A Gift Giver's Guide

Many like to believe they are good at giving gifts. I'm sure many are, but I think I can present a strong case that few are better than me.

Take for instance 2017. In Korea, Thanksgiving (Chuseok) is a much bigger holiday than Christmas. We get three days off for Chuseok and one day for Christmas. As a lunar event, Chuseok usually occurs in late September which is followed by another holiday on October 1st. It is possible then to have 5 days in a row off, one day back, and then another 3 days off depending on the calendar. I usually stay in Seoul, but that year for reasons that are not really interesting, I was emotionally drained and needed a break. So I made a last minute decision to visit a dear friend and his family in Paris.

That trip to Paris was perfect except for one issue. My first day in Paris was also my daughter's birthday. I had thought about flying her to Paris, but she was still in college and the U.S. does not celebrate Chuseok (it's the thought that counts). I also don't have that kind of money, so I did the next best thing and called her on her birthday.

"Happy Birthday! from Paris."

"You *$-*%! You #&&# __ *$$*%! I'm studying for midterms and you are in Paris?" 

I may not have gotten the phrasing just right, but I do remember that she was overcome with emotion. Indeed, this is a gift that keeps giving as it is still mentioned in nearly all of our conversations since then.

Of course, there is a problem with being such a good gift giver; you have to do it every year. This can get quite stressful. Fortunately, my Father once told me that you should always give a gift you like. That way at least one person will like it when it is opened. Brilliant.

This brings us to 2023. For the past couple of years my daughter has participated in a football pool where you pick one NFL team each week. If that team loses you get a strike. Two strikes and you're out. The caveat is that you can only pick a team once all year. So, if you choose the Chiefs in week 1, you can't pick them for the rest of the season. 

It has been a real joy watching my daughter evolve from picking teams based on their jersey color to studying the injury reports and betting lines. She went from Alice in Wonderland to Jimmy the Greek in just over a year. Sadly, both methods have their flaws. Last year she picked the Jags and they lost. This year she again picked the Jags (as two touchdown favorites - her words) and they lost. Her second strike came on Thanksgiving. 

"Who picks the Lions on Thanksgiving Day?", I asked.

"They are 2 touchdown favorites."

Needless to say the Lions lost on Thanksgiving Day (it's a tradition) handing my daughter her second strike and ending all interest in the 2023 NFL season.

My daughter is very smart and successful. However, one of the few traits she picked up from me was a real joy in complaining about their team be it football, baseball, basketball, etc. And so while her interest in football ended, her complaining about the Jags did not.

A few days before Christmas, my daughter received an email that her Christmas present would be arriving soon. When you find that perfect gift, you just get all warm inside. It's a wonderful feeling.

I woke up to the following text:

'You *%$!! A Jags jersey and a Lions jersey? Next time just go to France as my present.'

Oh, the Christmas Joy! I could feel it even on the other side of the planet.

The Joy is in the giving.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays

 

Mrs. Bojangles

On the subway with headphones on and losing at chess, an elderly lady sat down next to me. She asked me in Korean if I was from the U.S. I nodded yes, and she began to talk.

It is a crime that I have not learned Korean, but I cannot understand a word she was saying except when she reverted to English. "Do you understand?"

I think that might have been the only English phrase she knew. She continued to speak to me in Korean followed by, "Do you understand?"

I removed my headphones. "I'm sorry. I do not."

Laughter. A kind, joyous laugh that was engaging despite there being no chance of understanding.

She remained undaunted. The next phrase was accompanied by her writing the words with her finger on my leg. She thinks if I can see how the words are spelled, I would understand. I love optimism.

There was something I did understand, though. She was homeless. Her writing finger was dirty, and her clothes were slightly tattered. The hair sticking out from under her pink knit hat was unkept and not clean. She had two small suitcases that appeared to be everything she owned. She was also not wearing a mask. You do not ride the Seoul subway system without wearing a mask. I guessed she had mental issues as well. I saw other passengers becoming uncomfortable. One lady moved away. 

