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William L. Weeks
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2020-09-02
The Shaman in Francesco
When I went to work at Ernst and Young, I thought partners were going to figure out in a New York minute that I didn’t belong there because I lacked the intellectual curiosity, problem-solving talent, communication ability, or any of these characteristics of a professional consultant. I was extremely anxious on my first day. When I entered the Orange County office with its oil paintings hanging in the entryway and its staircase connecting the floor on which consulting Partners had offices to the floor on which audit Partners resided, I knew I didn’t belong there. Then I met Francesco; he was a shaman bearing wise council. I felt at ease instantly. Francesco’s friendship and advice were just what the doctor ordered. On the first project I managed, Francesco worked for me as a member of the consulting team. The Partner we reported to did not like Francesco. He didn’t like his style of communication, his style of dress, nor his accent–Francesco was Chinese-Indonesian. I gave up my integrity by sharing in the Partner’s dislike of Francesco. But my opinion was dishonest. He had been my savior, after all. Role forward six years, and Francesco now works for a small consulting firm I own. Francesco is a loyal consultant in which I confide my innermost emotions. Unfortunately, my consulting firm went through a period of contraction that meant Francesco had to find employment elsewhere. Still, we met regularly to explore opportunities to grow my company so that Francesco and I could work on the same team again. As always, Francesco was a source of limitless ideas and friendship. Francesco passed away on September 2nd, 2020. He was taken from humanity at much too young of an age. He did not succumb to COVID. I don’t even remember how COVID affected me at the time because I was so distraught over Francesco’s passing. I didn’t lose a colleague. I lost a friend. -
2020-07-13
The Last Man on Earth
I run almost every day. During the summer of 2020, I was undergoing prostate salvage radiation therapy. Radiation therapy is sometimes proscribed after one has their prostate removed. I ran no less during the prostate radiation therapy. I've always eaten healthy food. Still, I drank water more regularly during radiation therapy. Driving from my home to the Anderson Cancer Center was an enjoyable experience, mostly because the freeway was so deserted–there were almost no cars on the road. I live in uptown San Diego, so my long runs take me through downtown San Diego. Before each run, I spend a few minutes practicing martial arts. I imagine the neighbors watching me thought I was having some kind of fit. After warming up with martial arts, I start my run. The first place my run takes me is through the Hillcrest community, usually a place with the lively hustle and bustle of people moving about, but on this day, Hillcrest was deserted. Most restaurants were closed, and a few people were milling about–Hillcrest was a ghost town. It reminded me of the town portrayed in the 1973 film High Plains Drifter. Folks were hiding, hiding from COVID by hiding from each other. From Hillcrest, my run took me through downtown San Diego where the streets were equally deserted. The deserted streets reminded me of running through another movie, the 1964 film, The Last Man on Earth. I imagined inhuman monsters were preparing to spread COVID that would spring into action without warning. Of course, all this fantasizing made my daily run even more fun and pleasurable. I could let my imagination wander momentarily, then return to the peaceful meditation of running through deserted streets. The COVID protocols made possible the escape from the COVID reality itself. I'm convinced the long runs played a vital role in mitigating the effects of radiation therapy.