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Tom Bunting Was A Doctor

The Source

Tom Bunting was a doctor’s doctor. That’s not simply a figure of speech. When the MD’s in our area were ailing they went to Dr. Bunting. Perhaps it’s because he was one of the oldest and most experienced, but it was also due to Dr. Bunting’s medical philosophy: “If it won’t kill you, you’ll get over it.” Dr. Tom was not a pill pusher. He believed that most common ailments could be cured by simply taking better care of one’s self. But he once told me, “I’d take anyone other than another doctor as a patient. They’re the worst.” Tom claimed that doctors were the most impatient of any breed walking into his office. “They want the cure right now even though they’d never put up with that attitude in their own patient.” Sometimes our own kind are the hardest to handle. Like…well, like actors. Perhaps I should say that some actors are the exception, but in general an audience of actors is any performer’s worst nightmare. The old adage says that an actor’s definition of a great show is, “Any show I’m in.” The definition of a dog? “Any show that goes onstage without me.” Teachers speaking to teachers? Last year I spoke for an October institute in a faraway county. (I can’t reveal the name or the educators in Knox County might become offended.) Perhaps 600 teachers filled the Galesburg High School (oops..I let it slip again) auditorium as they introduced me as their keynote speaker. I looked into the audience and discovered that at least the first eight rows of teachers…as far as I could see with the lights in my eyes… had their laps filled with papers to grade during the speech. True, I was the hired man, but this was astounding. Absolutely no one within my eyesight had any intention of listening to the speech. I smiled, then announced, “I know this isn’t normal for you, but I always begin my speeches by stripping stark naked,” then walked out from behind the podium and took off my coat..then my tie..then my shoes. I confess that I stopped there, walked back behind the microphone (they were now paying attention) and told them that I had them confused with a retirement home and that I’d give the speech with my remaining clothing. I got their attention and held it, but the opening volley had been a real skirmish. Teachers! The very people who demand compete attention from their school-day audiences! Grading papers! …at least until the bald man started stripping. Many years ago my school district loaded up all its teachers on a single school bus…yes, we fit. Triopia’s small. Our superintendent, James Brim, took the front seat of the bus and we were off on a tour of the district. Several of us had asked about where various students lived and so on that day we took a whirlwind tour of our students’ homes with Mr. Brim providing the narration. It was every bit like an 8th-grade field trip to Mark Twain’s Cave. The predictable group of boy teachers commandeered the back seats, two of them smoking out the bus window, a group of “girls” sat toward the front and chatted all through Mr. Brim’s narration, the new teachers sat by themselves, and the bus driver was flummoxed as to whom to call upon to restore order. Even James Brim who had been known to eat rowdy seniors raw and wrestle grizzly bears for breakfast gave up half way through the tour and simply sat to watch the scenery. We just don’t do well with our own kind. A former pastor of mine was once asked to preach to an assemblage of preachers. He told me, “I got it done, but all I really wanted to do was get out of there. They looked so bored. …and hey! I was pretty darned good!” Perhaps it’s the fact that when faced one of our own kind onstage we figure we know everything they know. In some cases I suppose it’s professional jealousy. More likely, I think it’s much like when Mom would leave the house and say, “You kids behave” without benefit of a babysitter. We just don’t. The story is told of how when Lincoln was wrestling with the details of the Emancipation Proclamation, he was interrupted by the noise of his two sons shooting their toy guns from a White House window and waving a Confederate flag. Citizens passing the White House stopped to complain of their unpatriotic and rebellious behavior. Lincoln had twice shouted at them to calm down, but after all, he was just their father. Sometimes your toughest crowd is the one that knows you best. Maybe that’s why some families don’t get along.