My new friend did not notice. She kept talking. More Korean. More tracings with her finger. More "Do you understand?" No? More laughter.

Despite what I assumed had been a hard life, she had a girlish face that belied her age. My mind started to wonder about her life. It was surprisingly easy to picture her young with dreams and hopes. How were the seeds of optimism planted that kept her trying to explain whatever it was she was trying to explain to me. Who gave them to her?

And then she began to sing. It sounded like a folk song that you might learn as a child. It was not loud or strong, nor was it soft or short, but it was beautiful. You do not sing on the Seoul subway systems, yet I could see many Koreans smiling behind their masks listening to her song. 

When I got up to leave the train, she smiled and waved goodbye. I was reminded of the song, Mr. Bojangles (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-LVXR6rjXs), except this time I met a lady, Mrs. Bojangles, and she sang for me.

Happy Thanksgiving

 

Interns!

While my problems pale in comparison to what is currently going in the world, this has been a rather tough week. Two papers and a grant were rejected all within 5 days of one another. It is probably a good thing that Seoul Pub is closed. I realize that these set backs can be an opportunity to make the papers and the grant stronger. I'm also not that I am that mature and really want to complain to anyone within earshot. So I have been thinking of the mentors who guided me, trying to recall how they responded to disappointments. This makes what happened today even more remarkable.
I have written before about my internship at Eli Lilly & Co. while I was in college (https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/2237994772082994999/9119638604504809769). That experience changed my life, and as a result, I have several interns in the lab. I do not care what your background is. If you want to be in the lab and learn, it is important to me to give you every opportunity to succeed. I also find yelling, "Intern!" to be extremely therapeutic. Try it. It's rather surprising.
Employee's children going to college could get a summer job at Lilly's which is how I started. I was very lucky to get placed in a research lab. Having a new student for only three months with very little lab experience is not exactly a recipe for success. Indeed, I often heard the phrase, "Summer help, some are not." I was often in the 'not' category. I will always remember the very first thing I was asked to do, serial dilutions. I remember it because I couldn't do it. I was so embarrassed. Nothing like lowering expectations on your first day. Since that time, I have seen labs release people for such a mistake. This leads me to the second reason I remember that moment. Instead of chastising me, he just asked if I was having trouble. When I nodded, he simply said, "Let me show you."
Fortunately, my time in that lab spanned nearly three years. I was even given a project that led to my first publication which enabled me to go to grad school. (WARNING! Since this is a public blog, I should point out now that there is about to be a lot of sexy talk. If that kind of thing offends you, you might want to skip the next paragraph.)
Penicillin is an antibiotic that has a four ring structure. Some bacteria can recognize that four ring structure and eliminate it resulting in antibiotic resistance. Cephalosporin is an antibiotic with an expanded ring structure that can be used to treat penicillin-resistant bacteria (excuse me, I need a cigarette). Since Lilly's is a pharmaceutical company, they were studying how cephalosporin is produced. In some organisms the four ring structure is expanded and hydroxylated by a single enzyme called expandase/hydroxylase. In other organisms that chemical process is done by two separate enzymes, one called expandase and the other hydroxylase.
I was working on hydroxylase while the guy who showed me how to do serial dilutions was working on expandase (or technically, recombinant DAOCS). We were using a technique called HPLC which enabled us to separate the expanded ring compound made by the enzyme expandase from the expanded ring/hydroxylated compound made by hydroxylase. One day my colleague's machine breaks down, so he ran his assays on my machine.
I should point out that HPLC is a very unforgiving technique. If your experimental technique is poor, you will see it in the different amounts of compound coming off the HPLC. I know this from experience, as my pipetting skills were rather poor. So I really wanted see how good my colleague's skill was when I saw a small but real amount of hydroxylase compound coming off the HPLC. There should only have been the expandase compound present, but it turns out that all of these enzymes could catalyze both the expandase and hydroxylase steps with differing degrees of efficiency. No one had ever seen this before. Even though it wasn't my experiment, it was the first time I felt I had contributed to the lab.

