Don’t Stop the Presses!

Today, for health professionals in the U.S.A.:

“Leading means learning.

Learning means reading.

Leading means reading.”

I think when it came to potty training and reading, my brother and I were slightly precocious. And maybe we set up some unrealistic expectations: like maybe we started like we were shot out of a cannon and peaked a little too soon.

We both loved books and developed home care skills as if we were the next Einstein. My brother Jay was 10 years older, and while he was reading the hardbound classics (in addition to anything under the banner of sports), I was powering through The Iliad/The Odyssey, Treasure Island, and The Last of the Mohicans…Classics Illustrated comic-book style.

Years later, after having finally survived the torture of dental school, where back in The Day guys described as clinical instructors broke us down to build us up like little Marines, while wearing white belts and white shoes to go with their three stripes, I celebrated. And I wasn’t only celebrating my newfound freedom and the chance to start making money, without tedious stuff like business knowledge or training to hold me back.

Nope. I could finally read whatever I wanted to read anytime I wanted, a circumstance aided and abetted by 3 days of work per week and only about 70 patients.

My writing took form as the result of my interest in sports. My brother was a community college sports editor. When I saw Jay’s byline in the East Los Angeles Community College Huskies’ newspaper, I was impressed and proud.

I’d also begun reading Jim Murray’s Los Angeles Times daily sports column. One of my fave summertime perks was reading Murray first thing in the morning, with no forced school reads holding me back.

Jay not only recruited me into reading; he also recruited me into USC Football, the MLB Giants, the NBA Celtics, and the NFL 49ers. At some point, after a disturbing Trojan loss, I fired a letter to the Times’s sports editor; it was published the following Saturday—with a byline of Jack Von Bulow, Monterey Park, California. I was hooked.

For my first 20 years of dental practice, each USC loss produced an L.A. Times publishing opportunity.

In a breakthrough, my first mentor not of Von Bulow or Team Von Bulow blood asked me what I loved doing. I replied, “Reading and writing.” Walter Hailey replied, “Are you writing for a newspaper?” Me: “Nope.” Walter: “C’mon, boy, what’re you waitin’ for?”

Based on the local Chamber of Commerce’s LA Times Sports Viewpoint readership, they asked me before I could ask them…to write a monthly column. Twenty-six years, numerous local rags, and three published “best of” books later, I’m still writing.

Nine years ago, I took an Invisalign course called Reingage, “The Course that Changed Everything.” And it did.

A little while later, I was named president of my Los Angeles group, called Los Aligners (I still haven’t come to terms with USC losing to vastly inferior Texas in the 2006 Rose Bowl, or with “C-Chain Gangstas” losing the nickname contest). I’m 0 for 3 in elections, so only Dr. David Galler’s executive appointment likely made my own executive position a reality.

A few years later, our organization, the American Academy of Clear Aligners (AACA), got so big we had to abandon our groups and nicknames (and the team blurbs to our journal I’d been pre-editing and submitting). Galler interviewed all 34 presidents. We’d become quite comfortable with our Board of Directors positions, but now we had to contribute something new.

I chose to create a Morning Huddle chat group that has evolved into M-F quotes and a video commentary. I also volunteered to write a quarterly journal commentary and recruit content for the publication.

These days I even get to attend the AACA production meetings.

And I’ve totally loved my journal life, until the most recent meeting. I couldn’t believe what I heard. My friend and leader, Doc Galler, announced we were going digital—good news. And then Galler announced that we would likely be ditching the journal altogether after the first of 2025. WTH?!

The cool thing about being old on the outside, but young on the inside, is that from time to time I can mirror Estelle Getty and go full minimum filter.

To me, an academy without a journal is just a growing transaction, rather than any kind of institution or productive professional organization. You’re just the latest story on Instagram, the next big thing on social media, and a never-ending line of before/after photos. The hype becomes more important than the message or credibility. What happened to the story? What’s the point?

The argument to close the journal comes from “People just don’t read anymore.” So, I guess in a perceived dummied-down world, why not sign up and jump in, or down?

Two of my daily reads come from friends who’re world-class sportswriters, or rather world-class writers who appear in the sports page of the San Francisco Chronicle and the New York Times. I don’t wait for the paperboy’s daily delivery—I go online, repeat the experience, and freakin’ love it!

We’ve had an expensive hard-copy, snail-mailed beautiful journal delivered randomly in terms of when and where. Until recently, authors had no means of copying links and sharing their published work with their teams, specialists, and the community.

The commitment to go digital is timely and deserves a fair chance. Today, readership, in general, is based on convenience and availability. We just need to catch up. The digital design makes for a better format with greater space for contributors and sponsors. The quality will be an upgrade; the delivery made consistent, and the image of the Academy made to be a fit with the progressive nature of the organization.

You couldn’t pay me to follow a U.S. president who doesn’t read; same goes for any health professional. We’re the leading clear aligner group in North America, maybe the world. We have an exceptional leader. And with 5,000 members (and counting), it’s irresponsible to remove a journal we were bold enough to publish with only a few hundred members. If 30% of the country is content with its semi-illiteracy, we’re far too good to join that crowd. Why not easily fix a few obvious flaws, upgrade and modernize the product, and “keep on keepin’ on”?