CARRYING ON

On March 11, 2012, I had the honor of representing the American Academy of Optometry and the American Optometric Foundation at a memorial service held for Irvin M. Borish, OD, FAAO, in Boca Raton, Florida. Irv's long-time mentee, Indiana University's Vice President for Research and Fellow Sarita Soni, asked that I speak at the service. My comments from that day follow.

I am honored to speak on behalf of the American Academy of Optometry and the American Optometric Foundation. I recently read Fellow Bill Baldwin's biography, Borish, and discovered that Irv had a near-fatal heart attack near the end of the 1972 Academy meeting in New York. He was admitted to intensive care at a New York hospital and finally went home after 10 weeks in the hospital. In typical upbeat fashion, Irv declared it "the longest Academy meeting ever!" Irv's obituary described him as a confidant of every Academy president since 1936, and I am no exception.

Irv Borish saw the future. He was actively cognizant of it. That's hard to do. We all get caught up in our day-to-day endeavors and suddenly find those days have turned to weeks, months, and years; often, we've lost sight of the future and wonder what we have to show for all those days' efforts.

Irv's significant contributions to the Academy and AOF are evidence of his focus on the future. He created the Irvin M. and Beatrice Borish Award for young scientists to encourage their progress toward their bright futures. The Borish Award–and Irv–bet on its recipients, and a quick perusal of the list of awardees shows that his investment has been returned. The AOF awards an endowed Borish Ezell fellowship annually to a promising young graduate student. The young Borish Ezells so far and the countless ones who will follow will bear his stamp of approval and must align with his view of the future.

Not surprisingly, I've heard from many young people who, hearing of Irv's passing, wanted to share their reflections on how Dr. Borish touched them. Fellow Kathy Osborn talked about having happened into the AOF Celebration Luncheon when Irv's 90th birthday was celebrated. She ended up in the empty seat next to Irv and described to me how aware she was of the significance of the event. Fellow Danne Ventura from Essilor shared a past Optometry Student Bowl "rules" video that shows Irv in a football uniform with "92" (his age) as his number, being tackled by eager optometry students from NOVA Southeastern University. Danne observed, "He would do anything for the students." Fellow Stacey Townshend wrote, "I was a young graduate in 1993 receiving recognition and a monetary award from Dr. Borish for my senior year thesis work. I remember his personal touch in a note of congratulations and thinking what a great man to support the future of optometry after having dedicated and contributing so much to its past. Such a generous person—of himself, his knowledge, his time and his kind monetary gesture to—I'm sure—hundreds of new optometrists over the years. He will be missed but certainly not forgotten."

Two days ago, we watched Irv's 2009 inaugural Myers lecture video at Ohio State. The room was full of faculty and graduate students, and the room was adorned with two of Irv's paintings. He spoke on screen for more than an hour, without notes, on the history of optometry. As we watched, we paused the video whenever someone wanted to share a story or comment on what he'd said. The speech ended—typically—with an anecdote to illustrate a point. He told a story of seeing two University of Houston optometry students after a talk he'd given to them. As they walked away, one of them turned back toward Irv and said, "Dr. Borish, we will carry on." As I looked around our conference room at Ohio State, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. Irv continued on the video, "Of course, I didn't know the students' names, so I never checked back with them to see if they did indeed carry on."

Dr. Irvin Borish won't be around now to see if the optometric profession and its leaders carry on, but we must. The young scientists and graduate students his name rewards in the future will carry on. Future Academy presidents should pretend they're consulting with Irv as they lead. The AOF will build on his legacy. Rest easy and assured, Irv, we will carry on.

If you would like to contribute to programs that were dear to Dr. Borish, please donate to the American Optometric Foundation.

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LAUNDRY MATTERS

Some days it’s hard to get to what matters. We’re all too busy with all kinds of life obligations, and the idea of prioritizing them overwhelms us, even on a really good day. I’m not a huge fan of business writer Stephen Covey; in fact, one of my favorite people-watching images in an airport is of a woman asleep in an airport gate seating area with a copy of Covey’s The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People open over her face. (Of course, maybe the eighth habit of highly effective people is catching 40 winks in airports.) There is one Covey concept, however, that resonates with me and that I pass along to the young people who enter my life. It’s the idea of activities that are urgent versus important.

