The Shell and Faith in the Future

One View from the Balcony

Our visit to the Sunshine State is drawing to a close, and Midwesterners can stop telling us how mild the winter has been--we know. My only response is that when I get up in the morning, I look out at the Gulf of Mexico and view the sunset each evening over the same body of water. It has truly been a wonderful visit. While we have had plenty of visitors, I take one to three walks per day for a total of 9-13 miles. That sounds like a lot of time on the beach, and it is but for me the sand and the waves rolling up on the beach are very restful and tranquil.

Early morning walks are the best as the sun is not yet too high and I pretty much have the entire beach to myself. Yet, later walks that include Diane are fun as well as I get to hear snippets of conversations as we pass people. Beach walking is an interesting endeavor as most folks think they are invisible and that everyone else on the beach is deaf and cannot hear their conversations. Alas, such is not the case. As to the first point, our legion of walkers includes people of every size, weight, and age. They dress in ways they would never dress anywhere else. Skin remains uncovered in places and in amounts that would be cause for arrest anywhere else on the planet. As for the second point, the comments leave us hanging, "When he came home, he found her with..." "She's 25, he must be 60 and.." "All he does is..." "She always talks behind my back and just yesterday I heard her say.." "It isn't fair, Mom favors her when I'm the one who..." And so it goes--everyone has a story and wants to tell it.


This whole "people on the beach" phenomenon came to a head a couple of days ago when I found a huge shell. It is old, weathered, and no one wanted it UNTIL I picked it up. It is not pretty, not symmetrical, not colorful, full of holes, and just not much to look at from an aesthetic standpoint but "it is." It looked lonesome and "used up" so I plucked it up and thought "How many stories has this old shell seen play out over the years before I came upon it?" As I walked back to the condo shell in hand, I became an unintended celebrity. "Where did you get it?" "Do you know how old it is?" "Do you know how rare it is?” and best of all "Will you sell it to me?" My new friend sits on our wrap-around-balcony and will have new stories to tell as it is returning with us to Macomb. The shell will reside on our picnic table in the backyard where new adventures await. It's only a shell, but wherever it's been, the journey continues. I suppose the whole thing is a little corny but like my driftwood experience on Ft. Myers Beach in 2010, it has special meaning to me.

Gordy, Coach Mel Blasi, WIU Golf Team Members

As for faith in the future, Diane and I got a good look up close and personal. WIU Men's Golf Coach, Mel Blasi and seven of his student athletes stopped by, at our invitation, and we spent a few hours together. Each young man shook our hands, looked us directly in the eye, told us where they were from, and said thanks for inviting them. They swam, walked the beach, picked up shells, enjoyed a beautiful sunset and then it was off for dinner where their good manners were clearly on display. For an evening, Diane was proud to refer to them as "her boys" around the condo and its surroundings. They did not disappoint. If these young men are the future of this nation, and they are, then we are in good hands.

The original purpose of this blog was to inform our friends of the Taylor family experience as we dealt with base of tongue cancer. It has been just over two years since that first entry and much has happened. I still can't taste too much and the dry mouth is a constant issue, but by and large, I feel terrific and trust the future is bright. I will forever need to be cautious when eating as it can be a perilous activity. The other night I got something "stuck" and simply couldn't dislodge it. It wouldn't go down and it wouldn't come up, and I began to panic. We were in a restaurant so I got up and walked briskly to the parking lot where I finally got "it" to go down and things returned to normal but it was a bit of a scare. On April 11 I have my next "scope" in Burlington. If all goes well, and we have our fingers crossed, Diane and I agree that it is time to close our blog adventure. The intention was never to give me a "bloody pulpit" to share my views with the world but rather to inform and educate our friends as we lived through a difficult period in our lives. We're told the two-year anniversary (June 10th—ended radiation/chemo treatment) is a significant milestone, so we shall report back here after our April visit to the ENT doctor and hopefully close up shop.

Some Guys Have All the Luck



Birthday Dinner



Sunset at Marco Island, Florida, March 18th

A certain someone in our family had a birthday recently, and it was a memorable day full of cards, phone calls, and well wishes. After 43 years with this woman, I can tell you that they were much deserved.

