Editor’s Page: Making Ronnie Proud

When I was 17, I took part in a program that paired entrepreneurial-minded youth with local business owners.

The centerpiece of the program was site visits. We toured establishments ranging from dry cleaners to delicatessens to learn all about the services these businesses provided the local community, obtain firsthand knowledge of their day-to-day operations and, hopefully, glean the inspiration necessary to catapult us into business ownership ourselves someday.

The latter never happened for me, but the program did give me a much different perspective on funeral homes, the most memorable business our group visited. The funeral director, who insisted we call him Ronnie and with whom I kept in close touch until his passing not long ago, told our group about everything from the humble beginnings of his family’s business to the nuances of embalming a body to the myth of funeral homes being recession-proof. When it came to “the business of death care,” Ronnie’s passion for the job was unmatched. And I knew firsthand the guy walked the walk, too.

A few years before the group program, I attended the funeral of an older distant cousin at Ronnie’s funeral home. While mourners slowly made their way through the receiving line, during the viewing another relative — a teen often referred to by the family as “mixed up” — dramatically ran up toward the coffin from the back of the room yelling, “Where are his glasses?! He can’t see without his glasses!” over and over while a small group of boys in the back doubled over laughing. As soon as the boy’s father caught on to the prank, he gave chase. What followed was a series of unfortunate events that culminated in the toppling of several floral arrangements.

The “My Girl” movie reference was in response to a dare put forth by the kid’s older brother. Of course, funeral attendees didn’t know that, and the collective gasp from the group as floral arrangements went tumbling to the floor, some bouncing loudly off the coffin in the process, was straight out of a movie. Sensing that he had to do something to relieve the tension the scene had caused, Ronnie stepped up the podium, put his hands up and deadpanned: “Well, friends, I certainly didn’t have a ‘My Girl’ prank on my bingo card for today, but I think Roger [the deceased] would be the first one to tell you that life is nothing if not unpredictable.”

Ronnie knew the family well, and his gamble with humor paid off. Roger’s wife was the first to break the silence with a belly laugh that had a domino effect on the stunned crowd. From there, Ronnie expertly guided the service back on track.

When I asked about the incident during my group visit, Ronnie remembered it vividly. “That one was pretty unique,” he said, chuckling. “But with this job, there are always those unexpected surprises. We owe it to the folks who trust us with their loved ones to navigate those challenges the right way.”

Decades later, during a recent visit from our editorial team, I heard a similar sentiment from Vantage Surgery Center’s Director of Nursing Patricia MacMaster, RN, BSN, when she described the day-to-day hustle and bustle of her Moorestown, N.J., facility. This month’s cover story, penned by prolific Senior Editor Joe Paone and featuring photography from Outpatient Surgery Magazine’s Manager of Audience Engagement & Digital Media David Comdico, centers on Vantage and how it exemplifies many of the best practices we write about regularly.

That visit sure brought me back to my time touring local businesses. Without giving away the details of the story, I will say this: The level of passion and dedication Ms. MacMaster and the entire Vantage Surgery Center staff displayed would’ve no doubt made Ronnie proud. OSM