The P.I.M.P.

Once upon a time, I was walking through the parking lot at our local grocery store when a black man who was watching me said; "Hey man, did you hurt your leg or is that your pimp walk?"  I laughed and said; "Both!"  Yes, it is a gimp right leg I've been hauling around for a lot of years but it doesn't hurt. Probably just a nerve or something.  When asked about it outright I typically reply; "It's my sympathy limp." and that is good for a laugh.

This is about a movement that is not gimp leg related though...PIMP is an acronym for the Pushup Institute of ex-Military Personnel, hereafter known as the "Tute."  As such, the Tute has promulgated certain guidelines for pushup completion that naturally changes as a person progresses toward septuagenarian status and beyond;

1. Age 0-15 - none expected - just crawl baby crawl

2. Age 15-45 - elbows at 60 degrees, face in the mud, straighten up then repeat

3. Age 45-70 - elbows at 45 degrees, huffing and puffing permitted

4. Age 70+ - elbows at 15 degrees, smelling salts to begin, or if you are a politician, adderall.  Prayer recommended. Also recommended; Rescue personnel standing by to help you to your feet.

Okay, okay I made that all up but hey, it is elder entitlement to just make things up right?!

Anyway I did it and here it is...the 2021 winner of the official P.I.M.P Institute Badge of Merit.  Click on that puppy...

76@76

 

Dear United States Air Force Medical Service Corps,

This morning, I read this fine article written by Bill Murphy from the New Yorker magazine about Sam Watterson, creator of the "Calvin and Hobbs" comic strip.  It was Watterson's letter written to "Dear Reader" in 1995. In it, he announced his resignation to take on other projects...to pursue other dreams.

Reading it stirred my tendency for gushing sentimentality concerning my tenure with the Medical Service Corps.  You see, I left the Corps also..."to pursue other dreams." This, in turn, prompted me to write a similar letter in what may well be an awkward but nevertheless sincere imitation...

Dear Medical Service Corps Officer,

This is to announce my departure from the Air Force and the Medical Service Corps after serving equally as airman and officer for 24 years.

When and if you read this, I will have been retired from the Corps for more than 30 years. So yes, I am really late here. Yet, in that time, I have remained in touch with many, though regrettably not all, fellow officers who I served with and admired. I know I should have written this then and I apologize.  Even though you do not expect it, I want you know how much you meant to me and what a large part of my heart still belongs to you.

Julieann Marie Campbell
Spring, 1987, Air Force Spouse
of the Very First Order.

I am keeping this letter painfully short although it could easily be book length. In fact, elements of my Air Force life comprise one fifth of the memoirs in my book "Travel On," a tribute to an amazing and most fortunate life. 

I just want you to know I miss the camaraderie and common causes you have. For you and most of your fellow officers, I hope and believe it is something you will cherish until the end of your days.

I left simply because, after joining our Air Force at the tender age of 17, I was curious about what a life would be like if I was free from the cycle of geographical and work assignments. Yet, I loved what I was doing in supporting patient care for the military and their families. The fact is, I still miss it to this day.

Things have gone very well since. No complaints here but I want to say I loved serving with you and would have been honored and happy to serve with you well beyond my 24 years.

I wish you the very best Ma'am, and Sir as you serve, or have served with such fine people. I sincerely hope you eventually find your heart filled with the love and memories you will experience with the Corps.  And when you choose to end your time, maybe you will remember...maybe you will write a letter to those you served with. 

Until then, as our first soldier, George Washington wrote; I remain "...Your Most Obedt and Affectionate Hble Servt."

"CHAMPS'R'US"

It was 1988 and that's what it said on the sweatshirts he designed as motivation for the staff of Foundation Health Plan; "CHAMPS'R'US." Foundation Health was the winning (only) bidder for a new, massive government health care contract.  The designer was a recently retired Air Force Lieutenant Colonel line officer who was working in our newly established corporate marketing department. He was part of a massive roll out of a Department of Defense demonstration project called the "CHAMPUS Reform Initiative" or "CRI." It was a test of a triple-option health care health plan that was designed to supplement the military health care system with providers who would deliver health care to nearly a million eligible members throughout the western US.

A commemorative contract award
plaque and the world's largest name tag.

In 1987, I had recently retired from the Air Force and was rotating among Foundation Health Plan departments to learn the HMO ropes when we won the contract. Foundation was one of the first federally recognized companies under the HMO Act of 1973.  It was something new and interesting to me and I was happy to be learning under the tutelage of one of its founders, Dr. James J. Schubert and his expert staff.  

