How I Met My Husband (at the Insane Asylum)

I met my husband at a mental hospital. A branch of the VA that is a large teaching hospital affiliated with a University. We both worked in the psychiatry department which was a great job, once you got past the fact that some of the psychiatrists seemed a lot nuttier than the patients.

I was working as a psych tech, coordinating research protocols for an Alzheimer's Research Center. It was fascinating and I learned a lot about love and undying devotion from the caregivers who brought in their loved ones for testing. Alzheimer's research is still a cause very close to my heart.

My husband-to-be worked in another building on the hospital campus crunching statistics for studies on schizophrenics and agoraphobics.

The building he worked in had a number of audiology booths: rooms about 6 foot square with special deep padding on the walls. If you went in and shut the door you could hear your blood pulse. Those booths gave me claustrophobia. I'm not sure what they were really intended for. My husband used one to practice the trumpet. Close the door and voila! Nice silent practice room.

But what with the trumpeting and the enclosed space and the lack of air conditioning it would get pretty hot in there, so after practicing he'd go lie down on the lawn for some fresh air. I can only imagine what he looked like when one day an inpatient saw him stretched out flat on his back and asked him which ward he lived on. *snort*

I'd seen him around and thought he was cute, and we finally met at a party thrown by a mutual friend. I hadn't even wanted to go to the party and as I recall, I had just thrown on a sweatshirt and skipped the makeup to go kill an hour or two. There he was, that cute guy, standing by the chips. And I was hungry. Who can tell how the course of history would have been different if I hadn't craved salty greasy potato products that night?

We chatted for a while, and I left before he did. He walked me to my car. Cupid's work was done. I began my vigil by the phone.

He never called. Afer two weeks I shrugged off my crush and tried to forget him.

The psyciatry department personnel were all networked on Macs equipped with a primitive IM system that would pop a message on your screen in the middle of your work. We're talking 1989 here, so really, I mean primitive. Two weeks after that intriguing buffet table conversation a message popped up on my screen.

"Would you like to go to lunch on Thursday?"

Rats! Here I was, the girl with no social life, but I had already made arrangements to go out with some girlfriends on that day. I politely declined in a message back. Two seconds later, my screen lit up again.

"How about dinner on Friday?"

Double Rats!! I had a harp gig at a restaurant. I started to panic. This guy was going to think I didn't want to go out with him. I sent my excuse message back. This time the phone rang.

"How about a trip to the beach on Saturday?"

How could I not fall in love with this guy? He brought a backpack to the beach and after a fun afternoon that included finding a perfect abalone shell (I've never found one before or since), he pulled out champagne and strawberries as we watched the sunset. You don't find guys like that every day. At least, I don't.

That't how I met that cute guy who looked suspiciously like an inmate, and last Saturday was our 16th wedding anniversary. I love you honey. And I'm pretty sure the kids get their craziness from your DNA.