“The progress is remarkable,” my friend Greg, a prominent researcher, tells me over lunch at a restaurant. “We’ve … blah blah unintelligible words … the genome of … so many, many more unfamiliar words.”Since then, I’ve subscribed to science magazines, devoured fascinating new science books and published half a dozen science articles and shorts.
I stare at him.
How long has it been since I’ve heard a sentence like that?
He spears some romaine and secures it on his fork with a ribbon of chilled sirloin. I blink.
This is Greg, I remind myself—the first person I met on our first day of pharmacy school, nearly thirty years ago.
And now in his whole sentence, I recognize only the one word.
My eyes sting and I look down at my bowl of soup.
I miss science.
And yesterday, I reconnected with an amazing source of inspiration: my college organic chem professor—an intelligent, animated man renown for the funnest classes; a creative scientist who applied forensic chemistry decades before CSI. In a 30-minute phone call, we batted so much energy back and forth that I think our cell phones gained charge.
Ain’t life grand?