It’s better than the Oscars! It’s more exciting than the Super Bowl! It’s the 2008 Nobel Prize announcement for Physiology or Medicine!!

Who will it be this year? Will it go to a paradigm-shifting discovery? Perhaps to the creators of a powerful technology? It’s anyone’s guess, but as always, I am running my Nobel Nostradamus pool here in the lab and my prediction envelope will be locked up at 5:00 today in anticipation of The Prize announcement this coming Monday, October 6th.

Last year I won my own pool (Yeah!) with my prediction that Martin Evans, Mario Capecchi, and Oliver Smithies would grab the gold for their work in mouse ES cells and homologous recombination. In a fun twist for me, I was introduced at a talk that I gave in Edinburgh last April by Sir Martin Evans himself and took the opportunity to invite him to join me in the bar afterwards to receive his share of my winnings in the form of a glass of Islay. Good times…

My list of possibles for 2008:

(1) Liz Blackburn, Carol Greider, and Jack Szostak for Telomerase

(2) James Till and Ernest McCulloch for their proof of stem cells (though back to back stem cell prizes is a long-shot)

(3) Len Herzenberg, Lee Herzenberg, and Irv Weissman for flow cytometry and the prospective identification of blood stem cells (same caveat at #2)

What is YOUR prediction?

This has nothing to do with science. It is about the other side of my brain, the one that sometimes thinks in rhyme, or stops to study a painting hanging in someone’s office, or reads a book that does not anywhere contain the phrase “Figure 1A”.

One of my favorite strangers in the whole wide world died this summer, but I just found out about it today. Grace Paley was a friend of mine, a person I loved, who could make me laugh and cry, mad as hell or happy like a little kid. What a way she had with describing everyday life. E. Annie Proulx’s writing reminds me a lot of Paley’s even though Proulx’s characters are full of rural twang these days (it makes me homesick to read Proulx’s stories anymore). Paley wrote of everyday people doing everyday things. She captured the majesty of mundane existence and the complexity of people’s inward selves, their simple joys and the tragedy of what comes to us all, in one way or another, if we live long enough. She taught us to smile anyway.

Grace Paley was a hero of mine. It’s a hard thing when your hero dies. It doesn’t make me feel older, just a bit more alone. I never got to meet Grace. That said, it sure seems like we knew the same people.

Today I’m in sunny Colorado attending the Aspen Institute’s Health Forum . I’ve only been here one day but so far, I’ve met Bill Frist, Olympic medalists Aaron Peirsol and Picabo Street, and saw a black bear eating out of a trash can.

Last night, I attended an event sponsored by General Electric’s Healthcare branch. The big guns were here and Joe Hogan, President and CEO of GE Healthcare put on a great show of the latest in imaging technology and a panel discussed how it can be used to protect today’s Olympic athletes. He highlighted some interesting bits about the upcoming Olympic games in China including that an investment of $40 billion dollars is being made by the Chinese government to support the games; an amount that dwarfs other sums spent for past games. This is where is started to get interesting for me.

Two panelists, Margie Hunt, Head Trainer for the US Olympic Committee and Dr. Jack Taunton, Chief Medical Officer for the 2010 Vancouver Winter Games each made digs about environmental quality in China. This was particularly noteworthy for me as each of these two people are charged with protecting the health of athletes, not to mention every other person attending the games in Taunton’s case. The most poignant was a comment made by Taunton in reference to a slide Joe Hogan from GE had shown in his presentation about the games in China (GE is a huge investor). Now remember, the slides that folks usually show at such an event are meant to impress, but the air quality in the city shot Hogan used looked worse than LA. It was absolutely abysmal. This got me thinking…

Perhaps for the games in China, we can introduce a fourth medal made of lead. It can be presented to the competitors or spectators who suffer the greatest exposure to toxic levels of environmental contaminants while playing with toys, drinking apple juice, or using toothpaste while attending the Olympic games in China. I think it’s an idea whose time has come.

