From Rural Utah to Veterinary Leadership: The Value of Showing Up

I grew up in the small town of Castle Dale, Utah, a community of about 1,500 people nestled in the high desert of central Utah.

There were no marble buildings, impressive monuments, or obvious signs that a kid growing up there might one day find himself traveling across the country discussing the future of veterinary medicine.

What we did have were fields to irrigate, livestock to care for, fences to repair, and chores that somehow seemed to multiply faster than they could be finished.

One of those fields sits along Bott Lane, a rural road named after my family. The alfalfa field there has been in our family since 1879. Long before I ever understood anything about leadership, veterinary medicine, or professional service, I learned some of life’s most important lessons working that ground.

Farm life has a way of stripping away excuses.

The cows still needed feeding when the snow was falling.

The irrigation water still needed moving when the summer sun was relentless.

And when equipment broke, standing around discussing the inconvenience rarely solved the problem.

You rolled up your sleeves. You figured it out. You got to work.

Looking back, I realize those years taught me lessons that have guided me ever since.

Hard work matters.

Your word matters.

And when people are counting on you, showing up isn’t optional.

I didn’t know it then, but those lessons would become the foundation of my career in veterinary medicine and my approach to leadership.

The Flight Home

Interestingly, I didn’t grow up dreaming of becoming a veterinarian.

That decision came much later.

On November 14, 2001, I was on an airplane flying home from Lima, Peru, after spending two years serving as a missionary. Like many long flights, it offered something we rarely give ourselves today: uninterrupted time to think.

As I looked out the window, I found myself reflecting on the experiences that had brought me the greatest happiness during those two years.

What struck me was what wasn’t on the list.

Not recognition.

Not achievements.

Not anything I owned.

The moments that mattered most were the moments I had helped someone else.

Many of those experiences involved animals. Helping families care for livestock. Working alongside people whose livelihoods depended on the health of the animals they owned. Finding small ways to improve life for someone facing a difficult challenge.

Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, a quiet thought settled in.

I want to spend my life serving people.

And I want veterinary medicine to be the vehicle.

It wasn’t dramatic. There was no lightning bolt of certainty.

Just a simple decision that would change the trajectory of everything that followed.

Nearly twenty-five years later, I remain grateful I listened to it.

What Veterinary Medicine Teaches

Veterinary medicine has taken me places that young boy on Bott Lane could never have imagined.

I’ve stood in a barn at two o’clock in the morning helping deliver a calf while a worried rancher paced nearby.

I’ve watched that calf draw its first breath, struggle to its feet, and begin searching for its mother.

No matter how many times you witness it, there is something remarkable about new life entering the world.

I’ve also stood beside families preparing to say goodbye to an animal they loved.

Those moments are quieter.

The room grows still.

Words often feel inadequate.

And the responsibility we carry as veterinarians becomes deeply personal.

Because in those moments we are doing far more than practicing medicine.

We are helping people navigate love, grief, responsibility, and loss.

If veterinary medicine has taught me anything, it is this:

Our profession has never been about animals alone. It has always been about people.

Sometimes I think about Bott Lane.

Many of the values that have shaped my life were learned in the fields that lie alongside that road. Caring for animals. Finishing difficult jobs. Understanding that worthwhile things rarely come easily. Learning that responsibility does not disappear when circumstances become inconvenient.

Those lessons followed me from rural Utah to veterinary school, into practice, into leadership, and into every opportunity I have had to serve this profession.

I often think back to that flight home from Peru and the decision that changed the direction of my life. I think about the mentors who invested in me, the colleagues who challenged me, the students who have inspired me, and the clients who trusted me with their animals and their livelihoods.

Every step of the journey has reinforced a simple truth:

The most meaningful accomplishments are never achieved alone.

I am seeking the position of AVMA President-Elect because I believe deeply in this profession and the people who dedicate their lives to it.

Not because I have all the answers. I certainly don’t.

I believe leadership begins by showing up. Showing up for new graduates. Showing up for veterinary technicians. Showing up for practice owners. Showing up for rural communities. Showing up for every member of the veterinary care team who wants to build a meaningful and sustainable career.

The future of veterinary medicine will not be built by grand declarations. Like every worthwhile fence, barn, or field improvement I knew growing up, it will be built one post, one hand, and one day at a time.

It will be built by people who continue to show up for one another, day after day, year after year.

The boy growing up in Castle Dale could never have imagined where this profession would take him.

But the lessons learned in those family fields remain as relevant today as they were decades ago.

When something needs doing, you show up.

When someone needs help, you lend a hand.

And when something matters enough, you do the hard work necessary to make it better.

Veterinary medicine matters to me.

Its people matter to me.

And its future is worth every effort we can make on its behalf.

Because in the end, our profession is more than the medicine we practice.

It is the people we serve, the teams we build, and the opportunities we create for those who follow us.

And that is worth doing right.