What Happened?

Gordy and Blake

Brock and Megan's Wedding 2011

Ryan and Brock--Megan and Brock's Wedding 2011

Megan and Brock, June 26, 2009

Gordon, Gordy, and Ryan

Lisa and Gordon's Wedding, June 27, 2009

It was the Friday after Thanksgiving and sons Gordon III and Ryan invited me to join them for lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings. We do this from time to time, and I think it provides my sons with an opportunity to judge for themselves my improvement in terms of my ability to consume food. My first trip out I watched them eat. Gradually I began to join them first with one wing, then two, and so on. Now I can eat six of the little rascals. I still drink water and lots of it after every bite, but eat them I can. 

But this meal would prove to be different. The three of us were joined by three of my sons’ good friends: Brock and Megan (Butler) Bainter and Blake Bainter. It started out as most such gatherings usually do for me—a little polite conversation, some targeted kidding, a reluctant admission by my dining companions that "Gee, Gordy knows a lot of people but then he's old and he's been here since the dawn of time." Over the course of a couple of hours, I noticed a major shift in the dynamics of our conversation. You get the picture, six friends sitting around, enjoying each others company, having some laughs, lots of them. I enjoyed being with my table mates—a wonderful cast of characters. On my left was son Gordon, Director of Sales and Marketing at the Hyatt Regency Hotel in Austin, Texas. Next to him I suggested we leave an open seat for anyone who might come in to talk about playing time or lack thereof with the person sitting adjacent to that seat, Brock Bainter, Head Baseball Coach and Interim Head Boys Basketball Coach at Macomb High School. I kidded Brock that no matter what he does, someone will not be pleased and he will hear about it. He reminded me that at one time, I was one of those parents. We all had a good laugh.

On Brock's left was his personable, witty, bubbly, and very attractive bride, Megan, who works in the Billing and Receivables Office at Western Illinois University. Next to Megan sat a young man who simply stated, and I'm a guy saying this, is striking. He is tall, lean but muscular, and has a smile that fills the room. His laugh is infectious and he knows how to tell a good story. He is Brock’s younger brother, Blake, recently departed from the United States Army and soon to be a student at WIU. Next to Blake sat my care keeper. "Are you OK Dad? Do you need anything? How about some more water?" That would be son Ryan, an attorney in Chicago for Tressler LLP.

I kidded Blake about the time in our backyard when he was four years old and hit the ball and ran to third base—not first. I called him out and boy was he upset! Brock reminded Ryan of how they shared a study hall in high school, but Brock didn't even know Ryan was in the class until the last week of school. This helped explain the derivation of the nickname Ferris Bueller that apparently my son richly deserved. Everyone kidded Gordon about his famous three-point shots in our epic "driveway basketball" marathons. And then there was Megan, the new member at our lunches. It's hard to kid someone as sweet and kind as Megan so she pretty much got a "pass." Gee, I had fun.

About half-way through lunch, it dawned on me. While it was nice, at least I hope so, that I was there, I was clearly "along for the ride." In the old days, the focus would not have been on these young people but rather their parents. That day it was different. As President Kennedy so aptly put it, "The torch has been passed to a new generation." I sat there listening and then listening some more as these five extraordinary young professionals talked about "their" world much like their parents would have done in years past. Everyone was nice to the "old" man in their midst but these leaders of today had things to talk about and I was impressed by the depth and maturity of what transpired at our table.

There is a natural progression of things; it is time for my generation to move over just a bit and make way for our children who will be the leaders of tomorrow. To Megan, Brock, Blake, Gordon, and Ryan, thanks for an enjoyable afternoon.

Healthwise, it is all good. Taste buds are actually coming back; my mouth is not as dry as it used to be. It is indeed the season to be thankful, so put me at the top of the list of those doing the thanking—18 months and I remain as they say, "without cancer."