Why do I tell this story now? Because today I got a notification that my hydroxylase paper published 29 years ago was referenced (https://dx.doi.org/10.1021/acs.inorgchem.0c01211). What did they say? "In fact, recombinant DAOCS in S. clavuligerus showed an extremely low level of DACS hydroxylation activity..." They referenced that experiment! How cool is that? I'm guessing I'm not the only one that could use a cigarette right now.
All kidding aside, this made me feel really good especially at a time when I could use some inspiration. You never know what's going to matter or when or by whom, so you must continue to fight the good fight. Which reminds me...

"Interns!"

Initiative

Louis CK is an American comedian I like a lot. On his recent special, he talks about channel surfing and how he always has to stop and watch a particular scene in the movie, Magic Mike. For those who don't know, Magic Mike is a movie about male strippers starring Matthew McConaughey. The scene that Louis CK must watch is when Matthew McConaughey is introducing the male strippers to a room full of women.

"The law says you can't touch, but I think I see a lot of law breakers out there." -it's best if you use a Southern accent.

That is just hilarious. I know I quote that line too often, but it just makes me laugh. I got to find me some law breakers.

One of the scenes I always stop to watch is from an 80's movie called Working Girl most famous for the theme song, Let the River Run by Carly Simon (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cv-0mmVnxPA - love the 80's hair). In this movie, a secretary (Melanie Griffith) shares a business idea with her boss (Sigourney Weaver) who promptly steals it. When her boss breaks her leg, Melanie Griffith teams up with Harrison Ford to pull off the deal. It's not a great movie, but I like it. It is full of hope.

The scene I always watch is when Griffith and Ford act like a couple to crash the CEO's daughter's wedding. After the father-bride dance, Melanie Griffith cuts in to pitch the project. It's not nearly as funny as the Magic Mike scene, but it showed ordinary people doing extraordinary things. That really appeals to me.

Last December I'm in Washington D.C. for the Brain Initiative meeting. One speaker who had a title like 'The President's Director of Scientific Progress' pointed out the main goal of the meeting which was to think big. As an example he likened the Brain Initiative to the Apollo Program quoting an astronaut, "I want to die on Mars, but not on impact." It was a pretty cool meeting.

As I was checking the schedule of the meeting, I see that the night session will discuss the Korean Brain Initiative effort. There was a Korean Brain Initiative? The Brain Initiative has been very contagious with many countries starting their own efforts, but I was not aware that Korea was thinking to do the same. I needed to find out more. I see a colleague standing in line for coffee. Right behind him is a Korean guy in a suit who looks very official. Time to go talk to my colleague (cue the music to Let the River Run).

After some very brief small talk, I raise my voice, "I'm stunned at the size of this meeting. Even the Korean Brain Initiative has a session here. I'm from Korea. I had no idea." So subtle, but it worked... kind of.

He had nothing to do with the Korea Brain Initiative. "I'm very proud of my home country, I had no idea either." His name was Dr. Kendall Lee and is one of the leading neurosurgeons in the US working at the Mayo Clinic (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3QQOQAILZw). He does deep brain stimulation which continuously stimulates an area in the brain to alleviate Parkinson's disease. It is not well understood why this works. They were developing physical sensors to measure neurotransmitter release. They cannot use electrodes because the electrical stimulations interfere with their readings. When I show him our research using light instead of voltage to monitor neuronal activity, he lights up. "This is perfect for us. Will your probes work on pigs?"

Two months later, I'm in Rochester, Minnesota to present our research at the Mayo Clinic. Dr. Lee has a couple of large groups. One is working on deep brain stimulation while the other works on spinal cord injury (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UBk9wslGBhQ). Dr. Lee's groups presented their research first. Since the results have not been published yet, I cannot go into too much detail. What I can say is that I was completely stunned by what I saw. I have searched for related videos (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mp8wFYu4l4w). This gives you a small example of what I saw. The progress these patients have made is miraculous. I sat spell bound for every one of their presentations. Utterly extraordinary.

