I go along with the flow. I trust people, especially those (seemingly) with expertise. When I prepare for what’s to come, I know which experts to trust. But most of the time, especially when in rough waters, I’m an unprepared trusting improvisor. So, I make lots of errors. At best no one sees and I think “Damn! … ok, ok, no worries, this will right itself”. At worst, my kids see and can’t help themselves “Dumb ass!” or “Yup.”.
I couldn’t have possibly prepared for what was to become my road to Berkeley and into Entomology. Wandering on a whim into the administration building at UCLA in early 1980 to request a transfer, and then unexpectedly learning of and miraculously evading the foreign language requirement at Berkeley in the counselor’s office a few months later.
I was catapulted into a new personal life, with friends and colleagues who I would never have encountered the likes otherwise. And now I found myself in the obscure College of Natural Resources, taking courses that by their titles seemed more at home as stand-alone one-hour lectures: plant pathology, forest genetics, soil science, resource conservation. I let life’s currents guide me, even take me. I would be alright. My trust was complete.
Quite out of the blue, I fell in love… with entomology. I was only 20, but I seem to have lived many lives, the food for future blogs. One of those lives was a fascination with insects as a child. All discovery – I had absolutely no guidance. My parents were certainly not entomologists, I had no older sibs, a very small extended family, and my friends either ignored or tortured bugs. So, I was on my own, trowel and magnifying glass in hand. Suburban LA had little to offer in diversity and I didn’t know how to look for it anyway, and so insects were either butterflies, beetles, bees, ants or grasshoppers. I didn’t dare scratch below the surface of observation and the occasional dissection. No wonder I found my interest taken in other, sometimes unwholesome, directions in my teen years. Thus, upon setting foot in Entomology 101 (I think the course number was actually 100) in early 1981, I had largely forgotten about this early passion. My childhood curiosity would now be rekindled and properly guided by this academic course.
Entomology would be my thing through my two upper-division years, working towards my BSc degree in 1982. I actually don’t recall having taken other entomology courses during my Bachelor’s (to broaden my palette, I took elective courses in literature and engineering), but did volunteer to help grad students with their research and conducted a fourth-year project in 1981-82 that became my first scientific publication. In fact, I spent much of my fourth year in the offices and labs of entomology faculty and students. When the time came, there was really only one choice: postgraduate studies in the Department of Entomology.
I eventually learned that part of becoming a scientist is finding one’s niche. This could be by curiosity, passion, practical, imposed, whatever, but the key is that you are doing something different from anyone else on the planet. My niche was as a bridger between theory and data. I was neither a talented biologist nor someone who could qualify as a mathematician or physicist. I had taken advanced courses across the board and specialized in being a generalist. Being someone who tends to get bored with narrow, purely vertical research I found myself quite content as a biologist who could ask questions across disciplines, collect data from published work, do my own experiments, and develop and analyze computer or mathematical models. People with my background were uncommon in the field of entomology and open questions and projects were plentiful. I came to view entomology as a way-station for doing research and despite a childlike wonder for insects to this day, have never called myself an 'entomologist'.
The time came in late 1982 to explore options for the Masters, which was to start in January 1983. The Department of Entomology at Berkeley offered a choice between research + coursework and pure coursework degrees. The coursework Masters could be accomplished in 1 year, whereas the research one (which included 1 year of required coursework) would take 2 years (or more). I decided on the research option and enthusiastically enrolled in required and elective courses.
In quantum physics, one often talks about superpositions of possible states. The observed state does not materialize until the virtual system is informationalized (usually called ‘observed’ or ‘measured’, but the key is extracting information). The reason I bring up this apparent irrelevance is because in 1983, my future multifurcated into too many possible futures. They all loomed in true qbit style. This was not all about careful planning and placing eggs in one basket or another. Rather, quite unintendedly, my future possibilities were accumulating in a natural way through the diversity of courses I was taking, and the many different labs and professors I was hanging out with. There were perhaps a dozen options when the wave function collapsed and the quantum state manifested in late 1983.
