Trudge / Dr. David White

Greetings, ladies and gentlemen (the term is to be liberally applied),

Welcome to Serendipity. If you are reading this for the first time, the loose premise of these musings can be found in the provenance email from August 2023 or approximately round three of the Covid booster campaign.

In short, this is a meandering musing that has little purpose, is instantly forgotten, and likely offsets any benefit you get from reading as a good habit.

Since February is the shortest month, I thought I would keep this one brief. Then I got into a flow and decided to ramble more than usual.

Tucson recently made international news with the disappearance of Savannah Guthrie’s 84-year-old mother. Apparently she was kidnapped, although the case still feels mysterious to me.

The day before that story broke, I had my own encounter with an 84-year-old.

My daughter and I had just dropped off a dog-pee stained blanket at the dry cleaner, which already demonstrates to you the day was going swimmingly, when we were driving past the grocery store around 3:30 p.m., singing along to the Eagles like civilized people.

Out of nowhere, we hear an engine rev to a pitch normally reserved for NASCAR. A red Ford F-150 reverses over an embankment, clears the curb like it trained for it, and launches directly into the front of the grocery store. If we had been half a second earlier, this newsletter would have a different author.

There’s a crash, exploding glass, and what I can only describe as the sound of every frozen vegetable in Arizona being violently rearranged.

I park. I run in. Not heroically. More like a confused gazelle.

Inside: smoke, shattered glass, and a truck sitting about 50 feet deep in the refrigerated section, spraying freon like it’s trying to cool the entire state.

And here’s the miracle - no one was hurt. Not a scratch. Which feels statistically unlikely and spiritually generous.

Behind the wheel? A very bewildered 84-year-old man and his equally stunned wife. As he was being interviewed he kept saying, “I was in the parking lot… and then I was in the store.”

Honestly mate, I felt exactly the same.

So in summary: if you are 84 in Tucson this month, your odds of either being kidnapped or accidentally redecorating a Safeway appear uncomfortably high. Consider Florida.

Moving on.

On a brighter note, this month’s serendipitous moment comes from a meeting between Rachel Grunbaum and Martin Bihl. That connection led to Rachel contributing to Martin’s famous year-end agency review. It is full of extremely smart people who use long words and everything.

Moving on, on.

This month, I would like to introduce you to a national treasure.

As a recipient of the military’s Bronze Star, Dr. David White has led a life of sacrifice. The most impressive sacrifice he made, however, was his dignity when he appeared as a contestant on the popular 90s TV show Gladiators. When I find the link, I will share it for all you spandex enthusiasts.

Dr. David White

David grew up in the forests of Pennsylvania wrestling bears, mountain lions, and groundhogs. He went on to wrestle, and study, at Penn State, where he trained to become an emergency physician.

He later served as part of the medical unit supporting special operations forces in Afghanistan. After that chapter, he worked in Arizona on Indian reservations before returning to Pennsylvania to build his medical practice. If you ever get shot in the chest or lose your arm in a fiercely contested wrestling match with a gopher, David is your man.

But after 30 years in medicine, he is hanging up those sharp white coats for a new venture: Fat Koi.

This outdoor gear company will allow him to spend more time in nature, where he can continue refining the wrestling skills he developed in his youth. He has also recently taken up Jiu Jitsu to learn something new but is currently on par with nine-year-old girls who tap him out every Thursday night. I am confident he will eventually progress to subduing at least a medium-sized groundhog.

Everyone on this list should follow or connect with David. And if you know how hard it is to start something from scratch, consider supporting his efforts by buying some excellent swag to help fund the journey.

Do that here.

Or follow David here.

Or, if you are one of those people who uses LinkedIn frequently, connect with him here (I sincerely hope his profile is up to date).

Lastly, as is now customary, thank you for reading. I genuinely mean that. I know every second is precious, and I have once again obligated three minutes of your life if you are European and four minutes if you are American and read slightly slower.

One day, I promise, you will get something for all that you have invested in humoring me.

Cheers.