Jerry turns 70

I have come to the conclusion that I am a closet superhero, so closeted that it hasn’t even dawned on me that I can leap tall buildings in one bound (“it’s called an elevator, dumbass!”)!! To put it simply, i have a superhero inside of me, struggling to come out. My roommates, looking at my ever increasing “size”, have affectionately titled the superhero, “The Incredible Bulk”.
One of my good friends and mentors, Jerry (one half of the Monique and Jerry fame) turned 70 over the weekend. Monique planned and organized a whole bunch of surprises for him, all cloaked within the seemingly simple dinner that was held to celebrate the occasion. Friends flew in from Amman (Jordan), drove in from Philly, took the train from Brookline, etc; friends from his childhood days, his Peace Corps days, his Save the Children days, and also his current PD days came together under one roof to celebrate ‘The Jerry’. Songs were sung, Jerry Jeopardy was organized, poems (full of jerry-esque bad puns) were composed and recited, Jerry stories were recounted, and Sam and Bob canoed into the lake and floated 70 candles in his honour. Bob, Monique and I put together a “Life of Jerry Sternin” movie, based on photographs from all stages of his life, childhood to present. We called it “Ghost of Jerry Past, Jerry Present, and Jerry Future…” And I squeezed all this in during Lo’s visit (a lovely weekend which will be told through partly through the 600 pictures she took during her Northeast trip…Hmmm…) And also sneaked in some some data analysis. My point exactly. Superhero. Bulk.


Natalie Merchant

Symphony Hall reverberated with the sound of Natalie Merchant last Wednesday. Wow! It sounded like they were meant to be together. The sentiment is echoed

And what a Saturday – Roslindale to Somerville to Cambridge to Somerville to Brookline to Concord to Roslindale to Brookline to Concord and finally, back to Roslindale. It involved a dog, lifting furniture, a house, scrumptious pasta a new desktop and good friends.

And I’m now in the lab on a Sunday, attempting to work through the night. I’ve never pipetted through the night, so if they find my hand in rigor mortis, it will not have been in vain. If I make a breakthrough, shall I run through the streets sans vestments, loudly proclaiming Eurek-ous discovery, or shall I allow myself a 13-hour nap session? Decisions, Decisions!