Tuesday, June 25, 2019
By:
You’re going to humor me. This isn’t a request. How could it be? I’m here, you’re there. You’re reading now, I’m writing then. These conditions hardly permit a level playing ground for cordial negotiations, so why should I even bother asking? And I’m afraid you’ll do so without the extended courtesy of the direct address “dear reader.”
I struggled selecting a theme for this blog, the latest installment in my episodic escapades within the swamp. My more dedicated viewers have no doubt noted the delay in the premier of blog post 4. You tune in at the usual hour and to what!? A rerun of Sweet Symphony of Ricky? Blog Post 2: Electric Boogaloo on loop? Or Heaven forbid, a “special” announcement from Disney that they’re re-releasing And Here We Go from the vault for a limited time only? Sweet mercy, the audacity! I hear you cry. I wish now I could make up for my baseness, but (for those who haven’t yet put it together) I still haven’t a clue what I’m writing about.
Make no mistake, I do not lack material. The rich reservoir of tales from my fast times at George Dubbsyah High has not run dry. For one, I had the privilege of attending what was called a “cultural and scientific exchange” at the Danish Embassy. To put it more succinctly, I’d call it a celebration of physics. And more specifically, a celebration of Niels Bohr. The event brought together some of the greatest elbows to rub against my own. Dr. Walt Copan, director of NIST (AKA Boss-Boss-Boss); Dr. France A. Córdova, director of the National Science Foundation; and Dr. John C. Mather, physics Nobel laureate and the founder of my internship--hence the title by my name, all took the time to engage with a young man whose excitement sometimes bordered on brashness. I may have had my picture with Ricky Perry, but from these true giants I enjoyed genuine interaction replete with encouragement, advice, and sincere interest. I want Perry’s job, yet it’s their lives I seek to emulate.
Then there was astronomy on the mall: a public event by the Smithsonians for science outreach and stargazing. As members of the Society of Physics Students, the cohort hosted several science demos for the passing public (please see Noura Ibrahim’s blog for exposition). Somehow, someway I landed the “composition of the universe” demonstration. Limited to a setup of nothing more than 4 jars filled with plastic beads, I doubted the pull my station could have especially with Joseph and Amber rolling marbles down spandex right next to me all evening (psh, gravity). Pleasant was my surprise when a family immediately approached me eager to learn what I had to say. That’s all it took. The sight of curiosity beaming from their earnest faces set me into a groove from which there was no return. Suddenly the memories from my stint as a tour guide at a nuclear reactor in the middle of the Idaho desert (yes, come to the gem state where you can both stay in an airbnb modeled after the noble potato and stumble upon a 60+ year old breeder reactor open to the public) flashed back. It was not my own enjoyment in teaching or my flair for theatrics (oh, certainly never that) I had forgotten. Rather, it was the passion and attraction of others. A lot has happened over the past few years to deteriorate the trust between the public and the sciences, so much so that you forget the curiosity and wonder that still exists in every peep on the street today. I did.
People still love science. Children, knowing nothing and asking about everything, bring terrific energy, but so do the adults who have no formal exposure or experience. Eyebrows scrunch, mouths gape, and then the eyes light. It’s more than a reassuring sight, and it dialed me up to a ten all night.
I think my frustration over attempts to contrive a single story arc from the week’s events blocked my writing, but, after reading through my thoughts above, I’m rather content with what I shared. It’s a lighter fare than what I typically serve (at least in volume). Some blogs are better served as a brief collection of the positive with just enough room for cozy rumination. Maybe it’s anticlimactic not to leave you with a culminating profound thought, but a story that opens up with no direction isn’t really designed to go anywhere. I can say at least one thing to connect the pieces together (at least in my own special way): you followed all the way to the end. Thank you for humoring me.
Nicholas Stubblefield