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Monthly Archives: May 2016

The fish Part #2

13 Friday May 2016

Posted by John's Book of Life in Education and Teaching, Personal Philosophy, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments


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What have we learned so far?

A child’s mind wants to know the answers to every question they encounter. If you give them an answer the question is closed.  Once it is closed it is hard to reopen because they already know the answer.  Dr. Hubbs didn’t answer my question, he lead me on a path of discovery and showed me how to answer it.

The path of discovery has no end; I’m still on it.  If he would have just said, “That is a ratfish.” I would have probably become a mechanic like my father instead of a biology teacher, because the issue would have been closed.

Now the rest of the story.

Twenty years later I was visiting Scripts Institute of Oceanography as a graduate biology student from Cal State University at Long Beach.  In my wanderings I discovered a room full of fish specimens.  The main interest and emphasis in my education was ichthyology, (fish) and I was looking at the specimens in the bottles when I came on one that caught my eye.

It was a ratfish in a bottle.  There were several there but this one was different because the label on it was incomplete.

The date was there, twenty-years earlier.  The location was there, Cardiff in the surf,  but under collected by, it just said Johnny.

I was standing there with the bottle in my hand when a man walked in and smiled at me as he walked to a desk in the corner of the room.  I recognized him from his picture in some of the articles I had read.  It was Dr. Hubbs.

I walked over to him with the bottle in my hand and said, “I have a question.”

“I hope I have an answer.”  He smiled back.

“I was looking at this specimen and I noticed the information on the label is not complete.  I was wondering why?”  I handed him the jar.

He looked at it and said, “Oh, you mean the name of the collector?  Well, that’s the only name I got.  It was a young boy that brought it in and I didn’t get his full name.”

I said, “It isn’t an unusual specimen, how come you kept it?”

“I kept it to remind me what biology is all about.  The wonder the young man had and the sheer delight that showed in his eyes when he discovered what the fish was is what I think of whenever I get discouraged.  That curiosity and joy of discovery is what science is all about.

Sometimes we get too close to the project to remember why we are doing it in the first place.  When I need reminding I come down here and look at that fish, and I remember why I like what I do.”

I said, “Well, I think you should complete the label, the last name is Reseck, Johnny Reseck Jr.” and I held out my hand to him.  He took my hand in both of his and didn’t say a word.

Tears came to his eyes and he came around the desk and gave me a hug.  He said, “Thank you for coming back and completing the label for me.  I have wondered so often whatever happened to that young man.”

We had a long talk. We talked about fish, and school, and research, but mostly we talked about why it is so important to wonder.  I never saw Dr. Hubbs again.

What did I learn?

I learned even important men who are leaders in their field get discouraged from time to time, and it is okay to have a crutch to help you through those hard times, even if it’s just an old fish in a bottle.  I once told a friend who was going through a hard time that he needed a fish in a bottle and he thought I  was crazy.

I also learned the importance of wondering.  I define wondering as the combination of curiosity and excitement.  Every child is good at it.  Most adults have lost it to become politically correct and fit into their slot.

Don’t lose it, because it makes life an adventure instead of just a voyage.

NOTE:  Dr. Carl Hubbs was one of the world’s leading ichthyologists.

 

Why I became a marine biologist

07 Saturday May 2016

Posted by John's Book of Life in Education and Teaching

≈ 2 Comments


 

THE FISH

 This story makes me cry every time I think about it, but then I cry easy.  I’ve never been ashamed to cry when I encountered a happy or a sad circumstance.  If someone laughed at me I just figured they hadn’t experienced that particular circumstance, or were to macho to show their emotions.  I felt sorry for them and hoped they would mature soon.

I was about five years old when one of the most significant events in my life happened to me. My father being a welder and mechanic for Blue Diamond building materials only had a two week vacation each year and we spent it camping at a beach close to home in San Diego County, California.

There was no campground, just a beach and some cliffs that would shield us from the north wind that blew most every afternoon.  The campsite was free, and the fishing was good. It just doesn’t get any better than that.  There is a state park there now.  It is San Elijo State Park in Cardiff, California.

The great tent sites, back in the dunes have been bulldozed flat now so the RVs will fit on them.  The four or five families that camped there every year has become four or five thousand and there is a traffic problem in the campground.  I don’t go there anymore.

My story is about a five year old boy fishing in the surf with his father.  The accepted procedure was to wade out to about your waist and cast your bait out so it landed just beyond the first breaking wave.  My father taught me to cast sometimes before I can remember, and I was a good fisherman, (in those days you could still say the word fisherman and you wouldn’t get sued, or fired, or anything.