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is clearly my favorite holiday for a number of reasons. Most importantly is the name "Thanksgiving." How simple but elegant; one word says it all. Around our house the past couple of years we don't need to say much but my very presence gives us all pause to reflect on what is but also what could have been. I am a very lucky man. I enjoy Thanksgiving for other reasons as well. It brings our family together (or in the case of this year, part of it) and we actually have a couple of days to relax, watch old videos, take long walks, sleep in (except me who is writing this at 5 a.m.), and enjoy the special banter that people who lived under the same roof for decades share. I enjoy the "stories" the best. "Gordon, tell us about that the Warsaw game when you were a junior when you finally got your chance to play and you delivered", "Ryan, what was it like to pitch against Lewiston is some of those critical games?", "Come on Mom, tell us, was Dad always like this?", "Lisa, how did you like 40 straight days of 100 degree temperatures in Austin?" and "Dad, how did you get so lucky to marry somebody like Mom and exactly when did you figure out how lucky you were?" Now, these are all true stories and we laugh and joke and then laugh some more.

I also love this holiday because we can forego all the hoopla of gifts. It's just family enjoying family. Gordon and I were in the car driving to Moline to pick up Lisa who was flying in from Austin, and we had two hours together in which I could answer his questions about my parents, how they met, their lives together, and special memories I have. You simply couldn't put a price tag on that ride. It takes 90 minutes to make the ride from Macomb to Moline, but it seemed like 10. To me, Thanksgiving tightens the family bond ever more securely. There is for once, more time for quality conversation, more time to explain the Paulsen/Taylor family stories and for our children, fill in the gaps about questions they have regarding how all this came about. It is stimulating, amusing, educational, reflective, and fun. Our "kids" love to visit Indian Trail and Diane and I are most grateful for that. For some reason, a visit here allows for complete decompression from the world of emails, I-phones, and the insidious Blackberry.

I never tire of the kids and their spouses being around. We have no agendas; fortunately, no old scars or family wounds to address, and we seem to have compatible personalities. Do you get it?? I am really feeling fortunate and lucky as I write this. What a hoot!! My kids and we are having a ball together. I want to shout out to Diane, "Diane, I told you we did a good job of raising our kids, isn't this fun?" but then I remember it is 5 a.m. on Friday morning. Gee, I suppose I should get dressed and run out to Wal-Mart but then I do hate to shop.

The weather here promises to be in the 60s today so we will no doubt engage in a game of "driveway basketball" which remains a family pastime but is a considerably less display of athletic prowess than it was in years past when we were younger and more limber. Diane will sit on the porch, take a photo or two (she remains the family archivist) and root for her sons against their dad. Not sure why it happens this way, but my guess is it is some sort of payback for my conduct on the court 30 years ago when I played the role of Vic Morrow in Bad News Bears or Robert Duvall in The Great Santini.

Pretty much there you have it EXCEPT for another of our major Thanksgiving blessings at 35 Indian Trail. That would involve the gourmet cooking and presentation by Diane Paulsen Taylor who, fortunately for her family, loves to cook and is extremely proficient at said endeavor. From turkey, with mashed potatoes, dressing, gravy, brussel sprouts, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, cranberries, and rolls it is indeed a culinary extravaganza. This will be followed by a sumptuous prime rib on Friday night complemented by sour cream and cheese mashed potatoes and her famous pea and broccoli casserole. The boys and I express our gratitude for all this tender loving care by "doing the dishes." It is a sight to behold. There we are--three men, 65, 37, and 31, clearing off the table, loading the dishwasher, wiping off tables, washing the pots and pans, packaging up leftovers, and of course joking with each other all the way. Not sure why the big cleanup is fun, but we find a way to make it so.

