Stubbornness and obstinance . . .
My friend obviously was enjoying his salmon sushi. Apparently, he was a regular at the Japanese restaurant we’d chosen. The wait staff and even one of the cooks had greeted him warmly as we walked to the table, nodding and smiling in that way that says “I remember you from before.”

Salmon sushi
Ironically, we’d landed at Ohio State the same year, more than three decades ago, both of us poised to begin careers that neither could have predicted. Him, the scientist, and me, the writer. And yet, in all those years, we’d dined together less than a half-dozen times, twice in the last year or so.
I don’t “do” lunches well. It’s a shortcoming, I admit, for a writer, but it’s hard for me to focus on the conversation when I worry about spinach lodging in my teeth. I fear that my enthusiastic discussion will end with spilled drinks or splayed food, halting the dialogue.
For me, food has always been a necessity rather than a pleasure, something to keep the migraines at bay. Still, the tempura was excellent . . .
My friend, on the other hand, was world-traveled, educated and sophisticated in that comfortable, non-stuffy way and he reveled in the dining experience. My admiration for him had grown much over the years. And while we were relatively close in age, his demeanor was always more fatherly, more that of an advisor than a peer. And he did like his sushi.
“Ultimately,” I had offered, “our success is measured internally. Do we believe we truly have done a good job? Accolades and awards from others are nice, of course, but we have to meet our own expectations, first and foremost.
“Lying in bed at the end of the day and in the darkness, are we more content than not with what we’ve done?”
It was an argument I’d often made before, one I truly believed and that explained, to me at least, why it was that self-motivated people usually succeed where others fail. But it was also meant to limit some of the disappointment he felt. He’d been passed over a third time for a prestigious honor that he – and I – knew he deserved. He was, he said, too old to be chosen, the victim of some arcane rule that governed the award.
“Ah, well,” he had said, “that’s the way it goes.”
“But we’ve done good,” I offered. “Both of us are leaders in our fields, and we’re proud of that. It was a long road to get here but we’ve earned it.” He agreed, slightly begrudgingly. Ultimately, we had arrived at a good place.
It was, we said, the way good science and good works are actually done. There is no “eureka” moment, no grand discovery. It’s a long slog up a steep hill and most who attempt it fall short or tire early. Research isn’t easy. It isn’t fast. It takes a good, new idea and incredible work. And research advances don’t arise from new, grandiose programs or facilities – they grow inside the scientist’s mind. The programs and facilities are actually rewards, after the fact.
“Stubbornness,” I suggested. “Stubbornness and obstinance and refusing to be defeated, that’s what leads to good research. I’ve seen that proved too many times.”
It was, we agreed after all, one of the key lessons scientist-mentors should pass on to those who follow: That science is a journey and a path, rather than a destination or a goal. And the rewards best received along the way are those we allow ourselves.
Science and research are now often seen as a means to an end, tools which we use to better our lives and society. And that they are, now more than ever. But the goal for most scholars is the question, not the answer, and if something good comes of it for all of us, so much the better.
There was a pleasant melancholy in that conversation, a reminder between two old friends of shared, simple truths and values and why we had come this way in the first place. It was a gift we gave each other, recharging batteries and validating beliefs.
And the food was good.__Earle Holland
![[del.icio.us]](http://researchnews.osu.edu/blog/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/delicious.png)
![[Digg]](http://researchnews.osu.edu/blog/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/digg.png)
![[Google]](http://researchnews.osu.edu/blog/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/google.png)
![[LinkedIn]](http://researchnews.osu.edu/blog/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/linkedin.png)
![[StumbleUpon]](http://researchnews.osu.edu/blog/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/stumbleupon.png)
![[Windows Live]](http://researchnews.osu.edu/blog/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/windowslive.png)
![[Yahoo!]](http://researchnews.osu.edu/blog/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/yahoo.png)
![[Email]](http://researchnews.osu.edu/blog/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/email.png)
The public’s lack of understanding complex climate science, enhanced by the vested interests of many who oppose any fossil fuel restrictions or business constraints, have melded into an atmosphere where citizens’ disbelief in science is now skewing our public policy.
For those unaware, someone hacked into the computer system at the Climatic Research Unit at the
The media frenzy surrounding this whole affair is centered on the assumption of conspiracy, as if working scientists spend their time plotting and strategizing as if they were contestants on the reality television show ‘The Survivor.” And the public, ever content to jump to the nastiest of conclusions, will never actually evaluate the data to reach a logical, rational conclusion.
What is the appropriate action when you realize there’s a target on your back?
A quick review of recent offerings on the site would worry most Americans. Lauding vandalism, break-ins, property destruction, and praising and defending convicted felons, the website supports what they call “direct action” and defends the most radical of individuals in the movement – the 

What’s more believable?





The gap between the public’s basic collective knowledge and the scientists’ understanding has become gargantuan. Bridging it requires more than just better presentation skills on the part of researchers.
According to the survey, university faculty say their typical workweek lasts 57 hours (for assistant professors), 56 hours (for associate professors) and 58 hours (for full professors). All faculty surveyed were either tenured or tenure-track.

