Day 29: Daffodils

Listening to: "The New Periodic Table Song" by ASAPScience

I fully recognize that I lose most of my Facebook audience with the art (apart from the Mona Lisa), and now I risk alienating you guys because science can be scary. :O

But I'm going to do it anyway! Why? Because, as my parents can tell you, it's very hard to get me to shut up about something when I have all these random (aka useless) facts swarming around in my head.

Admittedly, I was a bit disappointed when I walked inside. I had just entered a giant room. There were timelines and information tablets lining the perimeter, but it was very modern and (seemingly) not filled with exciting things. But then I looked around--which should be the real lesson here because it's when I find all the awesome stuff.

Ugh, Google has decided to be difficult about letting me rotate these photos. But stick with me here, I'll explain everything (much to your chagrin, I know).

Many people don't know that Marie and Pierre Curie had a daughter who also won a Nobel Prize for her scientific work: Irene Curie-Joliot. (That's my way of saying I didn't now that fact either until recently.) But even I didn't know that she had another daughter: Eve Curie. Eve, pictured above, seemed to have been the black sheep of the family, as she was the only one to not pursue a scientific career: she became a pianist. Still a fine accomplishment, and Marie Curie was ever-supportive of her daughter's literary and artistic interests. 

When Marie died, Eve began compiling all of her old notes, journals, and documents. She sorted through them, and she eventually went on to write Madame Curie, a biography about her own (badass) mother. It became an international bestseller and was translated into 35 languages. 

But that still wasn't enough for young Eve. When France fell under Nazi occupation in 1940, she sought refuge at the Royal University and worked for the Allied cause. She wrote another book entitled Journey Among Warriors, a personal account of what she saw on the war front. And after WWII, she still wasn't content to sit around. She became a special consultant for the Secretary General of OTAN (I admittedly don't know what that acronym stands for). Eve also went on to marry Henry Labouisse, who was president of UNICEF for 15 years. What a power couple. Anyway, she became an American citizen, because despite the very French-looking name, Henry was an American.

She continued to donate to the Curie Foundation, and she went on to earn even more accolades. One of my favorite parts of this little bio was her response to her success: she was a witty self-deprecator, it appears. She joked about how she accomplished "nothing" in comparison to her mother and father--winners of the Nobel Prize--and her sister and brother-in-law--also winners of the Nobel Prize. (This attitude is how I often felt when I was described as only the salutatorian while Andrew and Meghan were both valedictorian of their respective classes. You must plaster a big, fake smile before you say anything too mean back at them.)

Okay, it seems like I'm writing a report here. But that stuff fascinates me.

 These three items above were not literally radioactive; don't worry for my safety (especially you, Mother)! Apparently, when radium was in its heyday, it was considered quite "hip" to label your products as containing radium. Even if they didn't. And even though if they really did, people clearly shouldn't be buying them. But oh well. At least they have the excuse of not knowing that radioactivity had the nasty habit of leading to cancer; we're fully aware of risks nowadays and still do them. :/ (Side note: Apparently, I came all the way to France only to have to walk by "Smoker's Corner" when I exit campus. I mean, COME ON.)

Geiger-counter--a most awesome word--and radium dial clock pictured above, respectively. And, as always, I had a Big Bang Theory quote for the moment. (You know, kind of like how Tom Hanks always had advice from The Godfather to give, although I honestly don't know why since I fell asleep watching it.)

Sheldon: This building is very old.

Raj: It used to be a watch factory.

Sheldon: Aren't you worried about the residual radium from the luminous dials?

Raj: Not until now!

Sheldon: I can't believe I didn't bring my Geiger-counter. I had it on the bed and everything, and I didn't pack it.

How could you not bring your Geiger-counter with you??? (Fine. If you know the episodes as well as I do, you know Sheldon actually did bring the Geiger-counter and he subverting the conversational expectations--pulling the "old switcheroo"--on Raj. But that slightly complicates the story for those already functioning at barely-paying-attention level.)

Then it finally occurs to them: Wow, a lot of these researchers are dying from cancer. At least they didn't assume that correlation implied causation, but maybe they also should've been more wary of a glowing, blue substance that was capable of nuclear fission. Fun fact from the museum: Hippocrates may have recorded and observed cancer in patients thousands of years ago. In fact, "cancer" comes from a Greek word, although that's not as much of a surprise.

Cell drawings are always an amazing fusion of art and science. It goes hand-in-hand.

Their signatures! Well, not the Curie family, but Marie signed with other prominent researchers of the day.

The United States presented Marie Curie with a bit of radium and an award. Apparently, we adored her.

This is the container in which President Warren G. Harding presented the radium to Marie Curie. And though it looks thick, I'm still wondering, Is that really enough? I mean, no one was worried about the president holding a recently-discovered, glowing, blue element? Even though it was Harding, it seems like a terrible thing to leave to chance.

Panorama of the office. 

My jaw actually dropped when I saw this room. You see, since I had only walked into the one room, I feared that I had come to the wrong place. But nope. Her office. Still here. Still intact.

Yes, I took a picture of a doorknob, but with good reason! (I reiterate: sometimes there's a method to my madness.) This door is one of the most radioactive spots in the room, and technically, in an industrial building.

