Dr. Marvin

At the very moment countless thousands cross busy intersections; as men vie for parking spaces; flight and dinner reservations are made; couples marry; families picnic; and, as children are born and elders die, a momentous event will unfold for our family which represents the capstone on years of hard work as well as a moment certain to inalterably affect a destiny. So, while the rest of the world goes about the business of their daily lives this Saturday, my family will be in Washington DC standing witness as a green velvet-trimmed hood is placed around our youngest brother's neck, a tassel is moved to the left facement of a motarboard, and an ancient oath recited, thus marking Blake's graduation from Medical School.

It gives me pause.

Can this grown man possibly have been the same baby who once brought renewed life to our aging parents; the ever-smiling boy in footed pajamas, pacifier askance, who led a ritual family march to bed at night; the little boy who worshiped his “Dimmy” and “Dott;” the little boy in a red apron who ran to greet Dad after school; the disengaged “Rudy Kazooty" of T-ball games; the young boy who sat on the shoulders of my medical school classmates; as well as the all-too-young man who eventually eulogized his own father?

Is it really possible?

Thousands of memories are swirling through my head; it is admittedly difficult to grasp the reality that Blake’s life to this point has passed by with the proverbial “blink of an eye.”

When Blake graduated from high school in 2001, I gifted him a copy of the "blessedly brief graduation speech" written by Dr. Seuss, "Oh, The Places You'll Go." As I struggled to come up with words which could adequately speak to my feelings now as he prepares to graduate from Medical School, I couldn't help but reflect on the same little book. After re-reading the inimitable text, I decided it remains a perfect sendoff as he moves forward with the "Great Balancing Act" that will be his life; "Oh, The Places You'll Go" succeeds where I would have surely failed, imparting upon Blake a "lifetime of wisdom."

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
You’re on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.

You’ll look up and down streets. Look’em over with care.
About some you will say, “I don’t choose to go there.”
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
you’re too smart to go down a not-so-good street.

And you may not find any
you’ll want to go down.
In that case, of course,
you’ll head straight out of town.

It’s opener there in the wide open air.

Out there things can happen
and frequently do
to people as brainy
and footsy as you.

And when things start to happen,
don’t worry. Don’t stew.
Just go right along.
You’ll start happening too.

OH! THE PLACES YOU'LL GO!

You’ll be on your way up!
You’ll be seeing great sights!
You’ll join the high fliers
who soar to high heights.

You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed.
You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead.
Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best.
Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

     Except when you don’t.
     Because, sometimes, you won’t.

     I’m sorry to say so
     but, sadly, it’s true
     that Bang-ups and Hang-ups
     can happen to you.

     You can get all hung up
     in a prickle-ly perch.
     And your gang will fly on.
     You’ll be left in a Lurch.

     You’ll come down from the Lurch
     with an unpleasant bump.
     And the chances are, then,
     that you’ll be in a Slump.

     And when you’re in a Slump,
     you’re not in for much fun.
     Un-slumping yourself
     is not easily done.

     You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
     Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked.
     A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!
     Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
     How much can you lose? How much can you win?

     And IF you go in, should you turn left or right …
     or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
     Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
     Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find,
     for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

     You can get so confused
     that you’ll start in to race
     down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
     and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
     headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
        The Waiting Place…
          ... for people just waiting.
          Waiting for a train to go
          or a bus to come, or a plane to go
          or the mail to come, or the rain to go
          or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
          or waiting around for a Yes or No
          or waiting for their hair to grow.
          Everyone is just waiting.

          Waiting for the fish to bite
          or waiting for wind to fly a kite
          or waiting around for Friday night
          or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
          or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
          or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
          or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
          Everyone is just waiting.

NO!
That’s not for you!

Somehow you’ll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You’ll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.

With banner flip-flapping,
once more you’ll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky.
Ready because you’re that kind of a guy!

