Serpent, Selah, and Mario

June 2026 | Vol. 70, No. 2
By Samuel Garloff, DO

WGRP here. The serpent in the title does not reference the serpent of Genesis, the serpent contained at a roadside attraction, or the serpent found in a reptile house at a zoological garden. The serpent in the title represents a musical instrument from the time of the Renaissance. It’s a curious thing, made of wood, covered in leather, coiled in serpentine fashion. An early wind instrument, it featured a large metal mouthpiece and therefore is now referred to as a brass instrument. Historians claim it to be a precursor of the modern-day tuba. Often, however, its musical contribution to the orchestra is rewritten for contrabassoon.

Selah is a fascinating word that appears 71 times in Psalms. It has never truly been translated from Hebrew to English. It is now thought to represent pause, or reflect, or indicate the initiation or cessation of music. Its use in Psalms could certainly fit any of the preceding.

Mario Lanni (1936-2026) served as this association’s Executive Director for decades. I have chosen not to add his honorary doctorates after his name as I never heard him use them publicly. It simply wasn’t his style. Once, in a private conversation, I brought the subject up; he responded to my query quickly and quietly. He was genuinely proud to have received honorary doctorates from both PCOM and LECOM, but he was not boastful. We never again spoke of the matter.

Mario was my friend. Our relationship started oddly. Shortly after I became president of POMA, he asked if I would sign a letter to the AOA in support of one of the schools. I refused, stating my belief that the association was for physicians and supported physicians, not related entities. I told him the immediate past president or president-elect could sign, but I would not. The issue was never brought up again.

After my year as president was over, Ellen and I invited Mario and Deborah to dinner at a restaurant in Harrisburg. It was a pleasant evening. Soon afterward, the four of us started going out once a month to diners, dives, and occasionally something more upscale. We looked forward to our time together.

Thawing Hearts, Emerging Springs

February 2026 | Vol. 70, No. 1
By Porsche Lee, LECOM OMS-III

As winter loosens its icy hold and February’s final days whisper toward spring, we enter a quiet season of change. The early months often bring long clinical days, full schedules, and, for many students and residents, the anticipation of Match and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. These months can feel heavy, yet they invite reflection — a reminder that growth often occurs quietly, beneath the surface, even when unseen.

February marks American Heart Month, a moment not only to raise awareness about cardiovascular health but also to honor the heart as a symbol of warmth, empathy, and human connection. For osteopathic physicians, it is a reminder that our work extends beyond organs and diagnoses. We care for whole people, guided by presence, understanding, and the belief in the body’s capacity to heal. The heart is more than an organ; it reflects why many of us chose medicine, serving as a symbol of the attentiveness, compassion, and care that define our work. Each day, we are entrusted with moments of vulnerability, and that trust calls not only for skill but for humanity.

We Have a Problem

October 2025 | Vol. 69, No. 3
Written by Joseph Zawisza, DO

In October 2024, I wrote in this very column that we were reinventing the JPOMA after a hiatus. From then on, it was going to be delivered in a digital format, with a new layout, new features, and a new presentation style. The Publications Committee had requested contributions from our members. Furthermore, all of this was set to happen successfully, despite JPOMA having not published an issue in almost a year, and the previous committee chair had passed away.

That was a year ago. With any new (or renewed, as the case may be) undertaking, there is always a fear that it may be doomed from the start. As physicians, we have all taken on new projects and adventures in our lives that we worried might not work out. Remember the first day of medical school?  Residency? And most frightening of all, your first day as an attending physician, when there was no safety net.

As expected, the first issue required significant contributions from the committee members. Nevertheless, it was published, and only a few glitches arose, which we were able to resolve quickly. As a bonus, for the first time in JPOMA’s history, we were able to determine how many members were reading the journal and which articles they were engaging with.

Sonata for Kaleidoscope

June 2025 | Vol. 69, No. 2
Written by Samuel Garloff, DO

Ladies and Gentlemen, as I peer through my View-Master, click through the various scenes and witness the rebirth of the JPOMA. The transition from the printed to an online edition is complete, and we hope it meets with your approval.

In past years, I advocated for the inclusion of original poetry in the journal. With the rebirth of the JPOMA, this has expanded into a creative writing section. I couldn't be happier

Science and the arts have always advanced hand in hand. Einstein played violin. After all, could a string instrument produce music without the physics of harmonics? How could Orpheus attempt to rescue Eurydice from the underworld without the science of the lyre? One of the world's greatest playwrights was physician Anton Chekhov, who famously said, "Medicine is my lawful wife, and literature is my mistress." If you would like a more recent example, read any of the works of Robin Cook, MD. Fond of the visual arts? Consider the anatomical drawings of Frank Netter, MD. The greatest concert violinist I ever met is a psychiatrist who had his medical school expenses paid by Leonard Bernstein.