A gentle morning...

“What sweetness is left in life, if you take

away friendship? Robbing life of friendship

is like robbing the world of the sun. A true

friend is more to be esteemed than kinsfolk.”

– Marcus Cicero

I had a full schedule and hadn’t told her I would be in town. On Friday afternoon, it looked like Saturday morning was going to be open. My flight wasn’t until noon. I made the call.

“Hey Drislinger (or something close to that),” she said. – She has caller ID and enjoys butchering my name.

“Hey Ann,” I replied. “Want to go to breakfast in the morning?”

“Are you in town?” she asked with delight.

I told her I was in, but hadn’t called, because I was sure we wouldn’t be able to see each other.

The morning was glorious with sunshine and cool temperatures. This was Southern California, after all. She sat across the booth as we ate breakfast at the Broken Yolk near Pacific Beach in San Diego. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the air. Most customers had fresh fruit with their fare, and as is the custom in this restaurant, several of them were toasting one another with Mimosas (Champagne and chilled orange juice). It was a place we frequented in another day, and while it had been several years, it was as if we had been there the day before and the day before that. Isn’t that the way it is with old friends?

We reminisced in quiet tones about people and organizations we had in common, and the years we spent on shared pathways. We talked about individuals who had influenced our lives and smiled when their names popped into our consciousness and conversation. We wondered out loud how we had been so lucky to have known, befriended and walked with people who were true giants…folks who had changed the lives of millions of people.

Giants, yeah that’s it. 

While we continued recounting stories about some of those folks, I was in the presence of one of them right across the table! Without her, I would not be writing this blog. I would not have had a career in spine, nor would I have been honored by her loving heart lo these many years.

In the late 1980s, I had just begun working for an orthopedic surgeon in Columbia, Missouri. He hired me from university teaching to ghost write. We built the largest objective measured spine rehabilitation center in the country – 15,000 sq./ft. (1,400 sq./m) on two campuses. The therapy staff was managed by my co-director, Janet W., a brilliant physical therapist. Protocol development, treatment by strengthing, endurance and outcomes, was my responsibility.

One day the Medical Director, handed me an announcement flyer and told me I needed to attend a spine meeting in Dallas, Texas. I called, only to find the conference was closed. “Call again,” he said.

I did, and this time the phone was answered by the conference organizer, “Hello, this is Ann Carlton.” I explained the dilemma, to which she said, “Honey, you just come on down here. When you get to the meeting look for the grey-haired lady at the registration desk.”

Being an obedient man I did just that. 

When I got there, we chatted for a few minutes and then she smiled and said she needed to talk to someone. She returned and told me there was a conference later in the year in Chicago that she knew my boss was attending. She had spoken with the organizer of that meeting and told him she thought I should come along. He agreed, but since I was basically nobody anyone had ever heard of, I could listen, but not participate. “I really think you ought to go,” she said.

Who was this woman? We had just met! I fumbled around a little and said I would ask my boss. Little did I know this Ann Carlton woman would influence the rest of my life.

As it turned out, Ann worked for a Dr. Mooney, a famous orthopedic surgeon who organized a small task force on musculoskeletal pain, for the American Academy of Orthopedic Surgeons. I went to that meeting and unbeknownst to me at the time, would begin a life-long relationship with him.

Over subsequent years, I learned that when Ann suggested I call someone or go to specific meeting, it was the right thing to do. Behind the scenes, she crafted and shaped so many things that made my professional life a success. It wasn’t just me. I wasn’t special. It was her gift. She believed she was doing what she was called to do. There were no quid pro quos, no expectations. When she saw opportunity, she acted – plain and simple. In the process, she changed people’s lives – too many to count really. More importantly, she welcomed me into her personal world, of which, to this day I am honored to be a part.

The key to her brilliance was her uncanny peripheral vision…professional and personal. No wilting wall flower, she had the moxie to follow through with the things she saw and in so doing, changed so much.

So here we sat on this lovely spring morning, our mutual admiration society rich and over flowing. Well into her eighties, with many things to deal with daily, she remains a queen of optimism. “Change,” she says. “Change is a part of life.” She would say you can’t avoid it…deal with it.

After breakfast, she drove me to the airport. We continued to chatter like a couple of magpies until she stopped the car and I got out. “See you dear heart,” she said. “I love you.” I replied in kind.

Breakfast at the Broken Yolk was excellent as usual, but as she drove off, it was my heart that was full.

- ted