THE U’S GREATEST DONORS
(Written Thursday, November 9 2017)
Last night, my family attended an event honoring the greatest donors to the University of Minnesota. We attended the Anatomy Bequest Program Service of Gratitude. My father in-law, Dave Dittberner, passed away in late July, after a five and a half year struggle with Alzheimer’s. We held two “celebration of life” services for him: one in his boyhood hometown of Alexandria, where he retired. The other was held at Gethsemane Lutheran Church in St. Paul, where he served as a teacher and principal for 40 years. His body was then transferred to the University of Minnesota as a full body donation through the Anatomy Bequest Program. The Service of Gratitude was another poignant celebration that emphasized his commitment to education and lifelong learning. It is recognition of a final, generous gift.
Last night was the 24th Service of Gratitude. Roughly two thousand family members and friends gathered to watch and listen as students in the medical sciences schools presented thoughtful performances through music, dance, and poetry. The performances are a way to show gratitude to the 635 donors. The University’s Service of Gratitude has become the largest event of its kind in the world.
We had known about this for months. My mother –in-law, Carol made sure we all had it on our calendars. “Don’t forget, Wednesday November 8th is Papa’s remembrance service at U”. Carol pointed out that Dave had received his Masters Degree at Northrup Auditorium 52 years ago. She had been there with all the kids in tow. This time, my wife and her three brothers, four of the eight grandchildren, and the rest of us in-laws joined her for a meal at Loring Pasta Bar before walking over to Northrop Auditorium. We knew this was a concert of music and dance and poetry performed by the students, but didn’t realize how emotional and impactful the night would be.
It is really a wonderful, important and impactful event. The students have marvelous talent. The totality of the evening and the true experience of gratitude slowly settled on me. It first began to dawn with the playing of Taps, to honor donors who had served (scroll to 42:55 to view). Several veterans in attendance stood and saluted. When Haley Sharma, a first year medical student, read an original essay she wrote reflecting on her first day of anatomy lab, (54:19) it really sunk in.
My wife graduated from the U of MN Medical School 25 years ago, just prior to these services beginning. I glanced over as Haley recited her reflections on meeting her donor for the first time. “They say it’s the little things that make you realize who it is in front of you. The nail polish on the toe-nails, the delicate tattoo on the neck, the smile lines still etched on their faces. For me, it was my donor’s hand.” My wife nodded, knowingly, in agreement. Having had the same experience, she felt and was feeling the same emotions.
To my right sat my daughter and her new husband. She just graduated from medical school this past May, twenty-five years after her mother – to the day. Her face showed the same knowing emotion as she nodded knowingly through the rest of Haley’s reflection. Hundreds of miles to the east, in Ann Arbor MI, my nephew is finishing dental school. Further east is my son, at Columbia finishing a master’s in public health and waiting to hear from medical schools he’s applied to. They also have the knowing, almost sacred understanding and appreciation for the gift their grandfather has given. Powerful emotions were stirring.
A few minutes later, a slide show (1:03:23) of the donors began. The lump in my throat swelled. We knew Dave’s picture was coming. The names and images appeared alphabetically. The first part of the soundtrack was Eva Cassidy singing Fields of Gold. The emotions were reaching a peak. As each photo and name was presented on the screen, I was struck by the palpable connection everyone had. All of these people gave of themselves in this way, to the bequest program. What other ways had they given? What other stories were there? There were hints in some of the photos. Hugging pets, hiking, fishing, playing pool, sitting by the fire, laughing, smiling, serving our country, pictures with trophies, pictures at sporting events, pictures with Packers gear, pictures when they were young, pictures when they were, perhaps, weeks from the end. The families in the audience knew, as ours did, the complete stories of these donors and the joy it was to know them, the gift they were in life. And now, the gift they’ve become in death.