Dr. Lee then gets up to introduce me. "Great work guys. Today we have a guest presenter from the Korea Institute of Science and Technology. I think you will enjoy his presentation on using light to monitor neuronal activity. Dr. Baker, are you ready to present?"

Uhm, no actually. I'm good. I've just watched 30 minutes of truly spectacular research. There is no way I can follow that. What am I going to say? "This cell glows and gets dimmer. This cell glows and gets dimmer." Oh, boy. Thankfully, I've taken acting classes and learned that yes is the more interesting answer. The talk was well received. There is a real potential for our work to complement theirs. During deep brain stimulation, we may be able to show them the best position for the electrode placement and the frequency of stimulation. For spinal cord injury, we may be able to monitor the behavior of damaged circuits and determine if they are recovering or rewiring after the treatment. I could also see the potential for other labs at KIST to assist the Mayo Clinic's efforts.

Yesterday, I learned that KIST agrees and is funding my proposal for a joint meeting between the two institutes for potential collaborations. Who knows what the real result will be. I am just so grateful for the opportunity to find out. These are exciting times. I was extremely lucky that Dr. Lee was waiting behind my colleague in line for coffee. Initiatives, giving ordinary people the chance to be extraordinary. Let's try. Absolutely.

What's in a Name?

"Good morning, Dr. Baker. The Prime Minister regrets to inform you that he will not be able to meet with you."

I was supposed to meet with the Prime Minister?

I guess I should stop deleting emails in Korean.I should really learn Korean. People tell me that in order to learn Korean I should get a Korean girlfriend. It's been my experience that if I want to lose a Korean girlfriend, I need only to ask her to teach me Korean. I am not a very good student.

One of the few smart things I have done, though, is to give the probes we develop in the lab a Korean name. Originally, that was just a way to say thank you for letting us do our research, but it has become a remarkably positive public relations boon. Indeed that was the reason I was one of only two foreign scientists invited to the 50th Anniversary of the Korea Institute of Science and Technology, KIST (pronounced like 'kiss' with a 't' at the end). Not to be confused with KAIST. KAIST is the Korea Advanced Institute of Science and Technology, pronounced with a long 'i' sound.

Basing an economy on technology was a somewhat novel and daring enterprise back in the 60's. Now, South Korea has become a model economy for countries considering a similar path. As a result diplomats often visit KIST. When they do, KIST will sometimes send them to my lab to show the international opportunities generated by research institutes. I'm very proud KIST trusts me enough to be their international representative at times. I've had the pleasure of entertaining the Vietnamese and Italian Ambassadors who both mentioned that their countries were considering shifting more towards the Korean technology based economic system.

The 50th Anniversary of KIST was a big deal. Ambassadors from around the world attended. One keynote speaker was to be the U.S. Ambassador since KIST was originally a joint South Korea/U.S. project. While I was waiting in my seat, one of the top administrators at KIST suggested that I should greet the U.S. Ambassador upon his arrival. I go outside and security tells me where to stand. Suddenly, I'm part of the greeting committee. It was really cool. I was wearing a suit and a long, black dress coat. Ambassadors' cars would pull up with the flags on the front of the car. The Swedish Ambassador, The Nepalese Ambassador, The Italian Ambassador all nod to me as they pass. More cars with flags arrived, but the U.S. Ambassador is caught in traffic.

The President of KIST comes out and the greeting party leaves. I have no idea what to do so I started talking to the President. I asked him how difficult these events have been to organize. He started talking to me as though we are old friends. I guess not many people had asked him how he was doing. But then suddenly new security showed up and whispered in the President's ear. The KIST President tells me the Prime Minister is arriving. And then he tells me I can't be here. I guess the Prime Minister really didn't want to see me.

