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In the November 19, 2001, issue of Newsweek, author Anna Quindlen wrote, “September 10, 2001 was the last everyday morning of the rest of our lives.” In those 12 words, Quindlen spoke volumes about the world in which we now live. As a member of the 4th quarter congregation, my memory takes me back to the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962, assassination of President Kennedy in 1963, his brother Bobby and Dr. Martin Luther King in 1968, Vietnam, Watergate, and the Challenger disaster. I thought I had pretty much “seen it all.” The major events of my lifetime were behind me and for the remainder of my days, the focus would be on family and friends, sports on tv, walking around town, and pretty much just keeping busy and staying out of the way of the people doing the heavy lifting necessary to move the agenda of the nation forward.

Then, in late January 2020, Diane asked me if I had seen the story in USA Today about the virus in Wuhan, China and to paraphrase Quindlen, “In an instant our lives would be altered in ways from which there would be no return to what they were before.” Covid-19 has arrived and won’t be going away soon, so what to do about it. I guess we made that decision 50 years ago without even knowing it. We moved to and stayed in Macomb, IL. We are living in small town America where, for us, it seems people care, really care about the welfare of their fellow citizens.

There is a sense of security and genuine intimacy in a small town. As our three kids were growing up, they always marveled that news about their exploits got back to our house before they did. You get close to one another in smaller communities. It’s just the nature of things. People are friendly in Macomb; they care about and care for each other. Small towns develop a sense of community sharing and working together. We rally around one another in times of need. After the terror of 9-11, Western’s Alumni Association hosted a cookout to support victims of the disaster. In a single afternoon we garnered the support of HyVee foods, Coca Cola bottling, the Macomb Park District, and B and S Tent Rentals. Townspeople cooked and served food and soft drinks and over a two-day period $5,000 was raised for the September 11th Fund set up by the United Way. It was a moving experience as people in rural Illinois joined together to help others they’d never met 1,000 miles away.

In Macomb, when you call a plumber, an electrician, an auto mechanic, owner of a furniture store, a carpet layer, a barber, or hairdresser, it is often times someone you already know. The same goes for health professionals like doctors and dentists. We actually have sustained relationships with these folks before we call for their assistance. Taking a walk is more than just exercise, it’s a social experience as you wave and say hi to folks you have known for decades or maybe just reaching out to say hello for the first time. OK, I’m in that 4th Quarter, so sometimes when I’m taking a walk, I can feel that car slowly and methodically following me. Who could it be? Whose so damn interested in my walk? Curiosity gets the best of me and I turn around and smiling behind the wheel are Eric Jameson, Pat Burke, or Steve and Mark Tibbetts, all funeral home directors. They joke about my imminent demise and I respond in kind. Things like this happen in small town America because we know each other and share parts of our lives. In spite of their collective concern for my welfare, I do not intend to meet these men professionally in the near future.

Sitting here typing gives me inspiration, hope, and belief that each of us, in our own way, cares about one another. It’s not that people in big cities don’t care about one another, it’s just easier to act on those concerns when the population base is smaller and more intimate. There is a favorite story of mine that drives this point home in a way that, when I tell it, always brings a tear to my eye and a smile to my face. It’s about a man who reminds me of my dad–high praise in my book. Gordon III is oldest of our two sons and in his junior year of high school proudly announced, “I do not want to, nor do I intend, to go to prom.” However, fate would intervene. At the last minute, on the Saturday morning of the big dance, Gordon’s good friend, Brett Cazalet, who is now Head Football Coach at Dunlap High School, had an emergency appendectomy and was hospitalized. Brett called Gordon and asked if he would escort his date to prom, and as good friends will do, and with some parental coaxing, Gordon said yes. Everything was done–tuxedo rented, flower purchased, tickets in hand, dinner reservations made. One small problem–Gordon is 6’4″ tall and Brett checks in at 5’9″. We called every store in town that rented tuxedos but none were available. We were desperate.

Over the years, I’d bought a couple of suits at Herbert’s Men’s Wear, so we stopped in there with Gordon. Owner, Tom Herbert, one of the most dapper dressers in town, came out and like everyone else, said he just didn’t have any tuxedos in stock so I said thanks for trying and the Taylor boys headed for the door. We were almost gone when Tom called out, “Wait a minute, I have an idea.” Tom was tall and distinguished, and he escorted Gordon into the back room from which Gordon soon emerged wearing Tom’s personal and very expensive tuxedo. Diane and I could hardly believe this extraordinary act of kindness and generosity. A few tucks and a little mending did miracles, but Tom Herbert was the real miracle that day. The shoes, I forgot to mention the shoes. No problem—long-time friend Larry Mortier provided those and the ensemble was complete. Mission accomplished and all because of people who care.

A couple of months ago Brian Dietz, the CEO of McDonough District Hospital called and asked if I would be interested in interviewing some of his top administrators on the local tv show I host called “Macomb on the Move.” Brian wanted to get the word out about how the citizenry could best deal with Covid-19. I said sure, and we did four shows, all airing on local television with three common themes–wear a mask, maintain social distance, and wash your hands. It was accomplished with a couple of elbow shakes and cooperation from the hospital, the Mayor’s office, and our producer, who drove in from Iowa City to tape the shows. Small town–quick, helpful, and efficient.

Another example of small-town caring was my bout with base of tongue cancer in 2010. After 35 radiation and 5 chemo treatments, I eventually was out walking again, and people I didn’t even know stopped their cars to run over and give me a hug and wish me well. They were genuinely glad to see me out and about. Pat Stout, writer for our local newspaper, read in the blog Diane and I were writing about my health ordeal. One entry reported that I was actually able to eat a small piece of a canned peach. Like many others, he cared and felt a need to report to others. Suddenly a headline appeared in his weekly editorial entitled “Gordy Taylor eats a peach.” You really can’t make this stuff up.