Picture a 2x2 table like this:

	Urgent	Not Urgent
Important
Not Important

Now, imagine the activities in your life you would put in each cell of the table, divided by category: urgent and important; not urgent but important; urgent but not important; and neither urgent nor important. For example, I tell my daughters and students that a lot of time spent on Facebook or celebrity gossip magazines is neither urgent nor important, albeit fun. An Academy example of something both urgent and important might be submission of nominees for the 2012 Academy Awards (deadline: April 2, 2012), studying for Part I of the National Board Examination in Optometry, or, for me, writing this column. Something that is urgent but not really important in your life might include something that has an external deadline set by someone else that makes you spend time on something you’d really rather not have to do at all (maybe like your 2011 Federal tax return); if you’re lucky, your life minimizes time spent in that box.

It seems like the hardest box to get in and stay in for a significant amount of time each day/week/month is the “not urgent but important” box. A student in one of my classes recently pointed out that “doing laundry” falls in that box. I had to concede she was right, even though it wasn’t what exactly what I had in mind. What I did have in mind were things like writing the first draft of a scientific publication, taking a few minutes to read more about the perplexing condition your last patient had, reviewing materials for the next day’s lecture, or working on your grant proposal well before its deadline. It includes reading to a child, spending time with an elderly friend, and writing that last case report for your Fellowship application. (I know. You’re saying, “Wait, the last one sounds both urgent and important,” until you realize that the Fellowship option rolls around every year, so the urgency is artificial.) Likewise, that spinning class at the gym happens several times a day. It’s only me who makes it important without any real associated urgency.

We sort of get an extra day this week in which to prioritize because it’s Leap Year. I know, I know. You already have patients scheduled, lectures to give and/or attend, and commitments already made. Nonetheless, resolve to spend some small portion of Wednesday, February 29, on something that is utterly important to you and, ideally, to our Academy. Book out the Academy Annual Meeting in Phoenix, October 24-27, 2012, on your calendar. Find the patient for that case report. Study for that diplomate exam. Analyze the data for that scientific abstract. After all, who’d want to do laundry on a day like that?

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LET'S QUESTION THAT!

One of my New Year's resolutions was to get my life's physical spaces in order. At home, that included converting a guest room to a quilt studio; at work, that just meant general cleaning up, straightening, and organizing. I'd been avoiding sorting through two large boxes in my office that came from my mother's attic after her death, now nearly two years ago. Sure enough, when I opened one, the first thing I came upon was a note she wrote me on my 50^th birthday chronicling her memories of the day I was born. . .

Several days later, when I could stand to get back to the boxes and determined to get a little deeper into them this time, I found a cache of memorabilia from my grandfather, William J. Henry, who practiced optometry his whole life in northern Ohio. I found a business card with "op-tom-e-try" spelled out phonetically in the upper right corner, presumably so that recipients of the card would know how to pronounce his profession. I found the letter from then-AOA President, H. Ward Ewalt, Jr., to Dr. Henry, bestowing AOA life membership on him. And then I hit the real pay dirt. There were annotated page proofs of issues of Optometric Weekly from the 1930s. Each one featured an opening article called "Let's Question That!" by "Dr. William J. Henry, Akron O.," complete with the author's mark-ups.

I read,

"After attending the three-day Ohio state convention I am still not quite ready completely to follow the instruction of this 'New Optometry' and throw away all old ideas and cleave only to that which is not over five years of age. I hope I will never get too old to accept new ideas. We should seek new ideas, constantly, but let's put every new idea through as severe a test as we can conceive, and prove whether or not it is worthy of adoption."

Another article began,

"It seems to me that it is high time to look facts in the face. To reason among ourselves. To experiment and analyze the different steps in this technique that has been brought to us. Just because someone tells me something is so, is no reason why I have to believe it. I, as a human being, have every right to question every statement made to me. So have you. It is not only our right and privilege, it is a duty we owe to our patients, to see the truth; and we should prove to ourselves whether or not that which is held up to us for the truth is the truth."

