One of the nice things about a long-ish career in one particular field is that you get to see some of the good people you work with succeed by moving on to bigger and better things where they can spread their wings. I had the good fortune of sharing ideas and travels with John Ruggiero at an early professional stop for both of us in the CME space, and could clearly tell even then that this was someone who was going places.

Everybody likes John, and for good reason (even if he will never tell you how old he is). John is unfailingly kind, witty, talented, and truly celebrates the successes of others. He probably has a mean bone somewhere in his body, but he hides it well.

Now in his role as Executive Director of U.S. Medical Affairs, and Head of HEOR & Real World Evidence/Learning at Daiichi Sankyo, John took a few moments out of his travels to join us in the latest installment of our special “10 Years in 10 Minutes” CMEpalooza Tin Anniversary series. Here, we talk about the importance of provider/supporter communication, how CMEpalooza predicted the COVID pandemic (sort of), and the secret password at McDonalds.

Back in the spring, we launched a series of short interviews under the “10 Years in 10 Minutes,” banner to help celebrate the 10th anniversary of CMEpalooza. Because people seemed to like it so much, we figured we’d queue up another batch this fall.

To kick off the series with a bang (quite literally, as you’ll find out if you watch), we first caught up with Daniel Guinee, a CME veteran who currently serves as the Director of Digital Education at PlatformQ Health. If you are struggling to figure out how to get your teenager interested in science class, Daniel has an idea to get him/her/them fired up (again, quite literally, as you’ll find out if you watch) while also reintroducing everyone to the term “lower third.”

DISCLAIMER: This is the annual post where Derek warns me, “Do you really want to post this? Some people might get angry with you.” Oh well, you got to break a few eggs sometimes. And I’m used to people being angry with me. Please feel free to disagree with me in the comments or just by grumbling under your breath.

Every year as Father’s Day approaches, I have the same conversation with my wife.

ME: Please don’t get me anything or do any out of the ordinary for Father’s Day. It’s a silly, made-up holiday. I don’t need another coffee mug recognizing me as the “World’s Best Dad” or a flimsy “Father of the Year” award for our mantle. It’s just another Sunday.

WIFE: You’re sure? This isn’t some sort of “hah hah, just kidding” joke that I am supposed to magically unravel where you’ll be grumpier than usual if we don’t plan something?

ME: Yes, I’m sure. For real. DO. NOTHING.

(Now, God forbid if I fail to go out of my way to acknowledge Mother’s Day. I half-assed it one year and still haven’t heard the end of it. I would blame my 13-year-old son, but he’s kind of useless when it comes to helping out with this sort of stuff. So I receive various warnings to “get it right” once May rolls around.)

Apparently, I am in the vast minority when it comes to celebrating faux holidays or “days of celebration.” On January 24, 2025, alone there is Beer Can Appreciation Day, National Compliment Day, Macintosh Computer Day, National Lobster Thermidor Day, and (my personal favorite) Talk Like a Grizzled Prospector Day.

Aren’t prospectors “grizzled” by definition? (Yes) Have you ever met a doe-eyed prospector who didn’t have remnants of last night’s dinner in his untrimmed beard? (Me neither)

Now, sadly, it’s time to throw away all those “10 years for $10” calendars you bought way back when, because we’ve got another day of celebration to throw on the old datebook next January 24 — that’s right, the first National Continuing Education Professionals Day™ is officially an event, trademark and all. We’ll apparently be celebrating every year on the Friday of the third full week of every January (the fact that this is going require some figuring out is a tad bit annoying – some years, it will be the third Friday in January while others, the fourth Friday. I am sure people much smarter than me have a reason why this is so, but it just seems odd to me).

Look, I get it. Everyone feels professionally underappreciated and wants to be acknowledged and made to feel special. Plus, without even checking, I am quite sure that professions like jewelers, lumberjacks, and personal chefs all have “days of recognition” (OK, I just checked. Mark your calendars for March 13, September 26, and July 16, respectively). So I guess in the “welp, I guess since everyone else is doing it, so should we” category, National Continuing Education Professionals Day™ was inevitable.

To help us all celebrate, our industry-wide organizations have put out a preliminary playbook with ideas such as “Host an Awards Ceremony,” “Organize a Special Lunch Event,” or “Launch a Social Media Campaign” next year on January 24. I’ll take a pass on it all.

Maybe I’m being too much of a curmudgeon (OK, probably I’m being too much of a curmudgeon). Maybe this is something our industry needs for our colleagues around healthcare to recognize the value of the work that we do. You want to “Plan a team-building exercise or outing” (another suggested activity)? Go for it – you do you.

Honestly, though, these “special” days are one of my recent pet peeves. There is now a day for everything — don’t forget about International Eighties Day on February 6 (it’s both Ronald Reagan’s and Rick Astley’s birthday. I’m not even kidding, that’s the reason for the date) — and at some point, when everything and everybody has their “day,” it ceases being unique or special. What’s wrong with, as Derek wrote me in an email yesterday, being a little more appreciative of those we interact with on a daily basis, rather than setting aside a particular day to show that appreciation?

You know what, though? Maybe it’s time for me to put away the snarkiness and get on board. So feel free to join me next Jan. 24 to celebrate us — I’ll crack open a can of suds, tell you how snazzy you look in your new duds, play some tunes on my Macbook, help you put on your lobster bib at lunch, and, tell those varmints to let us be, dagnabbit!