Wonderful Family Research Articles

Yevdokimov's Five-Year Plan. On the 140th anniversary of his birth

The name of Alexander Ivanovich Evdokimov is widely known to dentists all over the world. An outstanding leader, teacher, scientist and doctor, a wonderful man and a wonderful family man - this is how the first and only Hero of Socialist Labor in dentistry remains in the memory of grateful descendants. In 2012, by the decision of the Minister of Health and Social Development of the Russian Federation T.A. Golikova, his name was given to the Moscow State University of Medicine and Dentistry, and the textbooks published under his pen are still relevant today, in the year when we celebrate the 140th anniversary of the coryphaeus' birth.

A multi-dimensional reality: Carol Lally Shields.

A multi-dimensional reality: Carol Lally Shields.

Martha Sharp Joukowsky, 1936–2022

Martha Sharp Joukowsky, 1936–2022

What's Important: Retirement, Viewed 2 Years Later.

At the age of 77, I retired from an active hand and upper-extremity practice at an academic institution. I had been involved in leadership positions in many national orthopaedic organizations and most recently have served on the Board of Trustees for The Journal of Bone and Joint Surgery. For over 46 years, I enjoyed the interactions with residents and fellows. Fortunately, I remained healthy and active with no major medical issues and prided myself on being an excellent surgeon and mentor with a busy practice. The decision to retire did not come lightly. After decades of dedication to orthopaedic health care, what would it feel like to step away? Would there be a “void” in my life? I was shocked to discover that I am far from bored in retirement. Now 2 years in, I am fully embracing this new phase of life. As I reflect on why that is, I realize that the seeds of a “successful” retirement are sown over the course of many years—and that while retirement may involve stepping away from work, it does not necessarily mean stepping away from one’s community. If asked to list the keys to a successful retirement, I would offer the following: When in a busy practice, remember to make time for life outside of work. I have been blessed with a wonderful family, including 2 children, both of whom are now surgeons, and 6 healthy grandchildren. My wife and I have been married for 56 years. While my career involved long hours and numerous professional activities, to have focused solely on my career would not have led to a successful or fulfilling professional life. Balance is needed and lays the foundation for a rich life. As much as possible, plan ahead financially. To be sure, life is expensive. My wife and I made a point to live within our means and started saving early on. We sought the counsel of advisers at different stages so that, from a financial standpoint, we would be ready to retire if and when retirement beckoned. Physical activity and social engagement are extremely important. We enjoy shared activities with family and friends, with travel, skiing, biking, golf, and sailing among our interests. We are fortunate to spend winters in Florida in a golfing and sports community, and summers at our cottage in Maine. We have actively enjoyed the company of friends, old and new, as much as possible during the pandemic. I am more involved now in social activities, sports, reading, and travel than at any other period of my life. Maintain contact with your peers. Among those I regularly see are several friends from the orthopaedic community whom I’ve known for more than 40 years. The enthusiasm we shared for our work during our lengthy careers has transferred to new interests in retirement, enjoyed together. The bonds of friendship are lasting and personally very gratifying. When the passion for work is gone, it is time to think about retirement. For quite a long time, I never thought I would retire. However, I found myself less and less enthusiastic about my practice, with the increased administrative and insurance requirements. More importantly, interactions with patients were not as gratifying as they once had been. My passion was abating. I would come home from the hospital and complain about my day, which I never did before. Moreover, mentoring younger members of the profession had always been one of the most satisfying parts of my career, and I knew from that work that there are brilliant surgeons who are coming up who can serve our profession well. I did not want to be one of the “old guys” hanging on. It was time for me to make a change and let the next generation take over, to continue to improve the quality of care that our patients deserve and pursue academic excellence. Surprisingly enough, I do not miss practice and can look back on my career with satisfaction. I am now in a new chapter of an active life.