I went back to my seat regretting that I didn't get to say, "Welcome to KIST, Mr. Ambassador." I ended up really regretting not saying that. The U.S. Ambassador did eventually arrive and gave the second address. He started by saying, "It is a great honor to be here at KAIST." Oh dear God. It's not KAIST. It's KIST. He said KAIST this and KAIST that for the next 30 minutes. You could see the pain in the audience.

I am acutely aware of that pain because I now see it when I give talks. Some of our probes are doing interesting things which requires me to mention them. One of the rules for naming the probes is that I have to be able to pronounce the word. The problem is that my people are too nice/respectful to honestly tell me my pronunciation is bad. I cannot say 'Bongwoori' correctly, and I can see that on the audience's faces when I give a talk. I had a dear friend go to one of my talks. She told me that she had never felt proud and embarrassed at the same time until I tried to say 'Bongwoori'.  Sitting in that audience hearing KAIST instead of KIST made me appreciate that awkwardness even more.

A few months later, a big VIP was coming to visit KIST and our department. I was nervous because I knew they would want to talk about Bongwoori. I texted my friend and she tried to reassure me, but I don't want to be remembered as the guy who can't speak Korean. That afternoon, he arrived...with a nine car escort! The front car's doors opened and people ran out to clear the way for our visitor. I had never seen anything like it. He came to our lobby and our department is introduced. He shook my hand and moved on. It lasted only a few minutes. As he was leaving, the director of our division went up to our visitor and brought him over to a poster describing my lab's work. In English he tells him that we name our probes Korean names. I told him a few of the names as he reads our poster. He looked at me and said, "You are a genius". Then he left.

I was higher than a kite. I couldn't wait to text my friend and tell her he called me a genius. It wasn't the genius part that made me happy. Hang out with me for an hour and that impression will fade. No, I texted my friend that I was so happy because there was a good chance he will remember me. Probably not my name, but he may remember the foreign researcher at KIST that gives probes Korean names. I hope that is the case, because a few weeks ago he was elected President of South Korea.

Teaching

My mom was a teacher. My aunts were teachers. My uncles were teachers. Of all the professions I have ever interacted with, teachers have had the most impact on me. The point is that I value teaching a great deal. This past year I finally qualified for a faculty position at the University of Science and Technology (UST). So I was extremely honored last week when I was named the new vice-chair of the UST-KIST Biomedical Graduate Program. I am not sure why I was named vice-chair. I'm not sure what the vice-chair officially does, but it doesn't matter. To break the cultural and language barriers means a great deal to me. Korea has offered me some wonderful opportunities, and I am happy to play my part in further developing the scientific foundation of Korean Science, educating graduate students.

Teaching is much more than just providing information. Teaching is the art of learning: how to ask questions, make observations, dealing with unknowns.... On this, the sixth anniversary of my blog, I would like to share some teaching experiences that are very dear to me.

When I first graduated college, I didn't really know what I was going to do. I ended up working in a restaurant at night and was occasionally a substitute teacher at my former high school. I liked being a substitute teacher. I got to teach classes ranging from art to biology to history and math. I did not like teaching honor classes. The students would look down on me wondering what a substitute teacher could possibly teach them. I much preferred the remedial classes, the students people had given up on, the hoods. Those students responded very well to simple respect and expecting them to learn.

One remedial class I will never forget. I arrive at 8 a.m. and look at the lesson plan. First class was Earth Science. Second class was Math. And the last class of the day was sex education. SEX EDUCATION? I'm 23-24 and I'm about to teach sex ed to 18 year-olds with no warning. Talk about dreading the end of the day. There were eight students in that class. Five were girls, one of whom was in a wheel chair which for reasons I still do not understand added to my uneasiness. The topic was contraception. The book listed several methods and we were to discuss them. Great. The first method was abstinence. So I wrote on the board abstinence and said the first thing I could think of.

"Abstinence. Unfortunately, this is the method I use. Not on purpose, but such is life."

