Muv found this somewhere and I read it to the immediate family at the beach last July. I thought it was worth transcribing and sharing. I've been asking TGP to write for the blog and haven't gotten much reaction, so I'm using the writing I have from him. Remember this is almost 15 years old as of today.
Part the First - Where I have been
My parents began their lives at the turn of the century:
- my mother born first in 1898 as the only child of the union between a hotel/resort wealthy mama and an imperious country farmer turned mathematician/teacher father (whom she worshiped)
- my father one year later as the second/last child of a German beer-maker descendant (grandmother Addis) and a flashy con-artist alcoholic (who left his posterity nothing except the Hollingsworth name, being a poor side trip down from Valentine Hollingsworth's 1640 arrival in Delaware)
Mother grew up in Mt. Clemens, Michigan, where she:
- learned the resort/hotel business,
- gained a vast respect for books
- was spoiled rotten by her doting father
thereby giving her deep recesses of self-confidence and a literary bent.
Father grew up in St. Louis, Missouri and acquired a smattering of German, a strong aversion to alcohol and a fondness for things mechanical.
They met as undergraduates at the University of Illinois and were
soulmates for 48 years. What a bedrock upon which to lay my foundations! Mother brought intelligence,
joie de vivre, literacy and interpersonal skills; Father was a Tau Beta Pi and had a Masters in Mechanical Engineering... a genius at that which seized his attention for the moment.
Throughout the 20s and 30s, my family grew to four very quickly (boy, boy, girl, boy) and while Father earned and lost several fortunes in the construction business. Mother wrote and published multiple volumes of poetry and some plays; she learned to go from two cars and several servants to scrubbing the brick sidewalk of our large St. Louis home without losing a beat. I put in an appearance 8 years after number four, in 1937, much to
everyone's surprise ("Polly, dammit, you can't be. We can't afford this right now"), apparently having been acquired on a one year trip around the US and Canada in 1936, looking for military contracts to build another dam similar to Father's success at Ft. Peck.
Father struck it rich one more time in 1938 (found a flaw in the Texas Oil Company's mineral rights to the Salem oil pool in Illinois: obtained them for the "cauliflower strip", a road 1/2 mile long and 30 feet wide from which he and some other connivers took so much oil that Texaco bought them out) and so moved his brood to Kentucky in 1939. We bought a Bluegrass horse/tobacco farm 10 miles north of Lexington and set about learning the thoroughbred/sheep/cattle/fighting-
banty-rooster business (everyone should grow up on a farm: the value of one dollar an hour wages is very apparent to all that have worked from dawn to dusk).
My first real memory, other than those home movie induced, is one of the announcement of WW II and the departure of two older brothers: the eldest to Camp
Blanding, Florida, to be a drill instructor for the duration and the second eventually to Europe with Patton's Army. The rest of the group stayed to run the farm and the horses. Father had retired by this time; two heart attacks before age 41, a severed arm in the 30's (implausibly sewed back on ... Mother wouldn't let them take it off as they should have and it worked! Never have understood that) and Graves disease about finished him. He claimed he had been put up on blocks by the war, just as his V-12 Lincoln Continental was. Mother was never phased by anything. She wrote and directed a major musical production in 1943 at the University of Kentucky and I tasted
the theater, gaining accolades from which I never recovered. She led the family in Christmas plays written so that all had parts that fit our personalities. I was usually the goody-two-shoes.
Schooling for me began in 1943 at an eight-classes-in-four-rooms school that Mother thought would be good. "To walk with Princes nor lose the common touch" was quoted all the time, but sounded too fancy for my taste. It was close and I got to ride my bike the 1 1/2 miles each way. There I learned the 3 R's, a rigid meritocracy in which one had to earn the right to play in recess games and a rural approach to sexual education. We were all
sexperts by second grade, seeing it practiced every day outside the school by various and sundry animals. Since Mother was the volunteer drama coach, I played the lead in several dramatic operettas.... even though lacking the requisite vocal talent. By the seventh grade, the total lack of social graces caused some concern, so I was sent to a private school in Lexington and discovered that money and privilege covered a multitude of
ineptitudes. Quickly, back to my country place for the eight and final year of rural education and then on to a small semi-private "model" high school in Lexington: still possible before the consolidation of districts in the early 50's.
