Now in my semi-retired years, I did a Google search for Bruce Stone while wondering what he did in life. I was surprised, interested and saddened to find the wikipage info about his passing in 2007. [ 2002 -ljb ] We both had make-work jobs at Swiss companies near Fribourg in the summer of 1968 as part of a business school student organization exchange program. We met at a party hosted by the local university business students. He seemed interested in seeing as much of the country in the short time we had available as I did. We sat around surviving on fries and beer and discussing various topics including our pasts and hopes for the future. He searched often for a woman with "pulchritudinous breasts" with which to spend the night. The poems listed on the wikipage (Aubade, Toads and This Be The Verse) do largely sum up his attitude at the time. He feared being forced into the corporate life like his father, having been sent to Japan to learn the customs and language with the expectation of corporate Japan becoming more dominant. He yearned to escape the role he felt obligated to play by family expectations but did not know how he would do it. We complemented one another for travel, he speaking French and myself German. Yet, we were an unlikely travel mates, he from New York and ivy league while I was from Alabama and Crimson Tide. Nevertheless, we were both hell bound to climb some of the Matterhorn on that fateful weekend trip to Zermatt. He had obtained a used Vespa scooter (not a motorcycle) which had a flat tire with both of us aboard soon after departing Fribourg. I managed to get a new tire from a German speaking gas station attendant, and we were off again until arriving in Mirengen. While rounding a curve and on a bridge over a stream, a dark Mercedes sedan crossed the center line in front of us. Bruce effectively prevented both our demises by pulling sharply right. Unfortunately, the concrete bridge railing met us. I became a projectile while he stayed with the scooter. He got some abrasions and a fractured arm. He left the hospital ward in one week, while I remained having a fractured skull, pelvis and a laparotomy. I am the one who actually stayed a month at the Krankenhaus Mirengen, lost 35 lbs and walked with a limp for the next thee years. He did feel terrible about our situation, but he disappeared by the time I got out of the hospital. I wrote him once to see how he faired, but I never heard from him again. I suspected his dad's lawyer instincts prevented such. He was a remarkable, bright guy with the gift of gab. I enjoyed the time we spent together then, and I am glad to find out that he mostly did stay out of the life he feared. He really did want to pack as much into the time he had as possible and avoid the desk. Good for him! As for me, I have traveled enough to last awhile and looking forward to my first grand child.

Joe Webster, MD, JD