Instantly, the tension was broken. We discussed condoms, IUDs, the pill... There was an actual discussion with high-schoolers about contraception. I learned a lot. A recurring theme throughout my life has been that just knowing you are not the only one suffering from whatever it is your are suffering from helps. Only two of the students had had sex. I guess the other students felt better about themselves knowing their teacher was struggling with life as well.

About a month later I was teaching a math class. The topic was algebra and most of the students were hoods. It was late April and many of them had just given up. Given my recent experience with these students I knew forcing them wasn't going to work, so I asked what the problem was.

"I don't get these letters. It makes no sense. It's like a foreign language," one girl tells me.

"Okay," I reply, "what is 2 plus 2?"

"4", she says

"What is 5 plus 5?"

She says, "10".

"What is x plus x?"

She has no idea. I repeat the questions. When I ask what is x plus x this time, the smile on her face was priceless. "2x", she says. I ask, "what is y plus y?" She answers, "2y."

A week later in the faculty dining lounge, an extremely attractive teacher (the kind high school boys dream of as well as 24 year-old substitute teachers) comes up to me and asks if I taught her math class last week. I stammer a weak yes. She tells me that one of the girls in her class handed in a homework assignment and got a 95%. I was like great. She says,"No. You don't understand. This was the first homework assignment she has handed in all year. What did you do?" I told her I wasn't sure. The next day the attractive teacher was having lunch talking about how she had broken up with her boyfriend. He was a hunter and that was one of the things she didn't like. She was sitting next to a teacher I had when I was a student there. As I took my tray back, I stopped in front of them and told my old teacher, "I really don't like to hunt." That line fell so flat. Complete fail. Lead balloons are more successful. Indeed, from that moment on, I just do a walk-by. I practice abstinence way too much and not on purpose.

Several years later at KIST, these moments are still occurring (yes, the abstinence too, but let's focus on the teaching). A group of undergraduates are visiting my department. They are interested in careers in research and possibly intern over the summer. I walk into my lab, and one of my students is giving them a tour. He says maybe Doctor Baker would be better at explaining what we do. I ask how much time do I have. When he tells me only 5 minutes, I decide to take a different approach.

"Instead of trying to cram our research into 5 minutes, let's talk a little about what research is." This question was initially an attempt to gauge their English ability, but it leads to one of those moments of inspiration. Some of the students say it is doing experiments which is a good start.

"Yes, that's part of it, but what does research mean? Research. Two parts, re and search, right? So, search - to look, to seek, to find, to explore. Re? to do again and again. Why do we have to keep searching? Because we are going to fail, and fail, and fail. Indeed, we will fail far more than we will succeed, right? Science is hard which is good. If it was easy, it would already have be done. Besides, being right all the time is boring. I know you all are doing well in class, but research is more than just knowing. It is finding out why you're wrong. And when you do, those are the moments when you have a chance to see what no one has ever seen before. This! This is why we do science."

The expressions on their faces melted me. I knew I had hit home. Career decisions are hard and often wrong. I think letting them know that failure is okay, is normal, and can even be amazing encouraged their decisions, strengthened their sense of purpose.

The final example happened just last week. I am teaching a field research course on voltage imaging. Field research courses are basically lab courses. I have four students, two of which work in my lab. We meet once a week and go over concepts and theories. Last week, we started imaging. One of my students demonstrated the procedure using a voltage-sensitive dye. When she was done, I turned to another student and said, "Your turn." The look of fear on her face was immense. She refused. She said she couldn't do it. "Your time is precious and you shouldn't waste it on me."

"You are right. Time is precious, and do you know one of the most precious ways to spend time?"

After a few seconds of silence, I answered my own question. "By teaching students. Teaching students is one of the best ways of spending time."

She sat down at the scope, found some cells, and with the assistance of my students was able to image voltage. "I'm so happy. I can't believe it. I feel so strong. I want to do more."

Teaching is much more than just providing information. Teaching is also giving people the confidence to try new things. We will fail. Failure is normal. But if we are willing to learn, failure will lead to success. Teaching, therefore, gives you the opportunity to succeed. I come from a family of teachers, and I am very grateful.

