Notes from the beginning of time.

Sidman (2002) wrote a personal story about the early days of behavior analysis. He described how the first BCBAs learned from each other without formal classes or big conferences. They shared ideas over coffee, mailed handwritten notes, and welcomed outsiders like speech therapists and teachers into their work.

The paper finds that early behavior analysis grew through friendly mentorship, not rigid rules. People tried ideas together, failed fast, and kept what worked. This loose, open style created tight bonds and fast learning. The author warns that today's push for strict standards could lose that creative spirit.

Jackson-Perry et al. (2025) extend the same open-door idea but add autistic voices to the table. Where Murray recalls informal chats, Jackson-Perry calls for formal Critical Behavioral Studies that include self-advocates from day one. The goal matches: keep the field human and humble.

McComas et al. (2025) pick up the inclusivity thread and give it teeth. They show that everyday ABA still holds hidden ableism—like goals that aim to make autistic kids look 'normal.' Their paper turns Murray's nostalgic plea into a checklist you can use today: audit your language, ask clients what they want, drop compliance goals that harm.

Alligood et al. (2021) update the mentorship story for modern times. Murray remembers learning beside elders in hospital basements; Alligood maps a clear path to find mentors, join online groups, and take paid starter roles in new specialty areas. Same spirit, new tools.

You can keep the best of both eras. Use Murray's friendly curiosity—say hello to the OT at your clinic and trade data sheets. Pair it with today's tools: join the state ABA advocacy group Napolitano et al. (2025) suggest, follow autistic advocates on social media, and run the anti-ableism audit from McComas et al. (2025) on your next treatment plan. Blend old-school openness with new-school accountability.