By John Q. Hosedrinker 
The Nobel Prize in Medicine has been awarded to three researchers this year, with Fred Ramsdell, Mary Brunkow, and Shimon Sakaguchi sharing the prestigious honor for their discoveries related to the immune system, specifically regulatory T-cells. While the committee successfully contacted Brunkow and Sakaguchi, they have been unable to reach Ramsdell, who is on a backpacking trip. The trio’s research has contributed to the understanding of peripheral immune tolerance and opened new avenues for potential medical treatments. This isn’t the first time the Nobel committee has had difficulties in reaching the award recipient, as the winners of the prize for economics faced a similar challenge in 2020.
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Nobel committee unable to reach prize winner who is ‘living his best life’ hiking off grid. It’s a wonderfully quirky scenario, isn’t it? The image of the Nobel Committee, steeped in tradition and formality, desperately trying to contact someone who’s seemingly vanished off the face of the earth to live their best life, is almost cinematic. It’s a testament to a life well-lived, a life prioritized outside of the trappings of fame and recognition, and maybe, just maybe, a gentle rebellion against the very system that seeks to honor them.
This situation isn’t as rare as you might think. The pressures of the academic world are immense, and the lives of those who reach the pinnacle of their fields can be incredibly demanding. You’re talking about individuals who have dedicated their lives to groundbreaking research, often at the expense of other pursuits. It’s completely believable that someone, weary of the spotlight and the relentless demands of academia, would crave the solitude of the wilderness. A hike, off-grid, is a powerful antidote to the pressures of the modern world, and who could blame them for seeking it?
Thinking about this, the Nobel Committee has had similar issues before. Apparently, in 2020, contacting the winners of the economics prize proved tricky. Imagine Bob Wilson, blissfully unaware, enjoying a peaceful night’s sleep, only to have his phone ringing in the middle of the night. He smartly unplugged it. The Committee then had to call his wife. And it’s almost as if it became a game: the Committee knew the prize winner had his phone turned off and instead called the wife to pass on the news. Good on them. That’s an interesting fact.
The anecdote about William Moerner, who was on vacation abroad when he got the call, further underscores this point. These individuals are often so deeply immersed in their work, so committed to their research, that they may be unreachable, vacationing in far away places, when the world comes calling. It also says something about the kind of person who reaches that level of achievement: someone who prioritizes their work and is likely very comfortable being away from the hustle and bustle of modern society.
Then, there’s the amusing case of the Japanese winner who was contacted while working overtime. He initially thought it was a prank call and brushed it off. His colleagues were similarly clueless. The news of his Nobel Prize wasn’t immediately obvious. Then the news broke about a Japanese man winning the prize, but no one knew who the hell he was, and it took the media to find him through his place of employment. It’s fascinating how even such a momentous achievement can feel so surreal, so disconnected from the everyday reality of someone’s life. His own mother initially thought it was a coincidence, which just adds to the hilarity of the situation. It’s a testament to how life-altering the Nobel Prize is, and how much it can change the life of someone who isn’t ready for it.
Richard Feynman’s response, “I could have found out later this morning,” is also telling. This reaction highlights the pragmatism and potentially, the slight inconvenience that receiving such a prestigious award can cause. Why call someone in the middle of the night? It’s an overreaction, as he suggested. Maybe it’s a tradition, a part of the ceremony, a way to build anticipation. But it’s also a little funny, in a way.
And then, there’s the potential for a Trumpian response. If, hypothetically, a former president was in contention for the prize, and the news broke that the recipient was unreachable, I can only imagine what the social media responses would be. The deranged response to such a story would be an entertaining read. Perhaps they’d insult the recipient for not embracing the award, or maybe they’d declare that the honor rightly belongs to them. The possibilities are endless, but the underlying theme would likely be the same: a focus on personal gain and ego, contrasting sharply with the recipient’s desire for a quiet life.
Finally, the imposter syndrome. The Japanese winner, Tanaka, openly doubted his worthiness. That kind of humility is perhaps another common trait among these brilliant individuals, an awareness of the collaborative nature of scientific progress and the role of chance and coincidence. It’s both relatable and endearing, a reminder that even those who achieve greatness can feel a touch of self-doubt. It’s interesting that he wasn’t confident enough to pass internal exams either.
The story of these prize winners gives us a glimpse into the lives of some very unique individuals. It’s also a reminder that the pursuit of knowledge and achievement doesn’t always align with the desire for recognition or public acclaim. Sometimes, the greatest rewards are found in the freedom to pursue one’s passions, away from the noise and expectations of the world. It’s the best life to be lived, truly.