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I’ve known Ed Hoffman
since 1990. I knew of him since 1989 as one of the co-inventors
of Positron Emission Tomography (PET), and as a world-class scientist.
So, when I started working for Ed in graduate school in 1992, he
asked me if I was willing to take a risk by doing something different
than PET. Not knowing any better – but thinking that he had
already been at the forefront of something that seemed quite successful
– I jumped right in.
A few others had toyed with similar ideas, but Ed basically helped
establish a “new” field of compact molecular imaging devices.
This field includes his lab’s more recent research endeavors,
and also his active participation and positive influence in the
medical imaging community, especially in the nuclear medical sciences.
This class of technologies has even been variously mentioned in
discussions about the future of Nuclear Medicine, as the ultimate
direction of the field: where molecular imaging can have an immediate
and direct impact on patient care. But in these overview presentations,
Ed was not always mentioned by name – he was never the star,
never in the spotlight. In fact, he never sought the spotlight,
since I don’t believe he needed that affirmation. He preferred
to be in the lab doing research, generating discussion and ideas,
or otherwise engaging students and colleagues.
He promoted and unequivocally supported the people working with
him, and he did this tirelessly: for students in and even those
not directly in his lab, all manner of researchers and administrators,
and many professional colleagues as well. This is a testament to
the fact that he was a fantastic human being who treated everyone
with respect regardless of their rank.
He once told me, “Every minute that I spend working in my office,
is another minute that you [his graduate students] can spend in
the lab.” There was much he shielded us from, so that we really
could have fun, explore, and grow as students and individuals. He
kept us from having to worry about administrative issues or academic
politics. He set up a “scientific playground,” and that
really seemed like a theme to his lab. He taught me that the “academic
race” was truly one of pure intellectual pursuit, of discovering,
inventing and just playing with ideas and instruments to help solve
problems.
He always encouraged learning and self-discovery, and he had confidence
in us to try to figure out questions for ourselves first. At any
impasse, you could always go to him, and after listening to your
explanation, he would have this clear vision to the heart of the
problem, and would help open up a path to solving it.
While he was clearly woven into the fabric of the academic and scientific
communities and was a world-class scientist, he was an even better
mentor and friend. He always seemed to give the right advice at
the right time. He once told me, “Play to your strengths.”
And when he said that – even though this was a familiar adage
– I somehow got this feeling he meant it in a completely supportive
way, for all aspects of life. You didn’t often get pats-on-the-back
from him, but his approval was unmistakable, and the drive it inspired
in all of us was invigorating.
He taught to me not to worry about the little things. He taught
me that most things were “little.” And, he taught me that
it takes working long hours to get things done – but this means
working long hours on every aspect of one’s life, including,
first and foremost, family, and working in this field of molecular
imaging, on which he has had such a profound impact. Of course,
he also said that if we’re not enjoying these working hours,
we should change them so that we are. I personally try to “work
to live,” and I appreciate that Ed showed me how to take things
in stride, how to balance hard work with enjoying non-working life
to the fullest, and even how to make sense of it all.
“If you can survive in the hard times, you can enjoy it when
times are plenty,” he once said. With his loss, we are unfortunately
in one of the hard times. I am grateful for all he has given me
and us, and for all the wonderful memories that we have of him that
can help each of us through it.
Martin P. Tornai can be reached at the Duke University Medical Center,
DUMC-3949, Durham, NC 27710-0001; Phone:+1 919 684-7940; Fax: +1
919 684-7164; E-mail:martin.tornai@duke.edu.
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