I imagine that some of you are already rolling your eyes after reading the title of this post. I now have a Facebook account. There is currently an alumni page on Facebook for past participants in the Harvard Stem Cell Institute’s Summer Undergraduate Interns Program . I have really enjoyed being a part of the interns program since it started three years ago and when I was asked to sign up for an account so that everyone could keep in touch, I did. Internships should not “end” when the summer is over but rather, are meant to be a continual resource for students when they are looking for professional contacts later on and importantly, letters of recommendation for advanced studies programs.

Now that I’m on Facebook (and since my lab mate Jason saw me signing up for it) I have become aware that I am… uh… older than most people on it. Er, older than everyone on it. Jason gave me good natured (i.e. ruthless) ribbing about my motivations for being on Facebook and told me to not write to any of his nieces (thanks man… you’re a real pal).

So, now I have the stupid account (and a few people have added me as “friends”, which is nice), but I’m paranoid to use it. I’ve read here and there about awkward moments that come from supervisors or managers joining such online networking sites only to find photos of employees or subordinates wearing a lampshade on their heads or doing body shots after a monster truck rally. I’m trying to avoid any discomfort that might come from former students knowing that I am part of the website by simply not looking at anyone’s posted materials. I’ll just let them come to me if they need anything and now they know where to find me.

That said, why should I even have the account if I’m not going to use it? It all seems a bit silly, especially the sometimes conflicting notions of privacy and access on the net (or interweb as people “my age” are supposed to say). It’s like an invitation-only yard sale or something. Whatever… for now, I’m on Facebook and until I decide to bail completely from using it, why don’t you kids do me a favor and lower the volume on that crap you call music? It’s giving me a headache…

For the past two years, I have served the State of Connecticut in an advisory capacity for stem cell research. Connecticut is one of a few states actually giving out grant money for both academic and industrial research using stem cells. It was a truly rewarding experience and it was with no small amount of regret that I came to the end of my appointment period.

Thus, it was an absolute delight to be recognized by Her Excellency M. Jodi Rell, Governor of Connecticut, via a generous and touching commendation that included having Tuesday, September 18th, 2007 named as “Dr. Willy Lensch Day” in the State of Connecticut. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had my own day before. I couldn’t quite figure out what I should do with it. I spoke to an authority on holidays (my daughter Annie) and we decided that on “Dr. Willy Lensch Day” all children should put out their shoes before going to bed so that they could be filled with candy by a giant elf. Oh, and free pony rides for everyone… and free coffee… with those nice flavored creamers.

This brings up the following questions:

What would YOUR own holiday be?
How would it be celebrated?
What special traditions would it involve?

This ought to be good…

It’s that time of year again! The announcements for the 2007 Nobels are less than one month away. In observance of this most hallowed event in all of science, I am running my Nobel Nostradamus pool yet again.

Every year for I forget how long I’ve invited friends and colleagues (i.e. I seem to have no friends who aren’t colleagues) to predict the winners of the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine. I’ll be danged but last year someone actually hit it spot on (congrats to you Frau Dr. Schmitt … oh… and to Drs. Fire and Mello too I guess).

Who will it be this year? Every year I enter Mario Capecchi, Oliver Smithies, and Martin Evans (go lads, GO!!). I do hope they are reading this in Stockholm. HELLO??? I have a feeling that this year belongs to James Till and Ernest McCulloch . We shall see (I’m going to enter twice).

You there. Yes, YOU. Whom do you think will be meeting King Carl XVI Gustaf of Sweden this year? What is the name (or names) and for what will they be recognized? This is your chance for glory. Use it wisely.

I find blogging to be a curious undertaking. It seems to me that one might blog for various reasons, but I am somewhat mystified by what happens once I hit “publish” after I have finished a composition. How many people will read it? Will anyone read it? Comments would seem to be the truest measure of any impact had by blogging.

I do get feedback once in a while, but what I have found in my completely unscientific analysis of the process, is that people are less likely to comment on a serious blog than one that is trivial. Here’s what I mean… I did a little experiment here on Nature Network Boston. I posted a blog called The New Valley of Death more than one and a half months ago. It is a serious posting that describes the difficulties stemming from starting one’s independent career on private research grants as opposed to federal funding. It has not been commented upon and I have no way to know if anyone has ever read it.

