A Life, A Career, A Look Back

I was born March 14, 1926, in Hartford, WI., and have lived there my lifetime. I was born in the hospital where, later, for 40 years, I practiced medicine: six years in General Practice and thirty-four years in Internal Medicine.

I attended grade school at St. Kilian School, from which I received the 2005 Distinguished Graduate Award. I graduated from Hartford High School in 1944 and immediately entered the U.S. Navy, spending ten months on the island paradise of Attu in the Behring Sea as an electrician and teletype repair man.

I had always desired to study medicine and was disappointed in being directed to an Electrician’s School rather than into the Navy Medical Corps- their loss. On discharge, I enrolled at Marquette University for premed and later was accepted at Marquette University School of Medicine, from which I graduated in 1953. I am a member of AOA.

Following graduation, I interned at St. Joseph’s Hospital, Milwaukee, and there was introduced to the concept of Internal Medicine under the instruction of Sam Rosenthal, M.D. , the most intuitive practitioner I have ever met.

Dear Louie,

As one ages, age becomes an accepted associate. All or most of our actions are controlled by, modified, stimulated, or inhibited by advancing age and associated problems. Initially, we laugh about aches and pains, clumsiness of actions, or memory loss. Later, we rue the day of aging and wonder where youth, or at least middle age, has gone. We laugh at forgetfulness and silently curse the missed appointment, we recall days of full calendars, but are happy with a day without ringing telephones.

Dear Louie,

So often after the fact, after the death, after the divorce, after the auto accident, the survivors, those interested in the tragedy, those who lend aid, those folks who have stood by are left with nothing, a real loss and emptiness of spirit. Because one is empathetic, caring, and attentive does not guaranty peace and calmness after the loss.

I well recall a two a.m. visit to the medical floor of the hospital. I was summoned by the charge nurse to attend a critically ill patient, a patient of one of the older physicians of the community. On arrival, I was greeted by the charge nurse, who also was the night nurse on duty. She was distressed and agitated.

One of the Letters to Louie where both JLA and Louie talk about moving into the New Year… wishing they could do so with the same gusto as when they were younger. A story about adjusting to physical limitations as we age.

Dear Louie,

During the early to mid-nineteen fifties, an annual Medicine Show would appear in town and be set up at the Schwartz Park. There, for two nights, many would assemble and, in a carnival atmosphere, listen attentively to the pitchmen of the Show. Tonics were sold, diagnoses were suggested to the crowd, and all sorts of ailments were addressed. Music, talking, and showmanship addressed many complaints of the crowds. The power of suggestion of the pitchman convinced many of diagnoses and cures…

Dear Louie,

I believe I wrote to you that I would be attending an Honor Flight to Washington D.C. as a guest of the program for veterans of WWII. On November 3, I was privileged to be a guest and travel with my son, a Naval Veteran, to the Memorial of WWII. The trip was remarkable in content, in organization, and most impressively in participation of, yes, thousands of interested men, women, and children, who stood in greeting to us at Mitchell Field and Dallas Airport in Washington D.C. The flight originated at Mitchell Field at 5 a.m. with registration, pictures, and I.D.s for the day.

Hi Louie, Charles, and Bob,

Our friend Tom W. died yesterday. He had been very ill for the past year, suffering from probably pulmonary fibrosis secondary to farmers' silo disease, a disease of exposure to nitrogenous materials occurring when silos were opened from the top.

This occurred many years ago and produced gradual lung destruction. I saw him a few weeks ago, and he was realistically awaiting some infection to take him. He thought he might have made it through the winter. Emmy B. is in a nursing home and has some dementia.

75 Years of Friendship… has a way of conjuring up many memories and is proof that the friends we make when we’re young are true & lasting.

We take so much for granted; awakening in the a.m., getting up, dressing, and going about our "chores,” and as we age… just going about. Recently, I’ve been troubled with symptoms of spinal stenosis, which cause distress - greater distress than I would like to acknowledge.

Dear Louie,     

I awoke this morning at 3 am. I had been dreaming, a disturbing dream, and couldn’t fall asleep again at this ungodly hour.  I dreamed that my son Tim had told me of his retirement.  He, being a lawyer, was anticipating retirement at 58 years of age.  Truly I am unable to recall if he told me or if it was a dream.  I couldn’t understand why he would consider retirement at this, the most productive time of his career. 

It disturbed me; I could not sort dream from a real state. 

Hi Louie,

On this wet, cold afternoon, not all is bad. In fact, I have just finished a project which has vexed me for the past 2 weeks. I have been attempting to install the revised Sync program for Dorothy's Ford. It seems that the electronic sync program of the newer Fords was a botched job, and the program was revised after many complaints. The new program was sent to the buyers with instructions for installation. Sending electronic instructions to anyone over the age of 75 is nonsense, as the neurons for these gadgets were only installed in fetuses after 1970; before that, any conceptions were without a wiring diagram, and these new gadgets are not helpful, only a wart on the psyche of us older folk.

An earthquake, off the coast of Chili, generates a Tsunami headed toward Hawaii, scheduled to arrive in six to eight hours, nothing between the two land masses; just imagine what it must have been like in the days of Magellan. Sailing on the Pacific Ocean, named for peace and quiet, lack of storms, and monotony of days. Suddenly there occurs a rogue wave, higher than the poop deck, more threatening than a loaded pistol held to the buccaneer's head; this is what happens each and every day during the lives of individuals.

Dear Louie,

Patients get sick and sicker in January and February than in May and June. I initially became aware of this while on the island of Attu in 1945. While on the island, as a member of the US Navy, I became aware of the moist cold of the Arctic Sea. I arrived in Attu in December of 1945 and on getting off the DC-3 I was cold. I shivered and almost shook, under my breath, I mumbled that the war was global in nature, “and why in the hell did I draw the short straw for the North Pacific” when the South Pacific beckoned. I was cold on arrival and remained cold until May when I departed for the States.

Perhaps only in a small town does a doctor have the opportunity to truly know the patients - for, quite often, the patients have been a part of that doctor’s life from childhood on. Read “That’s How Life Works” for this special look at practicing as a small-town doc.

Long before emergency rooms and urgent care centers, there were house calls. In this Letter to Louie, JLA recalls house calls of the past and brings up the need to keep the homes of our older loved ones or disabled adults safe with some very simple but important safety tips.

Dear Louie,

You may be gone, but I need you- to listen, to smile, to understand. And so I again write to you, my friend, to guide me at this time of true trial and tribulation as I guided you through your prolonged trip through the “Vale of Tears.”

It is amazing just how negligent one can easily become at this stage of life. Negligence in any action; negligent to volunteer, negligent to act, negligent to write, to read; negligent in all aspects, but critical in so much. The older one becomes, the more difficult it is to accomplish, even the most simple of tasks, but we must. The featured image is a picture of JLA at the age of 93 - working on sanding wood for the deck of his cottage.

I recall the construction of the eight - family housing during the early 1950’s when the community was initially stretching itself into the post war era of expansion. This expansion was stimulated by the release of pent-up hormones and youth. For years, the youth of the time had been affected by war and contained; contained by constraints of regimentation, and social restraint. Finally released back into society after the four most violent years of history, followed by two or three years of readjustment and redirection, the young, youthful, energetic men and women settled back and began to procreate as well as recreate. With the explosive procreation, the need for housing exploded and many small units were developed.