Many of our greatest insights — in medicine and in life — come belatedly. Memories fade over time, but the lessons of our best teachers exert a timeless influence.

In 1974, bearing a shiny new University of Florida-endorsed MD degree behind my name, I set off for Winston-Salem, North Carolina, to begin a residency at Wake Forest University. I was accompanied by Cathy Ober, a few earthly belongings and a mild case of imposter syndrome consistent with my status as a freshly minted, untried doctor.

I was vaguely aware, even then, of some of the links that would somehow connect my recent medical school experiences to my unknown future. I knew that my new chairman, Dr. Joe Johnson, had been recruited to Wake Forest from the University of Florida. His superb reputation in Gainesville influenced my decision to go to Winston-Salem. I later discovered that an earlier chair of Internal Medicine, Dr. George Harrell, made the reciprocal move in the 1950s when he was recruited from Wake Forest to become the founding dean of the University of Florida College of Medicine, the site of my medical education. My discovery of Dr. Harrell’s story was a “back-to-the-future” moment. These connections created a reassuring realization that my Gainesville education should play out well in Winston-Salem.

Upon arrival, Wake Forest’s motto provided further validation. College mottos often use uplifting words such as Lux (“Light”) and Veritas (“Truth”) to form nebulously inspirational Latin phrases. Some mottos are more prescriptive but equally ambiguous (e.g., Carpe Diem, “Seize the Day”). Wake Forest’s motto was different. It was a statement of purpose: Pro Humanitate (“For Humanity”). I understood the meaning perfectly. The ultimate purpose of education, and particularly medical education, is to benefit humanity. It was the foremost lesson I learned from the pillars of my career, my medical teachers and mentors at the University of Florida.

Today, I cannot recite a single medical fact any UF professor taught me. I am not embarrassed by that. I have come to understand that the best medical teachers provide something more important. Medical knowledge constantly changes. The greatest medical teachers bring their students something more significant than today’s transient facts. They impart the values and standards of our profession, starting with their modeling of kindness and generosity.

I sought to develop the same level of wisdom, high ideals, sensitivity, compassion, gentle humor, and kindness exemplified through the words and actions of Smiley Hill, Jape Taylor, Jim Cerda, Richard Smith, Homer Knizley, Richard Strieff, Ward Noyes, Richard Panush, Jay Block, Bob Cade, Gerold Schiebler, and so many other UF pillars of excellence. My hope was to make them proud.

My other Gainesville-derived influence was an inexpensive wall plaque. We purchased it in 1971 to decorate a bare wall in our Schucht Village apartment. The color worked; the message appealed to Cathy and me as a guide to our life ahead. We gazed at it twice every day, coming and going.

“I shall pass this way but once; any good that I can do or any kindness I can show to any human being; let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.”

In 2025, I was honored by selection into the first group of Wake Forest University School of Medicine Pro Humanitate Faculty. The achievement was not mine; I am simply a connecting link. The tribute belongs to my medical origins at the University of Florida College of Medicine, my teachers there, and my inspirational classmates from the class of 1974.

— K. Patrick Ober, M.D.

July 17, 2025