Bard Meets Jeff

As those who might be reading this likely know, Stephanie Ann Lindeman will be married to Jeff Cox at the beautiful Airle Gardens on June 2nd of 2018.  Stephanie found Jeff after Dad had left this crazy planet, but below is how he still managed the opportunity to meet him, and put his precious "Steph" at ease!

This is the story, as told by Steph:

Jeff and I were at a wedding and were sitting in the last row of white chairs on the outskirt of the dance floor. There was golden light streaming in from the wall of windows behind us; it was around sunset. We were watching the people on the dance floor. They were happy and we were enjoying watching them. 

Jeff sat on my right, with my right arm draped across his chair. There was an empty, open space on my left. In this space, grandpa Bard appeared to me. He was translucent, like a ghost, but everything about him felt alive. I could see his deep pores in his cheeks, his jagged crooked bottom teeth, his boulder-like knuckles sitting atop his hands spread wide, and best of all, I could see that alert, sharpness in his eyes. 

He was smiling and talking animatedly to me, but I couldn't hear his voice. Inexplicably, I felt that I was running out of time. I leaned forward, turned to him and said, "Grandpa Bard, this is Jeff! I've always wanted you to meet him!" I can't deny that I carried a growing weight deep in my chest from grandpa Bard never getting the chance to meet Jeff, and in this moment, it finally left me and in its place I felt buoyant, light, relieved. 

Grandpa Bard immediately perked up and began talking fast and excitedly to Jeff. We still couldn't hear what he was saying, and almost didn't need to, just by watching how happy he was. The feeling came back, and this time, it told me I was out of time. Grandpa Bard then faced me, and with a big smile, reached forward and tickled my right underarm. 

I left this bright world and woke up to a pitch black room with a tingly sensation where he touched me. Grandpa Bard, I'm so glad you could come to my wedding and meet the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I hope you like him as much as I do, and I hope I can make you proud. (ps- he wants to carry on the Lindeman name with me! who could turn down such greatness?) Love you always.

Thanks so much for sharing Steph!  See you on the 2nd Dad.

Love,

Pistol

"Bard-isms"

I gave a talk for leadership at Miami Cancer Institute yesterday.  There have been some great people doing some great work on data and reports, and for some time I've realized that leadership has not really been aware of this, or the significance it has for MCI, just beginning to get some bark around its base.  So as I put the presentation together, I knew it had to be short -- 10 minutes, 10-15 slides max.  Just the high points.  Bard-ism #1: "it has to squeak!"  Meaning, for those of you who didn't grow up in our house, every sentence had to have impact - no wasted space or words.

Here was the first slide:

"MCI has a concerted effort underway to develop an enhanced reporting infrastructure and reports capability."

One of the worst thing you can do in a presentation is to read slides to people.  So coming off the title slide into slide 1, I told the group:

"My Dad was a professional journalist who started in newspapers.  So I learned at a young age, as did my brother and sister, that about the worst thing you can do when you write something is 'bury the lead.'  Hence, slide 1."

By the time I was done with this, the group had read the slide of course, and so bam: on to slide 2.  But the beauty was, if they slept through, or smart phone obsessed through the next 12 slides, it didn't matter, really.

Thanks Dad!

My other favorite "Bard-ism" was ... "go sleigh your dragons."  Increasingly as he got on in years, after a good call in which he got the update on of course, the kids, but the career goings on, whether it was seeing patients in the office, seeing patients in the ED, writing material for ED software, decision support algorithms to keep doctors and patients out of trouble, or optimizing Oncology software for busy Oncologists ... he would sigh and finish as he knew it was time for me to move on after a good update and say: "go sleigh your dragons."

I never thought about it much initially.  But as we got closer to the end, I began to think about that from his perspective.  And even today I project forward to a day when I'm talking to one of my own about her day in the veterinary clinic, the psychiatric facility or office, and as yet undefined on the wild card 3rd child -- and they need to move on with their day and I'm headed for the pool, the garden, the book, the laptop, the ocean ... I'll surely say to them "go sleigh your dragons" ... and smile as I release them back to what seems as if it's the be all and end all for them.  As it should be.  And I'll smile, think of you Dad, and one or all of your beautiful grandchildren, and get on with my "Outrageous Older Man" day ...

Happy Birthday Old Man.  Today was for you.  We love you, and remember you --always.

Pistol