Andrew Wyeth, the artist, said that the more simple something appears, the more complex it seems to be.  Trying to figure out how to talk about Gerard, to articulate our respect and affection for him, is simple on the surface but an impossible task.  This morning, I have the opportunity to share with you a little bit about Gerard, to help us remember our friend.  I’d like to talk about his legacy, what it is that he has left us.  How would you describe Gerard?  And how would you describe his legacy?  To say his name is to evoke images of Gerard lecturing, fishing, eating, cooking, or working on his laptop in the back of a lecture hall.  He was, after all, Gerard.  He was the man, the guy who was in demand at every seminar.  He grew into the star of the Institute, the lecturer who was in command of the lecture hall.  Like the old E. F. Hutton commercials, when Gerard talked, people listened.  I’ve thought about that lately.  What was it about Gerard that made him so respected?  He had great speaking skills, of course, and he worked on his lectures until they were polished in every conceivable way.  He lectured with humility. You always had the sense with Gerard that no matter how much he knew about a topic, he recognized that surgery is ultimately humbling for us all.  He was funny, he was self deprecating, he was brilliant. Gerard was respected because when he talked, he was credible; he was believable.  When he talked, you knew Gerard was talking from experience.  He was real; he was the truth.  At his wake, Stan Kalish and Luke Cicchinelli compared Gerard to a musician or an artist.  It was striking that they would both choose similar metaphors for Gerard, but his work really was his art.  He was an incredibly talented surgeon. 

When you stop to think about it, Gerard left us with an outstanding professional legacy.  He accomplished a great deal in his short life.  He helped open Germany to modern foot surgery.  It’s hard to remember now what a breakthrough that was, about a decade ago.  He lectured in China and he traveled throughout the country, speaking on numerous topics that came to be identified with him: subtalar fusion, pre-dislocation syndrome, curettage, juvenile hallux valgus, rheumatoid foot surgery, the Austin axis concept and the locking pin, hallux valgus with metatarsus adductus, the Charcot foot, plantar fibromatosis, and non union repair.  He talked about DVT prevention, and of course re-popularized the first MPJ fusion.  Those are the ones that come to my mind; you probably have your own lectures of Gerard’s that you remember.    He was active with the AO.  He was a featured speaker at ACFAS meetings.  He ran a hugely successful meeting in Cleveland.  He was an incredible educator.  He motivated students to think about the profession in a different way.  He didn’t just educate his residents, he inspired them.  They are an important part of his legacy.

For his whole professional life, he was active in the Podiatry Institute.  He had taken on the title of Director of Program Development for the Institute.  In that role, he had taken on the development of something exciting, the International Foot and Ankle Congress.  He put untold hours and sweat into the development of IFAC.  Gerard’s death is a huge loss for the Institute.  For those of us who knew him, we probably all remember Gerard in different ways.  He was a student of some, a fellow resident of others, and a teacher to all.  Where do we go without Gerard?  Who fills the void?  Now, I’m talking to the faculty of the Institute who are junior to Gerard, because you, each of you, needs to step to the plate in your own way.   No one person will be Gerard, but collectively, we need to recognize his contributions and use our own talents to keep the Institute as the leading force for podiatric education and innovation in the profession. 

Gerard, our friend and colleague, was at once both simple and amazingly complex.  Today, and throughout this weekend, we remember Gerard for his friendship and the personal legacy he left us, in addition to his professional contributions.   Gerard was simple in his drive and his passion.  Whatever he set out to do, he did it with passion: playing the accordion, swimming, fishing, eating, cooking, surgery, photography, building his house, being a husband and father.  He did things with an energy that still astounds me.  He was a force of nature, a human dynamo.  It is that drive and energy that is one of my most distinct impressions of Gerard.  It is that energy that allowed him to touch so many people.  His wake was simply amazing.  Yes, there was grief.  But there was an outpouring of affection for Gerard.  There were hundreds and hundreds of people who were there and many more who were touched by him but not able to be there.  His personal legacy is the many people he touched.  His personal legacy is Barb and his five children.  His uncle celebrated his funeral mass and talked about the measure of a man’s life.  The measure of Gerard was not all the things he accomplished.  The measure of Gerard was the kind of man he was, the kind of person who was focused on kindness toward others as a husband, a father, a brother, a son, a colleague, a doctor, a friend.  Ultimately, what I will remember most about our friend Gerard is his kindness and how he looked for ways to be a kind person in this life.  I will remember his spirituality.  I will remember how he seized each moment and each day in his life.

I’m grateful for having known Gerard.  I’m a better person, the Institute is a better place, yes, and even the world is a better place for having felt his presence.  His presence is with us still.

Kieran Mahan