Remembering Another Mentor

I had intended to make this post years ago. The subject deserves better. He is the late Leonard L. Wiley of Portland, Oregon. Though my relationship with him was brief, he made a lasting impact. He may have felt the same way about me, as you will see.

© The Oregonian

Mr. Wiley passed away in 1987, at the age of eighty-two. He was introduced to me by my father. As a jeweler, my dad knew Leonard as a diamond dealer. I was told that Mr. Wiley carried the precious stones in a brown paper back, and also carried a large revolver. I can vaguely attest to seeing the diamonds, laid out on the counter at my father’s store.

Leonard Wiley was best known to the rest of society as a world class botanist and writer. He authored the books Rare Wildflowers of North America (1968), Wild Harvest (1966), and The Granite Boulder: A Biography of Frederic Homer Balch (1970). He was also a regular contributor to Northwest Magazine in The Oregonian newspaper. It was in this capacity that we are forever connected.

The following is a transcript of an article Mr. Wiley wrote about me, published in The Oregonian on August 23, 1970, after he, myself, and my parents had gone on a day hike in Oneonta Gorge, a location adjacent to the Columbia River Gorge that divides Oregon and Washington. The title of the piece is “Just ask this nine-year-old: Leonard Wiley found that Eric asks no foolish questions.” Enjoy his wonderful writing style….

”Eric Eaton and I went to Oneonta Gorge to learn about wild plants. Before taking to the trail I opened a book and pointed out how to tell the difference between the Vine Maple, Acer circinatum, and the Smooth Leaved Maple, Acer glabrum. Both of these tree-shrubs resemble each other very closely and are found in this area.

Eric missed the first one we came to but quickly spotted the second. This achievement of a nine-year-old boy was more than I would expect from most adults.

Every person who has brought joy and happiness in my life I originally met merely by chance. And it was this factor that brought me Eric’s friendship. I had some business to transact with his parents, Bob and Violet. I was introduced to the small boy about a year ago and at first wasn’t much impressed for Eric is not the kind of a person who tries to impress with his importance.[LOL!] In fact he told me on the trail that he does not know much. Maybe so. But I have known a couple of PhD’s who know less.

Science is knowledge possessed as a result of study or practice. When does a person become a scientist? When his zeal and enthusiasm for his particular branch of learning dominate his life. With most, if it comes at all it arrives during maturity. Eric was a scientist before I ever heard of him.

Highly talented people are often lopsided. But Eric is well rounded socially. He plays with his school mates, gets along well with young and old and, at first, appears like most any other boy of his age.[I disagree with almost all of this, but it is his article….]

I like him immensely – and I’m also a bit afraid to engage him in a conversation. If you pitch a curve at him he’ll knock in a home run. I discovered this the hard way. I gave him a chameleon [Green Anole lizard] to help cement a thriving friendship. He looked at it critically and asked ‘Is it a male or a female?’ What the devil do I know about such things? Without consulting a book he told me. Now, when I think a certain subject will come up at our next meeting I get out my books and dig deeply.

He has little interest in money [still true!]. His meager allowance and funds obtained from odd jobs all go into books. His natural history library comprises about 50 volumes as well as subscriptions to various scientific journals, some of which I had never heard of before. His teachers think he is a fine student. They also think they earn their salaries. I agree with them. I have never head Eric ask a pointless question. When he makes a remark or asks for information you better have a sensible answer unless you enjoy making a fool of yourself.

On the trail he never looked back. His eyes roved to left and right, searching for something interesting. He fund a plant with the flowering stem arching over the trail. ‘What do you suppose that is?’ I told him that it was the False Solomon’s Seal. ‘Wow, what a name!’

At nine it is unreasonable to expect him to be the world’s most talented diplomat. As I was wobbling along the rocky trail Eric commented ‘You were hiking when you were younger.’ I gave him a brief ‘yes’ and changed the subject.

Our first botanical ordeal came early on this excursion. We came to an old rock slide. Eric: ‘What’s all this moss doing on these rocks?’ If you think this is a stupid question you aren’t very bright yourself.

I pointed to some lichens tightly growing n the surface of some of the rocks. These primitive plants somewhat resemble rocks. They are among the first plants to attack rocks in the process of disintegration into soil. A medium size lichen may be a hundred years old. Nature is in no hurry. After the lichens are established the mosses and liverworts in vade to speed the break down of the stones. Then the ferns follow. Finally the flowering plants appear. It may take a truck load of centuries for these assorted plants to produce soil. It is very important to life itself.

