**Inspired by the dedication and bios in my psychology textbook. Names have been changed.**

Dedicated to my friend and colleague Drew Johnson

-Jeffrey B. Isaacs[1]

Most people thought Jeff and Drew both resented titles, but neither Jeff nor Drew ever saw it that way.

“The thing is,” Jeff once tried to explain at his East Campus suite’s party in the ‘80s, “that what we see is never truly as we see it. We go through life calling things as we perceive them, not acknowledging, for example, the work of our eyes nor tricks of light!” The Barnard student he was talking at nodded. Jeff noticed her aqua-lined, hazel-flecked eyes dart above his shoulder to the guy behind him. “So when we call someone ‘friend,’ for example, we know that that’s true from our point of view, but not necessarily from both sides. That other person may not agree. That’s the best metaphor I can think of…” Jeff smiled. “As an English major, maybe you’d be able to do better?”

She made eye contact with Jeff and smiled politely back, as if to say, “Yes, I could do better than a young Steve Buscemi doppelganger.”

Drew’s luck was not much better at the University of Washington. His eye contact was always deemed creepy. Drew tended to shrug it off – he saw no reason to settle down in college anyway.

By the time both Jeff and Drew had acquired their respective undergraduate degrees, they both chose to pursue a PhD at the University of Michigan. Jeff joked to his acquaintances that instead of experimenting in college, he chose to pursue a graduate degree in experimental psychology. Drew could not make this joke because he did indeed study experimental psychology in college, although he had made variations of this joke in the past.

Between Jeff and Drew, the joke totaled two well-meaning chuckles and one well-meaning smirk.

Drew was neither short nor tall. His hair was light brown then, and he had much more of it, although he never let it grow too long. He was intensely thoughtful though rarely quiet. His irises were grey when he wore his grey shirts, and blue when he wore his blue shirts. When he wore his black suit with a white shirt, his iris pigmentation was anybody’s guess.

Drew wore the suit to make a good impression on his potential roommate and mostly so that he would have something to talk about regarding perception. Allison had said this guy studied engineering and psychology, but Drew decided to skip the research on robots and rely on their common ground.

The two met in a café on Bonisteel Blvd. Both noticed that the other smelled of awkward, hotel-brand, “spring fresh” body wash. Jeff had decided to wear his brain tie, the blue one with the inaccurate but charming map of the cerebral cortex.

“Hello,” said Drew, extending his hand. “I’m Drew. Pleasure to meet you.” Continue reading →