High school is a pivotal experience for most; mine was a pleasant four years with 28 people in the class, and inordinate number of whom would end up in relatively fancy institutions of higher learning. I began to learn about girls instead of cows, boys instead of horses/tobacco, and discovered I had modest skills in a number of areas but was outstanding in none. The choice of becoming a Renaissance Man or a Dilettante struck me. I played several sports, but could "start" only in swimming; I was in plays, in the band, the glee club and eventually was Valedictorian, the only area in which I actually emerged as a winner. I had a remarkably untrammeled child & young adult-hood. I was a fairly strong-willed, somewhat spoiled youth to whom opportunity had come as a genetic and cultural gift,
unfought-for. It was now 1955: all my siblings were married and had appropriately multiplied..... I was known as "Uncle
Vert" to at least 15 nephews and nieces. My kind and wise brother-in-law touted me on a trip east to school and I became the first of the clan to venture outside the state. I arrived in New Haven, Connecticut on a train and was greener than the grass on the Commons.
Four years later, I could write, think a little, knew my way around New York City and had been accepted to several medical schools. I carried music (I was in the Glee Club and the Band) and theater with me, but majored in American Studies and have loved history, education and teaching ever since. (Didn't give a fig about managing anything until about three years ago).
I met the love of my life in a Lexington summer production of "Carousel" and we were married in 1960, after one year (the worst) of medical school in Cincinnati.
The draft was still with us, so I joined a Navy scholarship program that paid nothing, but let me pick when I would enter upon active duty. Two children, one MD degree and a
hellacious year at Receiving Hospital (Detroit's answer to
Bellevue) later, the four of us were in Camp Pendleton, California for the most relaxed time of our lives. My wife is an accomplished musician and we were active in singing and church work out there until April of 1965 when Viet Nam began in earnest. By a miracle of uncertain origin, I was taken off the ship on two occasions and not allowed to go to
Chu Lai or Saigon (both of which subsequently had Naval Hospitals with several of our friends in them soon thereafter).
We left Naval service and California in 1966, returning to Georgetown, Kentucky to join my closest friend from high school and an older established physician in the general practice of medicine. This would later become Family Practice as we shifted with the times and learned to treat things beside diseases. This was the growth time in our life cycle: family, work, responsibilities..... they all grew. I began to experiment with teaching at the Medical School a few miles down the road in Lexington.
Having found a true California baby in 1966, we had our last in 1968 and upon the
latter's entry into kindergarten 5 years later, my wife returned to teaching music. Drama slipped for a little while as the time constraints of a 72 hour work week for me, and 80 hour work week for Alice (full time classroom teacher, church organist/choir director at two churches and +/- 20 voice or piano students!) made for a hectic 14 years.
We grew in the community, added to our home, made lots of friends and worked like crazy. Some 200 deliveries, medical student
precepting and sundry medical procedures later (I was a "skin and its contents doctor") there
had to be other things to do.
Et voila! .............. the Navy casually sent me a recruiting letter.
Part the Second - Where I am Now
It was January of 1980. I began dreaming of three things: teaching, travel and time off (my three T's). We had a family conference with Alice and the three still at home, (#1 was a freshman at Yale by now, so we all decided his vote didn't count). #2 was a Junior in High School (
JIHS) and the thought of moving for her last year (to Charleston, South Carolina, the duty station I had been offered) was anathema: one
against. #2 was 14 and quickly figured out that he would be 15 in March, a full three months before he could get to South Carolina and take the driver's test that would let him drive a FULL YEAR before Kentucky would allow it: one
for. #4 was finishing the sixth grade and figured she was going to a new school anyhow... and fourth children will do anything to avoid a fuss: one
neutral/for. Alice looked at me and said, "Whatever you want is OK with me".. not a resounding
for, but I counted it.
We sold the practice to my remaining three partners, sold the house (finally, in 1982!) cried with the folks on the staff at the little hospital and wrote a letter to the editor of the local paper to explain why I was taking no new pregnant patients. (I managed to deliver the last one while my wife oversaw the packout....smooth move). We arrived in hot, humid Charleston on 30 June 1980 and a new career/life began for all of us. The three T's and more!