Perth … About the launch of Alf Taylor's God, the Devil and Me

Perth …About the launch of Alf Taylor's God, the Devil and Me Per Henningsgaard (bio) Click for larger view View full resolution Centre for Stories is a literary arts and cultural organization with its office in Northbridge, an inner-city suburb of Perth perhaps best known as a nightlife hub and multicultural melting pot. Centre for Stories fits well in this environment since its focus is on empowering people whose experiences and perspectives are often marginalized. The organization feels young, hip, and diverse, and its office reflects this identity. The elegant Queen Anne home that served as the launching pad for Centre for Stories in 2015 has since been extensively renovated; it now includes an airy courtyard and a trendy cafe, Lulu Lala, overlooking the footpath. On February 25, 2021, it was a balmy summer evening, and the Centre for Stories courtyard was the venue for the launch of the Nyoongah writer Alf Taylor's memoir God, the Devil and Me. Contrary to the venue's overall vibe, Taylor is not young; he recently celebrated his seventy-fourth birthday. Furthermore, while Centre for Stories is no stranger to collaborating with Aboriginal writers, it is perhaps better known for its support of projects focused on the Indian Ocean, LGBTQIA+ stories, and migrant communities. And while Taylor lives in Perth, his book's publisher (Magabala Books, Australia's leading Indigenous publishing house since it was established in 1987) is located in the far northwest corner of Western Australia, in the small town of Broome, so its staff rarely has reason to rub elbows with staff from Centre for Stories. All of which means it could very well have felt like an uncomfortable fit—the wrong venue for the launch of this particular book by this particular author. It was, therefore, a pleasant surprise when Taylor's book launch ended up feeling like a wonderful family reunion. Taylor's [End Page 383] nephew greeted the crowd with a performance on the didgeridoo. Then, Taylor's brother, the well-known local activist and Nyoongah elder Ben Taylor, delivered the Welcome to Country. Children played on the ground and wandered through the audience as Kim Scott, a Nyoongah writer and two-time winner of the Miles Franklin Literary Award, delivered a speech launching God, the Devil and Me into the world. Scott mentioned that Taylor had published three books prior to God, the Devil and Me: two books of poetry, Singer Songwriter (1992) and Winds (1994), as well as a collection of short stories, Long Time Now: Stories of the Dreamtime, the Here and Now (2001). It has, therefore, been two decades between books by Taylor. Scott remarked, "The book took twenty years to write because it hurt to go back there." This is undoubtedly true since God, the Devil and Me relates the story of Taylor being taken into the New Norcia Mission at a young age and being raised by the monks there, as his father had been before him. Despite the book's challenging content about Australia's Stolen Generations, when it came time for Taylor to read aloud from his memoir, he chose to highlight the humorous moments. He read from a scene in which he and a few other boys were looking at a magazine containing a photo of a woman in a bathing suit. He tore the photo from the magazine and shoved it into his front pants pocket. However, a nun witnessed his transgression: "[She] moved towards us and put her hand inside my pockets, grabbing this picture and my doodle at the same time and she tried to yank this picture out of my pocket still holding onto my doodle. She gave one hard pull and just about ripped my doodle off its mooring" (93). The crowd laughed uproariously, but this scene called to mind something Scott had said earlier: "Alf's a funny man, but he's a gutsy, courageous man, too." The night ended with Taylor signing books. The line to get a book signed was long because Taylor wanted to have a proper yarn with just about everyone, but no one seemed the least bit bothered by the wait. After all, it was...

Mohammad Afzal Mir

Afzal Mir will be remembered for many years to come as an inspirational teacher by the thousands of doctors who have passed through his unit as medical students and junior...

Ética colectivista, confucianismo, tradicionalismo y patriarcado en la era del <em>kôreika shakai</em>: la familia según Yasujirô Ozu y Yôji Yamada

La idiosincrasia y la cultura japonesas han configurado una de las sociedades con mayor arraigo en la ética colectivista. Fundamentada en preceptos confucionistas y en leyes como el Código Civil Meiji (1898), aspectos como el patriarcado, la reverencia a la vejez, la piedad filial, el reparto de roles y la honorabilidad del primogénito han sido claves en la relación intrafamiliar. En el contexto del kôreika shakai [sociedad de viejos], estos criterios se han transformado en una ética individualista que se ha visto reflejada en el cine. Este artículo muestra la evolución del concepto de familia desde Cuentos de Tokio de Yasujirô Ozu, hasta las reformulaciones de Yôji Yamada en Una familia de Tokio, Maravillosa familia de Tokio, Verano de una familia de Tokio y Tsuma yo bara no yô ni: Kazoku wa tsuraiyo III [Maravillosa familia de Tokio 3]. Se muestra cómo se retrata en estas películas el nuevo modelo social y qué elementos han sido modificados a través de los años.

Rants from the Hill: On Packrats, Bobcats, Wildfires, Curmudgeons, a Drunken Mary Kay Lady, and Other Encounters with the Wild in the High Desert. By Michael P. BranchHow to Cuss in Western: And Other Missives from the High Desert. By Michael P. Branch

Twenty years ago C. L. Rawlins took issue with this reviewer’s claim that nature writing was now the most vital genre in American literature, a claim bolstered by Barry Lopez’s assertion that it might one day lead to a reorganization of our political thought. Rawlins took nature writing to task for, among other things, lacking in humor. Too bad he didn’t wait for Mike Branch to come out with these two energetic and delightful books on living large in the high desert. Branch doesn’t actually pretend to be a nature writer, even though natural history, landscape, and outdoor life play a huge role here. He’s a homesteader, an emigrant from the smooth pastures and pastoral hills of Virginia to the arroyos, salt flats, and sagebrush barrens north of Virginia City. It’s a tough place to live, hot and dry in summer, cold and dry in winter, with a stark, challenging beauty that rewards courageous attention and hard work. Branch calls himself a desert rat and cheerfully acknowledges that his day job at the university and his wonderful family, not to mention the availability of IPA and rye whiskey, make life quite bearable despite the scorpions, wildfires, sandpapering winds, flash floods, and right-wing politics. He’s less a sagebrush rebel than a sagebrush aficionado, and he’s fascinated by the local characters the land has stamped with its own image. True grit, dry wit—it all seems to come naturally out here.

