Upon Retirement, Looking Back at Three Moments That Shaped My Life

Editor's note: Scott Dwyer retired earlier this month after 30 years as KQED's Program Director. In his goodbye note to staff he shared his philosophy of making the most out of life. We republish it here.

As most of you know, tomorrow is my last working day at KQED. I started at KQED in 1985. I've been part of the PBS world since 1981.

Believe it or not, I dreamed of being a TV Program Director as a little kid. It truly has been a dream come true. It has been an honor
to work with such a passionate group of people that believe that media is important and that it can make a difference in people's lives.

I've put my heart and soul into it. I've had a blast. To think I was able to get paid to do something I love to do still surprises me to this day.

Now you're asking yourself: So why then, Scott, are you retiring?

The easiest way for me to answer that is to give you three dates:

October 17, 1989
April 28, 2009
July 24, 2014

The first date, is the biggest date, October 17, 1989. That was the day of the Loma Prieta earthquake. I just happened to be at KQED working late that day, so I was not on the Nimitz Freeway when it collapsed and killed 42 people.

I should have been #43. My next-door neighbor, and friend, was not so fortunate.

That day changed our lives forever. That is when my wife and I realized that we don't get to decide when our time is up. Sure, we were in a funk, but after months of feeling sorry for ourselves, we finally gave ourselves a kick in the ass. The earthquake forced us to prioritize our life and start planning it instead of letting life just happen to us. Thinking that we would figure it out later when we had the time was no longer going to be acceptable. The time was now. We started to save for retirement -- whenever that might be and whatever it might look like.

Jump 20 years forward to Apr. 28, 2009. My wife, a physician assistant, was working in Salinas at the time. She had a "code red" at the hospital, which meant everyone was needed in the emergency room immediately. She was told there had been a bus full of French tourists which had overturned. Five people were immediately killed, and many more were in very critical condition, headed to the hospital.

The patient she saw that night had a broken jaw, a crushed eye socket, and broken ribs. The woman's body was burned and embedded with pieces of blacktop. My wife didn't think she would make it through the night.

The woman and her husband were newlyweds, and this trip was their honeymoon. The husband said when the ambulance arrived on the scene, the first thing emergency workers did was to assess and tag every person -- as "wait," "critical" or "we cannot help/do not resuscitate." This last way was how his wife was tagged. But he was adamant that she was responsive and alive.

Only because they had room in the ambulance did they bring her in.

Being a foreigner in a foreign land is difficult enough. Having to deal with hospital bureaucracy in your native language is stressful enough. Put yourselves in their shoes. Just imagine what it was like for this young, traumatized couple. The fact also did not escape us that, had we had children, they would have been the age of this young couple. As a result, my wife and I did the only thing we could do. For these strangers, we became their champions.

Every waking minute when my wife wasn't doing her regular job, she made sure this woman got the best care possible. We let her husband stay free at our apartment in Monterey and gave him one of our cars. We worked with the community and hospital to get goods donated.

To make a long story short, this young woman survived. She was the last one of those injured in the accident to leave the hospital three months later.

Over the past six years, the woman has had multiple surgeries, and has more to come, but I am proud to say this past December they had their first baby, a girl, and they named her after my wife.

The final date is more recent, just over two years ago -- July 24, 2014. We had a good friend a few years older than us who was hoping to retire in a couple of years. He wanted to work "just a few more years" and make a few more dollars to provide for his kids and wife. He was really looking forward to retirement. We both looked forward to when we would have more time to be able to spend time together. We both believed working hard now, means enjoying the fruits of our labor later.

He was built like an ox and exercised daily. But in December, 2014, he came down with pneumonia, and it progressively got worse. He couldn't beat it, and he passed away last August.

Now, you're all saying, "Thanks a lot, Scott, for depressing the hell out of us." The point I'm trying to make is just the opposite. We have a choice to make when bad things happen. Are you going to feel sorry for yourself and run from it or stand up to it and spit in its eye?

Our time on earth is finite. We don't get to choose our exit date. Whatever you do, putting in less than maximum effort is only cheating yourself. These events reaffirmed for us that whatever you do in life, do it with passion, a respect for others, a sense of humor, and give it your all. I also learned the importance of creating balance in your life. People close to me know my mantra is "work hard, but play harder." I never felt I was ever going to be the smartest person in the room, but I knew (due to my stubbornness) that I could work harder than anyone in the room.

I leave having no regrets. That's not to say that leaving is easy, but it is time to pass the baton. You all share a special place in my heart. I'm a soft-spoken person and one who never wanted the spotlight. People who work with me on a daily basis know I am very passionate person. Everything thing I do, I go all in.

This amazing and rewarding chapter in the book of my life is coming to an end. Thanks for being characters in my book (and some of you were truly characters). It's time to start writing the next chapter.