April 5, 1971

Fifty-five years ago today, the first Monday in April, was a momentous day for Jackson Campbell May. At 0800 that morning I was scheduled for surgery by Dr. Alan Delaney, the pre-eminent surgeon in Gainesville, Florida. The doctor was a family friend, and he had rearranged his schedule to perform this operation at the earliest possible time. He was to remove a large tumor from my thyroid gland. My extensive research had revealed that tumors on thyroid glands of men aged 35 were fatal in nearly 90% of the cases. The outlook was bleak. I had received the news just a few days before. I had not been ill. It was only during a routine medical check that the malady was discovered and diagnosed. I told no one, not even wife or family, until Sunday afternoon when I was to check into the hospital.

At age 35, I was a workaholic, dedicated to accumulating as much real estate as possible. I had been blessed with substantial prosperity and had bought considerable property and created a large, profitable real estate enterprise. Several large garden apartment developments had been completed, and half a dozen more were in various stages. I had formed the first public limited partnership in the state of Florida, and it was prospering. Every day we were adding new investors. I had dozens of talented people working for me. I had indulged in very few material things, reinvesting all available funds in new ventures.

Until you are faced with the real possibility of dying, it is difficult to imagine your reaction. Everyone’s notions would be different. Mine was annoyance: there were so many things I had intended to do and had not yet done. On that Monday morning, I was doped up and wheeled away. Most preoperative apprehension and stress are relieved by modern pharmaceuticals, so I was calm. When I regained consciousness and looked up at the face of my wife, I had no need to pose the question. With a smile, she said that, contrary to all expectations, the tumor was benign, and I was once again a healthy young man. I have taken a thyroid supplement daily since. (In 1990, my doctor told me that he read in a medical journal that my unique tumor was likely caused by extensive x-rays done on my throat when I was a wee lad with whooping cough—The “cure of the day”). 

That afternoon, confined to the hospital for a couple of days of recovery, I readjusted the agenda for the rest of my life. I have been in love with automobiles for as long as I can remember. I had always dreamed of owning a Ferrari. My thought was: If not now, when, and if not, why not?

This was before the cell phone era, so I called the hospital desk and got an outside line. Information gave me the number for Kirk White Ferrari in Miami. I called and a young man named Howard Sheronas answered. “Howard,” I said, “I want to purchase a Ferrari 365 GTB/4 Daytona identical to the one just tested in Road & Track magazine. I want to pick it up at the factory and drive it around Europe before I ship it home. A red Berlinetta, mag wheels like Mr. Ferrari intended, no A/C, no radio. Howard said he would check and call me back. The earliest delivery date would be 1 September. The price would be about $16,000, depending on the exchange rate of lira and dollars at the time of delivery. I would need to send a deposit of $1,500 immediately and another $5,000 in June, with the balance due on delivery.

The rest is history. The 39 years I owned the car were filled with many adventures, which I will put to paper someday. 

Do not put off to tomorrow what you can do today!