Kenneth Fung, M.D., Brings Culturally Sensitive Psychiatry to Toronto’s Asian Community

Kenneth Fung, M.D., Brings Culturally Sensitive Psychiatry to Toronto’s Asian Community

Richard Winpenny

Richard Winpenny

Peter Randall, M.D., 1923 to 2014.

Peter Randall, M.D., 1923 to 2014.

Felix Frolow (1947-2014).

Felix Frolow (1947-2014).

Obituary: A Remembrance: Henry Alexander Yancey Jr. MD (1933-2013)

Obituary: A Remembrance: Henry Alexander Yancey Jr. MD (1933-2013)

Robyn J. Barst, MD

Editor: Contributors to Robyn Barst’s obituary are to be congratulated for capturing her indomitable spirit. As one of the handful of doctors interested in pulmonary hypertension in the 1980s, it was a privilege to share my passion with Robyn. She, along with many other wonderful friends in the pulmonary hypertension community, became a soulmate with a shared passion to make a difference for those affected by “PPH.” Robyn and I often shared our thoughts on early morning walks at meetings. I remember well a conversation in which I told Robyn my common advice to my children: (1) find your talent, (2) find your passion, (3) work hard, and (4) give back to your community. In retrospect, Robyn’s life epitomized these principles. Robyn found and developed her talent as a master physician-scientist. Robyn found much to be passionate about—her patients, medical science, her wonderful family, her many colleagues and friends. Can there be any doubt that Robyn worked hard every working hour of every day, even in the face of her own terminal illness? Robyn gave back to her community when she established the Robyn J. Barst Pediatric PH Research and Mentoring Fund as part of her legacy to all of us. I hope readers will join me in honoring that legacy to continue Robyn’s work until children and their parents no longer know pulmonary arterial hypertension. “To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded,” said Ralph Waldo Emerson.1 Robyn J. Barst, MD, succeeded.

When a Doctor Becomes a Patient

When a Doctor Becomes a Patient

Carolina Planters on the Alabama Frontier: The Spencer-Robeson-McKenzie Family Papers (review)

Reviewed by: Carolina Planters on the Alabama Frontier: The Spencer-Robeson-McKenzie Family Papers Kerry M. Cohen Carolina Planters on the Alabama Frontier: The Spencer-Robeson-McKenzie Family Papers. By Edward Pattillo. Montgomery: New South Books, 2011. Xxi, 490 pp. $50.00. ISBN 978-1-60306-138-4. Edward Pattillo began his love of history, and his book, at the piano bench. His relatives, William Robeson McKenzie and wife, Eva Smith McKenzie, lived just up the hill in Pattillo’s hometown of Tallassee, Alabama. Eva may have spent less than an hour twice a week teaching him notes on the keys, but “the tales that Cousins Will and Eva told in that twilit, tapestry-hung house set me on a life-long effort to understand the South, past and present” (ix). This inspiration for history at such a young age led Pattillo to consult on historic preservation and publish historical articles. The Spencer, Robeson and McKenzie families provide a wonderful focal point for Pattillo to use to explore the settlement of the Alabama frontier. The author is a skillful storyteller and begins his story not on the trek to the wilderness, or even in the fields of Carolina, but with ancestors in England. This decision to begin almost at the start of the family history provides a complete picture of how the movement of settlers occurred to the colonies and then later to the American frontier areas. Many of the relatives under discussion in the book have surviving correspondence, which Pattillo incorporates into the text at every possible opportunity. Another unique feature of Carolina Planters on the Alabama Frontier comes with the included sketches of familial residences and photographs of ancestral mementos and keepsakes scattered throughout the chapters. These artifacts and quotes bring the family members to life and draw the reader into this story of young men leaving New England to forge their place in the Carolinas and on a great adventure to the wilds of Alabama. The Spencers that arrived in Alabama left a mark, but Pattillo aims to make sure that mark does not fade away. The Spencer brothers may have been born in the north, but as Pattillo shows, “having become Southern” they fully immersed themselves, both in the public service and political realm as well as the slaveholding realm (25). He moves his story along to the building of their lives in their new Alabama land during the 1820s and carries it through the Civil War and to the concluding chapter of “The Passing of the Old Guard.” Pattillo presents a wonderful family history, and while some members may have been extraordinary in their time, most read as heartwarmingly normal. This realism allows for their story to be a representative of all those other families who moved to [End Page 256] the Alabama frontier in the 1820s and continue to have their roots in the state. The surviving records of the Spencer-Robeson-McKenzie family provide unique glimpses into the contemporary mindset of these pioneers and the hardships of life both at home and to those family members spread across the country. The book also provides a look at how familial bonds were melded and strengthened by marriages. Pattillo offers an interesting overview of the colonial and antebellum way of life, especially in regards to moving to the frontier areas as the country expanded. Pattillo occasionally offers the family legends or stories that have been passed down, but he also offers the caution that such tales must be taken with that proverbial grain of salt. One drawback to the book is the lack of a genealogical chart. This addition would provide the reader a quick reference to understand the family members and their connections to each other, especially when Pattillo begins detailing the marriages and new generations. This small omission does not detract from the overall expansive information Pattillo includes in his family history. This book offers readers, both laymen and historians alike, with a clear, almost firsthand, look into the decisions that led those pioneer men and women to forge their way to the Alabama frontier and the ways in which those new residents began their lives and settled into the region. Carolina Planters...

