I was fortunate to train at Thomas Jefferson University, which is one of the few institutions in the country that is both a Level I Trauma Center and during my residency a federally designated Regional Spinal Cord Injury Center. Jefferson treats more patients with disorders of the spine and spinal cord injury than nearly any other program in the northeastern United States, and being immersed in that volume and acuity early in my career left a permanent mark on me. I saw firsthand how a spinal injury can change a life in an instant, and how thoughtful, well-timed surgical and medical care can preserve, or restore, function that the patient and family had assumed was lost. The intellectual complexity drew me in, but it was the stakes, neurologic function itself, that made me feel the work mattered in a way I could not walk away from. Much of that direction I owe to my mentor, Dr. Jerome Cotler, who directed orthopaedic spine surgery at Jefferson and was himself a national leader in our field. He built his career on hard work, academic rigor, and ethics, and he expected the same of his trainees. I had the privilege of working alongside him on the spinal cord injury service and co-authoring papers with him over many years, and the lessons were as much about character as about technique: do the difficult cases well, study them honestly, publish what you learn, and never lose sight of the patient. That foundation is the reason I chose spine, and it is the standard I have tried to carry forward ever since.

It is hard to name a single moment, but what I return to most fondly is my experience serving as program co-chairman twice for the Annual Meeting. There is a particular satisfaction in seeing the program come together from the inside, watching abstracts, instructional courses, debates, and symposia assemble into something that genuinely moves the field forward, and then standing in a packed hall and feeling the energy of hundreds of colleagues who came to learn and to argue in the best sense of the word. Those experiences gave me an appreciation for NASS that you cannot get as an attendee alone, because you come to understand how much deliberate effort goes into balancing rigor, controversy, and practicality so that everyone leaves with something they can use on Monday morning. But the memory I treasure most is really the comradery, and it is comradery of a specific kind. NASS is a global, multidisciplinary society, and the Annual Meeting brings multiple specialties under one roof with a single focus on spine care, orthopaedic surgeons, neurosurgeons, physiatrists, pain and interventional specialists, radiologists, researchers, and our allied-health colleagues. In my own practice I largely operate within one discipline, but at NASS I sit at a table with people who think about the same patient through entirely different lenses, and that friction produces both better medicine and lasting friendships. Some of my closest professional relationships, across specialties I would otherwise rarely cross paths with, were forged in those hallways and at those dinners, and that sense of a shared mission is what keeps drawing me back year after year.

My advice is simple: say yes, and start before you feel ready. NASS is fundamentally an organization built by volunteers, and almost everything of value the Society produces, the education, the research infrastructure, the advocacy that protects our ability to care for patients, exists because individual members raised their hands. You do not need to begin with a leadership title. Volunteer for a committee, review abstracts, help build an instructional course, contribute to a guideline or a coverage position. The members who eventually shape the field are almost always the ones who showed up early, did the unglamorous work reliably, and earned the trust of their colleagues one task at a time. The returns compound in ways that are hard to predict but consistently exceed the investment. I would also encourage members to embrace what makes NASS distinctive rather than retreat into their own specialty. The real opportunity here is to work shoulder to shoulder with colleagues who see spine care differently than you do, and to let that broaden you. Find a mentor, and just as importantly, become one. Much of what I am most proud of professionally has come from the people I have helped bring along. If you commit to this Society, it will give you far more than a line on your CV: it will give you a community, a platform to improve care at a scale no single practice can match, and the deep satisfaction of leaving the field stronger than you found it. That is an invitation worth accepting.