Many years ago, I spent some time at the University of Michigan as a visiting researcher. For a young dermatologist from Japan, it was an extraordinary environment. The department was full of energy, and many distinguished dermatologists were working there, including John J. Voorhees, James T. Elder, Kevin D. Cooper, and Christopher E. M. Griffiths.
In the mornings, residents gathered for lectures and discussions. I remember sitting quietly among them and listening to Professor Rasmussen speak about Rook’s Dermatology. He was a remarkably learned man, yet warm and often humorous, and the atmosphere of his teaching was relaxed and stimulating.
The residents had come from many parts of the United States and were an impressive group of young physicians. Although most of them were younger than I was, they studied diligently and were extremely well prepared. On one occasion Professor Rasmussen asked my opinion during the discussion. I was not able to answer very well, but I still remember the moment with gratitude.
Brian J. Nickoloff was widely talked about among the residents as an exceptionally brilliant dermatopathologist whose ideas seemed to appear one after another. My own work was mainly in the laboratory studying cytokine expression in psoriasis, so I did not work with him directly, but his reputation for originality was already well known.
I also remember a brief conversation with Professor Headington. When I mentioned that his work on adnexal tumors was well known even in Japan, he seemed quietly pleased. Around the same time, Ken Hashimoto was working actively in nearby Detroit at Wayne State University, contributing greatly to dermatopathology.
At one joint conference between Wayne State University and the University of Michigan, patient demonstrations were still part of the meeting. There were conversations with the patients and lively discussions among the physicians. Professor Hashimoto spoke with confidence and dignity before the American dermatologists, and to me he appeared almost like a seasoned samurai.
Later I visited his home in Kalamazoo together with two Japanese colleagues from his laboratory. I remember being impressed by the thick, soft carpets in the house.
Professor Voorhees once invited many people to his home, perhaps for a Christmas gathering. The house seemed almost surrounded by woods and felt like a grand residence. The carpets there were even softer, and I recall a room with exercise equipment. Whenever I met Professor Voorhees, I felt rather nervous, yet he always greeted me warmly. His wife also spoke kindly to me despite my poor English.
In James T. Elder’s laboratory I learned molecular techniques such as RT-PCR and took part in studies on cytokine expression in psoriasis. With generous guidance from Dr. Elder, I was fortunate to be involved in a study on GRO-α mRNA expression in psoriatic epidermis, which was later published in the Journal of Investigative Dermatology in 1993. My role was modest, but it was a memorable experience for a visiting researcher.
Later, when Nair joined the laboratory, genetic approaches to psoriasis advanced rapidly and the research activity became even more vigorous. Around the same time, Dr. Elder also began studies using twin analyses, working with a European dermatologist to explore genetic susceptibility in psoriasis.
Life in Ann Arbor had its own rhythm of seasons. Winter was long and dark. I often walked to the university through quiet streets covered with snow and spent much of the day in laboratories in the basement.
Then, almost suddenly, spring arrived. Sunlight became bright, and people appeared outdoors in light clothing, filling the streets and parks.
Autumn was equally memorable. The fall colors were vivid beneath a clear blue sky. Unlike Japan, many of the leaves were bright yellow rather than red. Even now I sometimes recall those early autumn days after my arrival in America.
It was also my first experience of Halloween. Shopkeepers and people in town wore costumes, and the atmosphere felt both unfamiliar and festive.
Since I was not directly employed in Dr. Elder’s laboratory but supported by a Japanese government fellowship, I sometimes slipped out of the lab around noon and walked to the grassy area near what I remember as the Huron River. There I would sit or lie down for a while, eating a simple lunch and enjoying the quiet. Because I disappeared so often, the lab staff sometimes joked, “Is it siesta again today?”
On weekends families often walked along the river and in nearby parks. I remember benches with small plaques dedicated to someone’s lost partner or family member. I liked to sit there for a while, reading the inscriptions or simply watching people pass by.
As I recall, I once attended a jazz concert—perhaps Sonny Rollins—at what I think was the Power Center. By chance I met one of the clinical professors there. He told me that although Ann Arbor was a small town, it was considered one of the cultural centers in the United States and that many major performances visited the city. I remember thinking how remarkable that was.
Looking back now, these memories remain like small fragments of a mosaic. I was only a small participant in that remarkable place, but the experience left quiet and lasting impressions—small gleanings gathered during my years in dermatology.
English version prepared with AI assistance
(Originally written in Japanese)
Japanese version: