I’m writing this to you on Father’s Day, with my dad on my mind.
I’ve always known I am lucky to have him. He’s kind, thoughtful, quick with a joke, and dedicated to our family. He’s been a quiet, steady role model my whole life.
I’m the oldest of seven kids. My parents supported all of us through college and beyond, an incredible gift that meant my dad worked well into his seventies. Not just out of necessity, but because, I think, he genuinely loved it. He enjoyed the practice he built, the colleagues he worked with, and the patients he cared for.
Honestly, if he weren’t so busy attending grandkids’ baseball games, school concerts, and soccer matches, he might still be working. I’m sure there were hard days. But I never once heard him complain about his job.
My father didn’t tell me how to live. He lived, and let me watch him do it.”
— Clarence Budington Kelland
That kind of quiet consistency is something I think about a lot.
Because in medicine, especially today, it’s rare.
We’re stretched thin. Many of us are wondering how long we can keep going. And sometimes we forget the power of simply being there—for our patients, yes, but also for each other.
Having someone to look up to, someone who shows up, who listens, who mentors you in the quiet moments between clinic and charting, makes all the difference.
I’ve had those people in my career. And I’ve tried to be that person for others.
But here’s the hard truth: medicine doesn’t leave enough space mentorship.
We’re so busy trying to keep up, we forget that mentorship doesn’t always come in big formal programs. It happens in the hallway, while scrubbing for a case, and over a cup of coffee.
So here’s my hope today:
- That we make room for each other.
- That we remember our influence isn’t just in what we do, but in how we show up.
- And that we never underestimate the impact of a steady presence—whether in a family, a hospital, or a life.
Happy Father’s Day!
Coach's Corner
This week, your assignment is simple.
Write a short thank-you note to your dad or a father figure in your life.
Tell them what you noticed. What you appreciated. What you carry with you because of them.
If they’re no longer here, write it anyway. Light a candle. Speak it aloud.
Legacy is never just in things we leave behind, it’s in who we become because of who they were.
As always, I'm here to help!
🗓️ Schedule a free coaching call with me—one-on-one, no pressure. Let’s talk about what matters to you.
You don’t have to figure this out alone.
And you don’t have to wait until you’re at your limit to ask for help.
With appreciation and respect,
—Ben
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