A Legacy to Celebrate
Medicine, music and goodwill
A couple of months ago, I started writing this reflection about a dear and distinguished man. It was written in the present tense. I'm now going back to change those verbs because he recently slipped quietly away at the age of 93 in his bed at his cherished home in Davis, California. With him was his wife Helen - a former state legislator and devoted partner. All the observations and sentiments are unchanged – because in his legacy are countless people around the world who continue to benefit from who the man was and the work he did:
If you are fortunate, at some time in your life, you've known a person who exudes goodwill. Someone with the vibes of a magnet that pulls you forward into their sphere because they make you feel immediately good, safe, important.
For me, that was a man named Captane (Cap) Thomson, an elder and distinguished psychiatrist whose career uplifted countless people who linger at the bottom of society's ladder. His focus fell most strongly on people with severe mental illness. Folks unable to care for themselves. Who were shunned, often feared, and left untreated.
I remember attending conferences where psychiatrists came together to learn and share their expertise – peer-to-peer. (My husband is a professional mental health advocate, and I do some writing on the topic). Somewhere in that crowd of highly educated, serious-minded, suit-wearing professionals was Cap. I'd scan the crowd for a doc with tousled white hair, wearing a tweed sportscoat and a bow tie. A look of intense interest on his face. Cap would be listening to his peers instead of talking. I'd catch his eye, and he'd peel away to greet me. Me – one of few people at the gathering without an advanced professional degree.
Maybe you know someone like Dr. Thomson. He made me feel as if I was the only person in the room – despite being surrounded by hundreds of people. I know he worked this magic on others as well. And it might be normal to assume that highly educated doctors (psychiatrists study for an average of eight years before being fully licensed to practice) might not find an underachiever all that interesting. But Cap spent his life appreciating others, regardless of pedigree or profession.
Here's a little bit about his background. After earning a medical degree in 1955, Cap did resident training at Harvard Medical School and other prestigious educational institutions. Along with practicing adult, geriatric, and forensic psychiatry, he worked in high-level administrative positions at several health systems and also as a lecturer at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland. Spliced into academic achievements is a stint as Medical Director for the U.S. Coast Guard and American Consulates in Italy. He had many publications to his credit and a long list of professional appointments on mental health-related boards, committees, and task forces.
But with that robust professional background (inadequately outlined here), it's not his medical expertise that's most cherished by people who knew Cap and looked forward to being near him.
 One of his peers called Dr. Thomson a role model – a man more interested in building cooperation and agreement than in winning points or getting attention: “He was a guiding light in psychiatry - a man who wanted people to join forces to do good." For example, Cap was responsible for forming a coalition of California psychiatrists – a statewide group of mental health professionals that became a political force helping to guide mental health legislation in the state. Before Dr. Thomson gathered his colleagues into what became the California Psychiatric Association, mental health physicians had little influence on policies that defined the care and treatment of folks with a broad spectrum of mental disorders. "Cap was known for his natural ability to form alliances and coalitions," his friend added. "He was a guiding light in psychiatry advocacy and in directly reaching out to families who desperately needed help."
Despite professional responsibilities in an arena of medicine that deals with often intractable diseases of the mind, Cap's embrace of life included music – he plucked a mean banjo and sang as a member of the Putah Creek Crawdads. He ran the Boston Marathon, served on a ski patrol squad, and mentored countless young people. Neighbors knew him as someone never too busy to stop and talk on his frequent walks. Despite professional work that demanded constant attention both day and night, Cap never let his schedule interfere with devotion to family life. The gratitude and loss expressed by his children and grandchildren at the celebration of his life touched every beating heart in the sanctuary to the overflowing foyer and outdoors, where hundreds lingered to simply be there for Cap – one more time.
Perhaps he did for all those people, what he did for me – smile broadly when he saw me, make me feel important, respected. Feel valued and worthy and welcome – as though he'd been waiting for me to show up. He treated me like a peer – equal to him and to the highly educated and accomplished doctors and professionals in the room.
Though I'll never influence major change or lead a movement, I can only hope to embrace Cap's ability to make others feel heard, seen, appreciated, and important. His is truly a legacy of love.
Thanks for your attention and time. Hope you are enjoying the change of season and that you also have the gift of someone like Dr. Thomson in your life - or you yourself are like Cap. Let me know what you’re thinking at darby@darbypatterson.com
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