In January 2018, while at a Chicago Blackhawks game at the United Center, Diane fell on the stairs and broke both, yes both, her ankles. She was immobile for months because of wearing toe to knee casts and had to live in our family room. Word got out and wouldn’t you know it, 30 of her friends, signed up on an app called Meal Train, delivering dinners to our house night after night. Of course, the meals were hand delivered as all of these women wanted to see and visit with Diane in person. It was incredible and extraordinary. Diane’s spirits were lifted by these acts of collective kindness. Where do things like this happen? I’ll tell you where, in a small town. So, that’s why we’re here and likely to remain here. The people who make up our little universe have let us into their lives and us, them into ours. As we deal with the ravages of the pandemic, there is no place we would rather be. Yup, life in a small town is pretty good.

Once again, I revisit the spirit of Anna Quindlen’s words, and the reality that 19 years ago today our lives changed forever and now with the intrusion of Covid-19, they have been altered again. Good friend Al Funck sent out an email with his reflections on 9-11. Al really says it best. To paraphrase, “one thing stood above the sadness, anger, and disappointment of that day. It was the will of the American people to unite and work toward a common goal with pride, determination, and strength. Al then thought of one sentence that to him explains it all: “One nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all.”

Thanks, Al. Today, as we face a new world and the uncertainty that is to come, hopefully we can get through the virus and heal the wounds of our nation, working together to address our mutual concerns. And so it goes…

How are you feeling these days? We have lots to digest including the spread and resurgence of Covid-19 with more positive tests, rising death tolls, increase in unemployment, peaceful protesting, rioting in our cities, destruction of public monuments, police brutality, and an economy in free fall. Back in January of 2020, were any of these issues on your radar? Until we walk in each others shoes, we don’t know what others experience on a daily basis. I do not have solutions to any of these problems; nor do I have any conspiracy theories to share and will leave that to the multitude of talking heads who flood our airwaves every day to discuss, hash, rehash, and then rehash again. There will be no clever quotes, slogans, or panaceas proffered here as frankly, I’m exhausted.

What I do know is that most of us simply want answers. We want to know how bad 19 really is and will it return this fall. Hell, it hasn’t even left for the first time yet and you’re telling me it will return again in September or October? What about the economy? Are we going to see things improve or are we heading for a recession or God forbid, a depression? I’m old. I’m in the 4th Quarter of my life and I’d like to know what lies ahead. I’ve had more than my share of radiation and chemotherapy and have chronic bronchitis. I am a high-risk guy. Doctors tell me the only things I can do to be higher risk are gain a bunch of weight, get diabetes, and stop walking. The good news is that when a vaccine becomes available, I will be first in line in the world to get my shot. Ah, I knew I’d someday be first at something.

I am tired of hearing from politicians all vying to take credit for what is working and assessing the blame to one another for what is not. Please tell me and my fellow members in the final quarter if you are going to open up the country in which case we are responsible for our own fates. We will dine out at our peril and otherwise remain housebound., Is wearing a mask necessary as so many people are not wearing them. The other day Diane said, “Gee, Gord, we are simply being asked to wear a darn mask, not go fight a war in foreign land. Seems pretty simple thing to protect ourselves and others.” Good gracious, the Vice President of the United States cannot even say the word “mask.” What the heck is that all about? There must be someone who can give us a substantive response to all this but who?

I must be an idiot but the premature opening and sometimes never closing of Texas, Florida, Arizona, and other Sunbelt states seems to not be working and now we are going to quarantine people from those states when they visit other states. That should be an interesting plan as it unfolds. I have a vision of state troopers standing on I-75 at the Florida/Georgia border saying, “Nope, you can’t come in. Go home.”

You are correct. Diane and I are both weary of the myriad components of this complicated dilemma. Is there anything positive these days? Yes, we are learning what is important and that is PEOPLE. Our kids and grandkids pretty much consume the thoughts of Diane and Gordy Taylor these days. We want to see them beyond FaceTime, Zoom, or Skype. We want to talk to them, watch them grow, hug them, tell them stories about their parents, listen to them, take them out for ice cream or to a movie, laugh with them, cry with them, and pretty much just generally hang out.

We not only miss our families but also our friends who enrich our lives. I did a little checking and the last guests we had was in mid-March when Judy and Mike Mason drove down from Sarasota to the condo we rent on Marco Island. We spent a couple of days together. After they departed, that was it. Things got crazy down there and we drove home. No one has been with us until yesterday when Alumni House colleagues Mindy Pheiffer and Cathy Onion stopped by our home for a six-foot social distancing conversation that lasted three hours. We laughed and joked with one another; it was good for our collective souls. Being with folks we care about is important to our mental health.

Diane suggests that those of us with partners of some sort should reach out to people we know are place bound and pretty much alone. Most of us need to be around other people to some extent. Maybe not 24/7 but certainly from time to time, we need social contact with nutritious friends who feed our souls. Cathy shared a quote from Brene Brown, a researcher at the University of Texas and author of numerous books: “What we are ethically called to do is create a safe space where all friends can walk in and, for that day or hour, take off the crushing weight of their armor, hang it on a rack, and open their heart to truly be seen.”

That’s what friends allow us to do. We can sit for a moment, forget the travails that we face each day, and enjoy the company of people we hold special and dear to our hearts with no agenda. I like that. I’ll be here on Indian Trail tomorrow waiting for those solutions to arrive from Washington, DC, and Springfield and in the meantime, maybe call someone just for the heck of it.

Amid all the turmoil, pain, and suffering that has accompanied the events in our great nation since the first of the year, we recognize that today is D-Day, without which, I would not have the freedom to type this or you to read it. In the fall edition of the WIU alumni publication, I wrote what follows precisely 25 years ago today, and it rings out as importantly today as it did on June 6, 1995. I hope that long after all of us are “gone” that event never diminishes in the history of the United States and world events.

