Sunday Heroes: Sunday musings…4/12/2026
1) Heroes. I’m on the back end of quite a weekend here in D.C. One of our two big conventions took place in the Nation’s Capital, our first return since 2022. My world is littered with generational giants. Some of the true pioneers among them are still among us. Dick and Eric. Vance and Dave. The Steves (there are, like, 6 of them).
But there’s only one Marguerite. I live in a couple of worlds populated by giants, but I have no real heroes in any of them who remain. Except for Marguerite. Against monumental odds and man-made barriers (literally, made by men), she forged through and created one of the most impactful surgical innovations in our field: laser vision correction. She is a hero in all respects.
She is now my only remaining living hero.
2) Coach. Dick Farley, my beloved football coach, he of the infinite number of of quotable quips from the collective memories of the hundreds of athletes he coached and thousands of athlete-adjacent students he knew and cherished, passed away last week in Williamstown. I probably shared one or two of his more famous sports-related quotes here and elsewhere.
The stories that have circulated this week about Coach are all a bit different. Athletes who were never coached by him, never on a team that he coached telling about the times they came across him on campus, either before or after they graduated, and he greeted them as if they’d played for him since freshman year. Men and women who graduated and sent a child or three to Williams College, hoping that they would find their way, only to discover that Coach had been checking in with the more often than not non-athlete progeny to make sure that they were OK.
Aside from my Dad and my maternal Grandfather Coach Dick Farley was the most impactful adult male in my young life. My Dad, my Gramp, and Coach were my heroes.
3) Teacher. “Give your people their flowers while they are alive to enjoy them.” Ryan Brown
Man, I love every part of this. The people you care about cannot enjoy the flowers that adorn their casket or spill over the edges of the altar. Their closest relatives surely appreciate the veritable rainforest that takes up temporary residence in someones abode, but really, they’d rather have their dearly departed repatriated to the loving room couch, thank you very much. My friend Ryan’s quote is spot on:
Tell your loved ones that you do, indeed, love them while they are alive to hear and see and feel you loving them.
My Dad learned this lesson from a dear friend who happened to be his personal attorney. As a very young student from a very poor family, a “cardboard in the shoes kid” as he would describe it, Dad was placed in the “trades track” in high school along with all of the other poor blue-collar kids. Thing was, though, that Dad was really, really smart and had all the makings of college material. This typically didn’t really matter in the 1930’s post-Depression Boston suburbs. Your neighborhood and your lineage pretty much determined your destiny. Your father showered when he got home from work and so would you.
But Dad caught a break. One of his teachers, Miss Nolan, plucked him out to that trades track and insisted that he belonged in the college track along with the kids with fathers who showered before they went to work. Miss Nolan was right. Dad thrived in school. His natural leadership qualities found the air they needed to grow, too. Miss Nolan bought him his first pair of new shoes so that he would look the part when he walked up to accept his diploma. Although his poverty necessitated a detour in the Army during the Korean War, he eventually graduated from the University of Vermont with a degree in what we would now know as industrial engineering and eventually added an MBA from American International.
What does this have to do with flowers? Despite rather modest goals for what success might look like (it’s very hard to fully escape everything it means to “repair” a hole in your shoe with a piece of cardboard) my Dad became a very successful businessman. One day he was chatting with his attorney friend and asked how one goes about creating and funding a trust. Dad told his buddy that he planned to honor Miss Nolan’s great gift and her legacy with a scholarship in her name that he would announce at her funeral.
The lawyer’s response was precious: “Why would you wait? Do it now so that Miss Nolan can feel your love and so you can see how happy she will be to watch the winners of the scholarship go off to college.” Pretty cool, huh? My Dad’s friend was essentially telling him to give Miss Nolan her flowers while she was still there to enjoy them, and that’s exactly what my Dad did. Dad sat with her at quite a few of those graduations, Dad showered with Miss Nolan’s gratitude and both aglow in the love from the kids who won the scholarship.
Give your people their flowers while they are still here to enjoy them.
I’ll see you next week…
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