Serpent, Selah, and Mario

June 2026 | Vol. 70, No. 2
By Samuel Garloff, DO

WGRP here. The serpent in the title does not reference the serpent of Genesis, the serpent contained at a roadside attraction, or the serpent found in a reptile house at a zoological garden. The serpent in the title represents a musical instrument from the time of the Renaissance. It’s a curious thing, made of wood, covered in leather, coiled in serpentine fashion. An early wind instrument, it featured a large metal mouthpiece and therefore is now referred to as a brass instrument. Historians claim it to be a precursor of the modern-day tuba. Often, however, its musical contribution to the orchestra is rewritten for contrabassoon.

Selah is a fascinating word that appears 71 times in Psalms. It has never truly been translated from Hebrew to English. It is now thought to represent pause, or reflect, or indicate the initiation or cessation of music. Its use in Psalms could certainly fit any of the preceding.

Mario Lanni (1936-2026) served as this association’s Executive Director for decades. I have chosen not to add his honorary doctorates after his name as I never heard him use them publicly. It simply wasn’t his style. Once, in a private conversation, I brought the subject up; he responded to my query quickly and quietly. He was genuinely proud to have received honorary doctorates from both PCOM and LECOM, but he was not boastful. We never again spoke of the matter.

Mario was my friend. Our relationship started oddly. Shortly after I became president of POMA, he asked if I would sign a letter to the AOA in support of one of the schools. I refused, stating my belief that the association was for physicians and supported physicians, not related entities. I told him the immediate past president or president-elect could sign, but I would not. The issue was never brought up again.

After my year as president was over, Ellen and I invited Mario and Deborah to dinner at a restaurant in Harrisburg. It was a pleasant evening. Soon afterward, the four of us started going out once a month to diners, dives, and occasionally something more upscale. We looked forward to our time together.

Mario was an immigrant. A child during WWII, he moved between family members to avoid being in active combat areas and often was separated by only a few miles from the front. Living in different areas of Europe, he became conversant in several languages. Having to move between family members, he felt that he had difficulty expressing himself to those he loved, and he was at times greatly troubled by this.

As a young man, he enjoyed playing soccer. He enlisted in the army and was stationed in Germany, where he learned to drive and became an asset to his unit due to his linguistic abilities. He was a hospital CEO, and when his position was lost, certain physicians asked him to apply to be the Executive Director of POMA. It was not a done deal. There were other applicants, including physicians. Initially, there were hard feelings. As time progressed, he was accepted and dedicated his professional life to POMA. In addition to turning down offers elsewhere, he turned down an invitation to become a DO. As time progressed, he added administrative support and oversight to POFPS and oversaw the start of the Foundation.

Later, I started to travel with Mario to district meetings, so he didn’t have to commute alone from his office to various locations throughout the state. It was eye-opening. Often a member would pull me off to the side asking me to be certain Mario returned home safely. Usually their request included a story of how he helped the individual, or a partner, or a practice, and at times an intern, resident, or other hospital program.

The ride itself was always enjoyable. On the way to our destination, we discussed AOA or POMA politics and often found ourselves on opposing sides. I wish I had recorded those discussions. When we reached our destination, disagreements were over. We enjoyed educational presentations and fellowship and returned home. On the return trip, we talked about our past life experiences, time in the army, our wives, children, grandchildren, and sports. Mario was an avid Steelers fan. We saw them play in both Pittsburgh and Baltimore. He told me he was a Yankees fan, but Deborah corrected me; he rooted for the Pirates. I realize now, knowing I was an Orioles fan, he was attempting to goad me into a response. If you think there’s hard feelings between Boston and NY, talk to an old-timer in Baltimore about how they feel about the Yankees.

Mario loved working for POMA. He enjoyed helping physicians. He enjoyed the contacts and friendships he made. More than once he assumed the role of the “Man Behind the Curtain,” allowing members to be readily accepted at the national level. His benefactors seldom knew what he did for them.

Prior to his resignation, he predicted the forces and members who would assure his departure. He obviously had difficulty with accepting this, but, as is often said, “Life Goes On.” Slowly he adjusted and accepted.

What people don’t know is that the greatest gift he and Deborah gave POMA came after he left.

Gentle reader, you and I will most likely never hear the music of the serpent, but its orchestral replacement. We will be unaware of what we missed, satisfied with what we hear, never understanding what was lost. Life goes on…

…Selah.