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Some people need mountains. Some need cities. Some need noise and movement. Others need water. Not simply to drink or bathe or cross in a boat, but to see it, to hear it, to feel its presence nearby. Water has a way of steadying a life that is difficult to explain to someone who does not feel the same pull. The Calm of a Water View There is a particular quiet that comes from looking out over water. A lake in the early morning. The slow tide moving through a harbor. A river be

There is something quietly revealing about how a person treats small acts of order. Making the bed. Hanging a jacket rather than dropping it over a chair. Rinsing a cup before placing it in the sink. These are not grand gestures. They are tiny decisions, almost invisible in the moment, but together they form a kind of daily philosophy. Neatness is rarely about perfection. It is about respect. Respect for one’s surroundings, respect for the people one lives with, and, perhaps

Shared governance  in an academic institution is a foundational partnership where the faculty, administration, and staff, jointly manage the university's academic and operational missions. As a Professor Emeritus at UC Davis, from the time of my first orientation, I was secure in the knowledge that I was part of a system that prioritized shared governance . Shared Governance at UC Davis Shared governance ensures that faculty hold delegated authority over curriculum, degrees,

Almost everyone who has eaten in an Asian restaurant has faced the small, slightly awkward moment. The waiter sets down the food. There are forks and spoons on the table. No chopsticks. You hesitate. Should I ask for chopsticks? Will I embarrass myself if I can’t use them? Does the waiter assume I can’t? Or worse, does asking for them look like cultural posturing? It is a small moment, but like many small social rituals, it carries layers of meaning. The Perennial Question: “

The person it’s happening to has absolutely no idea. As far as they’re concerned, they just thought something through and reached a conclusion. Phrases such as: Fake news. Witch hunt. Deep state. You don’t say something that many times because you’re making a point. You say it that many times because you’re building a reflex. Mental Emergency Brake Imagine driving along a quiet country road at dusk. The road bends gently through the hills. You are relaxed, attentive, curious

March 6 arrives first there, as it always does. The continent leaning into the new day while the rest of the world is still finishing the last. And so, somewhere back home, it is already my birthday. Seventy-five. A number that lands with a little weight if I say it out loud, and yet feels oddly light when I hold it up against memory. I imagine Australia in the earliest hours of this morning. Not the Australia of postcards, but the real one. The one I still carry in my senses

Travel often teaches us that festivals are more than celebrations. They are windows into the soul of a culture. If you watch closely, they reveal how people think about life, community, faith, and joy. Holi , the famous Indian festival of colors, is one of those moments when India reveals itself most vividly. On the surface, it appears chaotic. Clouds of colored powder drifting through the air, music echoing through narrow streets, strangers laughing as they smear color acros

I recently had a conversation with a retired university administrator about conflicts of interest  and conflicts of commitment  among senior university leaders. The discussion was about the ethics of a full-time dean of a School of Veterinary Medicine in a public institution belonging to the board of directors of a large pharmaceutical corporation, particularly as the corporation in question is closely aligned with veterinary medicine. It was a serious discussion about confli

I didn’t set out to write a series about naming rights. I don’t wake up thinking about branding strategies or naming rights or capital campaigns. I think about people. About places. About the rooms where I first learned something difficult and wonderful. I think about the smell of disinfectant in the clinics. About the hum of fluorescent lights over the necropsy floor. About coffee at 5 a.m. before morning rounds. About the first patient I saved. And the first one I didn’t. W

By now, we’ve walked around the issue from three sides. In Part 1 , we talked about identity - how names quietly shape who we believe we are. In Part 2 , we followed the money - the real financial pressures pushing schools toward large gifts. In Part 3 , we looked at memory - who gets remembered when a single name rises above thousands of quieter contributions. All this leads to the obvious next question: If naming rights feel uneasy… If they compress collective history int

If Part 1  of this series was about identity, and Part 2 was about money,then this part is about something softer and perhaps more personal: Memory. Because naming rights are not just financial decisions. They are acts of remembering. And every act of remembering is also, inevitably, an act of forgetting. How institutions remember themselves Walk through any veterinary college and you can read its history in the walls. A hallway of class photos. A plaque honoring the first d

In Part 1  of this series, I suggested that naming rights are not really about gratitude. They’re about identity. But identity rarely changes on its own. Identity changes when money changes. If we want to understand why veterinary colleges are beginning to carry the names of individuals, we must talk about something less romantic and far more practical: Who pays the bills? The old model most of us trained in For much of the twentieth century, veterinary education in the Unite

When I look back on my latest trip to India, I realize that what stayed with me most was not any single sight. Not the traffic. Not the towers. Not the monuments. Not even the colors and sounds that travelers always talk about. What stayed with me was the sense of scale . India today feels like a country holding everything at once. It holds ancient systems and new ambitions. It holds extraordinary wealth and deep poverty. It holds biodiversity and urban expansion. It holds

For most of my career, veterinary schools had wonderfully plain names. College of Veterinary Medicine. School of Veterinary Medicine. University of X. Functional. Geographic. Almost anonymous. They sounded less like brands and more like public trusts. That wasn’t accidental. It reflected who we were. Veterinary medicine grew out of agriculture, service, and community need - not prestige, not patronage, and certainly not naming rights. Our colleges belonged to states and pro

After days of traffic, towers, water tanks, and questions about infrastructure, the shift felt almost abrupt. I stepped into a marble-floored showroom. Outside, the streets were dusty and loud. Inside, the air was cool and scented faintly with sandalwood. Rugs hung from tall walls in layers of color and pattern. Tables gleamed with polished marble inlaid with semi-precious stone. Glass cases displayed necklaces, bangles, and gemstones under soft lighting. It was beautiful. An

After several days in the cities, it was the absence that began to strike me. Not the absence of people. There were people everywhere. Not the absence of noise. India hums continuously with movement and life. It was the absence of animals. On earlier visits to India, I had always been aware of animals as part of the everyday landscape. Street dogs slept in the shade of tea stalls. Cattle wandered slowly through traffic with the calm assurance of creatures that know they belon

These are deceptively simple questions: Who is driving this new generation of veterinary professionals? Who is motivating and encouraging them? Are we missing such thought leaders altogether? My answer may surprise some. In my view, it should be : The American Association of Veterinary Medical Colleges (AAVMC). And yet, I am far from convinced that it is. The Organization That Should Lead The AAVMC  exists precisely to occupy that space. It convenes deans. It shapes academi

I was not prepared for the tone of some of the replies to my recent blog posts: Who will teach them? https://lnkd.in/guYjJctY  and https://lnkd.in/dFeGdPGy Some of the replies were not merely critical. They were weary. Sharp. Disappointed. At times openly hostile toward specialists, university professors, and academic institutions. It stopped me. Because I have spent my professional life in those spaces - teaching, mentoring, examining, arguing for standards, defending schola

In India, it doesn’t take long before you start to notice the question. It begins with small things. A plastic wrapper caught in a roadside bush. A heap of refuse gathered at the corner of a lane. Someone sweeping dust and litter from a shopfront - not into a bin, but into the gutter, where it joins everything else already moving slowly downhill. At first it feels like a matter of tidiness. But over time you begin to see it differently. You realize it isn’t simply about litte

On that first drive from the airport, it was the traffic that struck me. But over the following days, something else began to catch my eye. Water. Not rivers or lakes, though those appear too, often in varying states of fullness and cleanliness, but the signs of water infrastructure everywhere once you start looking for it. On rooftops across the cities, I noticed tanks. Thousands of them. Black plastic cylinders, blue containers, squat concrete reservoirs, all perched above