 |
| Ava Alexis Taylor August 22, 2012 Photo taken in February 2013 |
Let me start by saying, "I'm fine." My
Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor says he sees no evidence of disease and that is all
I can ask for regarding my health detour that began in January 2010.
Diane and I are on Marco Island, Florida,
for a couple of months, and we take daily walks on the beach where we discuss the
world around us and try to make sense of what is happening to us, our family,
and our friends. We have been married almost 45 years. Yes, let me spare you
saying it:
1. "How has she put up with Gord for so
long?"
2. "She must be a Saint."
3. "There is most certainly a place in
Heaven for Diane."
4. "How has she done it?"
Yesterday, as we walked, I said, "Maybe I
should start up the Blog again with an occasional update on what is happening to
us as we age." Diane stopped dead in her tracks, and it was one of those moments
when people who spend a lot of time together are thinking the same thing. She
wholeheartedly agreed, so here we are.
It has been ten months since I last wrote and much has happened. The inevitable process of life and death has touched us up close and personal. We lost Diane's Dad in May and then added the lovely Ava (daughter of Gordon III and Lisa) in August. While neither of these events came as a surprise, the loss of a parent (and Harry was a genuine nice guy) is never easy. The arrival of Ava gave us the opportunity to reunite as a family over Christmas, and we all had a wonderful time. Diane and I both find that we enjoy time spent with our children as adults and, of course, grandparenting is the Cat's Meow (whatever that means).
We shared some other nice adventures during the year including visits by and to friends, marked the 200th episode of Across the Miles (a local access tv show I host for Western Illinois University), endured the drought of 2012, and generally enjoyed ourselves. However, we did apparently cross a threshold of sorts this year--we are not going to live forever. I am well aware that at almost age 67 this body of mine has been subjected to lots of abuse over the years and while I regret none of it (except maybe the controversial football loss to Seal One in 1967) it seemed like my supply of days was pretty much endless.
I have said it hundreds of times here and elsewhere that the most important things in life are not things at all, but the people we meet on our journey through life--people who nurture us, enrich us, stand by us, and become a permanent part of our personal tapestry. They shape us, make us laugh, are there to comfort us in our times of need, and define who we are as human beings. This has been a never-ending stream of good fortune, wonderful stories, and shared experiences with people who have been a part of the Taylor family over the past 50 years.
That is, until 2012 when the Grim Reaper
visited us four times. I am learning that life goes on, life is to be savored,
life is to be enjoyed, but there is an end to this grand adventure so do not put
off until tomorrow those things you really want to do now. You may or may not
know these people depending on how long you have known the Taylors but everyone
reading this has their own set of personalities who have excited the stage in
the course of your life.
Steve Stanko lived in Seal Hall during college. I was his Resident Assistant. He was the first genuine eccentric I ever met, and he was priceless. I never met his mom Susan but each of my children has a flannel baby blanket made by her. Steve and his dad Mike came to every WIU home football game. Stanko stories abound during his college years, and he was truly one of a kind. He came to Jennifer and John's wedding and sat at the family table with us. We never passed through Gillespie without stopping to see our dear friend. He was a teacher by trade and his students in Staunton loved him because he really cared about them. And then he was gone.
Jerry Goggin went to high school at Brother Rice in Chicago and was best buddies with my friend Bill O'Toole. We got to know each other at Western because of a fondness for sports, accounting, and beer. The Midge, as he was known, was a prolific story teller and a crazed fan of Notre Dame football. After college, he moved to Ft. Wayne, Indiana where he became an extremely popular teacher at a local parochial school. Jerry was there in 1975 when Gordon III took his first steps in Macomb. While we didn't see much of each other after college, we would talk a couple of times a year and the conversation would invariably move to his beloved Notre Dame. I miss his voice and good cheer.
Steve and Jerry had some long-term health issues so losing them, while an unwanted surprise, was not totally unexpected. Terry Moloznik is another story. Bang, in our face knock-out punch. The email from his wife Renee brought us to our knees. Terry, heck he was one of my students, he babysat and played with my kids, we played football, baseball, and basketball together. He too, like me had 10 thumbs, but he helped me put up shelves in the garage of the house on Glenoak Drive that you could "sort of" put stuff on and maybe it would or wouldn't fall off. Terry was a "man's man" and I cannot explain him any better than that. He was young, vibrant, full of life. We last saw him in Washington DC when we were there with Diane's folks. Terry walked up and I said something crude. He responded in kind, hugged Diane, then proceeded to engage Diane's Dad in some small talk about their respective time in the Army. I still have my friend's photo on my desk in my office because I am just not ready to "let go."
Dave Beveridge is one of the reasons I returned to Western in 1970 to teach. I remember like yesterday calling Diane after my interview telling her I had met this neat couple (Dave and Judy) and that I was sure she would like them--she did. Diane and Judy became best friends and remain so to this day. Dave held about every significant academic position there is at Western but it must be noted that he was manager of the undefeated College of Business Softball team in the summer of 1971. Of course, he recruited a couple of graduate assistants (Red Jordan and Charlie Bokemeier) but heck, no one said he couldn't. The Beveridge children (Ryan and Jill) grew up with our kids, and we saw quite a bit of each other. Dave and Judy are Godparents to our son Ryan so that gives you some indication how we feel about them. Dave helped me clean my gutters every Memorial Day; he never figured out my "scam." We would invite the Beveridges over, play some ball with the kids and then I'd hit one up on the roof and while retrieving it say to Dave, "Heh, while I'm up here..." and he never figured it out. On an extremely personal level, no Dave Beveridge, no PhD for me. He helped me every day for literally months and once I finally got it, Diane hosted a grand party which concluded with a toast that initially was for me then quickly morphed into one for the first "co-authored" PhD in the United States.
What is remarkable about my four departed
friends is that they were all as close to Diane as they were to me. Each of us,
in our own way, loved these guys who became part of our extended family. Where
do I go from here, what point am I trying to make? Maybe I just felt the need
to say goodbye one more time or publicly thank them for being part of and
enriching my life. Not that I ever did, but I will never take friendship for
granted as it is a precious gift given to us one person at a time. Memories are
fine and they remain with us but I have learned with the passing of my friends
that I shall endeavor to appreciate even more time spent in the here and
now.
Time for a walk on the beach.
");