As we walked along the trail his mother told me a few more things I didn’t know about the boy. He is the resource expert on nature in his third grade class. But his interest in nature started in kindergarten where he discovered dinosaurs. If he wakes in the middle of the night he talks about nature. The Eatons have a lively time.

Stumps have a remarkable fascination for Eric. We examined every one we found near the trail. Those a little farther away drew comment. This, of course, slowed down our progress. Finally Bob called out, ‘Eric, do you have to look at every stump?’ Eric pays no attention to questions of this kind. I showed Eric the mosses and liverworts n some of the stumps while there were ferns and flowering plants on others. One tree had a hollow stump. I reached in and pulled out a handful of debris composed of leaves that had blown in and decayed parts of the inner trunk. This material had largely turned into soil. The other way soils are created.

We discussed a great many other botanical subjects too but the decayed vegetation and the disintegration of rocks seemed to impress Eric the most.

I am sure there are many other boys [and girls, and agender persons!] like Eric in the world but I consider myself fortunate to know one of them.”

Wow, I must have bottled up my enthusiasm for insects during that hike, though it explains my obsession with stumps. I do hope that I have made Mr. Wiley proud with my chosen career path. He showed me that sharing your knowledge with others can have a profound impact.

Sadly, there is hardly an online trace of Leonard L. Wiley, save for his books, which find themselves on sale at various websites. I may need to learn how to make entries on Wikipedia. He certainly deserves to be remembered.

Jim Anderson: My Original Mentor

Last week I learned that my first true mentor, Jim Anderson, passed away on September 22, 2022 at the age of 94. It was my intention to honor him while he was still among the living, but I did not make that enough of a priority. That oversight in no way reflects what a powerful and positive influence he was on my life, and the lives of so many others.

Jim Anderson at 82 years young

I am reasonably certain that my mother was the one who took the initiative in connecting me to Jim. She was a veteran in the television and radio industry, and at the time I first met Jim he was doing a local show on nature for Oregon Public Broadcasting. I seem to recall that our initial meeting was in his studio, in fact.

Concurrently, Jim was employed as an educator with the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry (OMSI). From there, he became director of the Children’s Zoo and conservation and education programs at what was then the Portland Zoo (now the Oregon Zoo in Washington Park).

Jim introduced me to other biologists and naturalists, too, including Mike Houck, who went on to become the Urban Naturalist for the Audubon Society of Portland. Jim and Mike did programs at OMSI field stations and camps, which I had the privilege of visiting periodically on weekends.

The Nature Conservancy hired Jim to manage its Ramsey Canyon Preserve in the Huachuca Mountains of southeast Arizona for three years, but Jim and his wife Sue returned to his beloved Oregon to run the nature center at Sunriver resort south of Bend in the early 1970s. It was there that I caught up with him again. Had my late mother not been so overprotective, I might have spent time with him exploring lava tube caves, or maybe even assisting in banding raptors.

Myself and Jim at Sunriver in August, 1971

Eagles, hawks, and owls were always the center of Jim’s wild universe. He even flew with them, in a manner of speaking. He got a commercial pilot license, and was an accomplished pilot of glider planes. He even instructed student glider pilots.

Among Jim’s enduring menagerie of animals was “Owl,” a Great Horned Owl that had lost an eye. Remarkably, the bird regenerated the eye and, after several years of behavioral rehabilitation, Jim released “Owl” with great fanfare at Sunriver. Owl was immediately harassed by an American Kestrel, such is the drama of nature.

Jim surveyed and banded birds of prey in central Oregon for over fifty years, the last decade or so with the company of his wife, Sue. She wisely insisted that climbing cliffs and trees was too dangerous for someone in his eighties, and Jim begrudgingly retired.

One of the milestones I am most proud of is when I was first published in Ranger Rick magazine, because I had grown up reading Jim’s articles in that publication. He wrote consistently, for many periodicals, and had a column in The Nugget Newspaper of Sisters, Oregon. He also appeared regularly in The Source Weekly of nearby Bend, Oregon. Jim was an outstanding photographer, too, and most of his articles included his images. He compiled his most memorable and hilarious stories in Tales from a Northwest Naturalist, published in 1992.