An Autobiography of Companions

An Autobiography of Companions Byron Davies Of the contributors to this symposium, I am the newest to Stanley Cavell, both to the transformational power of his work and to the transformational power of his friendship. I thus want to start by saying how humbled I am to be a part of this occasion, which is the largest stage I have yet enjoyed as an aspiring philosopher. I first met Stanley Cavell in March 2009, in my first year of graduate school, when a friend and I invited him to join our first-year class at a performance of Beckett’s Endgame in Cambridge. Knowing something of the Cavell voice from his essay on the play (which I had come upon accidentally in college), but as yet knowing nothing of his devotion to young philosophers, I was giddy for weeks when he not only accepted our invitation, but suggested that we meet for drinks both before and after the play. It was a beautiful evening, and the next day Stanley sent all of us an email announcing that he had woken up with a smile on his face, “as if the performance we attended was rather of something called Openings.” Those openings widened sooner than I expected, when several months later (having spent much of the semester obsessively reading The Claim of Reason in a group organized by my teacher Richard Moran, whose role in my understanding of Stanley’s work will become apparent) I learned that the Walter M. Cabot Professor, Emeritus, was looking for a research assistant. To borrow a phrase from Little Did I Know: I might as well have been asked if I would care to visit Paradise (137). It’s a job I unhesitatingly (though very nervously) took up, and it’s one that I have relished ever since. I cannot express how grateful I am now to this wonderful man and his wonderful family, particularly his wife Cathleen, for their support during this period (this period which has included the editing and publication of Little Did I Know). [End Page 972] But I do want to note (and here I think I speak representatively) how important visits to their home in Brookline, Massachusetts, can be for restoring sanity and humanity. My afternoons with Stanley and Cathleen Cavell have been the best kind of philosophical education, the best kind of personal education, the best kind of therapy, and the best kind of companionship. It should thus not be surprising that today I want to say something about themes of companionship, especially as they appear in Stanley Cavell’s earliest work (and the reception of ordinary language philosophy in that work) and as they appear in Little Did I Know. At the very beginning of his memoir, Cavell notes that he has been here before, not only in earlier autobiographical writing such as A Pitch of Philosophy, but also in his early understanding of the methods of J.L. Austin and the later Wittgenstein as autobiographical, specifically in their insistence that “I speak philosophically for others when they recognize what I say as what they would say, recognize that their language is mine,” and he notes that this has produced in him an understanding of philosophical writing as “the autobiography of a species” (6). So Cavell is returning to one of the animating questions of his earliest work, namely what entitles one to say ‘we’, what entitles one to speak on behalf of others. This is the question that opens the essay “Must We Mean What We Say?”, written in response to a paper by his then-Berkeley colleague Benson Mates disputing the entitlement of ordinary language philosophers (in this case, Austin and Ryle) to make claims about what we say (in this case, what we say is done “voluntarily”) because they have not assembled the right kind of evidence. Cavell’s response was to claim that such native speakers do not need evidence about “what we say”: they are the source of that evidence (Must 4). Connected with this is Cavell’s insistence that the methods of Austin and Wittgenstein (including methods of asking “What should we say if . . .”, or “In what circumstances would we call...

Joseph Goldstein and Michael Brown

Joseph Goldstein and Michael Brown

Remembering Bruce Merrifield

Remembering Bruce Merrifield

'Wonderful' futures in jeopardy?

As I read about Dr. Severson ( AAP News , February, [page 17][1]) I think: 1. What a wonderful family. 2. What a wonderful man. 3. What wonderful work. And then I wonder: How will the “young ones” do this with managed care destroying all of the above? [1]: /lookup/volpage/28/17?iss=