John Greene
Well, I'm not making it to the reunion. But it isn't because I don't
want to go; actually, I'm the sort of person that was expecting to go to
every one that came along. It seems, though, that each time there's a
reunion, I have to be doing something.
Ten years ago, the reunion fell on the first day that I was supposed
to be on call as a doctor, and I was too freaked out to think about
anything else. Turns out there is this process called "switching,"
consisting of you going up to your colleague and saying, "Oh, hey,
buddy, can you take the weekend for me? I have to go to a reunion."
Then, see, you take their weekend the following month. Huh. Nothing
happened that weekend on call, anyway.
So for the twenty-year reunion, I knew that I was going to go. But
then, three years ago, a close friend of mine met a girl, and eventually
wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. The nerve. Now I'm a
groomsman, for a wedding in Virginia. Starting Friday night. Originally
I was going to try to make it the first night in Los Alamos, and miss
the rehearsal dinner. No problem, right? The rehearsal dinner is just to
see who's going to mess it up the next day anyway. However, the bride
WAS NOT HAPPY with this plan, and put a stop to it. What the heck?
Okay, so this is what I've been doing with my life. After I
graduated, I went to UCSD, which for me was the best thing I could have
done. I met a lot of good friends there, and San Diego is a great place
to go to college. I learned how to surf, and I was riding the bus every
day to go surfing, before I left.
I knew that I wanted to be a doctor, and I got into medical school at
UNM, around about 1993. I had always thought that I was going to be a
surgeon, and it turns out that surgery is really cool. However, there
were things I liked in the world that I would have to give up in order
to do surgery. Sleep was one; I like sleep. I also like having a
relationship. And skiing. So, I looked to the other end of the spectrum,
and chose Psychiatry. Oh, my, much better hours.
In 1996, I met Heather. What a fortunate event! She is pretty, smart,
and driven. She's been stomping the sarcasm out of me since we met,
which is a good thing. We moved in together, in 1997, when I went to
Stanford for residency. It takes four years to finish a psychiatry
residency, because that is the exact amount of time it takes for you to
discern between "Hmm, I think he's a little nuts," and "This guy is
wacked." Heather was teaching before she moved up to the Bay; now she
works at Apple Computer.
We got married in 2000, and I finished up at Stanford in 2001. Then,
I did some extra training in forensic psychiatry at UC Davis. It turns
out that I really love forensic psychiatry. This is how it works: I
watch on the news that some horrific crime has occurred. Then, about
three days later, I get a call from an attorney who wants me to go into
the jail to see if the guy's crime is related to him being crazy.
Dramatic. The thing is, though, that you have to figure out whether his
mental illness is real, or whether he is bullshitting, and you have to
do it in a way that he doesn't realize that you are doing it. Makes for
a fun afternoon. If everything goes well, I eventually end up
testifying, and get harassed by those darn nutty attorneys.
Now we live in Los Gatos, just outside of San Jose. Heather and I had
Joey, in 2004, a very cool little fella. And guess what? We just had
another baby, Daniel, on May 4, 2007. When both boys were first born and
chubby, everyone said they looked like me. Now that Joey is Mr. Lean,
everyone says he looks like Heather. Hey, now, hold on a minute.
Since a few of you are hanging around after the reunion, I'm coming
in on Sunday. If anyone else is going to be there then, let me know.
John
johnmgreene@hotmail.com
