Like Mr. Bean, I found myself "dropped" into this world of science by personal circumstance, a slant of mind and some say, "character." After some exposure to direct science, I found that my strength was in writing about science, to the relief of my graduate adviser and colleagues (and some non-humans whom I am sure would have given anything to be understood by me when they were saying "No, Ms. Garcia, not that…don’t touch that….oh well") who often had to rescue me from getting literally entangled in my own science experiments. Every time we would have our exchanges, formal or informal, in graduate school, I discovered that I was interested not only in the research problems of my colleagues which included all kinds of scientists – physicists, ecologists, animal behaviorists, biologists, geologists, etc. – but the whole shebang – the scientist’s mind, his/her passion for science, the society he/she lived in, the connections of his/her scientific ideas with ideas in the other branches of science, how that scientist’s inquiry relates and enriches the nature of the scientific process, its possible links with other disciplines, especially the arts, and its possible meanings in our lives. I simply fell in love with the intellectual adventure that science offered. At the same time, being a writer, I also had one foot in the rest of the world who is intimidated by, indifferent to or even hate science. So I figured that this could be my dance – I could teeter on the balance like a bridge where scientists and the rest meet to temper extreme notions of "science and scientists " being "cold and inscrutable" and the rest of the world as "idiots and beggars" for scientific understanding. That is why you find me in the form of this column that many readers describe as "rather unusual" every Thursday.
This is my 174th column since I started in July 2002. I usually devote the last two columns of every year to something that I deliberately try to avoid any other Thursday of the year – writing about "writing" and the "writer" who happens to be me. This yearender is my way of stepping outside that bridge that I have been building by walking it myself with my readers. And like anyone who steps out of a world she regularly inhabits, I seize the chance to reflect on the columns of the year that has passed, the readers who have communicated their thoughts with me, as well as the other experiences that have sprung from the experience of writing this science column.
When I started, I was sure to reach a maximum of five readers staunchly headed by my brother-in-law but I am quite pleased to announce that I have already reached the critical mass of six readers. The addition this year is I think worth noting and I take exception to my rule of "no namedropping" for its own sake and reveal my sixth reader: Wyngard Tracy. Wyngard is an undisputed guru in entertainment but his interest in science or Nature is famously and flagrantly non-existent that even genetics (I am the daughter of his sister) was never powerful enough for him to be curious about science or Nature. I also never really asked him if he read the columns and I had good reason not to. Wyngard’s idea (he also carried it out) of bivouac hunting for food when he was a kid scout was to tie a chicken to a tree and stone it to death to the horror of the other scouts and his scout Master. Since he started reading the columns, he has been calling my cell on some weekends, asking: "It’s the weekend…time for my strange questions…this time, where does wind really come from? How is it made?" I never really aspired to be some kind of text-mate version of Ernie Baron but the change in Wyngard’s curiosity is refreshing. He is now my gauge when it comes to reaching readers whose life’s works are so far removed from the sciences, especially entertainment which is always a favorite of mine to make fun of and criticize. So thank you, Tito Wyngard and please stay away from live poultry.
I also have to do one genetic tribute and apologize to my brother who has to be at the receiving end of live reactions from some of his patients who read the columns. One time, his patient Ellen read my column and asked him to tell me that he enjoyed a particular column where I made fun of men (again). When my brother candidly told Ellen that there are times when he really does not understand my columns, Ellen comforted him by saying, "Oh Doc, don’t be too hard on yourself, as your sister says in her columns, blame it on your male brain." Oops! (and Ellen — good one!)
But this year, I also got e-mails from readers that made me feel a sense of failure – those offering that I consider taking up some extreme sports like superstition or cultist religion in order to balance what they perceive is my lopsided brain (in favor of cold logic.) If that is what comes across to my readers, then I have failed somehow in my aim to let science be alive in your lives. I may probably have to work on it some more so these readers can see for themselves that reason is not necessarily produced in the cold temperatures of logic; that "reason" is a good lens that enables us to look at the world straight in the eye and as it is, so that we can find our place in it and see where we truly are. "Where we are" is, I think, a pretty good place to start living and discovering. So I have to gloriously decline the offer of those readers for me to join the occult to balance my brain. I leave that to James Randi, the great skeptic who is offering $1 million to anyone who can prove, in the same transparent conditions that science prescribes, that the "paranormal " exists. But nonetheless, I still thank these readers who tell me that they are just concerned for the kind of eternity in store for me, being "imbalanced" as they think I am. I prefer to reach for the "intangibles" through the arts – through an appreciation of literature, music and painting. There, I take my cues from the beautiful and sensitive community of artistic minds who explore meaningful possibilities for the human condition. Being "imbalanced" as some of my readers claim I am, I want to show that it is possible to hold contradictory ideas in one’s mind and NOT necessarily be a screaming candidate for the loony bin; that to suspend judgment until you understand enough for yourself and not because religious, political and economic authorities merely say so, is probably the wiser, kinder thing to do.
Others send me their comments on columns that I have written months ago. They even know how to put newspaper columnists like me in place when they describe in detail how they came across an old De Rerum column copy – ranging from trying to find a poop mat for their dog, to a half-torn De Rerum copy that is found abandoned on a bus seat (a reader asked me for the rest of the column), to those who find a really old De Rerum column in their drawers to which they have previously lost the key (in a story mired in a telenovela plot of intrigue and jealousy!). I do not have a problem giving you an old copy of the column if you simply request for one. I realize that Philstar.com does not keep an archive of the columns like they used to so you can just really send me an e-mail so I can send it to you. I do not require your DNA samples in considering these requests nor lengthy justifications for them but if you enjoy telling or making up a story that led to your making the request, by all means. I enjoy a good read. (To be concluded)