As I said in the first sentences, unless I find myself in choppy waters, I go with the flow. Upon receiving my acceptance letter for the Masters in Entomology in mid-1982, I met with a counselor from the department (first since that fateful day in 1980) who welcomed me and helped steer me towards a supervisor and a mentor from another department. Given my background in math and physics and interests in pest control, three names were proposed. I went with Wayne Getz, who had recently arrived at Berkeley, having previously made his name in fisheries research. I was Wayne’s first postgraduate student. I was challenging even by my standards then! Basically, I was tactless and owe this to growing up in a very informal environment. I was (and still am) refractory to rules and norms and especially to bullshit.
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My research project involved both field work and computer programming. The field work was on the temperature-dependent development of pea and blue alfalfa aphids, and the computing was mathematical models that simulated this development. Aside from the satisfaction of parameterizing a physiological framework for arthropod development, I was thrilled to academically live in two environments: on campus in the rotunda of Wellman Hall and several miles towards the bay in one of Wayne’s offices at the Gill Tract. I was fortunate to live in-between them on Francisco St. This made biking to either easy.
When I think of it now, I came to Berkeley in 1980 alone, really alone. My only contact was my great-uncle Lou, who I would see from time to time, but basically, I knew no one. I had to start anew, first in a dormitory and then in my senior year in a shared house on Carleton Street. In parallel, I was meeting people and making friends in different courses and with folks in the entomology group. So, I was becoming part of an exciting network with some real friends, and this, as hoped, included the closer meeting of souls. As chance would have it, one day in December 1983 I was watching people at the Gill Tract playing volleyball and something clicked. I can be a clever poet at times, but here, in this blog post, all I’ll say is that I asked Joelle out on a date.
This really need not have happened at all. Of course, I may have been searching for aphids in the Gill tract alfalfa fields that day, and not at the volleyball game. But not being there may not have been determinant. I may have run into her in the main office, where she was doing voluntary secretarial work. She was, as her name suggests, from France, and was being hosted for 6 weeks by a faculty member at Berkeley. The improbability of our meeting (beyond the counselor rerouting of my life in 1980, and surely my choice of Wayne Getz and the field project at the Gill Tract) will be revealed below. True to the idea that many futures non-committally coexist, the one which emerged could have been due to a coin flip (watch volleyball or search for aphids), or if aphids, then been more Bayesian with probabilities potentially changing thereafter, through time, with no assurance of a oui or a non. The juncture leading to where I am now was no done deal.
The futures either lurking in the shadows or staring me straight in the face were:
Chess player. Like many from my generation, I got into chess in 1972 during the Bobby Fisher craze. I was as good as off-the-street amateurs go and played in a few local tournaments, but I had a snow-ball’s chance in hell at ever earning a living at this. Beyond the reality of not having what it takes, my excuse is that I started too late. Good choice not to have pursued chess.
Complete Masters degree and then see what to do. This was the default mode and my mind-set at the time. With so many alternative realities being born and disappearing, there would surely be a more prospective choice the day I got my MSc. Turns out, this is not what happened.
Masters then PhD. During the Masters I did think from time to time about the PhD, but planning two years down the line was the same as twenty. The Berkeley Masters was 2 years of solid work and I was coming off of being in school for 16 years. Did I have the stamina to do 5+ years beyond the MSc to get a doctorate at 28? And then what? I did take several months off between finishing the BSc and starting the MSc, and intelligently decided to round my last academic year in the MSc by adding the spring semester in 1985 (so, a 2.5-year MSc). This would mean starting a PhD at the ripe age of 25 and, as it would turn out, my misgivings about perpetual studenthood would have a preponderant influence on where I am today. So, taking a semester off in 1982 and doing an extended-research plus course MSc to mid-1985 === France!
Switch to engineering. I had a solid background in applied mathematics and physics and did think from time to time that I could bail-out of entomology and the MSc (which was actually common for PhD students) and hope my GREs and GPA would carry me into the School of Engineering or Department of Biophysics. I had taken George Oster’s mathematical modelling course in 1983, and kept the virtual engineering arrow in my quiver. Turns out that I came very close to applying in 1985, shortly after receiving the MSc, but this would be to do a second MSc as it were. One step back for a possible two steps forward was too abstract and I instead continued downstream.
