To my father

Lessons of our fathers.

First, let me begin by apologizing to Beth McNally, our vice president, to my mother and to my wife, and to all the other women who may be offended by the title of my talk today. I mean no insult or discrimination. Rather, I chose this title because I would like to dedicate my comments to the memory of my own father, Franklin Epstein (Figure 1), who was a long-standing member of these associati...

Non-conventional multi-carrier air interface for mobile radio systems

for the technical discussions, the endless support and the friendship. Thanks to Jessie, Guixia, Dan, Roger and Maran who are sharing my same experience at Siemens AG. Last but not least, I would like to thank my family. In Italy: my mother, my father, my brothers and all my relatives in Saccolongo. In Germany: my wife Corinna to whom this thesis is dedicated.

Telomerase discovery: the excitement of putting together pieces of the puzzle (Nobel lecture).

I was born in San Diego, California, in 1961. My brother Mark was born in January of the previous year. My father Kenneth Greider was a physicist who had recently graduated with a PhD from University of California at Berkeley. My mother Jean Foley Greider also had received her PhD from UC Berkeley in botany. My father worked high-energy nuclear physics and my mother was a mycologist and a genet...

From Turin to Stockholm via St. Louis and Rio de Janeiro.

The absence of psychological complexes, tenacity in following the path I reputed to be right, and the habit of underestimating obstacles--a trait I inherited from my father-have helped me enormously in facing life's most tragic occurrences. To my father, and to my mother, I owe also a tendency to look on others with sympathy and without diffidence. This attitude, which was common to all four of...

My father's silence.

My father read the New York Times with verve usually reserved for reading Torah. Each morning he would start with the front page and move systematically to the back section, pausing only to spoon from an ever-present bowl of oatmeal placed next to the paper by my mother. From the other side of the paper I watched him scan the print, leaned over like a Rebbe, every morning for most of my childho...

My father and mother My brothers and sisters My lovely son Ahmed My friends All paediatrician Our lovely children