The lump in my throat exploded with tears streaming when Dave’s picture appeared (1:08:56). We love that picture of him. He is seated at the helm of his pontoon on Lake Miltona, hand on the throttle, and the biggest smile possible. It is a candid shot with his home on shore in the background. It says everything about him. I anticipated this picture. But now, knowing the fullness of his story in this moment, a deeper chord was struck.
I glanced at my youngest daughter and her cousin seated beside her. Tears are there. Moist eyes and silent sobs engulf all of us. But it is different for the doctor’s and the medical students and the medical students to be. This moment is even more profound for them. Realizing this makes my own heart ache more, now comprehending how sacred this selfless giving truly is.
Twice during the slideshow I notice my wife catch her breath as a picture and a name appears. Patients she knew were among these donors. She knew how they came to be there and what they may have gone through. But she didn’t know they had done this: she didn’t know that there final gift was of themselves. That unexpected recognition brings a mix of sorrow and gratitude, and pride and thankfulness.
One could expect to tune out the rest of the alphabetic list, once the name you came for is passed. But I found myself on edge as each slide turned, waiting to see if I would recognize them. I was so proud of all of these donors and the gift they have given. I wanted to know how that fit in the rest of their story. I didn’t know any of these people other than my father-in-law. Yet I could imagine from the pictures, the stories that they lived. Awe, wonder, respect – sacred emotions of myth and stories swam through me. That’s what connects all of us.
My daughter reflected about the event on Facebook:
At the conclusion of the Service of Gratitude, there was time for further reflection. Health science students were set up at tables in the atrium to meet and talk to families. There were refreshments, and therapy dogs. I noticed other families dabbing tears, hugging, huddling, crying and laughing. Our group gathered together in a circle, forming a group hug. We leaned in and began to sing “The Johnny Appleseed Prayer” – a tradition at every family meal and gathering:
It was a fitting and meaningful tribute to Dave and all of the donors: the biggest givers to the University of Minnesota.
Last night was the 24th Service of Gratitude. Roughly two thousand family members and friends gathered to watch and listen as students in the medical sciences schools presented thoughtful performances through music, dance, and poetry. The performances are a way to show gratitude to the 635 donors. The University’s Service of Gratitude has become the largest event of its kind in the world.
We had known about this for months. My mother –in-law, Carol made sure we all had it on our calendars. “Don’t forget, Wednesday November 8th is Papa’s remembrance service at U”. Carol pointed out that Dave had received his Masters Degree at Northrup Auditorium 52 years ago. She had been there with all the kids in tow. This time, my wife and her three brothers, four of the eight grandchildren, and the rest of us in-laws joined her for a meal at Loring Pasta Bar before walking over to Northrop Auditorium. We knew this was a concert of music and dance and poetry performed by the students, but didn’t realize how emotional and impactful the night would be.
It is really a wonderful, important and impactful event. The students have marvelous talent. The totality of the evening and the true experience of gratitude slowly settled on me. It first began to dawn with the playing of Taps, to honor donors who had served (scroll to 42:55 to view). Several veterans in attendance stood and saluted. When Haley Sharma, a first year medical student, read an original essay she wrote reflecting on her first day of anatomy lab, (54:19) it really sunk in.
My wife graduated from the U of MN Medical School 25 years ago, just prior to these services beginning. I glanced over as Haley recited her reflections on meeting her donor for the first time. “They say it’s the little things that make you realize who it is in front of you. The nail polish on the toe-nails, the delicate tattoo on the neck, the smile lines still etched on their faces. For me, it was my donor’s hand.” My wife nodded, knowingly, in agreement. Having had the same experience, she felt and was feeling the same emotions.
To my right sat my daughter and her new husband. She just graduated from medical school this past May, twenty-five years after her mother – to the day. Her face showed the same knowing emotion as she nodded knowingly through the rest of Haley’s reflection. Hundreds of miles to the east, in Ann Arbor MI, my nephew is finishing dental school. Further east is my son, at Columbia finishing a master’s in public health and waiting to hear from medical schools he’s applied to. They also have the knowing, almost sacred understanding and appreciation for the gift their grandfather has given. Powerful emotions were stirring.
