There are years which recede into half-forgotten memories. Those from 1966 until 1968 fit into this category. On the positive side, I found my daily administrative work to be enjoyable; I became good at it, too. By attending study section reviews of grant applications, I met some of the leading investigators in the country in biochemistry and endocrinology. I did not miss the laboratory and doing my own research, since I was learning about the cutting edge of these scientific disciplines. My role as an administrator, who helped others, was an acceptable replacement for what I had desired, but not found, in academic education. There were times when I missed classroom teaching, but my day-to-day work compensated for what I thought I had given up in direct interactions with students and professorial colleagues. It was the beginning of a productive career in science administration.
At the completion of my year in the GA Program and the beginning of my career with the NIAMD, we moved from our rental house in Bethesda to another rental in Wheaton, Maryland, the “next town” adjoining Bethesda and the District. There was little to distinguish this residence from any other suburban home: a typical, split-level, white structure with black shutters.
While we were living in our new residence, Deb made her First Communion at St Edward’s, our new parish, although she now attended the local public elementary school. My parents came for their obligatory 48-hour visit for this celebration.
Once again, Karen and I had few neighborhood friends. Most friends were those from work, rather than those who cut the grass in the next-door yards. The closest colleague-friends I had were two members from my “class” of the Grants Associates: Al Heim and Al Broseghini. Karen and I learned how to play bridge and often met with an NIH colleague, Kent Smith and his wife, Nancy, for weekend card playing.
Although she never mentioned it, Karen may have been bored being a housewife who had limited access to a car for getting away on her own. We accomplished the common events of family life together: the usual trips to the grocery stores, weekend ventures to the nearby suburban mall and its department stores, and visits to downtown tourist sites.
I did find an NIH colleague, Tom MacIntosh, who lived near us; we alternated weeks as drivers for our daily commute, so that Karen finally had some means of escape. Tom became a very close buddy, as it can happen when, every day, two guys must invest time together. Two hours of one-on-one conversations, five days a week, resulted in our getting to know one another. A close call or two on an express highway also resulted in an even closer friendship. Our relationship ended in the usual way when Tom and his wife, Roma, returned to Iowa and his private practice following his year as a Public Health Service physician on temporary assignment to the NIH.
I then discovered that Will Nusser, another NIH-er lived in Wheaton and a new, but less talkative commuting, came about. On the other hand, when Will bought my old Chevy wagon for his son, he knew what he was getting, including the small hole in the floorboard that allowed ready access to roadway slush.
The best part of our living on May Street in Wheaton was that it was close to the area in Rockville, Maryland, where we built our first home. We were able to oversee its construction and learn about a new way to have fun, providing we had the money and time for it.