Review of Optometry March 2000 Editorial

EDITOR'S PAGE

Say ‘Uncle’

Rich Kirkner

When I was a kid, “uncle” was what we had to yell in order to get out of my oldest brother’s headlock, as in, “Let me go.” “Say uncle.” “Uncle.” “Louder.” “UNCLE.” I

t’s also a moniker we tack onto the names of, well, our blood uncles.

It’s a term of reverence. It’s a derivative of the Latin avunculus, which means “mother’s brother.” Among the definitions Webster’s lists is “one who helps, advises or encourages.” (That “cry of surrender” one is there, too.)

Optometry, in a way, is one big family, and a couple weeks ago we celebrated an “uncle’s” 50th anniversary in the profession. It explains the photo at right, replacing the mug normally there. He’s the “uncle”—maybe a few years ago when he was a G.I. in World War II, but just as young as ever on the inside. He’s “Uncle” Frank Fontana, O.D., of St. Louis.

Of course, you probably know him or know of him. You may be one of the “nieces” or “nephews” he’s adopted along the way. You may know that when the editors at Webster’s put the words “one who helps, advises or encourages” next to “uncle,” they were probably thinking of “Uncle Frank.”

I first met him at a reception at the 1991 AOA Congress in Dallas. Shuffling around the hall with a former colleague, drink in one hand, hors d’oeuvres in the other, we didn’t know a soul in the place. Then my colleague spied the name tag, “Frank Fontana, O.D.,” and made a joke—a tasteful one— about “the guy from ‘Murphy Brown.’”

I’d recalled that Dr. Fontana was on our Editorial Board—a month into the job there wasn’t much else I did know about this magazine. We approached the doctor and introduced ourselves. The light went on. He must have introduced us to a dozen different doctors and industry types that night, and always with this prelude: “I want you to meet my newest nephews …”

Since then, I can’t tell you how many people Uncle Frank has introduced me to. I’ve always valued his help, advice and encouragement. I couldn’t imagine getting from that AOA Congress in Dallas to this column today without him. And, I know I’m not alone.

What’s most refreshing is why the avuncular Dr. Fontana does what he does. It must be because he either truly enjoys it, or he can’t help himself. Either one is a commendable, but I think it’s a little of both.

So, here’s to your next 50 years in practice, Uncle Frank. May you touch as many lives as you have in the first 50. u

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