Early one morning, just as the sun was starting to spread its gold across the land, (all of us that didn’t have any money to spend always had the suns gold to make us rich), I hooked a fish.  Little did any of us know that it would set the entire course of my life.

I remember the fish didn’t fight very much.  I could feel he was on the line because of the jerks he managed every once in a while as I reeled him in through the surf.  I was taught to be cautious when landing any fish in the surf because the action of the water could rip a fish right off the hook.

I got the fish coming towards the shore, then I reeled as fast as I could and backed out of the water as I had seen my father do all my life.  The fish came flopping out of the water onto the sand beach, and I ran down and grabbed it.

I ran back up the beach so the next wave wouldn’t get me, and looked at my fish.  It was awesome.  I had never seen a fish that looked like this one before.  It wasn’t very big.  Perhaps 12 or 14inches, but it was so silver and bright, and such a strange shape.

It had very big eyes and they were green.  The body didn’t have scales on it like most of the fish I was used to catching, and as the sun shined on it, many colors glimmered and then disappeared.  It had a head that seemed out of proportion to the skinny tail, and a big spine that stuck up out of the back.

There was a line that ran down both sides like a lot of fish have, but this one was really easy to see.  There were spots all over the back, and as I held it in my hands it seemed to lose its color and turn more grayish.  I realized as it was dying all the beauty it had in life was evaporating like a puddle of water as it dries up.  It made me sad but my excitement at catching this stranger from the sea overcame the sadness, and I ran to show it my dad. (He became Pop later in life to everyone.)

He looked at it, scratched his head and said he didn’t have a clue as to what it was.  He had been fishing these shores all of his life, but this was a new one even for him.  He suggested we walk down the beach and talk to a man who was fishing a few hundred yards away. He might know what it was.

We waded out into the water and met Mr. Sergeant.  It is strange that I still remember his name.  When a child is excited they remember everything.  After careful examination, Mr. Sergeant said he didn’t know what it was, but he knew how we could find out.

He asked if my dad and I would like to ride over to the marine science school that was just a few miles away in La Jolla.  He said someone there was sure to know what it was.

We check with my Mom and she said it was okay with her, and off we went to the marine science school to find out about my fish.

The marine science school turned out to be Scripts Institute of Oceanography in La Jolla.  It wasn’t the big impressive campus it is today.  It only had a few building as I remember.  The place we went was a low woden building with a lot of offices off either side of a long hall.

There was a lady at a desk as we came in the door, and she greeted us with smile.  Her smile got bigger when I proudly held up my fish and asked her what it was.  She asked if that was why we were there.  Mr. Sergeant told her yes it was.

She leaned over and looked at the fish and said it was far too strange a fish for her to know, but she knew a man that would know what it was.  She picked up the phone and spoke to someone for a couple of minutes and then told us Dr. Hubbs would see us.

I walked down the hall with my dad and Mr. Sargeant to a door that had, ‘Dr. Hubbs,’ written on it.  I remember thinking he must really be important to have his name written on his door.  When we went in I saw books everywhere.  They were on the desk, on the table, and in bookcases that covered all the walls.  I was sure this man would know what my fish was.

He was very nice and talked to my dad and found out where we caught the fish and how excited I was about it.  He then turned to me and from that moment on he paid no attention to my dad or Mr.Sergeant.

He took the fish in his hands and didn’t seem to worry about getting the fish slime on his hands at all.  He looked at it for a long time.  Finally, I couldn’t wait, and I asked, “Do you know what it is?”  He could have said, a rat-fish, and we would have been out of there, but he didn’t.

He said, “No, but I know how to find out.”

He then led me to a stack of books and we started looking through them.  He didn’t just find a picture; he took me through a biological key.  We had to decide if it had scales, and what a lateral line was, and did it have rays in the fins or not.  He made me see the fish, not just look at it. At long last we discovered it was a rat-fish.  I was elated.  The book even told us all about the fish.

We said goodbye to Dr. Hubbs, and as we left he asked if he might keep the fish for the museum.  I was proud he wanted it, and was happy to leave it.  He had said it wasn’t good to eat anyway.

I stayed fascinated not only with fish but with the fact you could take any fish and find out what it was by using the right biological key.  My interest in biology dominated my school years and, twenty-five years later, I finally became marine biologist.  Dr. Hubbs never left my thoughts during all those years.

That should be the end of the story but it is not. You’ll have to read my next post in a week or so to find out why I cry when I think about this story.

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