A few minutes later, a slide show (1:03:23) of the donors began. The lump in my throat swelled. We knew Dave’s picture was coming. The names and images appeared alphabetically. The first part of the soundtrack was Eva Cassidy singing Fields of Gold. The emotions were reaching a peak. As each photo and name was presented on the screen, I was struck by the palpable connection everyone had. All of these people gave of themselves in this way, to the bequest program. What other ways had they given? What other stories were there? There were hints in some of the photos. Hugging pets, hiking, fishing, playing pool, sitting by the fire, laughing, smiling, serving our country, pictures with trophies, pictures at sporting events, pictures with Packers gear, pictures when they were young, pictures when they were, perhaps, weeks from the end. The families in the audience knew, as ours did, the complete stories of these donors and the joy it was to know them, the gift they were in life. And now, the gift they’ve become in death.
The lump in my throat exploded with tears streaming when Dave’s picture appeared (1:08:56). We love that picture of him. He is seated at the helm of his pontoon on Lake Miltona, hand on the throttle, and the biggest smile possible. It is a candid shot with his home on shore in the background. It says everything about him. I anticipated this picture. But now, knowing the fullness of his story in this moment, a deeper chord was struck.
I glanced at my youngest daughter and her cousin seated beside her. Tears are there. Moist eyes and silent sobs engulf all of us. But it is different for the doctor’s and the medical students and the medical students to be. This moment is even more profound for them. Realizing this makes my own heart ache more, now comprehending how sacred this selfless giving truly is.
Twice during the slideshow I notice my wife catch her breath as a picture and a name appears. Patients she knew were among these donors. She knew how they came to be there and what they may have gone through. But she didn’t know they had done this: she didn’t know that there final gift was of themselves. That unexpected recognition brings a mix of sorrow and gratitude, and pride and thankfulness.
One could expect to tune out the rest of the alphabetic list, once the name you came for is passed. But I found myself on edge as each slide turned, waiting to see if I would recognize them. I was so proud of all of these donors and the gift they have given. I wanted to know how that fit in the rest of their story. I didn’t know any of these people other than my father-in-law. Yet I could imagine from the pictures, the stories that they lived. Awe, wonder, respect – sacred emotions of myth and stories swam through me. That’s what connects all of us.
My daughter reflected about the event on Facebook:
“ Lots of tears, love, and thankfulness tonight as we remembered my Papa Dittberner again, and honored his gift of whole body donation at the Anatomy Bequest Program Service of Gratitude. He, along with 634 other selfless individuals honored tonight, donated their bodies to the students of health science at the University of Minnesota this year, providing truly unique and valuable quality anatomy education for future healthcare providers, as well as opportunities for incredible advancements in medical care and research. I couldn't have become a doctor without the generosity showcased by these special people, and admire so much that my grandpa has now given such a gift to future medical providers.”
At the conclusion of the Service of Gratitude, there was time for further reflection. Health science students were set up at tables in the atrium to meet and talk to families. There were refreshments, and therapy dogs. I noticed other families dabbing tears, hugging, huddling, crying and laughing. Our group gathered together in a circle, forming a group hug. We leaned in and began to sing “The Johnny Appleseed Prayer” – a tradition at every family meal and gathering:
Oh the Lord is good to me And so I thank the Lord For giving me The things I need The sun and the rain and the appleseed The lord is good to me, Amen, amen, Amen, amen, amen A----men!Then, a magical moment happened. Spontaneously we ended the prayer with the tagline of the Minnesota rouser: M-I-N-N-E-S-O-T-A…Minnesota! Minnesota! Y-ay Gophers! RAH!
It was a fitting and meaningful tribute to Dave and all of the donors: the biggest givers to the University of Minnesota.
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