Lunch with Bernie

No, no. I don’t mean that Bernie. I’m talking about the man he’s named after. Bernie Bullard was a student of mine at Michigan State. Later, I hired him to work in the marketing department at Walt Disney World, and he went on to become one of the key executives at Tokyo Disneyland. In the process, what began as an instructor-student relationship turned into friendship. One of those “like it was just yesterday” things -- no matter how long it’s been since you’ve seen each other.

And it has been a long time. For two reasons: my illness-induced hermit’s existence and the fact that Bernie was half a world away.

Before my transplant I heard that Bernie had retired and returned to Orlando. Shortly after I got home from Shands, we actually had a chance to have a drink and a chat when he and another friend from the Disney days, Dave Pritchett, stopped by to make sure I was still alive. I’m fairly certain they were amazed by my post-transplant vigor. Not only was I not in bed or pasty white, I had two glasses of wine.

That short get together was nearly a year ago. So, you can understand why I was a bit nervous to – as my care giver suggested – reach out. But I’ve learned that she’s almost always right. And so I did.

Bernie answered my email within a couple of hours. Lunch was set for early the next week. And you saw this coming; when we met at Dexter’s our conversation picked up it like it was just yesterday when we last shared our lives. The lesson here of course is that your friends are not lost. You were. Now you just need to knock on the door, let them know you’re back.

I also learned another lesson at that lunch. It turned out that Bernie had a lot on his plate; three kids, a troublesome ex-wife, an upcoming marriage, a consulting job due. For good reasons, we’ve seen very little of each other since then. But that doesn’t mean his is the only door to knock on. There are others out there waiting to hear you’re back. Give them a shout.