This is in contrast to a “fun” posting that I made only two days ago, What’s Your Starbucks Name which has already received five comments (thank you).

What does this mean, if anything, to what “science blogs” are doing in the world? I know that it is completely incorrect for me to assume that my own experiences as a blogger reflect the state-of-affairs in the wider science blogosphere. There are some very successful science blogs out there and it is entirely possible that mine is simply not up to snuff. I’m not complaining. I write because I enjoy it. That said, it seems a worthwhile question to ask if there is there something to the hypothesis that in blogs, as well as life in general, we want candy instead of broccoli? Hmmm? Please feel free to comment… or not.

I drink coffee. A lot. In my frequent outings to Starbucks I have noticed something rather curious: people sometimes use an “alias” when placing their order. In a busy shop, the barista or sales person will usually ask what your name is and then write it on the cup. This can prevent confusion at the other end which likely saves lives (do not get in the way of someone who needs their coffee). Most people probably give their real name, the one on their driver’s license though many others do not. Instead, they give their Starbucks name (myself included). I am “Thor” and have been for over 15 years (it’s a long story). Sometimes I am asked how that is spelled and I always respond, “You know… THOR… god of thunder and rock and roll”. I actually have a Starbucks cup saved here in the lab that has “Thor, God of Thunder and Rock and Roll” written on it with lightning bolts to boot. It’s freaking AWESOME! It was a nice touch.

My Starbucks friends “Alice” and “Mike” are not named anything close to that in reality. I’ve been trying to come up with a good alias for another friend of mine (I think that “Una” is a nice substitute). I wonder why we do this. Maybe most Starbucks names are the result of having given names that other people always spell wrong (sorry Aloysius). Maybe it’s part of the desire for anonymity within the city. I do not know. Whatever the case, what our Starbucks names are and how we choose them are interesting. What’s your story javahead?

-Thor (non-fat grande almond latte please)

The “Valley of Death” refers to the stage of biomedical/pharma product development between basic research and commercialization. It is a notoriously difficult space in which to try and obtain the funding needed to push a product towards profitability. Well, biotech startups move over. There is a new Valley of Death in town.

At the NNB pub night tonight I spoke to a new faculty member from a Boston area academic research institution. He told me an unfortunately now familiar tale of how he is trying to do his research using small foundation grants because he can’t get a big one from the NIH. Small private grants are great but they don’t exactly make you a hero in the department. This is because while they might pay for quite a few tips and tubes, they almost never offer a reasonable overhead or indirect cost recovery rate.

For every dollar an investigator wins in direct NIH funding, the institution gets a certain amount on top of that, say 50 cents or so. Each institution negotiates their own rate with the federal government and these rates can vary between institutions due to intrinsic differences like real estate values, support salaries based on cost of living, and things like that. With private grants that do not offer the same indirect recovery rate as the NIH (most offer nothing or 5-10% at best), you might be paying for all your own reagents but you are not paying your share for the bench space you have, the light shining down on it, or the salary of who sweeps the floor around it relative to someone with the same amount of grant support from the NIH. Dig? Here’s where the Valley of Death comes in…

We’ve all heard the buzz about how hard it is to get a first, independent grant like an RO1. The chances are dismal, but just HOW BAD is it? The NIH tells us that the average age for a new investigator to receive a first RO1 has risen “to 42 (years of age) for PhD degree holders and 44 for MD and MD/PhD degree holders”. As my new friend told me, if you get hired on as an Assistant Professor, and get a three year startup package, based on the ages of most new faculty at hiring that money is going to be long gone by the time they have a chance to get independent funding. This is the new Valley of Death in academia and it’s wide and dry. If anything like its cousin in biotech and pharma, it’s going to be the stopping point for a lot of science.

It is with no small amount of sadness that I’ve learned of the tragic death of Professor Anne McLaren. She was among the elite within the field of developmental biology. A Fellow of the Royal Society, her 1976 book “Mammalian Chimaeras” is a true classic. Her passing is a great loss to science.