Everything came full circle for me when Jim agreed to be best man at my wedding to Heidi, on April 29, 2012. A few years later we saw Jim for the last time at his home in Sisters. I had the privilege of introducing another young man, and his then girlfriend (now marital partner), at that time. The couple lived in Bend, and I hope they were able to visit with Jim and Sue again before Jim and Sue moved to Eugene, Oregon to be closer to their children.

Jim, myself, and my mother at my wedding

Being an only child, I had a difficult time socializing with my peers. It was with adults that I felt most comfortable, but Jim nudged me to expand the boundaries of my comfort zone. He was always patient and encouraging, but also insistent, especially when it came to my education. I am glad I still have a few years left, hopefully, to become an even better human being, and a less hesitant one when opportunities present themselves.

Jim's photo of Heidi and I

From what I hear from Sue, I am one of many disciples of Jim. His enthusiasm was contagious, his breadth of knowledge and interests seemingly boundless (did I mention he sang in church choirs?), and his self-reliance admirable. There was no machine he could not repair with bailing wire. He had an old-fashioned wit and sense of humor, and a genuine love and appreciation for all of those he invested his time and counsel in. They do not make men like him very often nowadays. Rest in peace, Jim, you deserve eternal joy and love.

This Girl!

One sure-fire way to make me smile is by introducing me to any young person who is passionate about something. It matters little to me exactly what the subject of their fascination is, but that they are enthusiastic and eager to share what they know. Young people energize elders who have expertise but have become lethargic and cynical of the future in their fields of authority. Meanwhile, children learn even more from those willing to mentor them.

Earlier this month I had the occasion to meet Miss Abigail Nilson-Bartlett, brought to a membership meeting of the Mile High Bug Club by her dad, Ryan, on February 12. They travelled to and from a Denver suburb to our Colorado Springs meeting location. I am not sure who was happier they did: Me or them.

Abigail, at seven years old, firmly asserts that "I am an arachnologist," and I believe her. She can pronounce the word, and then back it up with information that is not widespread knowledge for anyone outside of arachnology. She keeps a couple of pet tarantulas at home, caring for them judiciously such that they are comfortable and healthy, and handled only occasionally. In fact, she wants people to know that "I have a caring for bugs. When they are hurt I care of them well until they are healed. I am a bug doctor and try to help when I can." Her favorite non-spider arthropod is the "rainbow stag beetle."

She considers her greatest accomplishment so far to be assisting her father in a search for wild tarantulas in southeast Colorado. She met Dr. Paula Cushing, one of the premier professional arachnologists in the world, when she accompanied Ryan to volunteer at the twentieth International Congress of Arachnology that was held in Golden, Colorado in 2016. Dr. Cushing is a tough act to follow, but at least I could provide Abigail with a signed copy of my field guide.

During the course of our Mile High Bug Club meeting I made a presentation entitled "Wasp/Not Wasp," an interactive PowerPoint in which the audience is invited to determine which of two images depicts a wasp. Most slides were of a wasp and a complimentary "mimic" like a fly or a moth, but some displayed two wasps, or two mimics. Abigail participated with great enthusiasm, and was often correct in her answers. After listening to me explain the "nth" example of some wasp or mimic that preys on spiders, she asked why it is that there are so many insects that kill her beloved spiders. I can totally empathize. I often ask that about crocodiles and mantids that are shown over-and-over in the media eating some animal I like a lot more. Anyway, I did my best to explain that every species has its role in the biosphere and we have to respect that even if we don't like it. "Like ecology?" she asked. All of us older people were dumbstruck because we were at least teenagers before we learned that word. "Yes," I replied after regaining my faculties, "that's the framework that everything fits in. Yes."

L-R: Amelia, Ryan, Abigail

Abigail's slightly older sister Amelia is an accomplished gymnast, but is also interested in natural history. Trips to far-flung gymnastic meets allow the whole family to explore new cities and have travel adventures along the way. They recently returned from Santa Fe, New Mexico, in fact.

It has been awhile since I have either made myself available to mentor students and children, or been afforded the opportunity, and I am grateful to the MHBC for providing a way to do that. We have other young people participating in club events, and I hope that continues to expand. I urge my readers to seek out organizations, events, and other avenues through which they can be mentors as well, whether in entomology or any other career or recreational pursuit. We need to repair trust to where it was when we were growing up. We are the village now, but we have to prove ourselves as responsible adults who truly have the interests of children and their families at heart.