Then, I was fortunate named COO for the Northwest portion of the contract, serving almost 400,000 beneficiaries and their MTFs...mainly because of my military health care background and certainly not because of my managed care knowledge. The southern part of California was to be operated by a subcontractor to Foundation. 

We were given just six months to hire and train the staff needed to perform the contract requirements and a lot of new folks were pretty burnt out.  The Colonel thought up the "Champs R US" expression in a spin off of the famous "ToysRUs" company name and had it printed on sweatshirts for all the staff. It was a small bright spot in an otherwise difficult time.  All in all though, we were extremely lucky and hired some terrific people.  

I do recall one dark moment in our hiring process.  We had been at it for a few weeks and we needed nurses for our advice lines, utilization management and satellite offices near MTFs.  We had an open interview one Saturday morning and when I walked through our lobby I saw a bunch of them waiting to be interviewed.  My first reaction was a sense of disappointment that our healthcare system would attract nurses away from patient bedsides. It was my old hospital hat kicking in I guess but I couldn't help but wonder why we, as in all of us, couldn't do a better job of retaining them in direct care.

Plaque reverse side -
Copy of the actual contract award

As you might suspect, just getting to the implementation of CRI involved hundreds if not thousands of chance occurrences. There had to be an Assistant Secretary of Defense for Health Affairs (William Mayer, M.D.), supported by Colonel Fred Vago and Lt Col Dave Fant, both Air Force MSCs and a host of others who had the vision and support staff needed to design a workable request for contract proposals.  There had to be an HMO Chairman of the Board, another MD (James J. Schubert) who also had the vision and support staff to see the possibilities. Doctor Schubert had done his Orthopedic residency at Walter Reed and felt closely tied to the Military Health System. 

Finally, there had to be what was called a "risk management corridor" to spread the rewards if it worked and limit the losses if it didn't.  There was so much money and so many lives involved that failure meant many jobs and an entire company would likely be lost.  More importantly, a program to improve military family access to quality health care at a reasonable price would be lost. Before the risk corridor (which I believe was thought of by the Foundation actuary) there were several HMOs nationwide who had interest and all but one had dropped out over concern for ambiguities in the program including enrollment projections, sharing resources with the military and most important to them...the potential for significant financial losses.

The contract technical proposals themselves were 12 volumes of individual 3 inch binders, all with matching binders of attachments covering such major topics as contract management, provider relations, utilization management, implementation, claims, resource sharing, finance and on and on.  Somewhere between 6-9 sets were to be submitted as I vaguely recall and of course, there had to be at least an equal number of sets retained for internal use. Just the actuarial work on available data needed for substantive estimates on factors including enrollment and utilization alone could easily run a couple of million dollars. There were, again, hundreds if not thousands of moving parts to the project and it is very likely none of the parties knew them all.

For example; just imagine putting together a full service provider network using newly trained hires to convince docs and hospitals to sign up to deliver health care at a price significantly lower than they were used to...for a million people give or take.  Then build a claims system that would adequately handle the results.  Well, the first worked pretty fair but the second; claims, was a disaster. The fact is, an entire lengthy book could be written on the failure of the "Eagle" claims system alone.  But those are stories for another time and someone much more knowledgeable than I. Blend in some utilization management (a review and denial system) that the docs hated and throw in some rigid quality assurance for good measure.  While you are at it, convince and reassure MTF commanders and military families they were being well taken care of..."those moving parts" right?! 

The up front hiring was set at a frantic pace and there were government monitors everywhere.  DOD had a full-time rep (the Major Don Palen, another AF MSC) on site to watch for things that were broken. There were frequent visits and meetings held at various headquarters and health care facilities throughout the Western US and Hawaii.  In the end, CRI opened its doors for business, suffered setbacks but eventually worked out. It was blessed by an external, independent review from Rand Corporation and over time was expanded, became known as Tricare. Tricare has continued for more than thirty years and is presently serving over nine and a half million beneficiaries world-wide.

Note:  There are probably a bunch of mistakes in this account and they are all mine.  Memory doesn't always serve you know?!   

The Crack - Do you know?

It was the crack of dawn.

No, not like the crack of the plumber when he or she is working in the cabinet under your kitchen sink.  But then again, if your plumber was in fact, a she and her name was Dawn then indeed that also would be "the crack of Dawn."

However, it was more like the crack a baseball makes when it connects directly with a high, inside fast pitch, sending the ball on it's way to a line-drive home run, clearing the bases for a grand slam.

