time. The last time I saw him he told me he’s always felt guilty about being too harsh on me.

“No! No!” I laughed. “I’ve been telling that story for the last 45 years!”

But Mr. Waite is gone, and so is Mr. Rosemond, although Randy and I had a chance to visit him and thank him before he died. Rev. Napier is also gone, as is Professor Polsby. Aside from Mr. Rosemond, I never thanked any of them for what they did for me, which was everything.

Jan Vetter (UC Regents)

And I doubt I’m alone. We all have teachers who helped make us who we are. And if it’s too late to say thanks, we can at least say their names.

Reach Martin Snapp at catman442@comcast.net.