Sunday, October 18, 2015

Small ball is the best…

The world is a possibility only
if you’ll discover it.”
- Ralph Ellison, 
Invisible Man

The people I like the most when I travel are the invisible ones.  

Those are the folk who make things happen, providing logistical support, making the engines run smoothly. You know, when things work well, it’s easy to forget all the pieces that make them operate. I like those apparently ‘incidental pieces,’ because this is often where the richness lies. Without them, things would be very different!

For example, I have just finished a weeklong convention with a spine organization to which I belong.

Hitting the road…
Preparing to head out of town is by now a well-exercised ritual. The only variables…when the flight leaves and where it is going.  
This trip departed at 5am – destination Chicago…the early morning hour because of an afternoon meeting and the two-hour time difference.

Tuesday morning began at 3:30am leading to cognizant dissonance in the cats. Hannah, the early morning house alarm clock – beginning generally between 4:30 and 5:00am, had a confused look on her face like,

“Hey, you are seriously interfering with my biorhythmic whining routine!”

Leah, having gotten up, sat by in the living room seemingly a little confused, while Sarah, looked up and promptly returned to her quiet snoring…clearly it wasn’t time for breakfast, so “What’s the big deal.”

The logistics for the morning went pretty well, and we were on the road a scant 5 minutes later than our 4:15am target. 

The great thing about early morning drives to the airport is the almost total lack of traffic on the roads. The horrible thing about early morning drives to the airport is…well…they are in the early morning!

The flight to Chicago was direct and the three hour flight (giving the impression of a five hour flight because of the time zone difference), simply ‘flew by’ – yeah that was bad…

On the ground...
Brian drove the airport shuttle into the city. He was extremely friendly and chatted us up all the way to our respective hotels.  He came from Irish stock and brought everyone up to date – if they didn’t already know – on the Chicago Cubs appearance in the Major League Baseball (MLB) play offs. He had great hopes the infamous curse of the Billy Goat Murphy started in the 1945 World Series was a thing of the past…it had been 109 years for the Cubbies, and yet hope does spring eternal!

I had access to a small breakfast/afternoon snack lounge at the hotel. One of those deals where you can grab a continental breakfast in the morning, coffee anytime during the day, and snack on small stuff between 5 and 7 PM.

In the morning it was ‘Bright’ and ‘Aretha’ that kept the place stocked up. Both of them told me it took them about an hour to get in to the hotel to begin their day. Bright, came in on the ‘EL’ (Chicago’s rail service) and Aretha took a bus, then the EL to get the hotel. Both got up at 3:30am to get in to make sure everything was prepared and ready when folk showed up at 6:30…The worked from 5am until 2PM.

Annie came on sometime in the early afternoon, because she was there at the end of my conference day – 5:30 or so – making sure the hot snack food and salad and dressing bowls were replenished. We didn’t talk the first day, but on the second, I dropped a couple of ‘tater tots’ (riced potatoes) on the floor and picked them up. As I headed for the trash she said,

“Here mister give ‘em to me.”

“No, that’s alright, I can just put them in over there.”

Proactively taking them from my hand she said, “You get a A+ honey just for pickin ‘em up. Most folks just leave ‘em there.”

That led to a short conversation and a similar story about how long it took her to get to work…she had a odd schedule, but got home sometime after 9PM.

She had one of those smiles that coaxed one out of me...then she glanced around with a bit of a conspiratorial expression and pointed up. I pointed up too and she said,

“You believe in God and Jesus?”

I was still smiling and nodded…she continued,

“Then we’re family in Jesus!”

“Yes we are,” I said. 

We had found a spot, and I’m pretty sure we both felt a little wave of goose bumps slip through our bodies. Over the next few days, when we saw each other, a 'knowing look' passed between us. It wasn’t much, but it didn’t need to be…I gotta say, I looked forward to seeing her.

Three times I took taxis to the convention center. I had three African taxi drivers: One each from Ghana, Nigeria and the Congo. All three guys had been professionals in their countries, and were at various stages of ‘time in country’ here. The Ghanaian and Nigerian (a micro biologist and pharmacist respectively in their home countries) were both taking technical courses, soon to finish, so they would be able to stop driving the cabs. Both were grateful that unemployment rates were down for them and they could get work. The Congolese, a much newer immigrant, had just started driving, and spoke only about the difference in personal safety he felt living here as opposed to his home country.

Heading home…
This morning it was Darrin who made the 7am pickup to take me to the airport. Sunday morning the traffic was sparse and the trip shorter. He had been driving a shuttle for 15 years.

“How do you like the GPS tablet and video/audio monitoring in the bus?’ I said.

“It’s okay, but it would be nice if they put an extra dollar or two per hour to our pockets, instead of all this stuff.”