But also like a visual crack, the kind you find when you hold your wine glass up to see if you have dried it properly after washing it and accidentally clinked it on the side of the sink in the process, thereby causing the glass's death knell with a crack from stem to lip.

It was in fact both those things, both visual and aural, which you might more accurately describe as "the crack(s) of dawn."

So you are thinking; 'What was it then?'

To that I respond; I don't know.  I wasn't there. 

Why I Blog

Since I began posting stories on a blog site in 2008, many people have asked why I do it. Okay, okay, one...one person asked why. I figure "Well now, another story to write!  Let's do this! 

I have posted over 400 stories since I was first made aware blogs existed. (Note: that number is not at all intended to impress. Thousands of others have written a hell of a lot more.)  Being invented between 1994 and 1997 depending on who you ask, blogs have become a huge part of life along with other forms of expression including vlogs, podcasts and a lot of word- or length-limited social media venues like Tic Tok, Snapchat and Instagram. And let's not forget that monumental tribute to extreme views and toxicity, Twitter. With blogs, all you have to do is go to a site like Blogger (the one I use), Tumbler, Word Press, Squarespace and many others then crank up your story...it's intuitive, fairly simple and most sites are free. Most (all?) even include templates you can use to spice up your page.

Header for series of stories about a "charmed" life
Click here for link and full page view

But hey...this story is about "why?"  Why I do it. It began innocently enough on a "dark and stormy night." Wait, I was actually on an airplane, flying to work or flying home. I was in the middle of a second career as a health care contract management consultant and I was spending a lot of time on the road. I had learned how to produce winning technical contract proposals so I found good work supporting some of the largest (Aetna, Prudential, Unisys etc.) and some of the smallest health care firms all over the US. In the end I had also worked on mostly Medicaid and Medicare contracts for most of the nation's 40+ health care Quality Improvement Organizations at their home locations in more than half the 50 States. So I flew a lot. This meant a lot of time in airplane seats. It was actually just short of a million United air miles and if you count other airline travels the total was probably more.

With all that air time I would often pull out my laptop and hack away at short stories about my most fortunate (at least in my mind) life. I enjoyed the writing even though I had no target or end in mind. I would return home, pop them up for my sainted wife Julieann to read, she would kindly compliment me and that was enough. That made me want to write more.

Header for blog about "the ride."
Click here for link and full page view

Then I found out about blogs so I posted some of them. I figured that would keep my stories around and easily accessible for quite some time. With that, I found out there were others who seemed to enjoy my stories so I kept at it because...because I'm a sucker for a kind word it's that simple.

I had (have) two main topics and thus, two blogs; one about riding Harley Davidsons and the other about life its own self. It was great reliving some of the remarkable, at least to me, experiences I have had in my life (Julieann says I have a "charmed" one). It's not about becoming rich which is good because that never happened. It's about the richness of love and of experience and that did happen. I have had more than my share of both. Along the way, I have also edited and organized my two blogs into two books. I have published the first in hardcover and both as Amazon ebooks. I haven't monetized the blogs but I have sold a fair share of the books which further stokes my somewhat fragile ego.

Many people have said I have a "gift," a gift for writing.  Okay, okay one.  One person (immediate family excluded) has said I have a "gift."  That, plus periodic complimentary blog responses and book reviews keep me feeling good about it all.  I can also pop any of the stories up, do a little reading and editing and relive the fortunate experiences I've had.  It's a fun way for an old retired Air Force Medical Service Corps officer, later consultant to pass time, especially on airplanes and during lazy weekends. I am simply writing my own history as I see it, still with the wondrous eyes of a little kid who spent his early years as a North Dakota hayseed. Yes there is more...there is always more.

"He Ain't Heavy..."

It occurred on a barren plain in "Nort" Dakota on a damn cold day in February, 1954.  Earlier his parents-to-be, Martha Alice and Francis LeRay had grown weary of their spoiled 7 year-old son, Thomas and decided to test the proverbial waters once more.  They thoughtfully asked Thomas for his opinion and his answer was; "Absolutely not.  No way in Hell.  I am not sharing any of this pitiful Dakota plain or either one of my parents with a sibling." You see, even at 7, Thomas was already showing signs of a sophisticated command of the English language. 

Martha and Ray wisely ignored Thomas's rants and so, David Claud William was born.  He was famously named after three gentlemen; "Claud", his father's father, "William", his mother's father and "David" from the 1954 abridged edition of the Willow City ND (pop. around 250) phone book.