Have you ever had an experience that causes such a tide of emotion that you think you’ll explode? I have. It happened on June 6, 1995, 51 years ago to the day of the allied invasion of Normandy. I was there. I saw it. I felt it—Omaha Beach, Utah Beach, Pointe du Hoc, and the American Cemetery at Saint Laurent. I’ve seen the old newsreels about the D-Day landing and the sacrifices that were made that day, but to be there was a profoundly moving moment unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Diane and I stood on the water’s edge at Omaha Beach. A steady rain pelted our faces as we looked into a cold, unforgiving north wind. Adrenalin began to race through my body, and I got goose bumps everywhere. Why? There was no machine gun fire, no exploding shells, no cries of pain from fallen comrades, just us—and the beach. The eerie silence of today was in total contrast to the credible chaos of June 6, 1944.

I tried to walk away once, twice, three times. I couldn’t. I just stood there alone with my thoughts and cried. A 49-year old man without a care in the world, was unable to control my emotions. The sense of history was overwhelming; I was totally consumed. My legs were like iron pilings sunk in the sand forbidding me the luxury of simply walking away as my mind told me to stay and ponder the magnitude of what had happened there.

I’ll never know the men who died that day for you and for me, but what if I had the chance, what would I say to them now? Could I find the words to thank them? Could I tell them how their sacrifices had changed the world? As I stood there, I wondered how HAD they managed to secure a landing against such incredible odds knowing that certain death was everywhere around them. The courage displayed that fateful day in 1944 was most extraordinary. They didn’t ask what was in it for them. They had a job to do and they did it. Thousands of men did not survive. As Lincoln said after the Battle of Gettysburg in 1863, “they gave the last full measure of devotion…” The soldiers of D-Day did just that. These heroes died so I could play baseball in the park with my sons, enjoy a sunset with Diane, play a set of tennis on a summer afternoon, and do a million other things that we all take for granted. The young men who lay beneath the white crosses in Saint Laurent were denied all these privileges of life. Their lives ended before they had a chance to savor life’s pleasures.

Take a little time and do something that will cost you nothing but will mean so much. Say thank you to those who have defended this nation so we can enjoy the freedom we too often take for granted—the freedom to worship where we please, to live where we want, to attend the college of our choice. They have ensured our collective freedom, and the opportunity to live in the greatest country on the face of the earth.

Omaha Beach, Utah Beach, Pointe du Hoc, and the American cemetery at Saint Laurent—it was an experience—a day—I will not forget. It has changed my life forever. The beaches of Normandy are quiet now. May they remain that way forever. (Published in the Fall 1995 Western News)

Damn it, I’m tired of all this; it’s time to move forward. After all, it is my 4th Quarter, and life marches inexorably forward regardless of what I do. Like everyone else, I am trying to figure out all of this. I read Time, The Week, and The Atlantic, glance at the New York Times and the Washington Post as I attempt to decipher what is happening and how I fit into the grand scheme of things. I just want to know, should I go out, stay in, watch even more tv than I already do, go get our groceries or have them delivered to our home, wear a mask everywhere, hop in the car and see the grandkids, and a hundred other decisions. Does this sound familiar?

Here is what I have decided. Clint Eastwood asked in an interview how he stays so active at age 90. He replied, “I just don’t let the old man in.” To me, his words are profound: “Don’t let the old man in.” There’s really not much we can do about our health other than exercise and attempt to eat right. Heck, I’ve been active all my life and with more than able assistance from Diane have battled base of tongue cancer, had a total right shoulder replacement, and continue to deal with some respiratory issues. Why did these things happen to me? Who knows, but they did and one can only assume there will be more such “fun” as the 4th Quarter continues. The choice is to sit back and let entropy get the upper hand or remain as active as my health allows. I choose the latter so thank you, Clint, I’m not letting the old man in.

My “virus” plan remains in flux and like the rest of you, it is a working document that changes as new Covid-19 information becomes available. I will continue to take my almost daily walks of 4-5 miles which is non-negotiable. With President Trump seemingly unable to provide clear guidance on the value of wearing a mask, I will make my own judgement and that will be to wear one any time I venture inside a building, public or private. I don’t like masks, don’t want to wear one, and find them cumbersome but in the final analysis, will wear one as that is the appropriate thing to do these days to protect myself and others. Research indicates that the virus is all around us and we might be asymptomatic and carry the germ with us wherever we go. The same goes for people with whom we come into contact–where have they been and who have they been with, we just don’t know.

Yes, most cases are not too severe and with care and caution, the patient will recover. But what about those of us in the 4th Quarter, those of us who have experienced chemo and radiation or have diabetes or are a bit overweight or have other underlying conditions? What about us? Covid-19 is out there waiting! If we get it, the experience will not be pleasant and heaven forbid, if it “takes” us, the end is agonizing as those afflicted, gasp for every breath until there are none. That’s that, I am a mask convert.

Everyone within our Macomb universe adheres to the six-foot social distance protocol. Unfortunately, I am my own worst enemy and totally forget this. I am working on it. We had mulch delivered to our home. Diane went into cardiac arrest when I walked up to Jordan and extended my hand as I have done a million times. Diane immediately said, “Gord, remember don’t shake hands.” My next move was to wash my hands. As I said, I’m working on it.

Grocery stores are not off limits, same for gas stations, the post office, and drive-in banking. The Taylors will continue to support local restaurants with drive-up or delivery service. The future remains uncertain. We can’t commit to “dining in,” going to the movies, or attending sporting events. At 74 and 72, the risk/payoff ratio just doesn’t work for us, at least in the short run. Before doing the above, there is the clarion call of six grandchildren spread out over Texas, Ohio, and Chicago, and I happen to be married to their grandma.

