TIME, SAM, AND ME
2011
I saw him walking with
his wife, making their way to the registration tent for our 50th
college reunion. I couldn’t make
out the faces but knew in an instant that it was my old roommate. Sam's gait
and posture are distinct enough to be recognized even after 50 years. He holds himself erect, with his head
high, but not too high, and his gait is measured but sure, with arms held
quietly by his side. As soon as he
recognized me a smile came to his face, radiating quiet authority and
competence, totally disarming by a veil of shyness.
Sam and I shared a room
with 2 other men in our sophomore year at college. We were both pre-med students and although we went our
different ways socially we shared a lot of the same classes. I was the
extrovert and Sam was quiet and reserved.
Sam was also brilliant; I don’t know this for a fact but would venture
to say that he never got anything less than an A in anything he did.
We had no contact after
graduation even though we both went to medical schools in Philadelphia (as did
another of our roommates from that school year.) I knew he specialized in cardiology but did not know he has
been practicing in the Boston area for all of these years, while engaged in
teaching and research in one of the cities leading hospitals.
I must admit to being
surprised at the genuine affection I felt for someone I had not seen for over
50 years, especially since we were not close friends during our college days.
I’ve been trying to understand this phenomenon ever since, and have decided
that it represents one way in which time manifests itself.
Time has a way of
focusing our attention on the essentials rather than the non-essentials.
Looking back into our lives the unimportant and frivolous seem to fall away,
allowing us to see or remember what we may have failed to see or have
forgotten. At 72, I have more respect and admiration for some of the very things
I tended to avoid or dismiss when I was 19. My first experience with this
phenomenon occurred with my father. As a young man he had habits and ideas that
I could not tolerate, but later in our lifetimes, and even more so after his
death, they simply disappeared from my mind. I think it was Mark Twain who
said, when he was 17 he thought his father was really stupid, and at 21 he was
amazed how much his father learned in 4 years.
In Sam’s case we share a
common past. We both experienced the joys and difficulties of medical school
and post-graduate training so I can appreciate the commitment he has made to
the profession. Coming from my own-checkered career I am impressed with his
achievements and the fact that he is still practicing medicine full time. I
regret that I missed the opportunity to establish a friendship with Sam. I
think of him as one of the “good guys”. I believe we could have added something
to each other’s lives. That may be the cost of the foolishness of youth.
Tonight at dinner I will
raise my glass of wine in a quiet toast to Sam.
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| Shubrooks & Renzulli LVC graduation 1961 |
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