When Martha brought David home from the hospital, Thomas attempted to take him out with that very same phone book but his aim was off.  They had outhouses in Willow City in those days and he was banished to the Campbell's version 100 feet behind their home until mother Martha began to believe he would accept his little brother.  As you will find later in this story, Thomas remains in that outhouse to this day.

When he was still very little, David and his family moved to Michigan.  They sold every possession they could not fit in or on their 1949 Chevy and headed across the U.S.  They took the route through the northern peninsula and rode the ferry (where Thomas tried and failed to throw him in) into lower Michigan, settling in the Pontiac area near Ray's parents, brothers and sisters. It was a confusing time for the Campbells.  When everyone else was packing their autos and heading West to see what Horace Greely was talking about, they were heading East.  But hey... compasses weren't cheap back then.

After a few years in Michigan and Ohio, where David was brainwashed in a Catholic elementary school, the family packed up again and moved to the Seattle area.  Yes, they finally were able to afford a used compass and get things pointed West.

They settled in Seattle where David grew up in the Renton area.  During that time he fell in love with guitars and cats.  Tom, never being a big cat fan, attempted to hit his brother with a much larger Seattle phone book and missed again.  Martha could not find an outhouse to banish Tom to so she made him sign up for the Air Force and he left, pretty much never to return.  Yes, Thomas was in a permanent outhouse of sorts.

DCWC - Covid hair 2021
(no barber)

David decided he was going to hit Thomas with something other than a phone book if he ever returned to Seattle so he began studying martial arts in the Chinatown area.  There, he would become an expert at the Bruce Lee style of kung fu as well as the ancient oriental custom of drinking hot teas instead of water while exercising.  HelllOOOooooo!!!  He also became quite proficient at wrecking brand new sports cars.

As the years went on, David enjoyed the favor of his Mother and Father without the distractions of his evil, but much more handsome brother Tom.  He and his father became very close and would often stop at a little shop on Maple Valley Highway in the morning for donuts together.  These moments were all the more tender when you consider they shared the same coffee cup for dunking.  And yes, they did require a lot of napkins.

David also cultivated a passion for playing music that has irritated neighbors and annoyed close family members for decades.  For example, when pressed his brother Tom will swear David can play guitar just like Jimi Hendrix though he will also claim Hendrix' God-like status in the music world is completely overblown.  The truth, he will claim, is that Hendrix is no more than a common deity who will be revered for eternity whereas David will be revered only among family, friends and anyone who is fortunate enough to hear him play. The exception of course, will be his brother Tom who will only "Revere" Paul.

As the years continued to go on, David developed a devout love for the word "Boeing" and, unable to afford a trampoline to help him simulate the sound, signed up for a job.  He would prove to have a checkered career there, working mysterious black boxes, getting sophisticated security clearances and transferring from plant to plant up and down the Interstate. Along the way he also got some damn fine acronyms to hang after his name, stuff like MCSE and Cisco.  He became a shepherd for engineers and, in fact, was named as one before retiring to a life of playing video games with his son Dakota.

With Dakota, David Claud William had stumbled across the meaning of life. Considering his success at Boeing and his fine son it's a reasonable bet that neither would have happened if Thomas would have had better aim with those phone books!

No sir..."He ain't heavy...he's my brother."

  

"The Journey" -

Yeah, that’s what my brother from another mother, Don “Aught” Palen calls it; “The Journey." This is a hell of a story that begins with the remarkable dedication of a front-line health care worker who, years later was asked to pony up for an amazing act of selflessness.

It was 20+ years ago.  She developed a fever that evening.  As she laid in bed, he kept getting her more blankets to help with her shivering cold.  The next morning, she continued fighting whatever it was and remained shivering under the covers.  He had asked her often if she thought she should go to the emergency room but they both ended up thinking that she, being young and healthy would snap out of it.  They had both worked years in health care; she a radiology technician and him a "pencil-pushing" administrator so you can easily surmise (correctly) they both knew just enough to be dangerous.

Then, she said; "I have to get up, take a shower and go to work."  He tried to insist she call in sick but she knew her clinic would be short-staffed that day and said; "I have to." 

