Until It's Gone

Dr. Charles White, age 102, in 2008
(Time photo)

Time writer David von Drehle remembers Charlie White, who died last month at age 109. Excerpts:

The first doctor in Kansas City to specialize in anesthesiology, Charlie could discourse at length on the invention of modern medicine. He could tell you what it was like to be a general practitioner making house calls in the Depression, removing tonsils with picture wire. It was a hard life, making ends meet on late payments and barter—no health insurance back then. When science advanced beyond ether and brandy for surgery patients, he leapt at the chance to learn anesthesia at the Mayo Clinic.

During his life Charlie White encountered journalist Edgar Snow, jazz saxophonist Charlie Parker, and President Harry Truman. What's remarkable, though, is not the famous people Charlie White knew or the significant historical events that he witnessed, but how commonplace this eulogy sounds.

Over the past decade I have attended (too many) memorial services for people who came of age during the Great Depression or World War II. They all contended with hardships barely imaginable to 21st century Americans, met their share of famous people or even acquired a bit of fame themselves, contended with wrenching change without benefit of counselors or consultants, and built a society that became the envy of the world.

We would do well to take a few moments from our always-connected lives to listen to these voices before they are stilled forever. We don't know what we will lose until it's gone.