I met Diane on a blind date on April 1, 1967, (Yes, I've heard all the April Fool's jokes that explain Diane ending up with me) and there were eight of us out that evening in a 1964 Chevrolet Impala that took us to Lake Argyle for a couple of beers. We were all "nice" college kids--Diane, Gail, the other Diane, Barb, Bill, Mike, Thom, and me. Somehow Diane and I got paired up, had a fun time, and sixteen months later got married.

It was not easy at first. Don't get me wrong, we were in love big time but it was 1968 and we had just moved to Gainesville, Florida, where I was to start graduate school. We had $700 to our name from our wedding. I was about to take my physical as the Vietnam War was raging. We didn’t know if I would be drafted, and we were two kids 1200 miles from home. It was a scary and challenging time.

In addition to all of this, poor Diane had to learn how to live with Gordy Taylor. This was not easy for a number of reasons and is the part where I really got lucky. I was a product of the 1950s. I'm not sure what that means but I was not very affectionate, not particularly empathetic, had a very short temper, and was not very complimentary. And oh, I believed marriage was a 50-50 proposition--the 50% Diane gave and the 50% I took. I was not the "gem" I am today.

I mention all this because without Diane's support and love in those early years, I would not be writing this today. She was there for me as I slowly matured. Without her, I wonder if my life would have turned out as well as it has and I thank her for all that she has done for our children and me. It has been a wonderful journey and I love her more than ever. Good friend, Roger Miller, recently sent me The Time of Our Lives by Tom Brokaw who may have said it best.  Brokaw writes that after almost a half-century of marriage Meredith and he are “not so much dependent on each other as we are complementary…” Happy Birthday, Diane.

Tree of Hope

Diane and I continue to enjoy our time in paradise on Marco Island. It has been an absolutely wonderful, restful, and enlightening time in our lives. Today I took another of my "early morning walks" meaning I was out of the condo at 4:50 a.m. and returned at 7:20. I was able to walk about 10 miles, partly on the sidewalk and partly on the beach. I start out in the dark and enjoy the tranquility but at about 6 a.m. the sky begins to lighten up a bit, and I am joined by other walkers and joggers. These early sojourns provide intellectual stimulation of a sort to me as I reflect on all that is life and where mine has taken me. Today "new friends" popped into my mind. We have seen many "old" friends on this trip, and it has been fun to reconnect and retell some old stories from our shared experiences, but today my focus was on the "new" folks and how they have impacted my view of reality.

These people come from diverse walks of life but they all share the common denominator of cancer affecting one of the spouses. No one makes a big deal of it but the “c” word does creep into the conversation. We all think about the next PET scan or scope or whatever procedure is on the horizon to monitor our progress. All of these people and their spouses are grateful that we have, as cancer survivors say, "no evidence of disease" (NED) at this time. One of the survivors has not been so lucky as she lost her husband four years ago. Diane struck up a conversation with her on the beach and in talking about family she mentioned that she was an ovarian cancer survivor but her husband had not been so fortunate. Diane said, “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry.” Our new friend replied, "Yes, I miss him so much." Diane came back to where I was sitting, and we both just sat there in silence as we contemplated our good fortune.

As I proceeded on my walk today to a largely deserted part of the beach at the north end of the island, I passed a dead tree with shells hanging from it. Now these are special shells, special in that they have holes in them so individuals can hang them from the tree. Shells with holes in them are hard to find. I watched as a couple of people put shells on the tree and inquired as to why they had done so. One lady replied, "to honor my husband, he's gone now" and a young girl told me "to provide hope for my sister who has leukemia." How neat--a dead tree made alive by people putting shells on the branches symbolizing loved ones. The message had been delivered so I have been scouring the beach for my own "shells with holes" and I found six which I intend to add to that old tree this afternoon: one each in memory of my Mom and brother Doug who left this world too soon at ages 47 and 54 respectively, one to give thanks that Diane's folks remain with us, and one each for the three "new" friends we have met that they may remain cancer free and healthy for the rest of their lives.

I enjoy my walks on the beach. I never know what new thought or adventure they will bring my way.