Boomers are known for their service and volunteer activities. I have been asked by the McDonough District Hospital CEO, Brian Dietz, to interview Dr. Ed Card and Dr. Jack McPherson regarding the impact of Covid-19 in our area and how to deal with it. These interviews will air mid-June on two local tv stations, Channels 3 and 15, as a part of the Macomb on the Move series. Mayor Mike Inman has been instrumental in supporting this project.

That’s my plan on dealing with the nasty old Coronavirus. For at least another month or until the Governor decides something to the contrary, Diane and I will continue to pretty much “hunker down,” work in the yard, take some walks, do carry out, enjoy home-cooked meals, sit on our deck, reconnect with old friends online, by phone, or even through the written word with an envelope and a stamp. It’s not very glitzy but all things considered, it’s a workable approach for us. We look forward to the day when we can mingle again with our friends throughout the community. For now, we shall be content to “Keep the old man out.” Seems like a pretty good plan to us.

Politician, lawyer, and public speaker in the 1930’s, Frank A. Clark, reminded us “If you find a path with no obstacles, it probably doesn’t lead anywhere.” As of today, I find the path ahead as it relates to Covid-19 to be absolutely saturated, blocked, and strewn with obstacles that make it almost impossible to envision a cohesive path ahead. In my last blog entry, I wrote about Winston Churchill and the need for everyone to pull together in pursuit of “victory” over the challenges at hand. While I still feel that way as events unfold, it becomes increasingly obvious that we are in for the battle of our lives. Having an optimistic view of the world has been a trait that has served me well for all of my life. There have been ups and downs as there are for all of us, but in the aggregate, life is good. However, I worry more these days. 

Of course, I remain convinced the future is bright, but how long until that future presents and manifests itself in tangible ways?  Those of us in the 4th Quarter have it better than most except for the obvious fact that as members of that group, our mortality is most likely to be affected by 19. Younger residents of the planet seem to fare better with the virus. Eighty percent of those who are afflicted will endure a mild battle with the virus and the rate of viciousness and mortality increases as we age. This makes sense and I grasp this fact. As the months pass from one to the next, it does appear that the famous “flattening of the curve” has been slower than anticipated and how to address this dilemma unclear.

It is not simply a decision to remain at home and continue social distancing or reopen and take our chances but so many questions we want answered. They impact each of us differently depending on where we are on the curve of life. The following are just a sampling of questions I’d like to have answered: how many deaths are acceptable, can I get tested, where does one go to get tested, do I always need to wear a mask, is it safe to venture out or should I stay inside, what should I tell my kids/grandkids, when will the first wave end, will there be other waves and will they be less–the same or more severe, how high a risk am I, if I leave my house to go visit someone do I need to self- quarantine upon returning home, is it safe to take a walk, is carryout food safe, am I getting enough exercise, how much TV is too much, should doctor appointments be cancelled, do I need to leave packages or mail in the garage overnight, is it possible to wash hands too much, and many more that are unique to each of us and our own set of life variables.

Every day, week, and month presents its own new “issues of the day.” Today, there is much discussion about reopening the country or not with Georgia and Texas leading the charge to reopen. Fully fifty percent of the United States falls into that category with a cascade of others to follow. We’re told it will take at least two weeks to determine how the relaxing of sanctions will affect the “curve” as well as new positive cases. Crazy isn’t it? Three months ago, this whole thing was a blip on the radar and now it’s daily death counts. OK, suppose the reopen states have it right. What does that mean in terms of acceptable mortality levels as the economy recovers and people go back to work? It doesn’t take a scholar to figure out that 4th Quarter members, to some degree, would be expendable in this scenario particularly those age 74 who have had copious amounts of chemotherapy and radiation and have some lung issues. Goodness, that would be me! Am I to be relegated to my home, leaving at my own risk, or will a vaccine hopefully arrive before I make an imprudent decision with terminal results?

If, by contrast, we accept the draconian stay at home/social distance model, will the economy totally “tank” and none of our kids will have jobs, or homes, or health benefits, or hope? A friend of ours needs a colonoscopy and has for quite some time. Who decides when she can schedule it requiring hospitals to be open for what to some is considered “elective” surgery but not to her. She considers it a necessary procedure. Wouldn’t you? The word “binge” takes on new significance right now—not drinking but watching tv, playing games, going through old photos, putting puzzles together, organizing closets and drawers, and cleaning places we never knew existed before 2020.

What about travel? Are YOU ready to stay overnight in a motel, rent a car, or get on an airplane? What about people who earn a living in those industries? How long before you feel safe going to a movie theater or attending an athletic event? If stay at home is the choice, what will happen to our educational system—elementary schools, high schools, colleges, universities? Have you thought about day care usage in a closed economy or even an open one? Employees who are fortunate to work from home now must add “teacher” to their resume. When daycares open, what assurances do parents have that their children will be safe from Corona?

The tradeoffs we face both individually and collectively as a society are huge with no quick fix. It would appear the solution, and there must be one, mandates leadership by people who have a vision, are willing to make decisions that have consequences, and are prepared to set personal needs and aspirations aside for the higher good of our society and beyond that, the world at large. Decades ago in Illinois, it was clear a state income tax was needed. No debate here, that’s just the way it was. Governor Richard Ogilvie was asked by his staff if he was prepared to be a one term governor. He replied in the affirmative, the tax was passed by the legislature, and he lost the next election as he knew he would. At this point for the greater good, most Americans are not red or blue but instead red, white, and blue. If the current president can demonstrate the ability to do the job, fine. If not, I pray someone who can, will in November.

