Tag: medicine

Uncle Lou lived a life that, on paper, sounds larger than life.

He was a thoracic surgeon who quite literally saved lives on a regular basis. He could have filled every family gathering with stories of operating rooms, impossible cases, and professional milestones. But that’s not the way Uncle Lou did things.

Uncle Lou was far more interested in our stories than his own. He wanted to know what we were learning, what we were building, what we were excited about. He led with curiosity and humility when he had every reason to lead with his own accomplishments.

He was a craftsman in the truest sense of the word. One of his hobbies, passion really, was working in his woodshop. His healing hands created fine wood furniture that he mostly gave away to family and friends. We are blessed to have a miniature grandfather clock that he made for us, and a wooden inlaid box that sits on my nightstand.

He was an excellent golfer. I wasn’t good enough to golf in his circle, although I think he may have caught video of me hitting a tee shot backwards once (that’s a story for another time).

I learned how to play a mean air trombone from Uncle Lou. A skill he showed off many times.

Did I mention that he was an avid hiker? His retiree group, the Kaiser Retired Association of Physicians (KRAP) hiked all over the greater San Diego area. It’s clear that the KRAP group is filled with like-minded super talented, but humble, individuals who get a well-earned kick out of the acronym for their group.

His curiosity never retired. Even as his body slowed in recent years, his mind never did. I remember recent conversations with him about computers, AI technology, and rockets. He approached new ideas the same way he approached everything else…with interest, openness, and the quiet confidence of a lifelong learner. I suspect he was still reading about something new right up until the end.

As I was putting the finishing touches on this post, I realized I had left out one more facet of Uncle Lou’s amazing life. He was also a pilot. He flew his plane far and wide, often to sample the cuisine at a distant airport diner, but always for the simple joy of seeing the world from above. It seems perfectly fitting for someone so curious and alive to experience life from every vantage point. A true Renaissance man if ever I knew one.

Uncle Lou’s legacy isn’t only in the lives he saved, the furniture he built, the miles he hiked, the miles he flew, or the videos he recorded of family moments. He always made you feel you were worthy of his full attention.

Uncle Lou reminds us that a life of great achievement shines even brighter when it’s paired with humility, curiosity, and genuine interest in others.

I’ll miss his wry grin, and that twinkle in his eye that let you know he was a very serious person who didn’t take himself too seriously.

Godspeed, Uncle Lou.