Yet another article ends with, "Don't take anyone's word for anything-doubt-experiment-prove for yourself." All three passages sound like evidence-based optometry along with the application of clinical wisdom or "Today's Research, Tomorrow's Practice®," don't you think?

My grandfather ("Gumpy" to me, "Grandpa Doc" to the rest of the family, "Base-in Bill" to his optometric colleagues) would have loved Academy Fellows and those who aspire to be Academy Fellows. He would have reveled in the enthusiastic attendance at the Annual Meeting lectures in Boston, thinking of all those optometrists going home and taking better care of their patients because of what they learned. He would have thoroughly enjoyed the high-flying ocular imaging presentations by Fellows Larry Thibos, Michael Twa, and Kathryn Richdale in the "Ezell Fellows Presents" session. He would have horned in on hallway debates about the best treatment for a patient with keratoconus, or convergence insufficiency, or early diabetic retinopathy, or where to go for dinner.

'Tis the perfect season, between Academy Annual Meetings, to renew your intellectual pursuits, to question everything. Resolve to read each month's issue of Optometry and Vision Science, cover to cover. Promise yourself you'll get that lecture submission in by the February 2 deadline. Brainstorm with some colleagues about who to nominate for the Academy Awards, due in early April. Start thinking about your scientific program abstract for Phoenix before the May 1-31 submission window. Get in touch with that candidate for Fellowship you met in Boston and encourage her to finish up her case report and submit it to Fellow Pete Russo's hard-working Admittance Committee for consideration. Dig out the contact information for that third year optometry student who might be looking for a job come summer 2013 and invite him to visit your practice. Review your notes and musings from the Boston meeting, and use the information to deliver even better eye care to your patients. Doubt, experiment, prove. Question that.

P.S. In addition to the family historical connection, the old issues of Optometric Weekly were a hoot and a half. Next to one of Gumpy's articles was a news item that stated, "The Indiana Association of Optometrists. . .Zone 7 is contemplating a vigorous, educational advertising campaign, to put optometry in the minds of the public." The more things change, the more they remain the same.
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SO NOW YOU'RE A FELLOW...

I attended Ohio State's autumn quarter graduation ceremony last weekend. To my right sat a graduate's sister holding a bouquet of starched dollar bills and dried red roses. To my left, a faculty member proofread a document in Greek while the 2,330 graduates received their diplomas. I had the privilege of hooding 2011 Academy fellow, Padmapriya Ramamoorthy, as she received her PhD, having been advised by Jason Nichols, the 2011 Borish Award winner.

It occurred to me that Priya has reached a significant milestone in her career. So did all the new Academy Fellows inducted in Boston. Is that the end of their careers, though? Of course not. How many of you have reached some long-sought, hard-fought goal and concluded that you were done? How many of you received your Doctor of Optometry degree and thought, "Gee, this is great. I'm glad I don't ever have to work hard again." How many of the scientists among you receive an official Federal Notice of Grant Award and conclude, "Whew! I'm thankful that effort is over and done with." The answer? None. Not one. No one. In fact, achievement of those milestones is when the really hard, really rewarding work begins.

New, recent, and to-date-inactive Fellows, you should not feel as if your Academy activity ended with the granting of your FAAO. In fact, it's only beginning. Mark your calendars now for all our Academy meetings that are already booked (through 2018). Start to pursue Diplomate status in the Section of your choice. Join a Special Interest Group. (Currently, Special Interest Groups, Vision in Aging, Fellows Doing Research, Ocular Nutrition, Anterior Segment, and Glaucoma are on the books.) Start a new Special Interest Group with 25 of your soon-to-be best friends. Submit a lecture, workshop, or scientific abstract for 2012 in Phoenix. Nominate people for the 2012 Awards.

In short, Fellows, don't rest on your laurels. Stake your claim. Get involved. Make your mark. Do something great. Our—your—Academy will only be the better for it.

