“A Baby Is a Wishing Well. Everyone Puts Their Hopes, Their Fears, Their Pasts, Their 2 cents In.” — Elizabeth Bard
Editor-In-Chief, Chester “Trip” Buckenmaier III, MD, COL (ret.), MC, USA
I recognize that this column tends to dwell on the many negative aspects of the federal healthcare system, our democracy and the general human condition on this planet. We are a species both fascinated and driven by conflict. I have elected to change tact for February and focus on something entirely positive that has occurred in my family. As a resident and staff physician, I often craved positive news during January and February. These months seemed the most difficult to work through, coming off the high of the holiday season. The days were short and cold, and I would spend many days in a row getting up in the dark and returning home after nightfall. Mix in a few nights on call caring for patients, and one might forget there are healthy and happy people in the daylight outside of the hospital. In retirement, these times are memories as my wife, Pam, and I now chase the sun in our RV (TimBuckTwoBlog.com). We headed a bit north this past December for Christmas and the gathering of our family for a special event. Unfortunately, we made it just in time for historic cold weather in Atlanta (Freezemageddon). Fortunately, we were prepared to exist in the RV in extreme cold. Why chance the cold?
With permission from his mother, Susan, my eldest daughter, and Father, Dan Hoffman, I am beyond pleased to announce the first birth in the next generation of my family. Alden Chester Hoffman was born in Atlanta (his father and Pam were in attendance) on Dec. 29, 2022. Susan and Dan initially had not settled on a name for the baby, wanting to meet him before making a final decision. Humorously, when the attending obstetric nurse inquired about the child’s name, Pam blurted out, “Perfection!” Later, when I met young Alden, I think Pam had it right. After getting to know the new addition to the family, Susan and Dan settled on Alden as a first name, a Hoffman family name. The middle name, Chester, extends back through me, my father, my grandfather and my great-grandfather, our original American, Anton Buckenmaier. Anton named one of his six sons, my grandfather Chester, after a Spanish-American War Army buddy. The name persisted through the generations in the males of my family, and I am the third Chester Church. I was blessed with three daughters, so as I often quip, the “madness will finally end.” Not so!
The honor Susan and Dan have given generations of men in my family who carried the name Chester is humbling. Admittedly, when this unexpected announcement was made, I had difficulty saying anything recognizable through my blubbering for some time. My father, who died a few years ago, would have been ecstatic.
A name is one of the few things given to a person that no one can take away. For many generations of my family, names have been chosen to honor those who came before. This sense of history and connection to family members past has always been grounding and a source of comfort to me personally. I was particularly pleased that my other daughters, Hannah and Samantha, through no small effort, made the trek to Atlanta, taking time from their busy lives to celebrate Alden. I feel Alden is fortunate to be the son of Susan and Dan, backed by two incredibly strong families. His future is so bright he should be wearing shades.
Pam and I have hung around in Atlanta to support Susan and Dan as new parents. It has been strange to think of myself as a grandpa. I certainly do not feel old enough. Baby Alden has reminded me of the utter uselessness I felt with each baby of my own. Women are equipped with everything a baby desires, and men, well, we exist. I have done my best to provide Dan with helpful advice on how his previous existence is now dead and buried as he takes on the role of Dad. I have emphasized the clarity of purpose a child provides one’s life and the comic relief of children generally. Mark Twain, in a famous speech concerning babies, described the newborn’s influence on family life thus:
“If you will stop and think a minute—if you will go back 50 or 100 years to your early married life and re-contemplate your first baby—you will remember that he amounted to a good deal—and even something over. You soldiers all know that, when that little fellow arrived at family headquarters, you had to hand in your resignation. He took entire command. You became his lackey, his mere body servant, and you had to stand around, too. He was not a commander who made allowances for time, distance, weather or anything else. You had to execute his order, whether it was possible or not.”
Pam and Susan have tried to distract Dan and me from our uselessness regarding Alden with a “honey-do” list of projects around the condo. Undeniably, I have enjoyed the diversion. Between jobs, I have shared a beer or two with Dan at the local pub. I have tried to be not too specific with Dan regarding my own experience with my children. Too much advice from former parents can be a burden, and I recognize that my experience is now 30 years old. Parents must find their own way in their own time. I will have to learn how to be a grandfather (I hope the boy likes to fly fish). I still lament that children do not come with instructions.
If you were looking for a point in this month’s editorial, dear reader, I am sorry for your disappointment. I just wanted to share a slice of my joy regarding the consistency of family and the miracle of a new life. We in federal medicine are, after all, in the business of life. Remember that fact when your alarm goes off at 0-dark-30, and you trudge to the hospital for another day of patient care. You are supporting events like the one I just described. Bless you.