For the first time since January 2020 when Covid-19 became a part of our lexicon, I find myself unsettled, uncomfortable, and unsure of what lies ahead. In the long run, we will rise to the challenge and persevere. We are citizens of this great nation and that is what we’ve done before and will do again. It’s the short run that has me anxious. Guess I just needed a day to ponder all of this…

These are interesting days, weeks, and now it appears months. When will all these trials and tribulations end, what will our lives look like then and from that day forward? There is no simple answer and assume there are plenty of experts in think tanks around the world working on this extremely complex problem. I need to be transparent in what I am about to write and maybe that is to ease my feelings of guilt about the what is happening around me. Like many of you, Gordy Taylor is a “boomer,” at age 74, one of the oldest of my generation that once had almost 80 million members. For me, full-time work began at Western Illinois University in September 1970 and didn’t end until May 2008. I always had a job, was never fired nor was that possibility ever on my radar, had excellent health benefits, and a guaranteed pension plan that is fabulous for me but certainly not for the taxpayers of Illinois. That’s just the way it is which takes us to the present.

The Taylors continue to reside in Macomb and will probably spend most of our 4th Quarter here. We appear to be in good health, our kids are “hanging in there,” and we have six wonderful grandchildren (aren’t they all). The house is paid for, we own a couple of cars, and we do a little traveling. That’s the world of Diane and Gordy Taylor as I sit here in front of the computer.

We have basically been in our house since March 25th except for periodic trips out for groceries, banking, gas, and carryout meals. In the world of coronavirus, we are blessed. Yes, we can’t visit our kids and grandkids but thanks to FaceTime, texting, and Zoom, we remain connected. Otherwise, our world has not changed all that much. Yes, there are inconveniences like lack of social interaction, but we have each other, we can take walks, the mail carrier stops by six times a week, we eat well, and oh, lest I forget, we have cable tv. We have binged on Ozark, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Mindhunter, Tiger King, Succession, and Yellowstone. There is no Dateline or 20/20 that has escaped our viewing desires, and we do watch the evening news. The reality of the pandemic is that our lives have not changed all that much.  That is difficult for me to type, but it is true.  

However, such is NOT the reality for others.  Last week, I sent the following to my daughter and two sons:  “You guys have kids and that has to be tiring. You are suddenly teaching at home. You wear masks whenever you leave the house.  I’m sure you worry about job security. Is the virus lurking right outside your front door?  Will you ever have another quiet alone moment? Is your company financially secure? Have you saved enough money? Will the day care stay open?  How do you manage working at home? When will this all end?” These are real concerns, and there are certainly many more.

Regardless of which governors do what and when, the nation needs much more testing. I don’t believe the end is near and simply will not be until a vaccine is found and that is probably at least a year away. There is much havoc, soul searching, and uncertainty in our lives. We have seen nothing like this since 1918. Regardless of when the “curve” evens out, there is much pain ahead. Our parents had the Depression and World War II and our generation Vietnam.  However, our children have had to endure 9-11, the Crash of 2008, and now this–the VIRUS.

Boomers were raised believing their lives would be better than that of our parents but those days are way back in the rear view mirror. Generation X, Millennials, and what follows must deal with a world that will never fully recover from all this–crushing debt, the environment, political upheaval, health care, and so much more.  The world we live in will be challenging in ways we cannot yet even imagine.  Let’s hope Mother Teresa was correct when she said, “You can do what I cannot do. I can do what you cannot do. Together we can do great things.”

All of us must hope our leaders are up to this challenge. In all organizations, managers who do things right can hopefully be found but what is needed today are leaders who do the right thing and that is, in times like this, a lonely place to be. Winston Churchill was an excellent wordsmith.  In 1940 during the bleak early months of the war against Hitler and his mighty war machine,  Churchill spoke of what it would take to attain VICTORY and it is apropos to the present. “What is our aim? I can answer in one word:  victory–victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.” Our road to success as we fight this battle is simultaneously, as simple and complex as that.

There is a beginning and an end to all of this for those living in the 4th Quarter of our lives. We need to enjoy each day to the utmost because as some sage philosopher once wrote, “You never know when you’re going to have your last good day.” That resonates with me. To those of you who have lost or will lose a loved one to this awful monster called Covid-19 or for any other reason, I am reminded of these words shared by close friend, Dr. Aaron Stills, “To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.” The day will come when the coronavirus will be a sad memory but until then we all need to pull together and support one another during these perilous times. Our children are on the front lines of this battle. I wish them all the strength and fortitude they will need, family by family, to attain VICTORY.

What the hell is going on?

January 13–arrive on Marco Island, Florida to spend a delightful, unencumbered three months of “fun in the sun.”

January 15–begin visits, dinners, lunches, and even golf with family and friends.

January 20–read in USA Today about a virus in China

January 21–purchase plane tickets and use all our Marriott points to lock in what we figure will be our last big trip to Europe-Prague, Vienna, Florence, Cannes, Paris scheduled for September.

January 28–there are some deaths in a nursing home in Seattle but everything under control.

January 16-February 20–social activities continue unabated

February 21–something happening with the virus but “don’t worry,” only affecting old people in nursing homes or old people departing cruise ships from vacations to distant ports. 

February 22-March 11–continue seeing people but told “this” could be serious so after Mike and Judy Mason depart on the 11th we call Fred and Marilyn Mastny and after much discussion, decide we will cancel and get together in 2021.

March 18–Farmer’s Market canceled, run on grocery stores and our last dinner “out”

March 19-March 23–continue walking the beach but ominous signs of impending crisis mount each day–Diane calls a Dr. friend who says return to Illinois now and don’t wait any longer. We pack the car.

March 24–get to Dothan, Alabama–540 miles. Check into Courtyard Marriott at maybe 10% booked, dinner is drive through at Burger King

March 25–drive 900 miles  with light traffic excluding trucks and arrive in Macomb at 8pm

March 26to the present–self quarantined 

Suppose I just typed this out as therapy for me to get a feel for what just happened to Diane and me and by extension to 330 million Americans and countless billions around the world. This is simply awful, incredible, and couldn’t happen-not in the United States, not to us. This is all so surreal. I feel like one day we are having lunch with friends and the next we are driving home on pretty much deserted highways.

