A s I began to write this article reflecting on my professional career in biomedical research, many memories of people, activities, situations, and experiences were swirling in my head. Because of the extraordinary support that I have received from my family, they are never far from my thoughts. I believe that sharing a few of these memories will be helpful for those who find themselves in similar situations or periods of professional development. This is not meant to be a comprehensive review of the fields to which I have had the privilege of contributing but a personal stroll down a path in which I have found extraordinary pleasure and from which I have derived a sense of accomplishment.
The Journey BeginsI was born just prior to World War II into a middle class family in the historic town of Lexington, VA. My father was a radio announcer, a nightclub singer (he had a beautiful baritone voice), and the chosen master of ceremonies for most of the local shows in several cities in Southwest Virginia. Because my mother was a full-time parent, he had to hold several jobs to pay the bills. Because he had small children and was working in a vital industry (public information), he was not drafted during the war. Neither he nor my mother was college-educated, although both were well read and surprisingly cosmopolitan to have been raised in southwestern Virginia. Because I was his firstborn and my sister came along 2 years later, all of his dreams were wrapped up in what we would accomplish in our lifetimes. One of his oft-repeated admonitions was, "I don't care what you become as an adult, as long as you do your job well." However, it never escaped my attention that he wanted us to become professionals. Hence, the fact that we lived next door to a physician, his wife, and two boys had the inevitable effect that we observed that their somewhat higher grade of lifestyle (they owned their home, but we rented our two-bedroom apartment) was achievable. Both of my parents wanted desperately for their daughters to obtain college educations and they both insisted that we could "be anything we wanted to be." Unfortunately, I was not born with the artistic talent with which my sister and my brother (who was to arrive 22 years later during my first year in graduate school) were endowed, so my talents had to be sought elsewhere.In those days, we were known as "tomboys," and there was little hope for our interests to be more feminine, despite my mother's attempts, because our only playmates were boys on either side of us. We loved to climb trees, especially the cherry tree between our houses, and to play football and baseball and, best of all, cowboys and Indians. When my parents were vehemently against my getting a football for Christmas, I told my grandmother, and she made sure it was among her gifts for me, much to my mother's dismay. I loved to collect things, and I particularly loved outdoor activities. By the time I reached high school age, I had read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes"; I admired Hol...