'Twas a dark and stormy night . . . . No, seriously, it really was. So dark and stormy, with thunder and lightning so close, that I did what I rarely do--turned off the computer, got out candles, matches, and flashlights, and brought the dog in early. He continues to cower in the shower stall in my office bathroom, though the storm has long since passed through. I don't know that we got that much rain but it was a powerful show of thunder and lightning. I can still hear very distant thunder off to the east. With the computer off, I spent a contented hour reading a food book and was a happy camper.
But that's maybe because I made great progress on my chapter of the osteopathic history today--wrote 2200 words (it is supposed to be 3500) and made some contacts with people who can help me. Granted, it's not a polished 2200 words, but I always think if you can get something down in writing (or in a computer file) you're on your way--you have material to work with. I talked today to the first faculty member hired (after the dean), Dr. Elizabeth Harris, and I plan to email her the draft, along with a set of questions. I had arranged to call her Friday, but Friday is shaping up to be a horrendously busy day, and I think I'll have to reschedule.
The college began in makeshift quarters with donated equipment, donated books, most out of date, for the library, an anatomy lab in a garage apartment, etc. In the fall of 1970 it welcomed it's first class--nineteen men and one woman, average age older than that of most beginning medical students. Today it is a modern sprawling complex, covering several square blocks, with another large new classroom building under construction, and I don't know how many students. But it has several schools, such as public health, under the umbrella of the University of North Texas Health Science Center. My chapter is entitled "Humble Beginnings," and they were indeed humble--who would have envisioned the college as it is today? And yet some of the people from those early days remain my heroes--Dr. George Luibel, an old friend of my father's and the man who often trreated my sore back and scolded me for the way I sat (eyes and toes always in the same direction was his dictum), was the one with the vision to found and build a college and to make it work in spite of incredible odds. He's gone now, but he lived to see that his dream was firmly established. He would not like the move today to add an M.D. degree to the curriculum--nor do I. And then Dean Henry Hardt, a retired chemistry professor, former president of the NCAA, and founding president of the Texas Board of Basic Sciences, who came on board as the dean, early on when the school was only a paper college. He inspired all with his grace, wisdom, and kindness. I agree with Libby Harris when she said today she thinks the two of them were the wisest men she ever met in her life. I was pleased to be on the fringes of that beginning--my ex-husband was among the founding faculty and I have been an "osteopathic brat" all my life (yeah, I feel sort of the same way about osteopathic medicine as "army brats" often do about the army). I miss my involvement in the osteopathic profession today. So writing this chapter is really a pleasure--I just worry about getting it right.
I think it's supposed to rain most of tomorrow, and I will stay home and work on that chapter. When Socorro Escobar comes to clean my house, which badly needs it, I'll hide in my office.
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