100 years ago my father was born. He had barely crossed over from his 66th year, turning 67 a mere two months before his death. In his brief lifetime he accomplished much. He was a man of distinction, a man of imagination, a man who believed that the world could be a better place. He looked back into the past, lived in the present, and tried as best as he could to make the future a better healthier world through his energetic actions in public health, his publications in that field, and, also through his historical studies. The latter taught what had been and the trends that ensued from occurrences, decisions, politics, and mentalities that shaped the world of his fathers and his own world, as well. This brief encomium, written by a loving daughter who has now survived her father by more than a year, is a pale reflection of both the man and his work. May he never be forgotten for who he was and what he performed for his family and the world that he engaged bravely, and did not lose heart despite bearing witness to the catastrophes of the twentieth century. Too bad a dialogue with the dead is a one-sided affair. How grateful I would be to engage him in conversation and to learn from him still.
Curiosity was limitless, a quality reserved for the minds of the great.
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