Now, the weekend has not been perfect. We do miss the presence of daughter Jennifer and her fine family but we find solace in the reality that we will ALL rendezvous in Austin, TX, for a couple of days next month and celebrate an early Christmas. Take the Thanksgiving team and add Jennifer, John, and the grandsons (Luke 7, James 3, and Paul 6 months) and this should be a wild affair. This family dynamic is exponentially wild as Uncles Gordon and Ryan and Aunt Lisa think it is cool to shower their nephews with gift after gift after gift. Of course, this drives Jennifer crazy, "You're spoiling my sons" but what the heck, we don't all get together as often as we'd like, so a little excessive gift giving to the little ones is ok with all of us.

The Thanksgiving weekend will end on a melancholy note as it will require a ride to Moline to send Lisa and Gordon back to Austin and then Ryan will take the train back to Chicago. Diane and I will have happy tears in our eyes as we will be sad to see them go but look forward to our next adventure together. Yes, Thanksgiving, my favorite time of the year. Christmas is only a month away and we shall reunite soon--let the good times roll.

A Box of Hope

                                                                      A Box of Hope

I knew the day would come and yesterday was that day. In my office closet sits a box. It is not just any box but a very special box. It is three feet long, two feet wide, and eighteen inches high. It has resided in my office closet since around April 1, 2010, when I received my first card wishing me good thoughts from one of you as I prepared for the uncertain battle with cancer that awaited me. I got literally thousands of cards, notes, and emails (I copied many of them) and put them in the box. I'm not sure why I put them there. Maybe it was because I knew in my heart that I would want to look at them at a later date. Maybe it was because I was too tired and disoriented to digest their contents when I received them. Maybe it was because I just didn't know what to do with them. Whatever the reason, they have been sitting there accumulating for 19 months. I don't get many letters these days and I interpret that as a good sign as I am recovering not deteriorating. However, the box sat there waiting for action on my part so I decided to "dig in."

One hour passed, then two, then five, and six, and I was still sitting there reading, reflecting, thinking. Diane finally came upstairs to check on me and said, "Gord, are you ok? You look exhausted. Have you been crying?" I was ok, I was exhausted, and I had been crying. After 43 years, a wife comes to know her spouse pretty well so we sat there together while I tried to explain what I was feeling. Damn, I'm a grown man, 65 years old to be exact, but I was visibly shaken and moved by what I had been reading. It was card after card, note after note, words of encouragement from YOU. I clearly don't remember opening most of them when they first arrived as I was busy resting day after day, week after week and month after month.

But I read them yesterday, all of them, and I thank each of you for your words of support and encouragement. I have done so before but not fully knowing the content of your thoughts like I did yesterday. Now I know and I am humbled. Some of you wrote every week, some once in awhile but you all took the time to bolster me and my family in our time of need. I won't even try to mention you all by name. You know who you are. I will, however, quote from one card that captures the essence of what I experienced yesterday. It was written by our former Head Men's Basketball Coach, Jack Margenthaler. He said he had been reading a book given to him by his son Matt, and he thought of me. It was a particular verse, Romans 15:13 to be precise. "May God of hope fill you with all the joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope...if we don't have hope, we have nothing."

I feel today a little like baseball great Lou Gehrig, who said, under very different circumstances, "Today I am the luckiest man on the face of the earth." Thanks everyone, I believe I am here today, in large part, because of each of you.

My next challenge is to read the blog. I have not read a word of it since Diane and I started writing it on March 23, 2010. I am told by those who have read it that it can be painful at times so I shall find out for myself. It's funny, you write something, send it out, but never have the stamina or courage to read what you have written. I believe that day is at hand for me.

Excellent News and Aging

                                             Andy Rooney

I ventured over to Burlington to see Dr. Doug Henrich, my Ear, Nose, Throat doctor, this week as I was due for a checkup, and I had a couple of questions to ask him. We chatted a bit and then he put that darn scope up my nose and wherever else it goes to get a good look at my tongue and throat. He said that everything looked good, and unless I had an issue he'd see me in four or five months. He also told me that the first year has the highest rate of reoccurrence of my type of cancer and if you get through year two then the recurrence really drops off and if you get to five years, well; that is just the best news possible. I am at 17 months so let's hope the good news keeps coming.