Join an insect biocontrol company. I had a poker in another fire, which shows just how clueless I really was at 22. Shortly after starting the MSc in 1983, I started wondering where this was going to take me. It was not a major concern, but should something better than a degree in entomology present itself, I might just jump ship and do that! In mid-83, I applied for a position as a biocontrol expert (or something similar) in a start-up company in the Bay area. This company was run by two former entomology PhD students and set-out to kill insect pests without chemicals. Office buildings. Mostly cockroaches. My buddies and I were to use entomopathogenic fungi and bacteria, and insect parasites – so-called ‘parasitoids’ (on which I would later conduct my PhD and the first decade of my academic career!). Luckily, they did not hire me. Had they, I would have been out of a higher university degree and probably out of work, since the company folded.
Go to France. Touché.
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As fate would appear to have had it, Joelle had to return to France for good in February 1984. This was because she had accepted a job in Germany before even coming to the US in December 1983. We decided to correspond to keep us going. But sure enough, her reply to my very first letter said that her job contract had fallen through. She couldn’t easily come back to the US, and as I was mid-way into my MSc project and things were going well, I decided to visit France for 6 weeks. Joelle’s parents were kind enough to put me over, knowing that she might leave the nest -- and France -- to go the American west-coast with someone who did not speak more than a few words of French. Had I stayed in Life Sciences at Berkeley and taken Spanish that wouldn’t have helped, since we obviously would not have met in the first place. Evading the foreign language requirement only to meet a French woman seemed to be taking on a comicality.
Coin flips beget coin flips. The biggies were the counselor office, choice of my supervisor, the volleyball game, no job in Germany. But thinking of it now, the only one that seems truly random was the counselor. But even there, had I left the office in 1980 without the information about dodging the foreign language requirement, it is conceivable (though unlikely) that I would have tried to appeal the requirement. Who knows? What I do know is that a truly random event took place on the opposite side of the planet in 1981, and, had it not occurred, Joelle would not have visited Berkeley and I definitely would not be writing this blog… and you would be doing something else.
But before revealing the 1981 event, let’s stay in May 1984. Just back from an awesome 6 weeks in France. The three things on my mind were: How to get Joelle back to Berkeley. How to get back to France to be with Joelle. How to finish my Master’s project while contemplating my future. All three could – and indeed did – happen. But I had to take one at a time.
First, get Joelle back to Berkeley. This was no easy matter since visas were limited, work permits were difficult and green cards took time and were expensive. I was fortunate to have a network of wonderful friends in Berkeley – many in the department of Entomology. By word of mouth, a colleague’s husband offered Joelle a job at a Montessori school in North Oakland. Well, not quite a ‘job’, since she could not officially work, but she could (and did) unofficially. This kept her occupied and us together, while I finished my degree. Joelle moved in with me on Francisco Street, and indeed both roommates (both grad students in Biochemistry and both named Mike) had their girlfriends living in the apartment, which made for a lot of fun.
Second, get back to France. Anyone who has never traveled and is curious at heart can relate to my experience in visiting a foreign country – France no less – for the first time. In a way, it’s like Dorothy Gale opening her front door and going from B&W into the Technicolor Land of Oz. Everything is different. Everything is amazing. It’s where you want to be. Spending 6 weeks in France gave me some time to travel around. I was based in Lyon, which is central and so visited that magnificent city and ate in its world-renowned restaurants. I became a budding wine expert, and made trips to the Beaujolais and to Bordeaux. Visited the Cote d’Azur, went, but of course, to Paris. After returning home in June, Joelle joining me in Berkeley in September, and finishing my studies into 1985, I was decided on continuing towards the PhD. The problem was that I wanted to be in France (yes, that fantastic), but this was out of the question for my doctoral studies. An unsolvable dilemma?
