Conmutadores del Núcleo

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All this exciting, entrepreneurial activity in Hawaii has given me, among other things, a wonderful sense of starting life anew. In my middle 70s, I feel reborn, alive with the spirit. Some days I feel the same thrill of adventure and discovery I felt when Palmer Hermundslie and I began to realize the potential of Medtronic — without the onerous financial worries inherent in those long-ago ventures.

Thankfully, with Doris's help, I've managed to stay reasonably healthy. Part of my current well-being is due, of course, to the moderate lifestyle inculcated in me by my conservative parents, a lifelong

aversion to tobacco spawned by those youthful basement experiments with cigarette-smoking robots, and a positive, self-empowering attitude encouraged and enhanced by my Hawaiian experience. Since establishing a home here, I have taken up several new "habits" that have contributed significantly to the health of my mind, body, and spirit.

I give Doris most of the credit, because it was she, more than anyone, who encouraged me to investigate the benefits of so many of the wonderful attributes of a healthy Hawaiian life style. Every week, for example, I enjoy three three-and-a-half-hour sessions comprising vigorous exercise, cranial sacral, acupuncture, and massage that leave me feeling wonderfully restored — absolutely improved in every way. Doris herself has found relief from persistent lower-back problems at a local chiropractor after years of ineffective treatment by some of the best allopathic practitioners on the mainland. We both exercise regularly and benefit from the administration of various complementary therapies, from body washes and acupuncture to vitamins and herbs, as antidotes to the wears and cares of everyday life. The essential concept is the integration of mental, physical, and spiritual health. Which modality best promotes that concept is up to the individual. Doris and I don't claim that our particular regimen is right for everybody, but it sure has worked wonders for us.

A couple of years ago I reached the point at which I had to seek treatment for a serious cataract condition. The cataract had gotten so bad, in fact, my right eye was almost useless. When my Hawaiian friends learned of the situation, they assumed I would fly back to Minnesota to have the cataract removed — perhaps to the Mayo Clinic or some other eminent institution. But I went instead to a local ophthalmologist in a small rural hospital here in Hawaii. My neighbors took that, they told me, to be a sign of my commitment to the area and its people, and, of course, it was; I firmly believe that I have to walk the talk if my word is going to mean something in my adopted home. But, truth be told, it wasn't a sacrifice on my part. The ophthalmologist offered state-of-the-art technology, and he and his nurse gave me the kind of healing touch care that I desired. And, all things considered, I don't think I could have received better treatment anywhere.

I'm also — obviously, I suppose — a believer in the active life. Few retirees have sadder lives than those who have, or choose to have, nothing to do, nowhere to go, nothing more to learn or accomplish. I think good health depends in large part on a busy regimen that keeps us focused on the road ahead, on our fellow men and women, and on the community to which we all belong in this lifetime. Some

people are surprised by my bulging agenda. "Why do you stay so active?" they ask me. "You're retired. You've earned a rest. Why not take it easy?" Well, the short answer is, I just can't seem to do otherwise. I was brought up believing that idle hands are the devil's workshop. More to the point, I was taught to believe that we have a responsibility to our fellow human beings, and I eventually developed a company whose mission was and is to help people live richer, fuller, healthier lives. Besides, I'm having fun. I feel good about what I'm doing, especially when I see that what I'm doing is making a difference in people's lives. Thus, alive and able, I remain on the go, energized by my Hawaiian experience, but also highly charged by the opportunity to both get and give wherever I go, including back in my original home town.

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A few years ago, during one of my frequent visits to the Twin Cities, I was privileged to deliver the commencement address to my alma mater, the Institute of Technology at the University of Minnesota. Speaking to groups of students had become something I was doing fairly often at this new stage in my life, and I found it both a challenge and an honor, as well as yet another opportunity to share — to give back — some of what I'd learned over the years.

Reviewing that particular speech today, I believe it accurately and succinctly summed up not only the major reasons for the success I've enjoyed in business, but my personal "action plan" to this moment. Allow me to re-state, in abbreviated and edited form, some of those remarks right here.

My theme — no surprise — was Ready, fire, aim! I began by providing two examples of how the concept worked for us in the early days of Medtronic:

In 1949, 1 was in graduate school in electrical engineering. To be of service and because of my long- term interest, I spent some time repairing early medical electronic devices for the University of

Minnesota and Abbott Northwestern Hospitals. Ready. There seemed to be a need, so one evening at a family gathering my brother-in-law and I decided to set up a company to service such equipment. Fire. We started Medtronic in a garage. We didn't analyze or study the market, we just did it.

However, servicing was not as profitable as we liked, so we adjusted our aim and started selling other manufacturers' medical electronic equipment. Please note Medtronic was not created to manufacture pacemakers. That came eight years later as we continued to adjust our aim.

Selling and servicing other manufacturers' equipment, we became acquainted with the surgeons at the U of M — namely Dr. C. Walton Lillehei and his colleagues. In 1957, after a massive power blackout, one of the so-called "blue babies" Lillehei and his team were treating for heart block died when the big AC-powered pacemakers that were keeping the children alive following surgery failed. Because we were there, we had the opportunity to make the first wearable, battery-powered, transistorized pacemaker prototype. Ready.

It was just four weeks from the definition of need until those U of M doctors used the unit on children. Fire. The first unit was not child-proof, so we corrected our aim and so began our manufacture of pacemakers for individuals — first for infants, then for adults. Millions of patients have since been restored to full life with the help of implantable pacemakers.

The same philosophy of action has been Medtronic's mode of operation throughout its history. We do a great deal of careful planning, but we look for the unexpected chance to act quickly on those

opportunities and also on problems. I could cite a long list of positive results — as well as some missed opportunities where we waited too long to fire.