doubts crept in. I realized that those days were 50 years ago and I had to ask myself how I could possibly know that my recollections were even moderately accurate. This is a valid question since—having heard old tales from others where I remembered the events quite differently—it is clear that memory is a faulty and selective device. Eventually, however, the comforting thought struck that anyone who might be in a position to argue with me was likely either to be dead or to have as faulty a memory as my own. So I have plowed ahead. Given that disclaimer, I do remember that I met Dave’s feet several weeks before I met his head. When I first came into the Waugh lab at MIT, Dave was already established as a beginning graduate student, and I certainly knew about him. However, he (or whoever it was) seemed to spend all his time lying underneath the Model E Analytical Ultracentrifuges—aligning the optics, replacing the drive, etc.—and as a consequence we were always tripping over his feet, but rarely saw the rest of him. I soon learned that our Ph.D. advisor, David