I continue to make what I refer to as modest improvements. Ever so slightly but taste buds and salivary glands are, I believe, getting better; however, the progress is slow hard as to be imperceptible except when viewed longitudinally over the passing of months. When I look at things this way, I am way better than I was a year ago. This week I reached another personal milestone. I went slow (10 minutes a mile), but I jogged three miles in the Spencer Student Recreation Center. I only jog once a week or so due to age, knees, whatever, but this was the first time I had reached the three mile mark since this odyssey began almost two years ago. I continue to walk an hour every day which is good but I do so at 5:30 a.m. which is a little (ok, a whole lot) crazy for a retired guy but my new biological clock is now set for a 4:30 a.m. wakeup whether I like it or not. My weight remains in the160 pound range which is a little light; both my local doctor Mike Waters and Doug Henrich tell me not to worry about it as I look fine so there you have it.

Now about this issue of aging--I think about it these days as it is all around me. Diane's parents are 90 and 87, my two surviving brothers have had some health issues, and I have now entered the stage in my life when some of my close friends are having "health issues" as well. It is a new threshold in life when you attend far more wakes and funerals than weddings but in a melancholy way, it makes sense. At age 65 and having had a nasty cancer, what would mortality tables tell me? I shall not look to find out; I am clearly in the last third of my life. No complaints here, just a statement of fact. None of us gets out of this alive, and I trust I am not in the Last Act but you do tend to take stock of things as you speculate about what lies ahead.

                                                                   Frank Sinatra
                                                              

To quote from a Frank Sinatra song, "Regrets, I have a few, but too few to mention" sums it up nicely. I have been blessed and continue to be blessed with a return to good health, a fabulous family, a rewarding career, and continued involvement in the community and, of course, the Across the Miles TV show that completed interview #182 last week. I sometimes wonder, "If I don't keep active in some way, is that the beginning of the end." I refer to both physical activity and mental stimulation as ways to keep us perpetually young at least in terms of how we utilize our time. I can't help but think of Andy Rooney who retires and then dies a month later. Yes, he was 92, but did Father Time finally catch him or was he really ready to give up what he loved to do and had been doing for over 60 years? We'll never know. It does at least beg the question.

I do ask myself, and Diane too, if I should end "the blog" but am told by people that they find our story enlightening and informative in terms of how one deals with cancer and its aftermath. Thus, I view my musings as part of that on-going process and will continue to "post" though maybe just not as frequently. Have a great day. You are a part of the reason I am happily where I am today. Many thanks.

Grandsons and Reflections in Church

We just got back from a two week visit to Corpus Christi, Texas, where we visited and stayed with daughter Jennifer, son-in-law John, wonder dog Caesar the 100 pound yellow lab, and of course my buddies, Luke 7, James 3, and Paul 4 months. At age 40, I assume Jen is "done" but who knows, maybe she will go for all 12 disciples. A bit of candor is in order here, and I trust I will not offend my favorite daughter. I am 65 years of age and Diane is 63 though she doesn't look it. We are active people and rather live our lives "on the go." However, 13 consecutive days with the Stevenson threesome was a challenge from the physical stamina standpoint. These guys are up at 7 a.m. and generally go to bed around 8 p.m., but they are active. I might also add that Jen is a terrific Mom and the boys are very respectful and well behaved. The good news is that Luke, James, and Paul really love their grandparents and look forward to our time together but they do wear us out. Grandparenting for us would be about 3 hour visits, or an all-day excursion, and an occasional overnight stay but not 13 days, but since we live so far away, we find it necessary to make up for the miles and hours that separate us and keep us from shorter trips.