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TAKIN' CARE OF BUSINESS

"Meetings are difficult." "Meetings are problematic." "Meetings are inspirational." "Meetings are idea generating." "Really good meetings are like conversations." "Apple® employees meet all day long." "I liked one place I worked because I never had to attend any meetings." "Meetings recharge my batteries." Perhaps you've all thought, said, or heard every one of those things at one time or another as you head to a staff meeting in your practice or a faculty meeting or a committee or board meeting in your community or at your university. I would go so far as to say that the Business Meetings at the American Academy of Optometry Annual Meetings are rarely a high point. They are typically attended by the Academy "faithful" who only truly engage in the Business Meeting when there's a contested election or when the attendees think the Board of Directors has done something wrong.

If you were in Boston last month, the Business Meeting was something altogether different. First, it was attended by about 250 students. I can hear you saying "Whaaaat? Students at the Business Meeting?" It turned out that Business Meeting attendance was on the menu of the new Student Fellowship Program, conceived by Jeff Walline and his Student-Faculty Liaison Committee. The students filed in dutifully, and Academy staff kept moving the "Fellows Only in Front of Here" sign closer to the front of the room to accommodate their increasing numbers. The Fellows sat close together, marveling at the energy level in the room. At one point, an entire row of Fellows had to be moved forward to let students have their seats. That row was anchored by Fellow Al Rosenbloom, who was pretty comfortable where he was sitting, and moving him didn't sound like a great idea. A student from the University of Waterloo ended up sitting next to Dr. Rosenbloom, and last I saw before heading to the podium for my President's remarks, they were chatting like long-lost high school friends, with cameras flashing like it was the red carpet.

The Fellows mirrored the students' energy level by opening the meeting with a standing ovation directed at the students, for representing our Academy and our profession's future. I like to think that Executive Director and Fellow Lois Schoenbrun and I rose to the occasion, and that our usual positive comments were almost bubbly. Even the Secretary-Treasurer's report was fascinating!

Later that evening, I attended a student social mixer held (and sponsored, to the tune of many thousands of dollars raised) off-site by the New England College of Optometry students, clearly demonstrating that they attend THE school in Massachusetts. One enthusiastic young woman came up to me and told me how much she'd liked the Business Meeting. "You did?" I asked. "You're not just saying that?" "No," she responded. "It was obvious how much you all love the Academy and optometry. I love optometry!" Another told me it reminded her of her sorority's business meetings during undergrad where everyone loved the organization they were serving and the causes they discussed at their business meetings.

Next time you attend a meeting and when you attend the next Academy Annual Meeting in Phoenix in 2012, including the now-legendary Business Meeting, consider what you yourself bring to the meeting table. Lethargy, inattention, your smart phone, and distraction? Or energy, enthusiasm, attention, and a sense that you're thrilled to be there? Either way, you choose, and you influence the future.

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BE THERE OR BE SQUARE

Anticipation is at least half the fun. Right now, we’re anticipating our Academy’s Annual Meeting in Boston, October 11-15. You’re putting the finishing touches on your lecture or talk, picking up your poster from the printer, choosing your dress and shoes for the banquet, or finalizing your schedule. But, how will you hold up once you’re there? How long will you stay, especially on Saturday, the last day of the meeting?

To provide perspective: everybody knows about Woodstock. It was one of the first and one of the largest outdoor rock festivals, held on Yasgur’s Farm in upstate New York in August 1969. It was before the Internet, Facebook, or Twitter, yet roughly half a million people headed there, undoubtedly with eager anticipation. The last act on the last day was guitarist Jimi Hendrix. His performance is legendary and included his iconic version of The Star-Spangled Banner and Purple Haze. Too bad for the many who left early; only about 80,000 people were still there for his performance. (Admittedly it was nine hours after his scheduled midnight appearance.)

Our iconic Academy meeting used to end with scientific papers. Fellow Tom Raasch loves to tell his story of the last paper presentation on the last day. As he approached the podium, the audience comprised one man Tom didn’t know, his best friend and best man, Fellow Peter Bergenske, and the session moderator. As Tom approached the podium, the one “real” audience member left the room, yet Tom gave a Hendrix-worthy performance for the moderator and Peter.

