Jane Goodall: Rest in peace

Over the years, readers have known my admiration for Jane Goodall (here and here). My hero-worship dates back to high school (late 1970s) when I first knew I wanted to be a field biologist.

Dr. Goodall passed away today. Needless to say, accolades are pouring in from around the world.

The autographed book and two personal letters from her I have in my possession are that much more treasured now.

Rest in peace, Dr. Goodall. You'll never know the impact you had on this young high schooler.

The moral of a mean memory

I hadn't thought of this event in years. Just today something triggered the memory and I decided to share it.

When I was in high school and had decided I wanted to be a field biologist when I grew up (this was in 1978 or so), I was ga-ga crazy over Jane Goodall and her research. In those days – since my parents were on a strict budget with four kids to raise and my dad's business sometimes struggling – extraneous spending was a big no-no.

Additionally, before the internet, finding a coveted item was often a matter of pure chance. I wanted to find whatever I could on Jane Goodall, not an easy task.

One day my mother and I went to a thrift store in town. I liked this particular thrift store because it had an awesome selection of National Geographic magazines. Routinely I went through their selection, searching in vain for the December 1965 issue which featured Jane Goodall on the front. I desperately wanted a copy of this issue because, well, Jane Goodall.

On this particular day in the thrift store, I saw a pile of National Geographic magazines on the floor in the book section ... and there, on top, was the precious issue I so desperately wanted! I was thrilled! I remember snatching it up, face ablaze with joy, staring at the magazine. At last, I'd found it!

But a man soon rained on my parade. In my excitement, I hadn't realized the pile of National Geographic issues stacked on the floor were ones he'd selected to purchase. So he snarled at me that those magazines were his. I don't remember exactly what he said, but I remember the snarling tone. He was just so mean about it. I dropped the issue back on his stack, did an about-face, and walked out of the thrift store. Once I was outside, I burst into tears.

At sixteen years old, I seldom cried. My mother didn't know what happened, nor why I'd walked out of the thrift store. She followed me outside and, to her shock, I was weeping almost hysterically. She thought I'd been physical assaulted by someone, and was ready to charge back into the thrift store and do battle on my behalf. But through my incoherent hiccups, I told her no one had hurt me (physically), but how that man was just so mean. I couldn't get over how mean he was.

Anyway, that ended our shopping trip. Mom took me home, I got over my crying jag, and life went on.

About two weeks later, Mom presented me with my very own brand-new copy of Jane Goodall's book, "In the Shadow of Man." She'd ordered it through a bookstore in town.

Now understand, the purchase of a brand-new (and technically unnecessary) book at that time was an almost unheard-of expense for my parents. And yet, they realized the depth of my interest in Dr. Goodall's research and decided to get me my own copy of that book. Forty-seven years later, I still have it, because of course I do.

Jane Goodall even signed it after I attended one of her lectures. I should point out that my dad took me to that lecture during my senior year in high school, another example of how my parents supported their children's academic interests.

Anyway, I don't know why I suddenly remembered that man's sheer meanness in the thrift store after all these years. I hadn't meant any harm when I snatched up that issue of the magazine, but for whatever reason he couldn't find it in himself to gently inform me he planned to purchase the issue himself. I'd met plenty of mean kids in school, but this was the first purely mean stranger I'd ever met. Say what you will, I remember him after nearly half a century.

My parents were able to take that mean memory and turn it into something beautiful.

So be kind to people. That's the moral of this memory.

Interview with Jane Goodall

I had a thrilling experience this morning. I had the opportunity to do a phone interview with one of my lifelong heroes, the esteemed Dr. Jane Goodall.

Dr. Goodall, who conducted pioneering research on chimpanzee behavior in Tanzania starting in 1960, was quite literally the reason I became a field biologist in my younger days. I cannot begin to describe the impact this woman has had on my life.

Several weeks ago a neighbor, knowing my deep admiration, informed me that Dr. Goodall would be speaking at Gonzaga University in Spokane on April 9. In the spirit of "It never hurts to ask," I immediately called the university and asked if Dr. Goodall was granting interviews.

I was put in touch with the Director of Community and Public Relations, a kindly woman named Mary Joan H., who said she would add me to the list of interested press. At that point she wasn't certain whether Dr. Goodall's tight schedule would permit any time for interviews.

Yesterday while I was out threshing wheat, Don came trotting outside with a notepad in hand. "Drop what you're doing right now," he announced with a grin, "and call back a lady named Mary Joan about an interview with Jane Goodall."

I squeaked in excitement, dropped the flail, and dashed for the house. Ms. H. said that Dr. Goodall wasn't available to do one-on-one interviews, but would I be interested in participating in a conference call interview tomorrow morning? You bet! Dr. Goodall was still back east somewhere, and the call was to take place at 8 am our time.

I was faced with the problem of how to record the interview, since I wanted to base some future articles and columns on it. Don, clever fellow that he is, learned that our cell phones have a recording function. We tested it with a sample call, which was recorded in perfect clarity. Phew!

So this morning, heart a-flutter, I gathered my prepared interview questions and called into the conference number. On the phone with me (besides Ms. H.) were three other representatives from the media -- a radio station, a newspaper, and a regional magazine, all from Spokane. I was the only freelance writer in the group, and was later told by Ms. H that it was my enthusiasm that prompted her to select me to participate. I cannot even begin to express my gratitude.

We had a fifteen minute delay in connecting with Dr. Goodall's representative because of a misunderstanding (she thought we were calling her; we thought she was calling us). Once this was cleared up, there was a momentary delay, and then the gentle British tones of my favorite scientist in the whole world was on the other end of the line.

Ms. H. briefly introduced us and then invited the participants to ask their questions round-robin fashion. When it was my turn, I couldn't resist a little bit of history. I told her, "It was because of your influence in the late 1970s that I became a field biologist myself, and I worked throughout my 20s and 30s in the field before retiring to stay home with my kids. Some of my most prized possessions are the two letters I have from you dated 1979 and 1980, and the book you signed for me in 1980 when I saw you at a lecture. So first and foremost I must thank you for offering hope and direction to a passionate teenager who, thirty-five years ago, wanted nothing more than to spend her life among animals, which in fact I have done. It’s a pleasure to be able to thank you in person."

[I had this all written out in advance, of course. Do you think I could have been anywhere near that clear or eloquent otherwise? Not with my heart in my throat.]

Dr. Goodall was patient and kindly and extremely intelligent in her answers to all our questions. Half an hour barely scratched the surface -- we all had many more questions we could have asked -- but her time was limited and she doubtless had other interviews scheduled right after ours.

I hung up the phone in a glow of hero-worship. My kids have been chuckling at me all day, watching their mom react as if Dr. Goodall was the most coveted of movie stars.

Over the next few weeks I intend to write a number of articles and columns based on this interview. I'm thankful it's recorded so I can document every word Dr. Goodall said.

It would have been delightful to interview Dr. Goodall in person, but this was the next best thing. Wow.