I just returned from a visit to Cambridge, MA where I visited two of the Harvard museums, the new combined Harvard Art Museums and the Harvard Museum of Natural History. I don't remember spending much time at the art museums when I was an undergraduate, but my advisor's office was located in what was then called the Museum of Comparative Zoology. In the evolution exhibit, I watched a video that featured my advisor, Stephen Jay Gould, the most effortlessly erudite man I ever met, as well as E.O. Wilson, my first biology professor. Both of them became authorities in their fields. When I met Gould, he was not yet a full professor and co-taught the introductory geology course. He was a scientist concerned with social justice at a time when many felt that it was wrong for scientists to express opinions outside of their academic pursuits. And he was a writer, a wonderful, eclectic writer. At my weekly tutorial, I struggled to follow his discourse, darting about paleontology, biology, various languages and baseball (that was hopeless). I always left challenged and grateful. He recognized how odd it was for a black girl to major in geology in those political times. He laughed about being a Jew from New York City, who discovered rocks in museums, as I did, unlike many geologists who have rural roots. It is his support to pursue my inner nerd that I remember most now, all these years later, not the geology. When he died in 2002, I was surprised to find out that he was only ten years older than I was because he seemed so wise. It was great to feel in his presence again.