As I head to Boston, I plan on experiencing everything our Academy has to offer. I will muster my stamina yet feel like there’s always something going on in the meeting room next door that I’m missing and vow to see next year. I will stroll, not run, through the posters, stop to talk to old and new colleagues alike, and experience all the Exhibit Hall has to offer.

As you take off for Boston, make your plans to stay until the end. Look at the offerings on Saturday afternoon, and choose the lecture you’ll attend to finish out the meeting. Remember that your full registration includes a banquet ticket, so pack your finery and plan on being there to see the new Fellows walk proudly across the stage and announce their professional affiliations. Who knows what will happen if you don’t. You might miss a Raasch or a Hendrix or the one thing Academy members will talk about for years to come...

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WHO’S YOUR MENTOR?

     Late last month, I had the distinct pleasure of attending the summer quarter graduation ceremony at Ohio State, where 1,922 degrees were granted. I was there because I was scheduled to hood my seventh PhD student, Fellow Kathryn Richdale, but I was almost as proud to watch Fellow Eric Ritchey receive his PhD degree, too. I hosted a dinner for Kathryn the night before that included colleagues from optometry and radiology, reflecting the interdisciplinary nature of Kathryn’s work on ocular magnetic resonance imaging with a 7 Tesla magnet. The whole weekend got me thinking about my own PhD graduation from UC Berkeley in 1992 when Fellow/AAO Past-President/AOF Immediate Past-President/OVS editor/UC Berkeley Dean Emeritus (wow!) and my PhD advisor, Tony Adams, hooded Fellow Don Mutti and me. It was a magical late spring day in northern California, and the ceremony was conducted within the shadow of the iconic Campanile on the Berkeley campus. The day culminated in a celebration at Don’s parents’ home with family, children, friends, and Berkeley optometry classmates, laughter, tears, and even a homemade beer, “Graduation Ale.” We all have mentors. They advise us on work, life, health, and what book we should read next. They tell us what they think would be good for us and what might represent bad choices or decisions. They behave like grown-ups when we can’t or won’t. Their advice isn’t perfect, and we can generally take it or leave it, but it’s amazing how often they turn out to have been correct, at least in hindsight. They are different than friends and even different than parents--more vested in our achievements and often more disappointed in our stumbles. Perhaps your mentor was a favorite teacher or particularly tough clinical attending in optometry school. He may be someone who has provided you spiritual guidance. She may be a senior partner in your practice or an optometrist you worked for right out of school. In addition to Tony Adams, I was mentored very early in my career by Mark Mannis, now the Chair of the University of California, Davis Department of Ophthalmology. Somehow he heard that I became the President of the Academy in San Francisco and had flowers delivered to my office shortly after the meeting. I called him on Thanksgiving morning last year to thank him for the flowers and told him that he was what Kathryn sometimes calls me (on a good day), “the mentor of my heart.” Think about your own mentors for a minute, those of your heart, mind, or soul. Initiate contact with them; email, write, or text your mentors and protégés. If you haven’t been in touch in a while, update him on your achievements and current challenges. If you see her all the time, say thank you. If you mentor others, renew those efforts. Make her a priority today. Provide the feedback you know he needs but have had a hard time finding the words to deliver. If your partner in a mentoring relationship is attending the Annual Meeting in Boston, make arrangements now for a coffee date or meal so that your interaction is more than a wave and a smile on passing escalators. In either role—mentor or protégé—let the others know you value them in your life. If you want to learn more about mentoring and leadership, and perhaps spend some time at the Annual Meeting in Boston reflecting on these topics, register for the 2011 Merton C. Flom Leadership Insight Courses. There are two Fundamentals of Leadership courses, “What is Leadership?” and “Putting Leadership into Action,” and there’s an Intermediate Leadership Course, “How Navigating through Peaks and Valleys in the Present Can Help Make You a More Effective Leader.” P.S. To all of you who emailed or Facebooked me after last month’s column, I so appreciated it. Some of you wanted to be sure I was recovering; others cautioned me about future bicycling. A couple of you responded to the column’s encouragement, saying “Did you bug my office?” or “This is just what I needed.” Thanks to all of you. I’m fine, although I think I may always have a lumpy left temple, and I’m cycling again. Now, get back to those case reports!
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