Truth be known, baby Paul belongs to Grandma and his Mom as he is still nursing. When not with Jen, he is with Grandma cooing, laughing, and smiling. He has a wonderful temperament. The other two boys are mine. Their nicknames for me are Darth Vadar, Jack Sparrow, Mr. Fun, and most importantly The King. I took a daily walk at 5:30 a.m. (my quiet time) and by 7 a.m. I was back in bed waiting for my little buddies to arrive which they did like clockwork. We watched Sesame Street, ate fruit prepared by Grandma, and discussed reasons why I am The King which translates into little physical games like the scissors, head nuggies, and the chin on the chest which is a challenge for me as I am chin deprived.

James and I then take Luke to school and return home where we play Star Wars and at 10 a.m. take a wagon ride to the local grocery store where James has a donut and bottle of chocolate milk to ensure that he is not hungry for lunch but heck that's the joy of being a grandparent. At 1 p.m. James and Paul lie down for an hour or so with Jen and then it is time for Diane and me to rest. At 2:30 James and I leave to pick up Luke from school and stop for ice cream on the way home which, you guessed it, spoils their appetite for dinner. Heh, I never said I was perfect, but I do know how to keep my little friends happy. We then return home where I pretend to take a nap in the little, and I mean little, 4 foot in diameter swimming pool while the boys torment me with snakes, sharks, and alligators. It is amazing. It matters not that the three of us are crowded into this little pool. What counts is that we are together, laughing, and having fun.



After dinner we play pirates and then Grandma reads them a story and Jen puts them to bed after they say their prayers. This routine was repeated everyday so by the time we left donuts and ice cream were daily staples so Jen and John were left to "reeducate” their sons on the need for a non-Papa diet. I am not sure how Jen does it since her schedule includes laundry, meals, chauffeuring, homework, discipline, nurturing, cleaning, paying bills and every unforeseen contingency that comes her way. Did I mention that Jennifer also has a part-time job managing an apartment complex? Did I also mention that for most of the time, John departs Corpus on Monday mornings and does not return until Friday nights because of his job? A couple of college girls watch James and Paul about twice a week; however, Jennifer takes James and Paul to the apartment complex at least once a week where she works. I told John I think we guys get off easy. Sure, we work hard but the emotional drain of raising kids is staggering. I guess that's why you have children when you are young. Jennifer and John are doing a fantastic job with our three grandsons but it is a daily commitment of being consistent.

By the way, while there, Paul was christened, Diane and I took the older two boys for an overnight stay at a hotel in San Antonio, managed to take Jen out for a couple of dinners, and John took me to my first Texas high school "Friday Night Lights" football game. We even squeezed in a couple of hours with son Gordon and daughter-in-law Lisa (one of Paul’s Godmothers) at the baptism and lunch, so it was a wonderful sojourn to the Lonestar State.

I hope I continue to improve. That may sound like a strange statement but everything happens so gradually that it is hard to ascertain or mark progress. I thought about this in church Sunday as it dawned on me that I was, indeed, in church and a year ago I couldn't make it through the whole service as fatigue would mandate my early departure. In the past, I had to get up for a drink of water and that has no longer been an issue. Diane even commented the other day that I am standing up straighter than I did a few months ago. Naturally, I took this comment well and after reacting poorly agreed that she was correct and this is another example of regaining my health. As a matter of fact, I believe that I am close to being the old Gordy from a physiological standpoint. That is a big plus; I walk, jog a bit, planted 300 tulips, raked leaves and completed interview number 180 last week on the Across the Miles TV show. I still go to bed early and get up by 5 a.m. but then I have always been an early riser. My taste buds are slow to return but I am no longer tethered to a water bottle. I saw my regular doctor yesterday and I doubt that my weight will get back to 170 but rather will stay in the 160-165 range. Not sure if that is good or bad but that is reality as food is just not a priority for me.

I am due for a visit with the Ear, Nose,Throat doctor in Burlington and of course, that is an anxious time but I am optimistic. I will keep you posted. As for grandson Luke, he wins the "tell it like it is" award. While enjoying our ice cream one afternoon, he looked over at me and said, "Papa, you look good, but your hair is turning white." Yup, grandparenting is the best.