A Train of Hope

Baltimore, Feb. 2015. I'm on a train heading to New Haven. In a few months there will be riots in the streets of Baltimore. The stage is set.


Moving to Korea was a great opportunity for me, but it came at a high price. While I was able to stay close to my daughter, I missed many things. Important things. I never met any of Megan's high school teachers. I never saw any of Megan's high school choir concerts. Megan would graduate in June of 2015 so when I learned that she had a concert that coincided with a meeting I was attending in Baltimore, I wasn't going to miss this chance. It didn't matter that it was over 6 hours away. It didn't matter that I would have to take an early train, get a taxi, and then rent a car just to get there in time for the concert. It didn't matter that the snow storm in Connecticut was predicted to begin just as the concert was ending. I was going to see my daughter sing no matter what.


I have always loved taking the train. In Korea the high speed trains are remarkably efficient. They apologize when the train is two minutes late. In the U.S., one is happy when the train isn't more than 20 minutes late. It is sad that train travel in the U.S. is still remarkably slow. The train track parallels I-95. To look out the window and see cars going faster is just sad. But I still love it. Somehow I feel like I'm in a movie, that something important is going to happen. Indeed, on this trip it already had.


Since there was a strong possibility of not making it back to Baltimore the same day, I took my luggage with me. It was a quarter to six in the morning. I got a cab to go to the train station. At the second light a car behind us flashes its lights. It was still very dark and very cold. At the next light the same car again flashes its lights. The cab driver gets annoyed and takes off quickly. It is amazing that at six in the morning how many red lights one can hit. I don't think we missed a single one which meant that we never lost our tail.


Things began to escalate. At the next red, lights flash and the horn honks. At the next red we are bumped. The taxi driver has had enough. He gets out of the car and starts yelling. I'm in Baltimore with nobody around. The cabbie has pissed off the guy behind us and someone is going to get shot. It's Baltimore. I'm going to die because whoever wants to kill this cabbie will not want to leave a witness. There is a knock on my window. The Bell Hop from the hotel hands me my computer. It had fallen out of my bag when I hailed the taxi. This guy jumped in his car and chased us almost six blocks trying to return my computer. I looked at him like a deer in headlights. Where am I? It's early, it's cold, and I've just witnessed kindness from a stranger. This too is Baltimore. I come to enough to thank him and give him most of what little cash I had on me.


On the train, I listen to Myth by Beach House (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FuvWc3ToDHg) and try to write a grant submission to O'Bama's Brain Initiative. Even though the goal of our proposal was not new, the techniques and ideas were very novel, and I was extremely optimistic. I was also cautiously optimistic about re-uniting with my ex-girlfriend. Her last text said, "If you still want to get coffee when you come back from your meeting then coffee sounds good. And nothing is too late." 2015 will not be kind to those hopes, but there are other opportunities in the future - hopefully. This was my daughter's last semester of high school. There was still a lot of traveling to do.


I arrived at the concert about 30 minutes before it starts, and I was teleported into an alternate universe - the universe I left behind four years ago. I was hit between the eyes with the reality that my daughter is about to graduate high school. Her friends are driving and have become young adults. Time is a funny thing. It can go fast or slow, but time waits for no one. Everybody knows this, but I didn't truly appreciate that until my daughter's solo. Tears start. I am happy and sad all at once. It's over in a flash but will last a lifetime.


It is impossible to be perfect, to always make the right choices, and to not have regrets. I have done dumb things. I have done smart things. As I grow older, I was hoping to reduce the dumb things and increase the smart things. I realize now that is a bit too optimistic. That ratio is pretty much consistent. As I look back a year later on that trip, I am struck by the sense of hope I had in the future and in people, especially the kindness of strangers. Sometimes that hope is justified. Sometimes, it is not. However, I know now that as long as there is hope, I will act, and I will live. And every once in a while, I will get to hear my daughter sing.