Here is how the timeline of the past couple of months feels to me. I close my eyes and in one day the world has somehow fast-forwarded a month in terms of breadth and depth of coronavirus impact on our lives. A week is now a year as the virus spreads geometrically. Think about it. Restaurants, bars, stores of every type, motels, hotels, all closed and I’d guess air travel to follow.

Even the little things as I got a haircut a couple of weeks ago but someone who lives very near me, canceled an appointment with her hair stylist and we shall see how that plays out in the weeks ahead. I took a walk yesterday and saw no one. It’s like a bomb hit Macomb and the only thing it affected were the people who I assume are inside doing crossword puzzles, watching tv, or doing god knows what to one another. The buildings are all here, just no human activity.

No personal opinions here about leadership and how the crisis is being handled across the country BUT how about Dr. Anthony Fauci! Got to love that guy. No finger pointing here on how people should behave (hoarding toilet paper, really?), amuse themselves, or deal with what has befallen us, all of us. I worry about my kids and their jobs and my grandkids. I realize that I am now officially, no matter how you slice it, an old person and more vulnerable to whatever is “out there” lurking around looking for me, my loved ones, and friends. The term “loved ones” now includes friends.

Each of us is inundated with information about this crisis, so we all know about it and can make our own judgments regarding how we got here and what the final result will be as the nation and world move forward. Yet, it would appear clear that this will happen again. This “trip through hell” has been bad enough with deaths, unemployment at record highs, the stock market in freefall, and families torn apart. I am certainly no expert.  We WILL get through this round of pain and suffering, but what about the next one and the one after that.

Please tell me that someone somewhere is exploring ways to prevent this from happening again and let’s hope we don’t have to wait for our grandchildren to find a solution to the “virus pandemic” paradigm that confronts us. Sitting here looking at my computer screen, I wonder how long it will this last, when will Diane and I and all of you see our families again. It would appear there is no good answer to those questions. Maybe I can get Fauci to move in with us for a few days.

I don’t know where all of you are right now attempting to cope with this “new reality” but hope you are well, in good spirits, and optimistic like Diane and me that someday there will be a rainbow of sorts at the end of this crucible. I feel helpless to do much else at the present time except follow the advice of the health professionals. The cars have gas, we have some food, the washer and dryer work, the tvs are operational, computers and cells are working, and thank God we have each other and of course all of you.  God speed to one and all.

I shall not talk about leadership here as we all have our own opinions but how about that Anthony Fauci. Got to love that guy. No finger pointing here on how people should behave (hoarding toilet paper, really?) amuse themselves or in general, deal with what has befallen us, all of us. Like most in receipt of this with children, I worry about my kids and their jobs, my grandkids, I realize that I am now officially, no matter how you slice it, an old person and more vulnerable to whatever is “out there” lurking around looking for me, my loved ones and friends. It is ironic but the term “loved ones” now includes friends. 

Each of us is inundated with information about this crisis, so we all know about it and can make our own judgments about how we got here and what the final result will be as the nation and world move forward. Yet, it would appear clear that this will happen again though probably not in my lifetime but certainly at some point in the future. This “trip through hell” has been bad enough with deaths, unemployment at record highs, the stock market in freefall, and families torn apart. This guy is no expert, but I believe we will “get through” this round of pain and suffering, but what about the next one and the one after that. Please tell me that someone somewhere is exploring ways to prevent this from happening again and let’s hope we don’t have to wait for our grandchildren to find a solution to the “virus pandemic” paradigm that confronts us.

Sitting here looking at the keys, one can’t help but wonder how long will this last, when will Diane and I and all of you see your families again and it would appear there is no good answer to those questions. Maybe I can get Fauci to move in with us for a few days. I don’t know where all of you are right now as a person attempting to cope with this “new reality”  but trust you are well, in good spirits, and hopeful like Diane and me that someday there will be a rainbow of sorts at the end of this crucible. Time to close with that as I feel helpless to do much else at the present time except follow the advice of the health professionals. The cars have gas, we have some food, the washer and dryer work, the tvs are operational and thank God, we have each other and of course, you, who will, I trust always be with us. God speed to one and all.

Here I am in Florida, and it has been a fun couple of months walking, sitting on the beach, spending quality time with Diane, and reflecting; yes, reflecting on how I got to this place in my life and what it all means.  I recently turned 74 and while no one says anything, we all know that is the same age my Dad was when he died.  Consequently, it gives me a reason to reflect a bit on where Gordy Taylor is today.

I am a beach walker and yesterday was no exception, but it was a different sort of day. The winds were blowing strongly out of the north, and the waves were smashing against the beach. No one else was out; it was just me and the elements. Days with the absence of people down here are rare, and I savored my singleness as I headed north directly into the wind.  Times like this are ripe for self discovery, for addressing who we are, what we’ve accomplished, and what really matters to us as we walk ever so slowly down the sidelines in the 4th quarter of our lives. Two hours and just me, the wind, the waves, and the sun–nothing else.  I loved every minute of it.  I was free to think about whatever popped into my mind—today it would be grandchildren, by golly, grandchildren and thinking about them would make the time fly by.

There are 6 of them ranging in age from Luke 15 to Dan 1 with James 11, Paul 8, Ava 7, and Kent 3 in between.  Each one is special in their own way and they are happy to have Diane and me in their lives, as well they should. We are, I think, generous at birthdays and Christmas but on her own, it is Grandma who never forgets Easter, Halloween, and Valentine’s Day as well.  When we visit, most parental rules go out the door—stay up late, watch a particular video or 7, act silly as when Grandpa dresses up like a pirate or a gladiator, take wagon rides to no where in particular, eat Grandpa’s fudge, help Grandma make cookies, play games, create artwork, and read stories.  Working with the old guy pulling weeds, planting tulip bulbs, washing a car, or hauling garbage to the curb and getting paid to do so is fun. I assume the kids have yet to read Tom Sawyer, particularly as it relates to fence painting and compensation.

