Friends,
A month ago, I had a chance to spend a weekend in Chicago with some of my good buddies from college. During a time of life when maintaining your existing friendships (let alone making new ones) can be really hard, it was great to be reminded that I have a network of people who know what I’m going through and have my back regardless of how long it takes me to respond to text messages. It was a valuable emotional recharge for all of us on the trip, and I thank all of our partners for allowing it to happen.
It was a weekend of fun and debauchery like only a group of middle-aged nerds can have: taking in a rugby match, playing board games, catching a movie matinee, drinking in moderation, eating in excess, and getting 8-hour nights of sleep away from our kids. And as often happens in such gatherings, we sat around playing “name some people from our past” and reminisced about some of our professors at the Civil Engineering Department at Case Western Reserve University. In particular, we waxed poetic about the ageless Adel “Tony” Saada, with his booming voice, scribbling cryptic elasticity tensors from the textbook he wrote onto the board in Bingham Hall (himself waxing poetic about the joy of writing on real slate chalkboards, not these fake modern ones) while the breeze through the windows kept his wispy hair in a constant state of unstable equilibrium, more comb-up than comb-over. He was hard on his students (no partial credit, because “a bridge stands, or it doesn’t”) but in the inspiring way that a great coach can be. It was the hardest class I’d ever taken and the proudest I’ve ever been of an A grade. Heck, it would have been the proudest I’d ever been even if it had been a B or a C. We all smiled, gave a sigh, and took a sip of our morning coffee.
A week later, I noticed that I’d overlooked an email from another familiar name, Dr. Xiong Yu, back then a fresh-faced protégée of Dr. Saada, now the fresh-faced department head. It turns out that Dr. Saada had passed away peacefully in his sleep that very day we were talking about him, at age 91. I had other plans for the morning, but instead mostly sat, sipping my coffee, thinking about Saada, and about my other core teachers at Case: Dario Gasparini (If you think I used the word “proverbial” way too much, blame him), Art Hucklebridge, Karen Skubal, Aaron Jennings, Vassilis Panoskaltsis, and Roberto Ballarini. I was so inspired by the way they inspired me that I briefly pivoted from my plan to go into practice and started applying for PhD programs before I ultimately decided to go work in industry for a bit and then go back to school for my PhD and to teach. How many years in industry is “a bit?”
I thought ahead to my bosses, coworkers and mentors that have guided me during my working years. I thought back before college, to high school (kudos to Mr. Prale, who taught me to write nonfiction – little did this aspiring engineer know how important that would be – and Ms. Williams, whose penchant for the stream of consciousness style nearly had me convinced to become a fiction writer and who you can probably blame for these lengthy messages), to grade school, to preschool. To my Scoutmasters and teachers and coaches and sabom and bosses outside of school. To my first and forever teachers, my parents and sisters. All of them have helped to direct me down the often winding and bumpy road to where I am today. I gave thanks to them all that morning, and if I can remember to do it after running around the kitchen trying to get Thanksgiving dinner on the table with all the dishes actually warm, I’ll raise a glass to all of them then as well.
I was raised Catholic, so I’m supposed to believe in heaven, but I’ve also never been one to not have a contingency plan. In the event that I don’t wake up at the proverbial pearly gates when my time comes, I want to my best to live on in the structures I’ve helped improve, or the hearts and minds of others, to be name dropped with a fond sigh or chuckle or head wag over morning coffee, or over drinks at a future SEAONC meeting, which I hope will be held on planet Earth and will involve jetpacks or hoverboards of some kind. That sounds way more fun than plucking a harp on some cloud anyway.
Known deist, Ben Franklin, ever the iconoclast amongst our founding fathers, used to ask himself the same question each morning: “What good shall I do this day?” I have a little sign near my front door with that saying, which, honestly, I don’t read as often as I intended but is supposed to remind me to follow the Scout slogan and “do a good turn daily.” What’s great about waking up each day is that we have new opportunities to place deposits into the afterlife piggybank through our interactions with our families, junior colleagues, social groups, or just that random person on the street that you held the elevator door for. No prayers or tithing required, just be excellent to each other…to coin a phrase. I think that’s pretty much all any sort of deity would want of us anyway, wherever our brand loyalty might lie.
Well, this message ended up going in a very different direction than I thought. I guess that’s what happens when you sit down to write with a tight deadline and little plan. Rugby to college to the afterlife to Ben Franklin to Bill and Ted. Thanks, Ms. Williams. But I also now realize that this is my last message to you before the winter holidays, so maybe it turned out to be apropos anyway. I’m sure I’ll hear it from y’all if not, but let’s pivot back to where I intended to end up, eh?
Starting with next month’s SEAONC monthly meeting, held at UC Berkeley, as per tradition, and continuing with our Bay Area Student Night in February, you’ll have opportunities to meet our next generation of structural engineers. There will be great technical presentations, as usual, but I encourage all of you to come welcome the attending students and offer advice, words of encouragement, or commiseration over Professor X’s brutal final exams. Show them how great our community is, maybe schedule a couple interviews, and throw a couple pennies in the piggybank. Pay a bit back, pay something forward. And while you’re at it, give some thanks to the teachers, official and unofficial, who continue to inspire young people to join this noble profession, just as they did for you. ‘Tis the season, after all.
Happy Holidays,
David Ojala
dojala@thorntontomasetti.com