So she climbed out from under all those blankets and went and a day later, she was in the hospital suffering from a massive bacterial infection.  The staff there quickly got control of things and a couple days later she was discharged.  They had earlier planned a plane trip to visit his family and, thinking (again wrongly) things were well under control, made the journey.  While there, she developed symptoms again, mainly fever, and they immediately headed for their doctor upon their return home.  The doctor examined her and quickly decided she should be readmitted.  The doc, a fine one named Al-Hariri, looked very concerned and suggested an ambulance but her husband said he could take her "right away" and might get there faster.  When they arrived at the hospital entrance maybe ten minutes later - there was a crew waiting and they quickly went to work, got her in the ICU and began treating her.  After an intense treatment of antibiotics she was over it but, unbeknownst to the couple, she had been septic with renal failure and had "20%" damage to her kidneys.  Over time, that and continuous blood pressure problems caused the damage to progress.

Years later, her kidney function had deteriorated to the point that her nephrologist decided she should begin treatment.  The plan was to adopt a surgical technique calling for a peritoneal implant to support home dialysis three days a week.  She had spent  a very busy life tending to her family, her work, her home and anything that needed attention so the transition to being tied to a machine was threatening and somewhat depressing for her. In fact, in almost 52 years of marriage he had never known her to be feeling quite as bad about something.

Julieann Marie Campbell,
Mother of Tyler and Samantha
Wife of Tom
(April 27, 2021 - two weeks prior)

As the day of surgery fell to within two weeks, she prayed for a donor transplant; "C'mon! If you (God) are going to help let's get going!" She had been on and off a kidney transplant list due to other complications for the previous four years and she was ready...definitely ready. Meanwhile, her husband caught himself occasionally trying to imagine life without her. (He could not. Would not.)

Then, on Easter Sunday she received a call; "We have a donor, a match and you are fourth on the list of candidates. If you agree to the procedure, these are the things we need you to do to prepare so you can respond quickly..."  That night around 9PM the call came; "You are now on top of the list.  Can you be here by 10PM?  We will get you prepared for the donor who has not yet passed."  The next afternoon surgery began and she was out of the OR around 7:30PM.    

It ended up being a long week of constant noise and terrible hospital food but her amazing spirit, an Almighty presence and a great transplant team carried her through. He was fortunate to be able to bring her home late yesterday afternoon and she is now resting. They are not yet out of the woods with this. But past the trees, he can see some early morning sun gracing the meadow and that is where Julieann and he are determined to go. Over the course of their marriage, she has created, cultivated and nurtured his soul. It is completely hers and will always be. She has always maintained that he leads a “charmed life” and that is certainly true with this latest indelible mark.

Julieann now has a “zipper” and he has two. He has concluded; as we all grow older we change somewhat like the moth/butterfly phenomenon only we, instead transition into luggage with zippers all over.

Note:  I have a hero who, 15 years ago donated one of his kidneys to his daughter who today is happily married and well. Byron Geer is, at the moment of this writing, kicking back in the Spring warmth of Florida and sipping a well-deserved cranberry juice/vodka cocktail.  My main hero though is currently resting on our couch. 

Julie and I feel fortunate, or "charmed" you might say, to be in recovery. We hope you are all doing well, vaccinated, loved and not gathering too many zippers for your luggage.

Lemon-Aid*

Ensconced in various forms of lockdown, distancing, sheltering in place, masks and non-touching for over 12 months now.  All since mid-February 2020.

Strange and deadly world this.

Yet, we decide how to adapt, survive, then move on eh?!

Lately, it has occurred to me that certain good things have come about as a result though.  And so, a little play on the word "lemonade" to illustrate here;

Lemons - man, we have our share don't we? 

• A deadly insurrection attempt to destroy democracy inside our nation's capital building.
• Militias and racists wandering around like they own the place. (But they are only part owners right?!  They need to share like the rest of us common folks.) 
• Our unenviable position as world's leader in cultivating the incidence and death rate of coronavirus 19. 
• Politicians spinning anything and everything to acquit themselves of any responsibility for America's declining positions on world trade, international relations, promoting peace and on...and on.
• 
  Social media trolls highlighting and spreading viral lies, bots and hatred - like a world-wide edition of the National Enquirer.
• Voter suppression in a country that was once regarded as the seat of democracy.
• Decaying infrastructure that once had us a (the?) world leader in manufacturing and transportation. 
• Climate change that continues to progress rapidly with the US chief among naysayers.
• A growing income gap between the wealthy and the common man.

Yeah, there's more I'm sure but it's time to move on to the bright side.

Aid - sure we've got some!