Oh, the places you’ll go! There is fun to be done!
There are points to be scored. There are games to be won.
And the magical things you can do with that ball
will make you the winning-est winner of all.
Fame! You’ll be famous as famous can be,
with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.

     Except when they don’t.
     Because, sometimes, they won’t.

     I’m afraid that some times
     you’ll play lonely games too.
     Games you can’t win
     ‘cause you’ll play against you.

     All Alone!
     Whether you like it or not,
     Alone will be something
     you’ll be quite a lot.

     And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance
     you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.
     There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
     that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.

But on you will go
though the weather be foul.
On you will go
though your enemies prowl.
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl.
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.

On and on you will hike.
And I know you’ll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.

You’ll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You’ll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)

KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!

So…
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea,
you’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So…get on your way!

I hope no one will accuse me of being presumptuous when assuring you of how proud Dad would have been to be present in the DAR Constitution Hall as you take that walk across the stage to accept your diploma this Saturday afternoon, Blake.

Both he and your Mother would surely

Want you to always follow your most noble instincts,
Want you to always be a force for right and good,
Want you to defend the weak as they taught you,
Want you to always be brave,
Want you to know that whatever you do, or wherever you go,
     you walk with their blessing and love,
Want to you keep your faith in God, your humility and sense of humor,
Want you to allow nothing to deter you
     from getting what you want from this life,
Want you to know that while they may have had regrets or sadness in their lives,

     they have always been grateful to have you as their son.

Congratulations, Blake.

Slinging Mud

I spent one summer during college working as a roughneck on an oil rig. Please suspend your disbelief as it is completely true.

At that time, all students pursuing Chemical Engineering degrees were strongly encouraged to engage in hands-on research before graduating. During the summer before my Junior year, I stumbled upon a fantastic opportunity to work for one of the leading oil research companies at that time, Dresser Magcobar.

I spent those three months on a rig wielding 36-inch wrenches alongside full-time roughnecks in sweltering Texas heat, within spitting distance of Astroworld, while conducting mud flow studies for a prototype drill bit. It was extremely demanding work.

Most of the time ….. well, at least occasionally.

Our main responsibility as summer interns was to babysit the rig and flow apparatus during the studies. My research partner and I – mutlitaskers before the term had ever been coined – spent most of our time on the rig ably manning all the controls while simultaneously mining more sun (and money) than actual data. It wasn’t that we were lazy so much as the studies were slow and tedious; any given flow study took several days to produce usable data. If the cynic thinks less of the imprimatur of “roughneck” as it applied to our work, let it be written that we were at least always at the ready with our 36-inch wrenches. For myself, I also took the opportunity to read a lot of books.

By July, the workaday roughnecks with high tattoo to teeth ratios finally came to accept the two “college boys.” We eventually would routinely gather in one of the air conditioned offices during protracted lunch breaks to eat, rest, and generally “shoot the breeze.” It was during one of these sessions that I was first made fully aware of “tabloids” and the genuine sway they hold over thousands of readers.

Putting down my copy of Plato’s “Republic,” I was amazed to learn that many people actually read the tabloids so as to glean day to day information just as others might depend on the NY Times or The Wall Street Journal. My only prior exposure to tabloids had been while passing through grocery store lines, the copies replete with cover stories of aliens and soon-to-be-divorced celebrities. While I will admit to being lured to pick one up occasionally as a result of some salacious headline, our time together always ended abruptly so as to avoid anyone actually seeing me with the offending item in hand. My notion was that these “rags” were produced for the amusement of someone – haughtily, someone NOT me. Treading lightly given I was a mere guest for the summer, I distinctly remember listening raptly as two of these weathered roughnecks relayed the truths contained in the tabloids.

Skipping to the present, I still love to read. I am currently making the supreme effort to get through more of what someone has deemed to be the classics, but my tastes generally lean toward history, historical biographies, and some fiction. At any given time, I generally have two or three books at the ready, reading each of them in piecemeal fashion; I get bored.

