Now I arrive at my 68th year, about to reflect on a life-long career. The whole thing began with DNA; A mother, a father, the old-fashioned way. Born in a land of ice, snow, and blizzards, famous for lobsters and myelin wizards. As a youth I was drawn to chemistry and math. Fumes and vile odors I saw as my path. First Bowdoin, then Princeton for graduate studies with learned professors and billiard room buddies. (Author's note: It's a little known fact that Bill and his billiard buddies won the team billiard championship at Princeton in 1952). When DuPont beckoned I answered the call. Free radicals became my major enthrall. But then I took a trip to the Bronx where I met Saul Korey, and other wise wonks They told me 'young man it really is true; You too can become a neural guru'. 'We need guys like you', big Saul said to me. 'Our field will advance with more chemistry.' So I hastened to Einstein, alert and clean shaven, eager to become a myelin maven. With colleagues like Katzman, Scheinberg and Terry; imposing figures, awesome and scary. And down the hall were Ledeen and Suzuki, the ganglioside ghouls, high strung and a bit kooky. While upstairs there labored a guy named Rapport, who pushed lipid haptens and myths of that sort. My postdoc completed, a beard was soon grown. Rabbi Norton of Einstein, I came to be known. Some graduate students then came on the scene. First there was Lucy, later Irene. And hard-working postdocs by dozens appeared; George, Alex, Wendy—hardly one with a beard. Until there came Oliver of future book fame. 'I'm a seeker of truth', he did stoutly proclaim. 'And I have a mission', he went on to state, 'to obtain kosher myelin from an invertebrate'. Weeks later I told him, 'please transfer to rehab before you destroy the rest of my lab'. But the magic hands of Shirley and Farooq gave ultra results that were one for the book. We had some help from the immuno clique; Celia and Murray and omniscient Cedrique. My colleagues to me did the journal entrust, and hundreds of manuscripts soon bit the dust. I served ASN on the governing team; no spicy scandals in my regime. The research continued, data on cue; many papers were published, some of them true. Sweet milk did flow from the NIH cow. Playing the grant game was the cat's meow. But the times they have changed, my colleagues are blue. What once gave us milk now gives us 'moo'. To the next generation we now look for guidance. I've had a full life, and not all in science. Whiskey, wild women, even cigarettes; I've done it all and I have no regrets.