“Sometimes it tells you to do crazy things. Maybe it makes sense to the computer, but it don’t make sense if you know the city!”

He wasn’t grumbling, just saying what he thought.

“Minimum wage,” he said, “ain’t easy.”

I was his last stop at the airport; I asked his name and thanked him for the ride.

This trip to Chicago was one of the most informative and productive experiences of my professional career.  I chaired a symposium, spoke on the topic of measurement in spine care, and was privileged to moderate four days of a working group with some of the best spine researchers in the world, and yet there were a cast of invisible characters that made all of it…every single bit of it work.

Not invisible to me…
The Chicago meeting was one of the more memorable adventures of my professional career, but without people like Brian, Bright, Aretha, Annie, the taxi drivers and Darrin – all of whom had stories of their own…lives of meaning – it would not have been as thoughtfully contextual…reminding me that every single thread in the fabric gives the ‘cloth’ strength and resiliency.


I am uncertain what the future will bring…perhaps this week was the top of the mountain – one never knows, but when I reflect on the blessings and access this life has given me…those invisible folk step out of the shadows of my mind into the bright sunshine of my life experiences.

- ted

Sunday, October 11, 2015

Thinking and feeling...

“The world is a tragedy to those who feel,
But a comedy to those who think.”
- Horace Walpole

The call came on her way home and she was drained.

“I’m not sure I want to do this any more. It was really hard last night.”

The comment was rhetorical…she needed to talk.

I had been working on a presentation about the importance of measurement in the clinical management of chronic back and neck pain. I’m getting toward the end of my speaking career and I wanted to ‘get it right.’ It’s a national meeting in Chicago attended by serious minded spine professionals.

My niece is a resident working nights as she rotates through the ICU.  These are the early days of her career, where everything comes at speed of the Niagara River…the precipice of its vertical drop over the falls to the chasm below so close you can feel its dangerous and unrelenting pull. 

ICU doctors live on the edge of the abyss paddling for all they are worth to keep from going over the edge, and yet in an ICU, there is an eerie calm that belies the unexpected patient crash, where suddenly, to the uninitiated, everything seems to descend into chaotic mayhem. To the knowledgeable, it is an orchestrated dance with life saving focus.

Figuring out which slides to use in a 12 minute lecture was stressful…hmmm – what to say? What to include? What to leave out? Would the sequence of thought make an impact on the attendees?

“I ‘pronounced’ an elderly man who had been operated on for a hip fracture,” she said.

“Two hours after the surgery, everything went south and he ended up in the ICU, where he died. It was heartbreaking.” 

“Pronounced” – the verbal ‘call’ for the official time of death.

Three years and eight months earlier as a medical student sitting quietly at the end of a dying woman’s bed, she quietly and unofficially ‘called’ the time of her mother’s last breath…IT WAS heartbreaking.

Man I’m telling you, getting the message just right for these 12 minutes I have been assigned seems to be a bit overwhelming.

The call was thoughtful...her voice and soul depleted…the night had been ‘nonstop intense.’  I could almost smell the antisepsis and hear the life saving monitoring equipment come through the phone.

I will be really glad when this talk is finished and presented a week from this coming Friday. It seems to take so much more out of me than it used to.

“I’m really glad the night is over,” she said, exhaustion seeping from her voice.

"I’m going to try and get some sleep.”

Then as always…

“Love you Teddy.”

“Love you too Mmer”


For some reason, that Chicago talk didn’t seem so important anymore….

- ted

Sunday, October 4, 2015

Nothing like a little play...

“Act well your part; there all the honour lies.”
- Alexander Pope, An Essay on Man


Irish playwright Brian Friel died this week. He touched many lives and left a legacy of wonderful work.

You may not have heard of him, I suppose, unless you like the kind of work he did. I actually never met the man, but he richly touched my life – the notice of his death brought pause.

Spring 1972…
Following the military, I returned to school at Fairmont State College. The G.I. Bill funded my tuition and books, but for incidental expenses I took a job as a janitor in the Administration Building…the second floor my domain.

One day in the spring semester, my eye caught an announcement on one of the bulletin boards:

‘Brian Friel’s “Lovers” will be presented by the
Fairmont State Masquers in November of this
year. There are parts for two readers and two
actors. If you are interested in being a part of
this production, auditions will be held on
such and such a date.’

Hmm, I thought, I have always wanted be in a play.

I had been in radio during my previous college career. Why not give it a try.

So with the naiveté of someone having NO IDEA what might be involved, I showed up to read for the narrator’s part.

Memory fails as to the number of folks trying out, but the waiting room seemed pretty full. As I chatted with folks waiting to read, it became clear I was the ONLY non theater major, AND the only one with zero experience on the stage

Being undeterred by my own ignorance, I thought, You know what, I might just get this part!