Thank you, Abigail, for helping restore my faith in our next generation of human beings, regardless of whatever they become professionally when they "grow up." You already have a mature sense of self-confidence, and social skills I wish I had myself at your age.

Edward S. Ross: A Gentleman and a Scholar Passes

Much of the enthusiasm I had for entomology as a child can be attributed to scientists who made a point of publishing in popular magazines. Perhaps no one did I hold in higher esteem than Edward S. Ross, a pioneering photographer of insects and other arthropods, whose work appeared semi-regularly in the pages of National Geographic Magazine in the 1960s and 1970s. On March 16, Dr. Ross passed away at age 100. I venture to say he leaves a legacy that will last at least another century.

Edward S. Ross ©Jeff Vendsel, Marin Independent Journal

Beyond his accomplishments as a photographer and writer, he was the world authority on web-spinners, bizarre insects of the order Embiidina (formerly Embioptera). There are few species in North America, and even some of them were introduced from elsewhere, so Ross had to travel the globe in pursuit of specimens. Naturally, he described countless new species in the process.

Male web-spinners are frequently mistaken for winged termites.

Most of his expeditions were under the auspices of the California Academy of Sciences, with which he was affiliated for 75 years. He became Curator of Entomology there, and eventually Chairman of that department as well. A more complete biography can be found online at the Marin Independent Journal.

Female Oligotoma web-spinner from Arizona. They spin silk from glands in their "Popeye arms."

What I treasure most is a letter I received from Dr. Ross in response to one I had written to him. I easily found it in my files, as it offers timeless advice; and it speaks to just how much scientists of his era felt obliged to mentor the next generation. Here is the text of that document:

"Dr. Mr. Eaton:

I am on the eve of departure on a 6-month trip (via VW camper) to N. Africa, Turkey, etc., and haven't time to do justice to a reply to your many questions. If I have had success, it is due to an evolutionary process much of which was based on my photography - not writing.

The publication of "Insects Close Up" in 1953 was very helpful but, with a distribution of 20,000 copies, it stimulated competition. I also have a good, world-scope research project which brought me to many exciting photographic and writing subjects. I don't even begin to tap my resources.

I would advise writing articles for outlets, such as Ranger Rick, before tackling Natl. Geographic. The subjects must 'well up' within the writer - an article should never be written simply to write an article. Start with expositions about things you know well. Another approach is little-known info about familiar subjects. In general, articles should be journalistic - have a philosophical point - and not be simply descriptive.

I believe that Natl. Geo. has a pamphlet on 'How to Write for Natl. Geographic.' You might write and obtain a copy. Sorry, I just can't write more in the time available. In great haste."
Sincerely,
Edward S. Ross

Interestingly, I did end up writing a couple of articles for Ranger Rick. I also queried National Geographic and received positive interest, even though nothing ever became of my proposal. Were it not for the wisdom of my elders, I can guarantee I would not be where I am today. There is simply no way I can adequately express my profound appreciation of their time and nurturing character.

My First Mentor: Mom

My recent trip out to Oregon to look in on my mother, Violet Eaton, turned out to be my last time with her. She passed away on December 9, 2014. Going through her belongings in the aftermath reminded me that I owe her a great deal for her support of my interests in entomology, and nature in general, during my childhood.

Violet J. Eaton, 1996

Mom did not have a very good childhood herself, having gone through the foster care system, eventually coming to live with the woman I knew as "grandma" growing up. My mother also survived tuberculosis (twice, in 1949 and 1962), divorces from my father and stepfather, and raising me pretty much single-handedly. Back then there were few, if any, resources for single mothers, and returning to the workforce relatively late in life was a real challenge. She even kicked her smoking habit in the 1990s.

Mom was extraordinarily resourceful, and how she found professional mentors for me in an age without electronic resources is beyond me. I remember that a doctor friend of hers knew an allergist who specialized in allergies to insects and was a member of the Oregon Entomological Society. We eventually got introduced and Dr. Perlman took me to a number of meetings of the OES starting when I was about twelve years of age. The OES members quickly took me under their wings, even making sure to clarify various concepts and insect body parts during lectures at the meetings; and they helped me identify specimens in my collection when there were few reference books for Pacific Northwest fauna.

