Iberslab, 80’s Style
Nate Brese
This is a rap, for our buddy Jim
He taught us all well, so we think much of him
With the Jim shuffle and the somewhat dated clothes
We are endeared, especially by his nose
At first I worked with Doug. He taught me to blow glass
Jim taught me that weight, was not the same as mass
We filled the tubes with powder, and bromine just for luck
When Jim lit a volcano, I learned to duck
Reactions that made powder were not to be neglected
Since crystals were elusive, the powders were expected
A dab of oil and silicon, were mixed with the stuff
The chart recorder’s tricky, but in time it’s not so tough
After years in Cohen’s lab, a Rigaku close at hand
Jim bought us a Guinier, and we struck up the band
I trimmed the film to length, then asked him with some fear
“Jim what does it mean, to measure with vernier?..”
One night I came to work. The door was barred and locked.
The safety folks were distraught and could not be mocked
Clayton had informed them, perhaps without much stealth
Deuterium is an isotope. They feared for our health
A lady in the lab, I believe it was Barb
Had a faulty flask but had donned her safety garb
Some liquid was spilled and some glass did fly
They pulled a sticker from her neck that said, J-A-I
Another night while cleaning up, Judy had a scare
Some sodium in the sink, had lit up her hair
Uncertain I yelled out, “your locks are a flame”
A pat extinguished them, Michael Jackson’s not to blame.
Steve taught me alignment and precession without fear
Phil showed me the Weissenberg, with worm drive and gear
We set the arcs, and exposed, the film filled up with ‘stoons
I measured “a” and “beta-star” and met with Hoseop Yoon.
The CAD4 was a cinch to learn, and Phil helped me align
The peaks found automatically, the VAX worked out just fine
Despite the hat, my crystal iced, and yet it did not drift
The peaks screamed throughout the night. The structure was a gift.
The Picker was another story, Jim’s favorite instrument
A fussy beast, as best I’d tell, did cause me to lament
One day I turned a screw too tight, Jim’s wrath I came to fear
He vented quickly, then he sneered, “one nut the price my dear.”
Jim taught me to write, while toiling in his lab
The very first draft, looked like I’d been stabbed
As the years went on, I finally got it right
Dispersion was anomalous, and X-rays were just light.
One day we had a gathering, complete with beer and wine
The speech was somewhat slurred, but Jim seemed just fine
We shuffled upstairs afterwards, a crystal to align
No problems on the first try, inspired by the Rhine
The Ibers love to travel, so we see each other oft
Running, hiking, sailing; they sure are not soft
I’ve seen Jim talk science, while dripping wet with sweat
Mixing fact with humor, his usual mode I’d bet
Mighty Jim is a real guy, his career is quite distinguished
His integrity is sound, though his meanings can be squished
I thank you for the mentorship, the training and advice
The content was essential, what’s so special is the spice.
Nate Brese, Ibers_rap.doc, May 2002, p. 2