I began the full time teaching required of a Graduate Medical Education (
GME); to take young physicians, just out of medical school and convert them into knowledgeable specialists in Family Medicine in three short years. My wife taught in the SC school system and was selected as Teacher of the Year by 1983. I was learning and, having more field experience than the other faculty, became Assistant Head of the department. I spent some time at sea with the Saudi Navy (got a Navy Commendation Medal for teaching them how to use condoms without letting their Admiral know such were needed; adultery is an offense requiring removal of the offending "member".......my wife calls it my rubber medal to this day). By this time # 3 was a
JIHS so the Navy naturally picked 1983 to send me to Pensacola, Florida to become head of that residency program. I joined the Faculty of Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences (USUHS), in Bethesda, Maryland at that time, since they sent medical students to us for training. BY 1986, #4 had been graduated from high school, so we moved to Washington to work in medical school academia on a full time basis. There followed two pleasant years as an Associate Professor of Clinical Family Practice, while Alice taught music to angels of the (North) Chevy Chase Elementary.
I became involved in Health Care Planning while in DC and, as the Surgeon General's Advisor for Family Practice, began to visualize changes needed in the organization/delivery of medical care to DOD beneficiaries. That led to several cross-specialty committees and before I knew it, Rota, Spain and Newport, Rhode Island had been selected as Family Practice Demonstration Project hospitals. The idea was to demonstrate the cost effectiveness/customer satisfaction achievable by introducing into the socialized system of Navy Medicine, the concept of
continuity of care from a broadly trained specialist who would provide 85% of all care to a command/ship/finite number of families. The first hospital staffed with resources sufficient to the task was Rota; I went there as Medical Director in 1988 and became the Executive Officer in 1989, as we moved into a new facility.
What a gorgeous opportunity it is to live in another culture. To learn new values
and an appreciation of one's own is enriching. My wife and I were visited by 3 of our offspring, various college and work related friends; we toured most of Europe and a little bit of Africa; she led the base chapel in song, the base choir in two huge fests and provided music for three theatre productions; I played parts in four plays and was the "face of the base", since I was always on TV explaining health care. I began pursuing the Masters in Management in earnest while there (via Salve's
GIS program), having earlier completed the Naval War College curriculum by seminar. As Operation Desert Shield became Storm, I was suddenly ordered back to Newport as Commanding Officer of the local Naval Hospital; one that is undergoing a dramatic set of paradigm shifts. We are embarking on the Navy's first ever use of a civilian facility for our in-patients, while our doctors will be supplying the care. The out-patient portion of care will be rendered in a new facility by a large group of Family Physicians with lots of available consultants. Lots of challenges, lots of opportunities. Thus far, I have been challenged by no major setbacks/disappointments; I have been rewarded by not yet having reached my own private Peter Principle.
Part the Third - Where I am Going
This actually represents my first serious look at the future, at least as it affects my wife and me. As an ENFP (a Myers-Briggs classification that describes one who does not tolerate repetition or sameness for very long), I doubt that the challenges of my current position will hold sway for long. After the political and organizational complexities are ironed out and the mission becomes one of keeping a straight course, I will tire of it and request a change.
The Naval Hospital in Charleston holds allure; nearby grandchildren, a residency training program, a large facility (250 beds) and a community with which we are both familiar and comfortable. After that, I have flatly refused to plan.....if flag rank is a possibility (and there is nothing more uncertain than that!), the thereafter will be taken care of by higher challenges. If not, I shall gladly serve out the requisite time to register my twenty years of active duty in whatever capacity the Navy wishes. There are not bad jobs, just bad attitudes (rather like the theater: "No small parts, only small players"). Therein lies my small secret of success....... I have enjoyed everything I have done and have had no major lasting disappointments. Each step along life's path has had a delightful form of recompense, not the least of which has been a wonderful marriage, a super set of offspring and a rewarding career.
In any event, in July of 1998 (at age 61) I intend to hang up my ancient stethoscope/Cross pen and embark on a set of world travels that will include exotic destinations, grandchildren, reading, music, theater and raconteur-ing. I intend to enjoy the trip through the rest of my life; the destination and the stops along the way no longer hold much in the way of fear or trepidation. I rather look forward to each day's challenges as the stimuli that will keep the blood flowing smoothly.
My epitaph? Simple:
You only live once,
but if you work it right,
once is enough.
As he says, it's great to be well brought up. Understanding the heritage helps us understand the present. Since this was written, he went to San Diego, then retirement from the Navy and several years in Pinehurst, where he and Muv still reside. He is now nine-toed, one-eyed stroke man, living and loving life.
