Next door to Stoddard Lab

I wish I could go next door and find Barry Stoddard at work, but it's Saturday and early. I'll bet he's taken the day off. Barry was one of my students back in the '80s. He lived down in Vedelwood (once the DeGroot place on North Boyer). I haven't seen Barry for at least 20-something years, but I've heard about him and heard from him.

Another student, Jillian Sturm, stopped me on the street at a Fourth of July parade a year or so ago and told me the man who owned the lab where she interned for the summer had me for a teacher. Jillian, who's now in medical school---over here, I think---worked for Dr. Barry Stoddard in his lab at the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center. Later, I got in touch with Barry, and he updated me on his life.

Now, I'm sitting in a hotel room right next to Fred Hutch---as they call it over here in Seattle. When I'm finished with this morning's posting, I'll go for a walk over there and see if any dedicated souls have their office lights on. I won't hold my breath about seeing Barry, though. He deserves his Saturdays, especially because he's one of the generals in the war---against cancer.

Annie got me a room at the Residence Inn in South Lake Union. It's a pretty swank place, at least for me. Oops, I notice she's up cuz she just signed online and Messenger told me she's alive and kickin' on this foggy Saturday in Seattle. In between all the stuff about Al Gore in the Seattle Times, I also read about Paul Allen (Microsoft Paul, that is) and his real estate remake plans for this area where I'm staying.

There's speculation that some of the new high rises slated for this area may have a connection with Amazon.com, which, somewhat like Panhandle State Bank in Sandpoint, has its employees stashed all over Seattle. Interesting irony is that the planning and zoning talk focuses on building heights.

Anyway, we've got a fun day ahead with our drive up to Vancouver. I'll be all eyes and all camera as we make our way through virgin territory for me. The trip over here was a bit frustrating because after everything falling into place perfectly on my trip to the airport, I learned after going through security that the flight would be at least 45 minutes late.

We had dinner reservations for 8 because the flight was scheduled to arrive in Seattle at 6:37. Well, it was closer to 8, but we wasted no time, and my cousin was sitting at the Blue Bistro, happy as a clam with her glass of chardonnay and bread. We talked and laughed over a good but spendy dinner, which was topped off by smores with our own campfire---$4.25 per person, and I think we probably roasted about three marshmallows apiece, ate two graham crackers and one Hershey bar. I think cherries jubilee is much more worth the extra bucks.

Got to get out there and do my walk before we take off. We'll stop by Jeremy Thompson's little cafe to pick up stuff for the road. I'm looking forward to seeing Jeremy (part of the extended family clan) and tasting some of his catering.

Happy Saturday everyone. Next stop, Vancouver, B.C.!

Postscript: I went for the walk, all around the Fred Hutch campus, which is beautiful and growing. Lots of signs of the Gates family influence. Seven new buildings buildings by 2012, I believe. While walking around looking for some sign of the Stoddard lab, I even helped two other folks new to campus find their way to a pathology conference. One told me to follow her in the door where I met Curtis, the very gracious campus security man, who looked up Barry's lab and led me to what he thinks is its door.

No sign on the door, just a lab which looks like all the multitude of others along those long hallways. I left a note on the pad next to the door, and if it's not Barry's lab, I'm sure someone will tell him. There's no greater feeling for a teacher than to "just go take a look" at what a student has been able to accomplish, and the greater feeling is knowing that Barry played a part in the inspiration for Jillian to follow her dream of becoming a doctor. A great life sequence, if you ask me.

I also was very touched by Curtis, a former Navy policeman who's happy to be doing security at Fred Hutch, the same place where he took his wife who died a couple of years ago from cervical cancer. Curtis spent enough time there that "I wanted to work at this place," he told me as I headed back to the hotel and he headed off to another building to run an errand.