Over the past few years I have added yet another category of books to my list of favorites: Current Events. This grouping of literature seems to center mainly on current political intrigue; I am not certain of the requisite timeline so as to be labeled “current,” but assume most of these eventually find a final resting place among the myriad tomes of history. What I truly love about this genre of books is that reading them affords me, a true political junkie, the opportunity to belatedly insert myself into their world; every page is a backstage pass to conversations, strategies, personalities, conventions, and – frankly – the intrigue which the political process engenders. Additionally, these books very often address unanswered questions which tend to vex me during and long after the election cycles end.

Game Change; Obama and the Clintons, McCain and Palin, and the Race of a Lifetime

The book covers the Democratic and Republican primary and general electoral seasons which culminated in the election of Barack Obama as the 44th President of the United States. (Just in case you didn’t know.)

The book presents a well constructed, understandable outline of the process each of the candidates slogged through on the way to victory and/or defeat. In the end, the two authors offered their version of the events thus providing me with yet another perspective of the main actors, their strategies, and the political timeline in general.

All told, it was a very good read.

BUT, (as in, however):

The first thought that crosses my mind on finishing the book is the old adage, “Familiarity breeds contempt.”

Not intending to make an indictment of the book, its credibility, or even the authors, but “Game Change” is heavily laden with page after page, chapter after chapter of prurient, gossipy re-enactments of private and not-so-private conversations, tantrums and tirades between all the candidates, their spouses, and members of their individual staffs.

And, I couldn’t put it down!

Throughout the book, there were also numerous accounts of all the candidates spewing epitaphs in every direction to one degree or another; a particularly crazed vignette has a respected candidate doubly flipping his own wife the bird(s) while letting loose with a fusillade of the F-word invective that – if redacted – would have closely resembled the Nixon Oval Office “Expletive Deleted” transcripts of old.

I am not naïve about politicians; I had the opportunity to witness, first hand, the impeachment proceedings against Bill Clinton. Most vivid to me was the day when the articles of impeachment were approved. Sitting in the public gallery, I was mesmerized by Democrats and Republicans performing for the C-Span cameras. Hour after hour, I watched as staunch allies came in succession to the defense of the President during two minute rebukes of particular members of the opposition. And, almost without fail, once the speaker was finished and out of camera range, the two foes would engage in conversation or even an embrace. It was pure theater.

All politicians are human – for good or for ill. The obvious may read as insipid, but I had to learn this on my own during the fall of the impeachment proceedings and the lesson is reinforced every time I immerse myself in the elections or read one of these books. There is, most certainly, a part of me that still would like to hold elected officials to a higher standard but life and reality seem to always get in the way.

On finishing the book early this morning, I went to bed and fell asleep only to be awakened shortly by my own voice uttering a clearly audible and sibilant “it.”

As I had drifted off to sleep, I remember reflecting on my carnal fascination with the various permutations of crazed political behavior manifested by every one of these political masters in the book. I was forced to ask myself if my interest is prurient in nature or if I read these books seeking a better understanding of the psyche of these immensely complex – if not, egomaniacal – people?

As I awoke with a start at my own utterance, I suddenly realized that my thoughts had turned to memories of my roughneck buddies and their insatiable appetite for the tabloids.

It then dawned on me that none of us had ever truly been as different as I may have originally thought.

If completely honest, there exists within most of us some fundamental appetite for – well, a little gossip or “dirt” from time to time. There has hardly ever been a day during my professional life within a given operating room or ICU when someone hasn’t stopped to pass along some “juicy” tidbit about one person or another. I am not sure what this says about us as people; I would assume it may very well be an inextricable component of our natures.

John Edward’s staffer, Andrew Young’s new book concerning his former boss’ tawdry affair is being pushed into the market early this Saturday as a result of the events of the past week. While a copy of the hardbound book will probably cost $30 or so, you can bet my old friends from the rig probably paid only a couple bucks for the same information and learned most of the details months or even years ago after passing through a grocery store line.

Go figure.