
It was
Christmas, and we were somewhat poor. That meant we didn’t get nice
presents. But we usually got more
than one present each, and Dad and Mom did their best to make it
special
in other ways. When I was about four or five, I got a book—not
just any book, a book of mazes. You know the kind: you trace a line
with
a pencil from the start to the finish. Sometimes it’s easy,
and
other times you throw your pencil or book across the room or
just stomp around.
I turned to the first page. It took me a second to figure it out,
because reading directions wasn’t my strong point, but the old man came
over to help. He showed me one, and it seemed easy enough. So I did the
next one and the next. After about a half dozen, they started getting
harder. The harder they got, the more I had to think. The more I had to
think, the greater the sense of pride I felt when I whipped it. And
finally the book was done, so I saved my money and bought another and
finished it, and so on and so on. Next thing I knew, I was doing
different kinds of puzzles, and sometimes I couldn’t solve
them. I
didn’t know it then, but I was hooked.
Mazes are like science. At first, they seem mysterious and
unsolvable. But you know there is an answer. So you work at it and work
at it, and when you get the answer, it is awesome. Yet sometimes you
can’t get the answer. But here is where the beauty comes in: you know
there is an answer. That is science.