Diane is the “baby” person of our duo. She loves babies and, oh my, when we started being grandparents, she was definitely over the moon. When the birth of a grandchild is imminent, Diane will be there to assist in any way she can. When Luke’s birth was a bit earlier than expected, she became a determined force to get on any flight ASAP from Chicago to south Texas. Before James was born, she drove 1200 miles by herself to be there. I can’t imagine doing this, but Diane was in the delivery room when Paul and James came into this world. After Ava was born in Austin, she impatiently counted the days until she could hold her for the first time. Kent and Dan were born in Chicago, and we had the privilege of holding them hours after they arrived. I love to watch Diane hold, comfort, sing, smile, and fall unconditionally and immediately in love with our grandkids.

Diane and I like movies and can often be seen taking the entire family to whatever is playing at the local cinema that is child approved. These visits always, and the operative word is always, result in the 57th telling of the time Grandpa with a large popcorn in one hand and a 64 ounce Coca Cola in the other, fell lengthwise across an entire row of seats spilling this important food group all over himself and his clothes. Grandpa was livid and ready to display his anger when he looked up at all those faces laughing hilariously and realized that he best join in the laughter. 

Sometimes we simply need to sit back and take a moment to think about our lives and how they are impacted by these young people. For the youngest grandkids, they are having fun exploring the world around them, and we get to share in that exploration and maybe even leave a small mark on their lives and who they become. They have not yet thought about global warming, population concentration, race, gender, economics, health insurance, political upheaval, coronavirus, and all the rest. My grandchildren make me smile, make me laugh out loud, make me feel wanted and appreciated by a new generation. Few of us laugh enough and that is one of those gifts that keeps on giving and provides us with the ability to survive in the complex world all of us face today.

They say, or at least some noted scholar should have, “Grandchildren are the gift we receive for having raised our own children.” There is surely some truth in that phrase. It is fun and OK just a little amusing to watch our own children deal with the same challenges we dealt with decades ago. ” I need braces, my hair is not too long, can I buy a phone, why can’t I dress the way I want to, why can’t I keep my snake in the house, all the other kids get to do it, my grades are just fine, who said I was too young to date” and all the rest. We got through it; our children will too.

I feel blessed in that my grandchildren have taught me patience, understanding, appreciation for the little things in life, remembering to live in the moment and so much more They have allowed me to be part of their lives, to see the exuberance in catching a touchdown pass, to see the artwork masterpiece of a 5 year old, to be there in person for a magic show or an in house Broadway production, to get excited to see a first train arrival, to see their first steps, to hear their first words, and to even watch first hand a snake eat a mouse. My heart aches when the student council election does not have the results we hope for, or we didn’t make the A team, or didn’t get the invitation to a birthday party. I am lucky that all of it is part of my 4th quarter, and I know that someday my journey will end and theirs will continue. I might live to see some of them graduate from college or get married but not all of them and that is simply the reality of life.

I know as I write this that not everyone has had children and some of you will never be grandparents and of course, that is fine as well as each of our lives will leave its own unique imprint on our personal stage. We all must find meaning in the lives we lead and for this 4th quarter participant. I am grateful that grandchildren have been an important component of Diane’s and my tapestry of life. As I remove my hands from these keys, I hope I get in another walk down a lonely beach before we head back home as I never know where my unfettered mind will take me.

I never really thought much about the poignancy of the title The Fourth Quarter when I embarked on this journey other than the fact that I am clearly in it as my life plays out. Then it happened and it hit me like a thunderbolt. I was preparing to watch the Superbowl with Diane and for no apparent reason, it seemed appropriate for us to check in with a dear friend who A-as a youth and for as long as I knew him, was one of the finest athletes a person could know and compete against and B-had of late, had some tough sledding healthwise.

Diane, the techie of the two of us, sent the lighthearted text across the many miles to Pebble Beach, California, where we knew, just knew Marty would be watching golf and preparing to watch the Chiefs/49ers game. The response was immediate and it came from our good friend’s daughter—please call this number ASAP. A large cantaloupe-size lump lodged in my throat. It was like that phone call you get in the middle of the night on your “land line”—this would not be good news. I dialed the number and a voice answered, “Dan Ruberry here and I was about to call you Gordy.” Guess our phone has caller ID I thought to myself as I had never met a Dan Ruberry. “Afraid I’ve got some bad news. I’m Marty’s brother and we just put him in hospice and he might not make it through the night.”

No, it can’t be and that proverbial fist crashed into the side of my face. No, not Marty Ruberry, the invincible Marty Ruberry, the most competitive athlete I had ever seen. It just couldn’t be but brother Dan assured me it was. A mere month earlier we had talked to Marty and he assured us he was improving and not to worry, he was fighting the good battle. And then as he always did, it was, “How are you guys, the kids, and bring me up to date on Western.” It was never about him but always the others fortunate to be in his universe. By morning he was gone–February 2, 2020 at 72 years.

How could this be? Marty Ruberry was a “man’s man.” He loved sports, enjoyed a glass of wine or two, loved his wife Mary and daughter Lauren, could tell a story like no one else, and oh, such a network of friends. Anyone who ever met Marty would forever remember him. He had a broad smile, a large personality, an infectious laugh, and a positive outlook on life. Every day was a good one for him. He played hard but he also worked hard. He never had a bad round of golf and played every chance he got. Even if his score was not where he wanted it, he still enjoyed the competition and the camaraderie that transpired on the course.

