Company cafeterias must have many stories to tell.

They're a place where you can eat lunch year after year, and become familiar with faces you'll never meet.  Curiosity often grows. I've seen courtships, couples that endure, couples that break-up, unusual countenances, debonair men, attractive women who eat alone and read books, men in homosexual garb, and a person dressed like a witch (not for Halloween).  And at a place like JPL, where half the employees hold advanced degrees, nerds abound - men with two left brains, as I politely refer to them.

Today one of these men sat almost across from me.  I automatically categorized him without looking because he sat slightly within my private space (double-LB people are oblivious to such things).  When I looked I recognized him as one of those people I've occasionally seen for about 25 years.  Then I realized that I knew him from another setting.

About 6 years ago he and I were on the same "tiger team."  JPL assembled about 10 of us to conduct a high priority study of ways we could help the FAA with their National Air Space Plan.  We convened a half-dozen times for a couple weeks.  We had company privileges, like taking the company plane to various FAA sites. We put together a recommendation that apparently guided company policy.

Each person represented a specialty.  I don't remember what his was.  It probably had something to do with electronics, or computers, or communications.  I recall having a vague respect for him whenever I saw him, so he must have contributed something useful to the team's efforts.

As I was recalling these things I noticed something that disturbed me.  And it eventually brought a lump to my throat and made me want to cry!  His left hand started opening and closing involuntarily!  Then his face started grimacing the same way.  It subsided after a few seconds; but it returned every few minutes.

How cruel fate can be!  A stranger might have felt revulsion sitting beside him.  But I felt compassion.  I felt like saying "It's OK; don't feel ashamed; I understand, and I respect you!"

During the grimacing seizures I wondered how he was doing.  Was he married, did he have understanding and support from someone who loved him?  And how was he faring in the work setting?  I reasoned that his right frontal primary cortex ("motor strip") must be having seizure activity, but since his type of work relied mostly upon left frontal tertiary cortex he might actually be unimpaired in doing his work.

He finished lunch soon, and left.  But his presence was still with me.  And it's still with me.  He's a reminder of a future that could be mine.  Or yours!

This site opened:  November 17, 1998.   Last Update: November 17, 1998