Bumps

It all began on a rainy Friday night, March 31, 1967. I was a Resident Assistant in Seal Hall, and it was my night to stay in and keep an eye on things in the residence hall. I went to bed early and got up early to do laundry before anyone else had a similar idea. Late that morning I ran into Thom Cornelis in the lobby, and he asked if I wanted to go on a blind date to Lake Argyle that night. It would be four Seal Hall guys and four Grote Hall coeds.  I laughed and said “Sure, and happy April Fools Day to you as well.” He assured me it was legitimate and as my dance card had been clear the entire year, I said of course and four couples crowded into Bill O’Toole’s trusty ‘62 Chevy Impala. A quick stop at H and H Liquors for a supply of Schlitz Malt Liquor, some pretzels, and off we went for an evening of goodness knows what. Within 15 minutes, the life I had lived for 21 years, 1 month, and 11 days was to be changed forever. We paired up in a totally random manner and I somehow won the lottery as a tall pretty girl caught my eye and 55 years later we remain happily together. 

None of us knows what tomorrow, next year, or even the rest of the day will bring and that is a major component of the wonder of life.  I do know that a good partner can help make the journey better. There is an old Turkish proverb, “No road is long with good company.” Those seven words speak volumes. Diane’s and my journey has been and continues to be a good one but not without some serious bumps along the way.

Vietnam was raging.  We didn’t know if the draft was in my future, but we got married anyway on August 31, 1968.  Within one week we drove with all our possessions and $700 in our famous “61 Blue Streak Chevy Impala to the University of Florida in Gainesville where I had a NDEA Title Four Fellowship that paid all my fees and provided a $200 monthly stipend.  Diane quit college after her sophomore year and had to get a job to help us survive. What in the world were we thinking?  We left Gainesville for Macomb in September 1970 where I had a position as Assistant Professor in the College of Business at Western. We had overcome money challenges, the sudden unexpected death of my mom at age 47, and an uncertain academic future. The bumps had begun. In Macomb we did OK. My first contract paid $14,000 annually, so we were by no means on easy street.

You don’t know what you will do to make ends meet until you confront adversity looking you straight in the face. Diane postponed her return to classes to again work and then after the birth of Jennifer in 1971 she was a stay-at-home Mom. Things were tight so this young mother put our daughter in a wagon and walked the neighborhood selling Avon products. Who does that?  I’ll tell you, Diane Taylor does. We needed the income so she did what she had to do. The Ph.D. odyssey was just that, an odyssey with pitfall after pitfall. My major professor died suddenly. I had to basically start over, ran out of time, and was given a terminal contract at Western. Yup, Gordy Taylor basically got fired.  What were we going to do? The first thing was Diane went back to work at W.I.U., again postponing her academic dreams. She was a good student and this was a major sacrifice on her part but she never complained and just did it. Nike, are you listening?  I tested for the Foreign Service and got all the way to the final interview before that search failed.  I was about to sell insurance. Another major bump in the road had presented itself.  

Then some good news came our way as the Director of Alumni Programs position became available. I was hired; I started this new career in June 1978. Western was lucky as the University really got two for one as Mrs. Taylor was the most productive, unpaid volunteer in the history of the school.  The four Alumni Council meetings for the members always meant someone stayed overnight at our home.  We loved having our friends stay with us, but it was always more work for her. 

Things were pretty darn good. Gordon III had been born in 1974 and Ryan followed in 1980. Diane was finally able to return to school, earned her Bachelors and Masters Degrees and began a stellar career as an English instructor at Spoon River College (SRC).  However, another one of those bumps was out there waiting for us. Without going into detail, we faced some rather serious “kid” issues. While we addressed these problems together, I was totally immersed in all I was doing at Western so again, it was Diane who was the warrior, stood strong, and got us through a very difficult period. I never thought about her role in all these events when we were “in the moment,” but on reflection one day while out walking the beach recently, it dawned on me how critical Diane had been in keep our family together.  

Don’t get me wrong here. Our life together has been wonderful. Diane loved her teaching experience at SRC and received awards for teaching excellence. My years in the classroom were “magic” and to this day, a week doesn’t go by when I don’t hear from a former student.  And in 1980 I finally got the elusive Ph.D. Of course, really no need to mention the “alumni stuff” because as former student and good buddy Jim Miner constantly reminded me, “Gordy Taylor, you have the best job at Western.” He’s correct.  Add in my tv interview shows of Across the Miles with 250 episodes and Macomb on the Move, currently at 28 and what a wonderful journey it has been.  I got to share it with my best friend and mother of our three children who have all done magnificently and given us 6 grandchildren, three dogs, and a couple of cats. 

Sometimes in life we take our good fortune for granted and assume the good times will always be there. I’m one of those people. In my youth, right up to yesterday or so it seemed, I could play football, basketball, softball, and tennis and do so pretty well or at least I thought I did. This reminds me of a cute story. I would always chide the kids about their respective athletic careers. Jennifer excelled at tennis, Gordon III at basketball, and Ryan at baseball. It was fun and they were good athletes. One day, the three of them called a family meeting of sorts. “Dad, we have a highlight video of you playing basketball and softball in the park district leagues.”  All right—get the popcorn, pour the pop, and turn out the lights—let’s have some fun and the THREE OF THEM did. First video was of me playing left field for the Jackson Street Pub. A ground ball came my way and went between my legs all the way to the outfield fence. Then another video, same result. They were howling with laughter and, of course, Diane joined in. “How about basketball Dad?” And then they showed it. Gordy Taylor shooting 28 times in a single game and connecting on 5 shots. “Where the heck did you guys get these?” but to this day no one has confessed.  We all had a great bit of family time together.  

And then another bump—when my dad died, for reasons not important here, I became estranged from my three brothers for 25 years and while I made amends with one of them, the other two died with me never speaking a word to either of them ever again. It was sad but again, who was there to pick up the pieces, encouraging and supporting me in every decision I made? Why of course, that girl I’d met on a blind date so many years ago. Sometimes we need to take a moment to reflect on the roles we play throughout our lives as well as the roles played by those who are part of our inner circle. For us, it is Diane who is the mediator, confidant, nurturer, and listener.

After I retired (sort of) in 2008, it seemed like it was time to walk off into the sunset (sort of), and smell the roses as it were. And then I got that awful sore throat in 2010 and the ensuing base of tongue cancer ordeal. Another damn bump in the road.  PEG was inserted in my stomach and it was 35 radiation and 4-5 chemo treatments concurrently over 7 weeks. I was on more meds than Carter has little liver pills and for three months, it was Diane again who drove me to Burlington five times a week for seven weeks and gave me my plethora of daily medications.  For twelve years after recovery all went well until the summer of 2021—another bump—pneumonia, cancer scare, and reinsertion of PEG (for now at least). Diane made countless calls to doctors, hospitals, clinics, pharmacies, and did 100 different things to lighten my burden until we got things back on track.

There are many in receipt of this who are dealing with challenges far greater and significant than any I have discussed here. I know that.  However, I also know it is important for each of us to take a minute from time to time to thank those who help us on this journey we all take through life. Often, it is a person behind the scenes. They never really ask for, nor do they receive the credit, they deserve.  As I type this, I can’t help but smile and think back to that night on April 1,1967, when that beautiful coed from Winthrop Harbor took a chance on me and has given me not only her love but her unwavering support, guidance, friendship, and encouragement. 

Thanks, Diane.