Mom and me, 1975

Meanwhile, back home, mom was helping me capture specimens. She was fond of telling people "If anyone would have told me I'd be standing on a stepstool looking like the Statue of Liberty while catching a spider on the ceiling, I would have told them they were crazy." Mom, I think it was a Scotophaeus blackwalli "mouse spider." She fetched silverfish off the ceiling, too.

By the time I got to high school I was being encouraged by my biology teacher, Karen Wallace, to continue pursuing my entomology hobby. I was also in the Boy Scouts, but found the troop organization reminded me too much of the military, so I quit. My sophomore year, we heard that there was an environmental science Explorer Post (ironically, still party of the Boy Scouts) forming at a nearby state park. I had finally found my people. The post was coed, too, which didn't hurt any, and included students from several Portland high schools. Our advisor, Dave Simpson, was the park naturalist, and he did a wonderful job of balancing projects like trail maintenance with field trips, invited speakers at our meetings, and other fun activities.

Dave is now retired and living in Salem, Oregon, but he made a point of driving up to visit me while I was in Portland, on New Year's Eve day, no less. We had lunch together and he related that my mom was the only parent who reached out to him to learn more about both the Explorer Post and Dave himself. I guess he passed muster because I was in the post for three years.

Mom and me, 1989

Mom made sure I got into college, too, helping me apply for scholarships. I even received one through Gaylord Broadcasting Company, her employer at the time (KYTE radio in Portland). Once I got into Oregon State University, I continued my involvement with the Oregon Entomological Society and was elected president my sophomore year. Considering most of the members were grad students or older, I was quite flattered.

I never finished my degree, which I think was something of a disappointment to my mom. I know that she was proud of me for what I did achieve, despite my lack of academic credentials, and I hope to do her proud the remainder of my life.

Mom and me, 1992

Mom is a real inspiration for her dedication to helping other people through personal relationships and events, organizations, and programs she created. She co-founded the Conchords Chorale in 1982, and they are still singing today, performing at various venues, especially around the holidays. Mom also created "Rebound," a series of free monthly classes for those age 50 or over who were unemployed or underemployed. That program ran from 1979-1982 at the Hillsdale library branch in southwest Portland. She even produced a music appreciation class for Portland Community College in 2000.

My mother was probably best known for organizing reunions and "hen parties" for her Grant High School class of 1946. Many of those who attended her celebration of life gathering on January 8 were indeed high school classmates.

Mom and me, 2004

Although she never really took to the digital age, mom always sent greeting cards for birthdays, anniversaries, and other special occasions. She clipped articles, inspirational quotes, and poems out of newspapers and magazines and sent them to friends and family all over the world. She also enjoyed long telephone conversations, and especially in-person meetings over lunch or dinner.

I imagine that Facebook and Twitter would have been very poor substitutes for her when it came to interacting with people, though she did express disappointment that she couldn't read my blog or see the images I was taking and posting to Flickr. It might pay to remember that there really is no substitute for a warm handshake and face-to-face conversation. I hope that I can carry on that tradition and balance my digital life with immersion in real life. Thanks for all the lessons and inspiration, mom. Love, Eric

Mom, 2006

Wasp Wednesday: Recent Mentors

I suppose that “recent” is a relative term, but I am delighted to report that the following gentlemen are all still alive and continuing to make very valuable contributions to science. They inspire me and make me a better entomologist and writer.

Arnold Menke, Eric Grissell, myself, Justin Schmidt

I was privileged to have the opportunity to work on a private contract to help curate the national butterfly collection at the National Museum of Natural History (Smithsonian) in April and May of 1986, where I got to meet two fine scholars working there on behalf of the USDA’s Agricultural Research Service. Dr. Arnold Menke is a world authority on wasps, especially the thread-waisted wasps in the genus Ammophila. He currently has nearly all my specimens of that genus, in fact, as he is working on a much-needed revision of those caterpillar hunters. He retired to Bisbee, Arizona in the 1990s where he also enjoys railroad history and photography.

Dr. Edward Eric Grissell (he goes by “Eric,” too, which can cause confusion at Arnold’s annual hamburger roast) is an expert on tiny parasitic wasps in the suborder Chalcidoidea. Since many of those wasps are enemies of agricultural pests, Eric was a very busy man figuring out which species could help control food-destroying insects. Today, Eric is also “retired,” but writes full-time about insects and gardening. He has produced several outstanding popular books including Thyme on my Hands, Insects and Gardens: in Pursuit of a Garden Ecology, and Bees, Wasps, and Ants: The Indispensable Role of Hymenoptera in Gardens, all published by Timber Press.

