Advertising 221

First things first. Diane is eleven weeks out from surgery and has just gotten promoted from physical therapy to cardio therapy which hopefully will start soon. Toilet booster is gone as is bench in shower. Those events may not seem like much in a “normal” world but in post-heart surgery, they are significant events. Goals now are to gain strength and put on some much-needed weight.  Tell me the last time you heard of everyone telling a woman, “You need to put on some weight, girl, you’re way to thin.” Good news is that Diane is moving in the right direction.

Been doing some thinking and reflecting lately. Believe it has to do with number 80 and realization that there are way more birthdays behind me than ahead. Diane is a “photo taker” and she likes to send archival ones to me and the three kids. They are such fun and remind us of the many wonderful memories we have shared as a family over the decades. Unfortunately, they also remind me of a once young family man who mentally is still sort of around, but who physiologically has pretty much left the scene. I know that as we age, we all slow down but for me, the lack of energy is frustrating, very frustrating. The reasons for this decline are obvious as over the past few years with cancer, radiation, chemotherapy, shoulder/hip/knee replacements, bronchiectasis, aspiration pneumonia, and feeding tube for life, I shouldn’t be surprised.

I work hard not to “let the old man in” but sometimes it’s a tough slog. Lately, as the weather has finally turned to Spring in the Midwest, I have returned to the outdoors to rake leaves, spread mulch, trim some bushes and engage in other outdoor activities. What is inescapable is that while I can still do these things, it takes much longer than in the past and I “run out of gas” much faster these days.  Same goes with walking. Buddy Sean and I try to hook up indoors or out depending on the weather but now I find I occasionally must find a spot to sit for a couple of minutes on our three-mile walk.  Typing this is good therapy as it makes me face the reality, I have no reason to complain and that as we age (or maybe mature), it is perfectly all right to acknowledge our biological clock is beginning to slow down. 

Western lost an icon last week; I lost a mentor and friend. His name is Dr. Robert Jefferson who was a teacher, department chair, dean, and associate provost over his career at Western, Illinois State, and Western Kentucky.  I had him for Advertising 221 in 1967 and got one of two A’s earned in my class of forty-two (one of my prouder academic accomplishments). When in graduate school at the University of Florida, I got the itch to return to my alma mater to try teaching, so naturally I wrote a letter (people communicated that way in my day) to Dr. Jefferson, and he pretty much did the rest. There was an opening in the Management Department and Bob recommended me to Dean Howard Nudd.  I got the call for an interview.  I was hired in the Fall of 1970 and for the next eight years found myself in Stipes Hall teaching Management, Human Relations (yes, that’s a stretch), Business Policy, Consumer Behavior, and Business and Society. I probably didn’t know much about any of those subjects but over the years, I learned enough to get by and as colleagues, Dr. Jefferson became Bob. In the early years, his kids even babysat for a couple of the Taylor youngsters.

As life played out, Bob was always there for me. When I got the Alumni job, I was to start on July 1, 1978, which was the beginning of the fiscal year. Bob called me into his office and said “Gordy, see if you can get them to start your contract on June 30^th so that you can get a full year’s raise the next day.”  With raises at three percent, on top of my starting salary of $25,000, that amounted realistically to a quick raise of $750 which meant something in those days.  I always remembered that act of kindness.

When Bob passed away last month at 86, Diane and I attended the graveside services. What is remarkable is not that we attended, but that I received no fewer than 25 emails/texts/phone calls from former students of his wanting to tell me how he had changed their lives. Most of these calls, whatever, were from kids I also had in class. “Kids”, heck they are all in their 70s. Every communication would end the same.:

Gordy–“I assume I was your favorite teacher.”

Student–“No, I think Dr. Jefferson was.” 

Click. Of course not. Bob Jefferson was an extraordinary individual–husband, father, grandpa, teacher, administrator, author, community activist, Christian, and so much more. His legacy is rich and secure. I will miss his support, guidance, and friendship.

Glad I took Advertising 221–changed my life.