Yesterday we read the obituary of Phyllis Jen, a beloved family doctor who trained hundreds of future family doctors. She was also renowned for treating all of her patients with skill and warmth.
Given what I’ve learned of her, I expect she wouldn’t mind at all that we had a bit of fun reading her obituary. It mentioned a sabbatical, which got us all talking about what we’d do if we could take sabbaticals. (Warm locations were prevalent among locales proposed, perhaps because snowdrifts are approaching students’ heights.)
I’ve seen firsthand the astonishing amount of knowledge family doctors acquire, and how hard they work to do so. And how hard they work. To Dr. Jen, and to family doctors everywhere: blessings upon you.
And Happy Valentine’s Day!
Here are some things I learned reading about Sam Sapiel, whose obituary we read in class yesterday:
More happily, I learned Mr. Sapiel hit holes-in-one in 2001, 2002, and 2005. NB he was born in 1931.
My dad used to work at the VA clinic on Court Street in downtown Boston. Sometimes on school vacations I’d meet him on his lunch hour and we’d go to the North End. This was pre-Big Dig, so you’d have to walk under the 93 overpass – be glad if you never saw it, it was as ugly as you’d imagine – and it was on these walks that I first remember seeing Sidewalk Sam’s work. It was beauty where you weren’t expecting any at all.
I’m in the habit of giving my students – with their permissions, of course – nicknames. These tend to be unoriginal and not overly inspired: Mad Max, Diamond Dave, Joltin’ Joe, Wild Bill, etc. (For some reason I never seem to give female students nicknames.) But last month I received a faint ray of inspiration and proposed to one Sam that I preface his name with “Sidewalk.” Happily – or, at least, I was happy about it – he accepted.
I was saddened to learn this week of the original Sidewalk Sam’s passing. I was also saddened that I’d pretty much forgotten about him until my silly nickname habit reminded me. We’ll be paying tribute to Sidewalk Sam by reading his obituary next. RIP, sir, and thanks for bringing beauty to a city in need.