Enter Philippe and Edith, two students from Bordeaux, doing projects at Berkeley and lucky for me, based at the Gill Tract. I hung out with these two very French, wonderful people a lot during Joelle’s absence in 1984. So, I had a daily French Connection. Philippe and Edith told me that one way of spending time in France as a researcher was to get a ‘Chateaubriand’ fellowship. Like the special steak but it paid a salary. I applied for and got the 1-year grant, starting in the summer of 1985. After considerable negotiation (my original plan to be based in Antibes fell through), I was based at INRA at La Station d’Ecologie in Montfavet.
So I had some time to do research between my MSc and PhD (which I postponed for one year) and to visit France and Europe. I developed my love for wine and as I occasionally do become obsessed by things, much of my year in Avignon was spent trying different French wines and visiting wineries. Bordeaux – and more specifically Saint Emilion and Pomerol – became a mecca, as well as the more local Chateauneuf du Pape and its powerful reds: Vieux Telegraph, Beaucastel, Nalys, Fortia, Mont-Redon, Rayas, …. Lucky for us that we had a good friend from Berkeley who happend to be based for several months in Tavel (known for its fantastic rosés). Donald Dahlsten was a true wine connoisseur and bon vivant. He amassed cases of the wines from the area and invited friends, family and visitors to come eat and drink on his terrace, overlooking the vineyards.
Donald was a professor in Entomology based at the Gill Tract. I knew him, but we had no particular connection until I met Joelle in December 1983 (playing volleyball). The link was that Joelle came to Berkeley based on Donald’s invitation a few years earlier.
I said that the counselor’s office in 1980 unexpectedly changed my life course. It did, but as above, there is a very slim chance that I would have been confronted with the foreign language decision anyway, and would have chosen the College of Natural Resources and Computer Science as my ‘language’. These coin flips.
Where is this all going? Pan-into the industrial French village of Saint Fons. Not the place you want to visit let alone live. Saint Fons was home to Rhone Poulenc, a major petrochemical company. The town was otherwise residential, with few green spaces, and this one in particular. Well, it turns out that on a day in 1981, Donald and his father were in Saint Fons. They were in France collecting aphids – small insects that feed on a variety of plants – to see if any were parasitized by flies or wasps. Evidently, aphids are small – about 2 to 3 mm in length, so their parasites are even smaller. The idea was to bring these parasites back to Berkeley, and potentially release them to control a local aphid pest. I don’t recall what the target aphid was, where it was located or whether Donald ever released these biological control agents.
Why they ended-up in Saint Fons is unknown. They may have been in the area looking for fine dining and took the wrong exit. Or perhaps in mis-exiting they saw a park with the aphid’s host plant and jumped out and started sampling. Or maybe they were sampling aphids in random places and targeted Saint Fons among other spots. The point is that Donald’s detour changed worlds.
The superintendent of the green spaces is Saint Fons was none other than Guy Chimbert. On that fateful day, Guy happened to be checking the various parks in the area and saw a rather heavy-set 50-something male on a ladder looking at leaves in a tree. With him was a 70+ gentleman holding the latter. Beyond curiosity of what is strange by any measure even in Berkeley, this was simply unimaginable in France. Kids climb in trees. Guy approached the two transgressors to ask what in the hell they were doing. Guy and Donald had 10 words between them. Perhaps Donald resorted to hand gestures, thinking that this works in Latin European countries, but clearly Guy must have been perplexed, and signaled to the aliens to come with him to his house. Donald may have thought "the jig is up", and this very French person was going to call the police. Was there jail-time for climbing in trees or stealing aphids in this foreign land? Fortunately, any suspense was momentary, since Guy lived next to the park. And luckily for everyone, Guy’s daughter – Joelle! – was at home. She spoke fluent English. Donald and his father were welcomed by the Chimbert family, and the two returned a year later with Donald’s wife Janet. New friends! In 1982, Donald invited Joelle to visit California. A year later in December 1983, Joelle arrived in Berkeley and spent her days at the Gill Tract. Although not a born volleyball player, she was very sociable, and one day, agreed to play. I just happened to be watching the match.
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