[by Mark Lucente, Ph.D.; 2004 February]
What did Stephen A. Benton teach me?
One answer might include lots of shoptalk, equations and technical terms: reference beam ratio and triethanolomine and lateral geniculate body, etc. A comprehensive answer would necessitate several volumes.
What did Steve Benton – my doctoral supervisor – teach me?
Another answer might include an assortment of rules of thumb: how many lobsters one needs per party guest, or how to use an exclamation point, or when to use “which” and when to use “that” (Steve knew grammar!).However, I have a simpler answer.
What Steve taught me was this:
how to think…
and
… how to know one's limitations,Creating the world’s first interactive holographic imaging
system was not easy; Steve often quipped that a commercially viable system was
only five Nobel prizes away. Using his
mysterious Zen-like intuition, Steve sensed which of the big ideas to work on
and which ones to save for later. It
took years for me to absorb that Zen, but now I think I know.
…how to eat sushi,
how to avoid spilling a fresh cup of coffee while walking
("don't look at it"),
how to respect and cherish the extraordinary and the
commonplace,
Steve once told the story of his days as a graduate student at Harvard, living in Somerville on Benton Rd. He wrote to City Hall to request that the southern extent of this street – his block – be renamed “South Benton Road,” for various legitimate logistical reasons, of course. I wondered why anyone would take the time to contrive a home address of S. Benton, S. Benton Rd.; years later, now I understand.
… how to hypnotize a rabbit,
how to behave,
how to sleep well in a hotel (“pack your own pillow”)
how to hold tight to the fantasy without suddenly believing it is real,
Research involves a confounding mixture of high expectations and frustratingly frequent failure. Perhaps only a fool or lunatic could fully embrace both. Somehow Steve made me feel that I could survive the failures while still dreaming of big ideas to master.
…how to order pizza,
how to sign an email,
how to ride a roller coaster,
the evils of "poor prior planning"…
In holography as in life, a tremendous amount of effort can fall to pieces simply because of poor prior planning. Steve insisted that we visualize laboratory procedure in detail, long before the safelights get switched on.
…balance…
But, in holography as in life, there are so many opportunities, challenges and surprises, and the excitement fuels a spirit of just-do-it. How to balance? Steve set the example, balancing prudence and pluck. He could make an experiment feel like the first moonshot: go for it! but first be certain that details and contingencies are pre-conceived and planned, from a fresh batch of bromine to a good pile of plasticine to a sign on the door saying “genius at work.” There were many lessoned learned.
…how to use the whole brain,
how to kill a wart,
how to wonder,
how to see things in a new light…
One day, Steve was explaining optical refraction to his
class of holography students. His
description of the colors of the rainbow – the operatic way he said a few
simple words – is burned into my brain: "red, yellow, green..." and sotto
voce ritardando "a saturated blue…”; it was the way his
eyes angled toward some higher dimension and his hand floated upward and his
fingers twiddled some invisible knob.
For over ten years now, I think of that moment each time I see a
rainbow. Steve could do that: take a
notion that we have all routinely wielded and pondered and suddenly turn
it into an epiphany.
Steve once told me
stay true to the dreams of your youth.
Perhaps this is the most important lesson that he taught me.
However, I have a simpler answer.
Steve taught me this: how to live.