I hit the highway this afternoon destined for Hamilton and Toronto where I will be spending the next few days visiting friends one last time before I depart for England.My first stop is McMaster University where I met with my master's thesis advisor, Steve.
Like a mad scientist, Steve is eager and dissecting, with an originative curiosity. His hair falls naturally over his forehead, partly covering the wrinkle caused by the fixed look of question on his brow. Occasionally, he runs his hands through the length of his locks, as if to comb through any confusion, adding a slight tug at the ends when he is especially frustrated.
Today his brow searches for a reasonable explanation for finding himself in front of the camera lens in the midst of a mid-afternoon coffee break.
He recalls the photo journal I complied just a year ago and rolls his eyes at me. He looks annoyed, but there is the turn of a smile at one end of his lip that gives me the okay to aim and shoot. Its probably the same look his sons, Conner and Willy, receive when they've been up to something.
It is a familiar and comforting look. As my advisor, Steve exuded a paternal concern that was benevolent, but never degrading or intrusive. I don't think he can help it. He is a father before he is a mad scientist, I suppose. But it is an endearing quality of his and one that drove me to impress him with my work, as though he might stick it to his refrigerator alongside his kid's crayon drawings once he got home.
This afternoon, Steve managed to squeeze in a bit of fatherly - or advisorly- suggestions on work opportunities at Nottingham University and ideas on how I can advance my CV to other British mad scientists who have a wad of extra funding to spend on an overqualified teaching assistant. Steve always manages to get the cogs turning, and as usual, I left our afternoon meeting full of ideas. His eagerness is contagious like that.
