From time to time throughout the torrid summer in Cincinnati, I am compelled to yield to forces of nature as ineluctable as time and tide and—mow the lawn. The instrument used for this purpose has no built-in source of power. To make it work, I have to give generously of myself. I am always amazed at the pervading sense of satisfaction once the chore is done. With censurable vanity I am prone to fetch a cold can of beer and, while slowly sipping, survey the new beauty of the nicely trimmed grass. Indeed, I glory in the sight of le fait accompli.
One of the most rewarding aspects of being president of the American Pediatric Society is the awareness that it brings of the affection of many friends. Since you have made me feel that the affection is real, perhaps you will indulge me a bit further and listen with