The play was cast…
Auditions complete, all of the folks that had tried out gathered together for the casting announcement.

 “I want to thank all of you that auditioned out for the play. We have made out decision on the actors,” the director Dan Weber said.

“The parts for the readers will go to Chuck Whiting and Carol Malone.”

Damn! I was pretty sure I had a shot at that part.  I thought as I got up and started out of the room.

“Dreisinger, where are you going?”  I paused…

“We want you to play the part of Joe!”

“I’m sorry, what??” I stammered a little confused. “I have never acted in my life!”

“Trust me,” he said “You can do this.”

So began an immersion into collegiate theater, and one of the most interesting experiences of my life.

Lovers by Brian Friel…

The play took place on a hilltop in Ireland in the 1960s. Mag, the female lead, had become pregnant – she and Joe would marry soon. She had no patience for schooling. After all she was getting married…full of daydreams and distracted from her studies, she has fallen asleep.


Joe, the more serious, was concerned about their survival with a child coming into the world.

[Mag is waiting for Joe to meet her as the play opens].

[Joe comes up the hill and speaks to Mag in an Irish Brogue.]

“Mag there is something I never told you.
And since you are going to be my wife, I
don’t want there to be any secrets between
us. I have a post office book. I’ve had it since
I was ten. There is 23 pounds 15 pence in it now.”

[He looks down at her]

Mag? You asleep, Mag? How the hell
can you sleep when you have no work
done! Maggie!

She wakens, and after a few minutes of dialogue, the actors freeze on stage. With the help of slides and a black and white film projected to a screen center and above the stage, the narrators interject, informing the audience of what is ahead - they reveal what Mag and Joe do not know.

[Man]
“On Tuesday, June 21, a local boy was driving
his father’s cows down the edge of Lough Gorn
for a drink when he saw what he described as
“bundles of clothes” floating just off the North
Shore. He ran home and told his mother.”

[Woman]
“…the “bundles” were the bodies of Margaret
Mary Enright and Joseph Michael Brennan.
They were floating, fully clothed, face down,
in twenty-seven inches of water.”

Early in the show, the audience now knows what is to become of Mag and Joe.

In the course of the play, the characters argue, make up and energetically chat about their future. As the afternoon carries forward, they decide to head to Lough Gorn for a short boat ride to finish the day. The play ends as they run down the hill hand in hand, laughing with nothing in front of them but hard work and blue sky….

Better said, with nothing in front of them…

A success…
Every time I stood in the wings, a book bag slung over my shoulder, waiting for my cue, knowing there was nothing but a brightly lit stage and Kathy Malone (Mag Enright) waiting for me…I WAS TERRIFIED.

Once it began, however, for me it was just the two of us interacting with dialogue we had rehearsed hundreds of times...the words taking on a life of their own.  For the 60 minutes we pushed and pulled through the interaction of the characters, it was magic.

The play ran Thursday through Saturday with a matinee Sunday afternoon in that Fall of 1972.  It turned out to be so successful that the local theater where the show appeared, hired the entire cast and ran it again for several sold out shows later that year.

Who does it alone?
I learned a few things about theater during that time. The most valuable lesson was just how minor the actors are in the process. Set designers and builders…costume designers and sewers…musicians…dialect coaches…make up artists…lighting folks…photographers…rehearsals, rehearsals, rehearsals with script assistants there to prompt and encourage when needed. What a multidimensional team effort!

In all more than 30 people put that two-actor/two-narrator show together with love and selflessness I have rarely seen.

In the end we got good reviews in the local papers…I even won best actor for theater productions at the college that year, and through this experience met and learned to love some of the most quirky, energetic and talented people I have known in my life.

And then we were done…
At the last curtain call, we ‘struck the set,’ and all that had been alive in the months of preparation stopped on a dime with the unexpected suddenness of a plummeting boulder hitting concrete. 

I tried to recapture the feeling of the team effort, but it honestly took time to get over the withdrawal that came when that show ended. Everything about this was new to me…I did not know what striking the set meant…I do now.

Dan Weber, had created a unique multimedia (video, slide, music) interpretation of this play that, in spite of all its moving parts, flowed flawlessly.  He wrote me a brief note at the end of the year on a plain piece of paper that I still have:

“Ted,
I hope this experience will help you. May the
luck of the Irish always be with you. If we
can, let’s try another show someday,
Coach”

We never did another show together…I never did a theater production again with anyone, but what happened with those amazing people in that day and time owns a richly coveted place in my heart.


“Irish playwright Brian Friel died this week. He touched many lives and left a legacy of wonderful work.”…none more meaningful for me than Lovers – every single one of them….

-ted