Thursday, May 17, 2018

#900: Me and the NIH Director

This is my 900th column on this site, five a week for going-on four-years now, with a brief hiatus or two when work intervenes too strenuously.  There are at least 100 more, so we'll see what the world tosses out.  Thanks so much for reading, and for my Russian readers who keep coming and going in large numbers, whoever you are and why ever you read this, "Спасибо за прочтение."

Dr. Francis Collins is the director of the National Institutes of Health, or NIH, the huge Federal enterprise that does many things, including coordinating Federal support of medical research in all manner of areas.  Dr. Collins has now served two administrations on utter opposite sides of both politics and reality (the previous one, of course, had a lesser grasp on reality).

Of course, Dr. Collins was also one of the two men who led the effort to break the genetic code, and his Human Genome Project has spawned amazing outcomes in research, forensics and other scientifically marvelous areas, and put him on the cover of Time way back (when it was actually flattering to be there), long before his tenure at NIH.

A serious Christian, he has authored, among a number of other books, the bestselling "The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief", reflecting his view (which I share), that scientific theory, such as the evolution of the species, is perfectly compatible with a divine direction.  I have always admired his willingness to promote such a view.


I have paid attention to Dr. Collins over the years because, although I have not seen him in person in 44 years, we spent a fair amount of time together.  We were classmates in a class of 110 at medical school at the University of North Carolina, and pretty good friends back then.  His lab seat was in a group of four next to my group of four, in the room where we were based when not in the classroom.  So I think I can call him "Francis" without hesitation, and not like Gunther Toody would.

This piece is just a ramble, but forgive me; you might be amused.

Of the 110 in the class, about 90-95 had gone to school in North Carolina as undergrads, many right there in Chapel Hill.  Francis had gone to Virginia, though, and I had gone to MIT, as you know, which pretty much everyone in the class knew, since going from MIT to medical school was pretty unusual at the time.  Plus, I was kind of small and kind of loud back then.

Some time in the middle of the year, 1974 maybe, we had a class session that might have been a guest lecture -- we had a lot of them.  About 110 first-year med students in a theater classroom listened as the instructing physician talked about something or other for an hour.


There was a Q&A session at the end, and one of my colleagues asked a question.  The doctor pondered it for a moment, and decided that it didn't really have an answer.  "That", he replied to the student, "would be like asking why the sky is blue."  


I don't know what my mood was at the time, but I raised my hand and, sarcastically summoning my academic pedigree, I said, "Well actually, where I went to school we knew the answer to that."  Of course, the class went nuts, laughing for quite a while while the poor lecturer had no earthly idea what was so funny.


After the year was out, I decided to start an opera company in Boston, and that was it for my medical career.  Francis did better, of course, staying in school and becoming world-famous.  When he was named to head NIH, I sent him a congratulatory message, email having been invented in the 40 years or so since we had communicated.  Naturally he replied and was kind enough not only to have said he remembered me, but that because of me, the whole UNC Medical Class of 1977 now knew why the sky was blue.


Last year he was in the news again (he's often in the news, of course) for a commencement address he gave at SMU.  Francis is still a pretty funny guy, and decided to spice up his speech by singing a parody of Sinatra's "My Way" that was apropos for the moment.  It was great, and I was sent a link to it by a close friend who works at NIH and helps manage grant applications there.  Here it is, if you like, to listen to when you're done reading.


I couldn't help it.  I wrote and told him what I'd been up to, and that I was now living by the beach and, while still working full time, had plenty of time for golf and other more relaxing enterprises -- including this column -- far more so than he.  And that I could write a parody or two if needed, including one of the same song, "My Way", directed right at him and the fact that he was still stuck in Washington and slaving long hours.  "Here you go", I wrote:


"So now – yes now you know, the sky is blue, just like I told you
And you – you use the smarts that UNC, way back then, sold you
While I – I’m playing golf, near Myrtle Beach, far from the freeway
And work just when I please -- the M.I.T. way!"

Bless him, he replied (edited), "Hey there Bob ... that sassy smart retort about the color of the sky, delivered to a touchy-feely professor ... is burned into the memories of all of your classmates, secure in a space where no amyloid or tau deposits can touch it.  Love the new verse!"

What a great guy.

Copyright 2018 by Robert Sutton
Like what you read here?  There's a new post from Bob at www.uberthoughtsUSA.com at 10am Eastern time, every weekday, giving new meaning to "prolific essayist."  Appearance, advertising, sponsorship and interview inquiries cheerfully welcomed at bsutton@alum.mit.edu or on Twitter at @rmosutton

No comments:

Post a Comment