I find it incredibly sweet that she had a picture of Pierre. 

What I also hadn't known before junior year of high school (shout-out to Ms. Norland!) was that Pierre was struck by an automobile while riding on his bike. (The couple were bike aficionados. They seriously spent their honeymoon biking across France. For fun.) So she became a widow, and though she did get caught up in an extramarital affair with another scientist, it seems that Pierre remained her "soul mate." (I'm cringing, trust me. By the way, the French use the phrase "soul sister" instead of "soul mate." So Train also wasn't just making shit up. Oh, and just because, you should totally listen to my amazing girl Alyssa sing a cover.)

Anyway. Yes, Marie Curie had a pretty saucy personal life. It's interesting to read about, but I don't really want it to come in the way of her contributions to science. I think the femme fatale thing comes from fear of successful women, but then again, I am also incredibly biased. :)

This is also another prime spot for radioactive traces. You know, because you have to pull your chair out to sit in it.

And now we say "bienvenue" to the lab.

Well, I'm going to assume this is either Marie's or Irene's, unless Pierre and Frédéric were hiding something...

"The decontamination and restoration of Marie Curie's laboratory and office were made possible by La Ligue Nationale Française Contre le Cancer (or the French National League Against Cancer)." Hopefully that wasn't too terrible of a translation...

Disappointingly, my panorama of the laboratory was very dark, given that lighting is difficult to control in a panorama. Oh, well. You win some, you lose some.

A lot of the fancy gadgets seen in the big room are remakes. But all of these instruments are originals! :D I have more detailed pictures on Facebook.

Main room of the museum. It's very modest, but I like it. It doesn't need to be showy.

Science's Best Power Couple: Tie between Pierre & Marie Curie and Irene & Frédéric Joliot-Curie

Honestly, I vote for the two on the right because that is bold, taking your wife's surname AND sticking it on the end of the name instead of before. Frédéric has a lot of points in my book.

This is the garden out back. It is apparently quite lovely in the spring, and the museum hosts activities in it. However, I will be back in America. I was wailing inside. I still found it charming, despite the bitter cold.

This would have been the view from Marie's office window.

And this would've been the view from the lab.

I explored all around the gardens, going up to buildings and pulling doors. A senior tour group came in, and they seemed surprised at my ease to explore. I mean, the sign said it's decontaminated.

And then I had to get my picture taken because A.) my outfit was nice and too many of my nice outfits have been hidden under coats and B.) these are the people that I celebrate.

Once again, I became a little kid in that museum. The two people behind the front desk seemed to sense it; they gave me a program and informed me that they show a film in the amphitheater every Saturday (I had just missed the one today) and invited me to come back. 

And all of the souvenirs (books) from the shop become donations to the group mentioned above, the French National League Against Cancer. I was surprised to find a basket full of fake daffodils on the desk. The man behind the counter kindly explained that daffodils are the symbol of the fight against cancer, as they are the first flowers to grow when spring returns. I think that's very appropriate. I told them about how we have similar programs in America, specifically mentioning Relay for Life. They seemed impressed. (See? We have hearts too.) But then I reminded them that we're all connected to cancer, either by having the disease or knowing someone who does--or, most sadly, did.

So I want to end this without the snark yet again to pay tribute to my father's father, Fred Willard. "Grandpa and Grandma Willard" were always happy to let me come and sled at their Vermont home. I had given Grandpa Willard a stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh in a sailor costume, as he was in the Navy. Before he passed away, he gave it back to me, and I miss seeing it in my room before I go to bed. And--as Mom would want to interject--I had a sweet moment with Grandma Willard at the funeral when I took her hand as she cried. They're both gone now, and I miss those relaxed, innocent times.

And now my other grandfather--my mother's father--is undergoing countless surgeries to combat the tumor the doctors discovered. It's been an anxious time for our family--if I can speak for the Aivaz clan--but at one of my scholarship dinners, one of the intimidating police officers admitted that he found my grandfather terrifying, as my grandpa was a respected member of the Plainville Police Department family as well. So he's resilient--stubborn and strong, a very powerful combination. 

It's quite impossible to say that my meager five euro contribution will help tremendously, but it's also impossible to say that it's not a stepping stone. Science is progress. And I want to see it make some leaps, but I know it will take time. 

A book I read in seventh grade, Full Tilt by Neil Shusterman, contains a passage describing cancer as the great equalizer, a completely undiscriminating entity: it can happen to anyone. It happened to these Nobel laureates. It's happened--and is happening--to my family. (And for the moment of dark comedy: At least my grandfathers didn't play with radium.) And so it's weird to think of my grandfathers in the same group as Marie Curie and Irene Curie-Joliot, but this link serves to make each story more compelling, not to diminish anyone's tale.

Note: I genuinely apologize if this seemed like an emotionally manipulating passage (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is the prime example of that), but I occasionally want to say things other than complaining about my actually decent life and lecturing everybody on math. My nice side is buried, but it can be fully unearthed when I had an incredible, fulfilling day like today. Sending lots of love and hope from across the Atlantic.