Somebody told me once that an obituary is the story of a person’s life on the occasion of their

death. On October the 5th, 2016 and at 90 years old, Stuart J. Winston passed away. I’d like to
tell you a little about the life that he led and why we honor him here today.

Those who knew Mr. Winston well all agree that he was never one to speak highly of himself or
his own achievements. Despite this, he was an accomplished man who sought out experiences
that enriched his mind and his soul. He loved the theater, and along with his wife Patricia
regularly attended performances at the DC Shakespeare Company and the Arena Stage. He was
fanatical about chamber music, and was a 40-year attendee of the Classical Concerts at the
Library of Congress. His love of travel took him all over the world: he spent time immersed in
new cultures and places up until the very last years of his life.

Mr. Winston was a man whose quiet demeanor belied a wealth of learning and knowledge. A
civil servant for more than four decades, he served as the Postal Service’s Director of the Office
of Rates as well as the Director of International Economics. Though he didn’t talk much about
his work to his friends or family, his expertise in this field was well recognized within the
organization: he was frequently asked to lecture at the Postal Academy and was chosen to help
direct the transition of the Post Office Department to the modern Postal Service we have today.
He continued working at the postal service until he was 70 years old.

Mr. Winston’s mother instilled in her children the value of education from a young age;
however, he grew up in Brooklyn during the depression, and the family lacked the funds
needed to put him through college. To earn the money that he needed for school, Mr. Winston
joined the US Army during World War II and used his GI Bill benefits to attend Williams College
in Williamstown, Massachusetts. There he earned a degree in Economics, graduating with
honors and being inducted into the Phi Beta Kappa Society. He then went on to earn his MBA at
the Harvard School of Business. Though his mother couldn’t help him financially, she – a person
described to me as “a very strong and extremely persistent woman” – helped him gain
admission to Williams College by personally phoning anyone she could find there to tell them
what a bright, hard-working young man her son was and what a mistake it would be to pass
him by.

Mr. Winston and his wife Patricia were married for 38 years, and it was clear from our
conversations how much it meant to her to have had him in her life for all that time. When I
asked her if there was something she knew that Mr. Winston had done of which he was
especially proud, she paused. After a few moments, she replied, “No; he never told me. He
wasn’t the type to speak of things he had done in a proud way. But being able to get a good
education even though his family was never rich was very important to him. There was maybe
nothing more important to him in life than that.”

In thinking about this, and in looking back on the year I’ve spent learning in a new way about
the human body, I realize that when Mr. Winston donated his body to the Georgetown School
of Medicine he wanted to give the gift of a great education to those who came after him, to me
and to my classmates. You can trace the strength and the persistence of his mother through to
his donation, and to where we stand today.

I and all the other student physicians you see here today are lucky enough to be pursuing
educations of our own. What we have learned this year was possible because of the gifts made
by your family and your friends – we could not be here without you. Mr. Winston knew the
value of an education, and even if he would never say so, I think that helping all of us to learn in
this way is something of which he would be very proud.

Thank you, Mr. Winston, for this gift.