No two leaves are identical, despite originating from the same tree. If you look closely, each has its own distinctness, something that differentiates it from its neighbours, its cohort.
I thought of that today as I was taking this photo, and reflecting on people from a specific chapter of my life, a chapter that isn’t quite over it appears.
The other week someone had called me and asked if I would help with something. A conference was coming to UBC and would I be willing to be on the organizing committee in some capacity?
I don’t have the time….so I obviously said yes.
He made a comment that resonated…that the conference was, in a way, a bit like a high school reunion for academics. A place where we get together, share cool science, and then gather after hours to talk more about science, past and present, and share stories. It is said that more collaborative projects start in the after hours than in the actual formal sessions. It’s true.
I’d said that I’d help, but was not entirely sure in what capacity. Clearly I wouldn’t be giving a presentation since I have nothing new to share in that regard.
Despite not making any headway on two presentations I need to get ready for two teaching sessions up north in just a few days, I spent time reaching out to people from my UBC days….one or two of who I’d lost track of.
The first person I reached out to…I knew was going to be at the congress and the response was as positive and supportive as I’d hoped and expected, she pointed me in the direction of one of two I needed contact information for. The other I came by easily enough since the husband of a former labmate works for DFO and is someone I am in fairly regular contact with, and his wife (also a former labmate) is best friends with the person I was looking for…
The first answered me back almost instantly; we’d not communicated in more than 20 years.
I was reaching out to tell him that, in a moment of insanity, I’d agreed to co-chair a symposium at the congress, despite committing that I would not do any such thing.
But someone had reached out to me and caught me in a weak moment, a symposium honouring our shared graduate supervisor, to be held at this international conference, that I don’t currently have approval to attend…not that it’s going to stop me from doing so.
The message I got back, from that fellow I’d not had any contact with in so long, was filled with enthusiasm, a history of what he’d been up to for the past 20+ years, and the kindest message expressing that he was still, to this day, appreciative of how welcoming and supportive I’d been when he’d arrived at the lab. I’d not expected that last part. It caught me off guard. He went on to say that he would definitely join in, and already thinking about this, had an idea for a project that he would do to come up with some new data to present.
Another former labmate, this one still in Vancouver and, like me, long past active research, responded equally quickly with a positive email and some very nice comments regarding our years together at UBC. I’d not thought he would be inclined to attend, I was wrong.
A fifth person I knew was thinking of attending, we’d talked about it over a beer not quite two months ago when I was coming back from teaching a course and had a wait for a ferry; he joined me for a beer and we raised a glass to another labmate, lost to us in May. We’d talked about the importance of that time in our lives when we were at UBC, how strong the connections had been, family. And we’d both talked about fewer days ahead than behind now, and how we’ve all drifted on our ways, some still in touch with others, but more distant with our own lives. The congress is a bit of a family home too. The science is newer, most of the faces are fresher and younger, but the old guard still connects and reminisces. He now is definitely attending, and I got a “maybe” out of him for some sort of a retrospective. Maybe we can share that sort of a talk since, between the two of us, we know everyone who has ever gone through the lab.
Between the two of us, we shared the lab with everyone who ever passed through.
In 2018 I’d managed to convince my manager to support my attendance since it was in Canada, despite not having attended since 2004. I’d felt anxious about it, would I know anyone? Would anyone remember me? I don’t know why I was worried, my academic big brother (the guy int he paragraph above) was there, which was half the reason I’d gone. I felt so at home that I managed to find my way back again last year, this time in Michigan. I thought last year would probably be my last.
When I learned it was coming home, to the university that spawned it, I was clearly going to one more. A bookend on my life in a way, as my lab-brother wrote in an email earlier today. He and I spanned the longest period in the lab, completing both Master’s and PhD degrees, and we both worked a year or two in the lab between the degrees. He was part of the first cohort, and I was part of the last.
So I’ve spent a good part of the day thinking about all of the people who went through the lab over the years it existed at UBC; all the students, all the technicians, all the visiting researchers, and I’ve been running through so many excellent memories. And some very funny ones.
Our supervisor saw something in each of us, something that led him to take us in and welcome us to be more than we had been. And we became this crazy family of fish nerds. Each of us so different from the others, and each on our own path. But we all stemmed from the same tree, and I think each of us is better for our time there.
I’m a lunatic for agreeing to throw my hat in the ring and help organize something I clearly have no time for, but I also know that it will be wonderful.