He was a people person whose house was yours if you happened to venture into his part of the world. I met Marty in college at Western and he was a fraternity guy (Phi Sigma Epsilon) and Gordy a residence hall guy. Back then, we only knew each other through intramurals on the football field, the ball diamond, or the hardcourt, and we beat the hell out of each other on a regular basis with him usually on the winning side.

When I got the alumni job, Mary and he were always there helping to organize our Northern California events and ensuring that those in attendance had a good time. He had a generous streak but never made a big deal of it. Our sons, Gordon III and Ryan, were huge Boston Celtic/Larry Bird fans. I mentioned this to Marty and four tickets to a Bulls/Celtics game at the Chicago Stadium miraculously arrived in our mailbox. My boys sat in the dugout at a White Sox/Oakland game compliments of Marty. He loved doing stuff like this. On an alumni visit to San Francisco, Larry and Sandy Mortier and Diane and Gordy Taylor found themselves in a limosine being squired around the entire Bay area. That was Marty.

So, this old guy sits in front of his computer thinking about that old guy gone from this world but forever in the hearts of many. At times like this I get misty eyed and mellow and make no apologies. Through the magic of technology and Alexa, Aaron Copland is conducting in the background and I am typing, crying a bit, and looking out the window at the palm leaves swaying in the wind. When we leave this earth, do we leave a legacy behind? I think so and I hope so. One can’t help but ponder what comes next and what we leave behind.

Diane and I toasted Marty Ruberry the other night and relived some of our most memorable stories with this remarkable man. If it matters that you loved and lost and won and smiled, that you competed, that you sang and laughed and danced, that you reached out to others when they could not pay you pack, and that the world is a better place because you walked among us, then, Marty Ruberry yours was a full and well-lived life.  Your legacy is secure my friend.. Thanks for including Diane and me in your extraordinary journey across the miles.

We made it to Florida and are enjoying the warm weather and sunny skies. Thought I would take a few minutes and throw out a “stream of conscious” paragraph or two on the topic folks ask me about the most–the state of Western Illinois University. 

These are my thoughts, and I take full and complete blame for them. I have been absent from the Western scene in a direct manner for pretty much the past five years since cancellation of the TV show Across the Miles. That does not mean I don’t care about the health of my undergraduate alma mater because other than my family, Western is of the utmost importance to me. I assume the same holds true for the people who stop me on my walks, call, email, and text me asking “What’s up, Gord?” I respond as best I can. Let’s be candid, the health of Western today is not good. Over the past decade, we have not just lost students, but rather we hemorrhaged them by the thousands. Not hundreds mind you but thousands. Retention is not what it should be and town/gown relations have been, at best, strained. Higgins and Wetzel have been imploded. Tanner, Bayliss, and Henninger are empty and Married Student Housing is gone.

I’m told campus morale is low and folks both in Macomb and the Quad Cities are nervous about the future of Western Illinois University. No finger pointing here, that’s simply the way it is, at least as I see it. The facts speak for themselves, so what to do? Like many people, I worry about all this. My entire career has been Western. I went to school here, was an R.A., met Diane, raised three kids, attended WIU events whenever possible, went to movies at the Lark and Illinois, dined at Damone’s, Vitale’s, the Red Ox, and the Jackson Street Pub. I taught in the College of Business for 8 years, and then had the best job at Western as the “alumni guy” traveling the country espousing all that was good about W.I.U. I had a local-access TV interview show, raised a little money for Western, and even drank a beer or two with Ranger White at Lake Argyle State Park. I have truly been blessed which takes us to the present. 

Thankfully, there is a new team in town and Interim President Martin Abraham is doing his best to “stem the tide.” I need to be frank here. I don’t know if Martin is “the right guy.” He was supposed to come as Provost then lightning struck, and he was Acting President, and now Interim President but regardless of how he got where he is, Abraham is “our guy.” We all need to support him. That is the nature of things and none of us can afford to waste time finger pointing or questioning past choices and decisions. We need to forge ahead and get behind the “Abraham Team” and help out in any way we can. As an aside, I found it “odd” at best that the Board of Trustees didn’t just name the man President and be done with it. The Board could have sent a message to everyone. “You’re our man so get out there and do the job.” But no, we elected to figuratively kick the can down the road and tell the poor guy, “Well, you’ll do for now, you can apply for the job on a permanent basis if you want, but keep looking in the rear view mirror in case we need someone to blame for the difficult decisions that lie ahead.” 

Hopefully, there is a solid core of administrators and faculty remaining who are up to the task of getting more students to come our way and then, when here, keeping them here through new and innovative recruitment and retention strategies. If asked, our alumni will do their part so ask us, we are here either in Macomb or around the country–lots of bright, creative people with ideas and energy. 

About town/gown–I hear a lot about that and some criticisms were well-founded. Those days are behind us. Since the day he was elected, Mayor Mike Inman has been a willing partner in reaching out to Western but it takes “two to tango.” Good news abounds as Abraham and Inman are everywhere together. If you didn’t know better, you would assume they were brothers. Chalk this up to a huge positive as we move forward. Yes, there are racial tensions and both the President and Mayor are aware of this, and both men are working mightily to resolve them. I applaud them both. 

So, the good news is, people are trying, they really are, and I suppose I am doing my part by exiting Macomb until the first of April. I told you we could all help. Just prior to leaving for Florida I had the good fortune to interview Interim (let’s get rid of that and make it permanent) President Abraham on the local access TV show Macomb on the Move. It was 70 minutes of getting to know the man, learn about his past, and his vision for the future. He’s a busy fellow, but he took the time to sit down with me and just talk and that says something about the character of Martin Abraham. All I had to do was tell him it was another way to “reach out” and by golly, he was there. As the 4th Quarter keeps ticking along, my hope is that I’m around to see “not the Western that was but rather the new and revitalized Western of which we can all be proud.” Time for a walk.