A Life of Curiosity: Remembering Vera Rubin Through Her Granddaughter’s Eyes
A personal tribute to astronomer Vera Rubin, told through stories and memories from her granddaughter, Ramona Rubin.
On June 3, 2025, the Dr. Vera Rubin quarter was released as part of the American Women QuartersTM Program, our partnership with the U.S. Mint. Rubin was selected as an honoree for her groundbreaking contributions in the field of astronomy, in which she proved the existence of dark matter and reshaped our understanding of the universe. Staff writer Meredith Herndon interviewed Ramona Rubin, Vera Rubin’s granddaughter, to reflect on her grandmother’s legacy, not only in science, but in family, community, and the spirit of mentorship that continues to inspire generations of women in science.
To start, please describe your relationship to Vera Rubin. What is your favorite or most vivid memory of her?
Vera Rubin was my grandmother. I’m the oldest of her five grandchildren, and although I grew up on the other side of the country, we got together often for family gatherings. We’d visit her home in D.C., where the atmosphere was always full of curiosity—conversations about science, the universe, and how things worked. We also spent a lot of time in nature, hiking and exploring together.
One of my favorite memories of her is from our family cabin in Wyoming in 1986, when Halley’s Comet came around. There were three generations of us there, including my great-grandfather. I was nine years old, and it was my grandmother’s only chance to see the comet in her lifetime. I remember standing outside with her in the dark, looking up at the sky as she explained the periodicity of comets—and how old I’d be, if I was still alive, when it came back. Sharing that once-in-a-lifetime astronomical moment with her was very special for me.
Vera’s children all went on to earn PhDs in scientific fields, which speaks volumes about the environment she helped create. What kind of values or sense of curiosity did she nurture in the family? How did she influence you personally, either directly or indirectly through other family members.
I think the fact that all of her children pursued science wasn't because she pushed them towards it, but because they just really grew up seeing that curiosity could be a career. We were always told that your job should be something that you love doing, that you come home from and want to keep working on into the evening. She set that example of doing something that you love.
Do you remember any stories that reflect her character, whether humorous, inspiring, or unexpected?
My favorite story is the iconic one about her cutting out the paper skirt and putting it on the figure on the bathroom door at the Palomar Observatory when they tried to reject her application due to limited facilities. She wasn’t trying to make a political statement, just trying to overcome the obstacle. “I can’t observe at the telescope because there’s no women’s bathroom? Let’s hang a curtain, put a skirt on the stick figure, and now there’s a women’s bathroom. Problem solved.” She didn’t like letting obstacles get in the way of answering questions and doing interesting science.
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How did the family view her scientific achievements during her lifetime? Was there a shared sense of how groundbreaking her work really was?
I think the excitement was less about her as a person and more about the science. In the early years, simply gaining access to research opportunities was a huge struggle for her. Then when her results came in, they were so astonishing that the old guard of science didn't want to believe them.
When the recognition started to happen, most of the feeling was just relief. Relief that the observational findings were acknowledged, that the data illustrating the presence of dark matter was finally accepted. She was much more interested in serving as a role model than being acknowledged for her accomplishments, and much more excited about the science than about the fame.
She was an outspoken advocate for the recognition of women in science. In the past few years, she’s been honored in multiple ways—from the Vera C. Rubin Observatory in Chile to now the new U.S. quarter. What do you think she would make of this recognition? How do you see her influence continuing to shape the conversation around women in science?
I think she'd be both deeply moved and also a little overwhelmed by all this recognition. When she was just fighting for observation time at the telescopes, I don't think she could have ever imagined her name on an observatory in Chile, let alone on a coin.
What would mean the most to her, I believe, is that these honors translate into real change. If the observatory bearing her name enables discoveries by astronomers who might never have had the chance in her era, and if the quarter sparks conversations about women in science in places far beyond academic conferences—in grocery stores, classrooms, and families counting their change. My grandmother would want her influence to be practical, not just symbolic.
The recognition is wonderful, but she would agree the real measure of success is whether we're creating pathways for the next generation. My grandmother would want young women to look at these honors and not think, “how amazing that one woman broke barriers,” but rather, “science is a place where I belong.” Her goal was never to be the exception, it was to make a woman in science unremarkable. She wanted us to know that excellence in science comes from a diversity of thought and experience, not despite it.
What is your reaction to Vera Rubin being honored on a U.S. quarter?
My first reaction was excitement, and the news also reminded me of another coin in our family with an inspiring history.
When my great-grandfather came to the United States, he was just 5 years old. His family moved, but he stayed behind and lived with a family friend so that he could finish high school in the same city. He went on to become valedictorian of his high school. As his valedictorian award, he was given two American eagle half-dollar gold coins.
In the 1970s, he gave these coins to his two daughters, my grandmother Vera and her sister Ruth. My great-grandparents even laminated the coins and mounted them on cards as keepsakes when they gifted them. Eventually, my grandmother’s gold coin was passed down to me. It’s become a family heirloom, a reminder that you can succeed and accomplish whatever you set your mind to.
So when I learned that my grandmother was being honored on a new quarter, it reminded me of this other coin in our family and how coins can be such a powerful symbol and source of inspiration.
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Is there anything else you'd like to share about Vera that we haven’t covered—something you feel is essential to understanding who she was?
The last thing I’d like to end on, is that she taught me that there is no conflict between science and spirituality—and by spirituality, I mean just plain awe at the universe.
There is no conflict between being amazed at the grandeur and bigness of everything, and then also being very disciplined and analytic.
Just like there's no conflict between having a career and having a family.
I think that's her lasting legacy, that she fully lived embracing both.