• 2020 Nobel Prize to the World Food Programme!  Want to set the stage for the emergence of innovative, bright, humanitarian world leaders?  Make sure they are not hungry!
• Increased political involvement of the average American.  Want to right a sinking ship?  Call on the Common Man! Vote!  I know we elect politicians with a mandate to represent our best interests but all too often greed and political survival win them over post-election.  The only way to straighten some (most?) of them out is to vote.
• Togetherness:  Months and months of closeness have put new light on many (most?) relationships.  We've been successfully expanding and exploring new ways to be together through media and video conferencing like Zoom and Google Meet.
• Telemedicine:  Yes it's booming and convenient.  An online discussion with your doc followed by a prescription if needed that is electronically delivered to your preferred pharmacy and ready to pick up an hour or so later?  Pretty cool.
• Home gyms:  Many have figured out how to stay in shape with home-based exercises and equipment. (See: dumbbell inflated prices and shortages)
• Notables:
• Amanda Gorman
• A new President
• Jamie Raskin
• Stacey Abrams 
• Greta Thunberg
• Simone Biles
• (added in April, 2022) Volodymyr Zelenskyy
• Alexei Navalny

William Dicconson "Dicc" Bowdler

There are an abundance of bad things about social media that's for damn sure.

But, there are also plenty of good things too; like keeping in close contact with family members and old pals.  Last week, I was able to locate a friend I had lost track of for more than 35 years.  Family matters, work, education and relocations all contributed to losing touch with someone I admired and was once fortunate to call "close friend."

William "Dicc" Bowdler and I had worked together as Air Force Intelligence technicians at March Air Force Base, Riverside California in the early 70's.  We and our wives were also neighbors most of the time.  We had a lot in common, sharing interests in golf, music, football, family and humor.

I was drifting along pretty smooth with a new bride, Julieann and some interesting work I enjoyed.  I had no particular plans to do anything more until I found out Dicc was also attending college night classes.  Somehow, I appreciated his example.  I was thinking..."if he can do it I can, and probably should do it." So I began the same...believing it would be a useful way to get ahead, again with nothing particular in mind.  I also found out about College Level Placement exams that could get a person advanced quicker if successfully challenged.  I took those then had an overseas assignment where I was able to take a bunch of University of Maryland classes.  Next I attended Glendale Community College night classes near Luke Air Force Base, Arizona and all of a sudden I was eligible for full-time Air Force "Bootstrap" sponsored extension classes with Chapman College in the San Bernardino, CA area.

Julie and I had to move ourselves from Phoenix to San Bernardino to take advantage of the Bootstrap program.  As I discussed the option with Dicc, who was still stationed at March, just over 10 miles from San Bernardino, he thoughtfully offered to rent a U-Haul there, drive it Phoenix and help us with the move.  It was a great gesture Julie and I will never forget.  It helped relieve the stress we were feeling although I still managed to cut myself (more like scratch actually) with an electric razor the morning of the move - guess I was a little wound up!  But still, there was Dicc, happy and helpful and of course Julieann, who by the way has stepped in to help with anything...every single time for the past 51+ years now.

With Dicc's example and assistance, Julie and I would have a successful move, graduate from Chapman and get the whole college thing done in three and a half years.  I applied and was

Dicc and his lady, Joan "Pixie" Mamone
April, 2020

commissioned in the Air Force Medical Service Corps shortly after.  Dicc, meanwhile, completed his degree, completed his tours with the Air Force and eventually left to pursue career and life in his Elyria, Ohio hometown.

Dicc and I managed to stay in touch for a few years after once meeting briefly in Chicago for a great reunion dinner at the Signature Room atop the Hancock Tower overlooking the Magnificent Mile.  Not long after, we lost touch though as our day-to-day lives with family and work took over.

Then years later; the Internet, Google and Facebook arrived and made it possible to search for old friends.  Once in a while, I would enter Dicc's name in Google and try to track him down.  It didn't help that I had somehow spelled his name "Dick" as I had missed the correct version many years earlier.  Somehow, I eventually discovered him as a former member and President of the Ohio Bailiffs and Court Officers Association but when I inquired, they had lost contact with him too.  Next, I took on the Facebook search feature and noticed this person referring to himself as "Dicc Bowdler" looked a hell of a lot like my old pal.  I sent him a Facebook message and that was it!  Now, he and I can swap lies to our heart's content even though we live on separate coasts (mine's better.)

So Dicc, you see, set the example that would shape my working careers.  Without it, I would have never been Administrator of an Air Force Hospital nor would I have added a successful 20+year career as a health care administration consultant.  I am forever grateful and maybe, just maybe, we can one day soon look across the dinner table at some fine dining establishment and make terrible jokes for our forgiving wives.  

I can't wait.