Good Night, Sweet Prince

From the May 2005 Issue

From The Editor

By Robin Blair, Editor

Health Management Technology Managing Editor Phil Reynolds, 39, passed away in mid-March, after battling a long, tough illness. The employees of Nelson Publishing, and especially the HMT team, will miss him. More importantly, we will remember him.

Phil was an extremely private person, but he loved information technology, writing and being an editor, accuracy and detail, and nature. Even the most private people leave telltale signs of what they value and where they have walked.

Phil’s favorite trade show was the TEPR conference. Last fall, he put the 2005 event on his calendar and was absolutely planning to attend. Last year, on the trip home, I asked him what he had seen that he liked the best, and for nearly two hours he waxed prolific about the “dueling EMRs” segment of the TEPR show, recounting in astonishing detail every EMR that was showcased and his assessment of its performance. Ironically, Phil was scheduled to write “From the Editor” this month—in this issue and in this very space—about the significance of such a technology showcase for end-users.

Phil brought to HMT unparalleled attention to detail. I don’t think we will ever again sign a page proof without wondering: Did we miss something that Phil would have caught?—and with his eagle eye, he caught everything. He had one company-provided dictionary in his office and another 20 books on punctuation, grammar and style that he brought from home. Even in chaotic times, we unfailingly relied on Phil to do what needed to be done to make the pages correct.

In my contemplative and existential moments, I entertain myself by recollecting the hundreds of thousands of individuals who have entered my life. From kindergarten friends to a difficult college professor, from a personable bank teller to my first boss, from my CPA to my childhood piano teacher, hundreds of thousands of people have interjected themselves into my life in ways that colored and molded it. For better or worse, they have played miniscule or moderate or significant roles in making it the life it is.

Readers who are maniacally introspective understand the “panorama of people” I’m describing and probably have their own panorama of people to recollect. If you are one of those, and if you knew or worked with Phil, take a moment to reflect on how he crossed your path and intersected with your life, albeit briefly. Remember the last time you saw him or spoke with him by phone, and along with us, honor his memory by making him a part of your personal panorama of people who touched your life.

Phil took his vacations with a car and a backpack, embarking on complicated and comprehensive road excursions that reacquainted him with breath-taking nature of all types. He immersed himself in nature. Right up until his death, one wall in Phil’s office was covered with the most magnificent nature photography, image upon image of mountains, deserts, streams, forests, prairies, wild flowers, sunsets, caves and lakes. It was a window to his soul and maybe, also, a portrait of his future. Now he is free to explore them all.