Another remarkable individual is Justin Schmidt, known famously as the “King of Sting” for his exploits in assessing the effects of insect and arachnid venoms on willing human subjects, but mostly himself. He created the “Schmidt Sting Pain Index” to quantify and describe (in prose usually reserved for connoisseurs of wine) the type of pain inflicted by stinging insects. He worked for many years at the federal Carl Hayden Bee Research Center in Tucson, before deciding to pursue his own projects full time. I greatly admire his endless curiosity, and ability to devise experiments to divine answers to his questions.

Matthias Buck

Last, but certainly not least, is Dr. Matthias Buck, currently the Assistant Curator of Invertebrate Zoology at the Royal Alberta Museum in Edmonton. I first met him online as I recall, since he freely shares his expertise on Bugguide.net. Eventually we met in person at a meeting of the Entomological Collections Network. His specialty is vespid wasps, which includes the yellowjackets, hornets, paper wasps, mason wasps and potter wasps. One of his most amazing projects is the co-creation of the Identification Atlas of the Vespidae (Hymenoptera, Aculeata) of the Northeastern Nearctic Region, along with Stephen A. Marshall and David K. B. Cheung. Matthias has all my Polistes paper wasps, and has already found examples of an undescribed species among them.

I can honestly say that it is an honor to know these men both as scientists and human beings. I will be forever grateful to them for sharing their knowledge and encouraging me along the path that I have chosen.

Wasp Wednesday: Early Mentors

I may have started collecting wasps because no one could call me a sissy for catching something that can fight back, but I owe my continued fascination with these insects to a number of amazing mentors who showed me there is much more to hymenopterans than I ever imagined.

One of the entomologists I most admire is the late Howard Ensign Evans. Not only was he a world-class authority on Hymenoptera, but one of the most eloquent writers and “popularizers” of entomology that I have ever read. His classic Life on a Little-Known Planet is without a doubt the best introduction to insects for a general audience as has ever been published. Evans managed to maintain a passion for, and awe of, the natural world untarnished by the efforts of academia to reduce all to “models,” statistics, and biochemical reactions.

I also read Evans’ Wasp Farm, and The Pleasures of Entomology. His book Wasps, co-authored with Mary Jane West-Eberhard, was my wasp bible for many years. Mary Jane wrote an amazing and comprehensive biography of Dr. Evans that does his contributions to science and literature vastly more justice than I ever could here.

I will always treasure a piece of correspondence I received from Dr. Evans in January of 1984 after I had written him for advice on how to make a living writing. He suggested that I would need “another means of support.” His sense of humor is another admirable quality.

Just last month I picked up Evans’ A Naturalist’s Years in the Rocky Mountains, which should serve me well in getting to know the fauna, flora, and seasons of my new Colorado Springs home.

Once I got to college at Oregon State University, I had the good fortune to become acquainted with Dr. George R. Ferguson. He was a taxonomist of the highest degree, working mostly on the genera Cerceris and Eucerceris, finishing what his friend and colleague the late Herm Scullen had started. Dr. Ferguson still found time to take me under his wing, providing many identifications for my growing collection.

I’ll never forget the time I eagerly presented a small series of metallic blue sphecid wasps for his appraisal. He took a quick look and determined they were the Blue Mud Dauber, Chalybion californicum. I sighed and said that I thought they were the Steel Blue Cricket Hunter, Chlorion aerarium. He plucked out one specimen, stuck it under his microscope, and replied “Well, I’ll be, you’re right. They’re awful small, though.” He was right, too: they were males, and not particularly impressive examples of that gender, either.

Dr. Ferguson has since passed away as well, but I am delighted to report that his legacy lives on in the form of an endowment fund at OSU, which grants funding annually to outstanding undergrad and graduate students majoring in entomology there. I would expect nothing less from my most kind and generous mentor.

More than what these two men taught me about Hymenoptera was what they taught me about being a man and a human being. I hope I can be half as courteous and helpful to those who ask for my help. I hope I can be a positive and inspirational example to the students and scholars of tomorrow.