A Film



Diane, Paul, Luke, James, and Gordy
The Christening at First Presbyterian Church in Goliad, TX

 I am a bit of a movie freak; I even go by myself sometime.  Now don't get me wrong, no slasher, horror, or stupid ones for me.  Macomb even has an International Film Series hosted by the Rialto Theatre, and I go whenever I am in town.  Of course, we try to only go to matinees--can't stay up too late you know.  I am writing this in Corpus Christi, TX, where Diane and I traveled for the baptism of grandson number three, Paul Austin Stevenson.  Prior to our flight from Midway, we spent a day in Chicago and while Diane made a quick train trip to visit her parents in Zion, I actually bought a new pair of jeans (unusual for me since I hate to shop), but my new waistline mandated a size 32 inch size waist which I haven't seen in a decade.

I had time to catch a flick so I went to a "cancer comedy," a true oxymoron called 50/50.  I didn't know quite what to expect, and I will not give this movie a thumbs up or thumbs down, but if you have had cancer, have cancer, or know someone who has, it is excellent food for thought.  Several times during the film, I got goosebumps as they hit a trigger point head on and made me realize what both the patient and friends experience.  Seth Rogen who is not one of my favorites (probably an age thing) did a fine job as the caring friend who tries to disguise that he truly cares for and loves his best buddy.  It is a film in which you have to sort of go with it, but I actually got quite a bit out of it and others may as well.  I cried; I laughed.  I left the theatre glad I had gone to see it. 

It has been a busy couple of months for us with trips to Europe, Kentucky, Chicago, and now Texas.  Plus an action-packed Homecoming so Diane and I are ready for a more relaxed pace when we return to Macomb on the 18th.  I continue to walk daily, my taste buds are improving slightly, and choking incidences are rather infrequent.  Sometimes my tongue feels a little irritated, but I assume that is just part of the process.  In the final analysis, I guess I am just happy that 7-year old Luke and 3-year old James refer to me as The King or Mr. Fun.  As for Paul, four months, he has yet to settle on a nickname for his Grandpa Taylor.

Homecoming 2011

Homecoming 2011

My health must be improving.  This was Western Illinois University's Homecoming Weekend, and we kept up a frenetic pace for a couple of retirees.  I did two interviews for Across the Miles on Friday and for the 41st consecutive year, the Taylors had a guest stay with us Homecoming.  This is kind of a fun tradition for us. 

Here's our Saturday:  awake at 5 a.m.; took an hour walk at 6; got the house ready for a post-game party; 10:15 arrived at the Alumni House to watch the parade; 1 p.m. lunch at the all-university tent adjacent to Hanson Field; went to the Leatherneck tailgate until game time; watched the Leathernecks prevail in a 27-21 thriller over Southern Illinois University; returned home and hosted a social for 60 returning alumni football players, coaches, and guests from 1969 to 1982; and bedtime was 11 p.m.  For me, a bit of record as I was up for 19 hours and handled pretty well.  I even forgot my water on my morning walk and it didn't bother me too much. 

This is always a special weekend for Diane and me as we always see so many people who are a part of the fabric of our lives.  It has become even more meaningful after my illness as simply stated people are genuinely happy to see that I am out and about.  Everyone is just so darn nice to the Taylors, and we sure appreciate it.  The football reunion was awesome.  I had many of these players in my College of Business classes from 1970 to 1978, and they have developed into stellar men of whom I am very proud.  We had lots of laughs and shared many stories and memories.  Of course, I would remiss if I did not mention that Diane is a master making our house a warm and comfortable place where friends can relax, visit, and share time with one another. 

I had a couple of emails this week from other head and neck cancer survivors who wrote, "Be patient, Gordy, progress will come, it will be slow, and it will not be complete, but you are on the right side of the grass so remember that!"  I will endeavor to do so.