July 3, 2025

Dr. Rue: Ah, Dr. Fleming, good to see you. It's been awhile.

Dave: I know. Sorry about that doc. I guess I've been busy.

Dr. Rue: {Skeptically}  Hmm?  Doing what?

Dave: I don't know. Writing, reading, walking.

Dr. Rue: And that's different how from every other of the past 60 weeks or so?

Dave: I don't know. What are you getting at?

Dr. Rue: "Hello darkness, my old friend?" There's something therapists worry about when it comes to the sound of silence.

Dave: Am I Garfunkel in this group, doc? I don't think I have the hair for it.

Dr. Rue: Kid if you must, Dave, but I believe there is more you want to talk about. I know the anniversary of your heart attack just passed, that can't be easy? I know you attended a meeting at the old work place last week. Are you telling me you weren't affected by that?

Dave: It's funny. I forgot about the unpleasant memories of July 1 until Facebook brought up a memory.

Dr. Rue: And how did that make you feel?

Dave: A little numb, I suppose. I survived and that is a good thing, but there are still lingering "what ifs."

Dr. Rue: Such as?

Dave: The biggest question is always "why?" Why did I come back? What was the consequences of that? And I don't mean personally. I understand that in terms of my family and loved ones. It is a question of professionally, what was gained by my returning?

Dr. Rue: So at the heart of it, is the anxiety about your legacy?

Dave: Maybe. 

Dr. Rue: Maybe? O.k., you're giving me nothing here. Let's turn this around and confront July 1st, 2017, directly. If you had died that day, what would be the stories that your saddened workmates, from throughout your career, would share?

Dave: Stories?

Dr. Rue: Yes, stories. Not the mindless "he was a great guy" platitudes that would be a superficial reaction, but the stories told in more relaxed settings that form the memories of your work colleagues.

Dave: A faculty member from Davenport University once, well after an event, reminded me of how I defended her in a meeting and how much it meant to her. I would hope she and others would share such stories.

Dr. Rue: That's good. Give me some more details.

Dave: Well, the President was holding one of his infamous listening sessions, one where he begged and pleaded for honest feedback.  We were at one of the satellite campuses, where people often felt more disconnected from the mother ship. As is often the case with such events, there was a lot of hesitation to speak, a lot of holding back from people who may not have believed he wanted such feedback. Anyway, this faculty member spoke up, and I don't remember about what, but as I had come to expect the President cut her off, missing her point completely (or honestly, if you ask me, ignoring her point because he disagreed), thanked her but then moved on. I seem to remember in the three of our seconds of uncomfortable silence that followed, I pondered if I should say anything. Eventually I did, starting with that most ironic of phrases, "with all due respect, sir, I believe you are missing what Professor X is saying. Her point is a legitimate one, blah blah blah." I stopped short of calling out the hypocrisy of not listening at a listening tour, but the president didn't care. 

Dr. Rue: There you go. And best of all, in this case, you don't have to die to hear her testimony. She thanked you later for this, right?

Dave: It would have been several years later, after I had taken the job at SMC, when somehow we had an email exchange and she spoke to how much my speaking up meant to her. That was one of those rare, lovely, exchanges that I got reinforcing that my work made a difference, even if it didn't change a damn thing about those listening tours. The only thing that changed was my career arc; as almost immediately the pressure was upped for me to step down as Provost.

Dr. Rue: There's the proverbial rub, isn't there? You did the right thing and yet you paid for it. Give me another story.

Dave: Well, in that vein, when I decided to step down as Provost, which was intended to be a transition back to faculty, I had to tell my leadership team. I decided I would do it at the end of a regularly scheduled meeting, which covered a usual of typical academic topics, one of which was a dean's request to start to new a program. I forget how that agenda item was definitely resolved, but I know, in essence, it was given at least a "let's wait and see" response. Not long after that, I announced my resignation to a rather stunned audience. As I then adjourned the meeting, that dean asked to speak more about launching the new program. I had longer-term deans, ones who had known me much longer than this guy, standing around, wanting to talk to me, probably support me in the aftermath of the announcement. Sensing that, I snapped with something along the lines of "Not now, ____. This is not the appropriate time." I know at least one or two of my other team members would be recounting that story with a smile.

Dr. Rue: See. People are smiling at the legacy of Dave Fleming.

Dave: Well, I would too at that one. It might be one time I channeled my father, who was famous for one, and really only one, fist-on-the-desk dismissal of an annoying faculty member's persistence.

Dr. Rue: So you are doing o.k. with the stories from two decades ago. Come on, give me a potential story from an SMC person. 

Dave: Ugh! I don't know. I suppose some of my colleagues would talk about how bad of a golfer I was.

Dr. Rue: Well, that would be different. How would that relate to work?

Dave: Well, I only golfed with these people for work, charity, fund-raising events.

Dr. Rue: So you may not have represented the college well?

Dave: Well, I always put my money where my mouth was. Who cares if I drove a golf ball 30 yards into the woods?

Dr. Rue: Not really a story but still interesting. 

Dave: Well, the story would be of an outing that was early in the season, maybe early May, so it was cold and rainy and frankly rather miserable. We go to play the ball, this was a scramble where teams always played the best ball hit by the foursome, and I pop the ball straight up in the air, maybe a whopping 15 feet, proceeded to catch it in my hand, and walk away. I honestly don't know how I maintained my cool in that way, but it is certainly something we all wished had been caught on a camera.

Dr. Rue: O.k., that would show people that Dr. Fleming didn't take himself too seriously. We're running out of time. Start relaying more of these, quickly.

Dave: There was the time I called out the pretentious high school superintendent while sitting in his own conference room, surrounded by his lackeys: "With all due respect, Mr. Superintendent, as I see you rolling your eyes to your principal there, I can't create a course schedule for dozens of partners."

Dr. Rue: Good, the strong-backbone version of Dr. Fleming. Another!

Dave: Uh, when I had to be interim dean of nursing and I came up with a care plan for the twisted and sick nursing department.

Dr. Rue: Creative Dave. Very nice. Another!

Dave: Sheesh, doc. Chill out.

Dr. Rue: Another!

Dave: Uh, when I, with the help of my deans, snuck onto campus after my heart attack and suddenly appeared on stage to a standing ovation.

Dr. Rue: Perfect. And our time is about up.

Dave: What was the point of this, Sal?

Dr. Rue: Good God, Dave, how thick are you? You don't have to die to know these stories are being told. Your legacy is alive and well.

Dave: Do you use such trickery on all your patients, doc?

Dr. Rue: Only the ones who apply sleight of hand themselves. See you next time, Dave.

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The Ever-Evolving Full Series of Sessions

Session Five: No Man Is An Island