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On February 20, 2021, I celebrated my 75th birthday. Goodness, I’m now in the 8th decade of my life in spite of a nasty bout of base of tongue cancer in 2010, a complete shoulder replacement in 2015, and a serious three-week case of Covid-19 in November 2020. I’m the lucky one in my birth family as everyone else has passed away: Mom, 47; Dad, 74; brothers David, 71; Douglas, 54; and Greg, 59. The fact that I’m still here has resulted in quite a bit of thinking on my part lately. When one turns 75, it’s time to take stock of the changes that have taken place over the years.

The signs of aging are certainly there for me to see. I was in the barbershop the other day and had a discussion with Jerry Tyson who has been taking care of my hair for 30+ years. I thanked him for doing such a nice job of cutting my “blonde locks,” and he replied, “Pretty much your hair is gray.” Really? I came home, told Diane what had happened, and she looked at me and just smiled. Gray it is! After my cancer event, I now walk instead of jog. A look in the mirror sees my chest having sunk down to where my stomach should be. How the heck did that happen? I used to work in the yard for 7 to 8 hours with seldom a break; whereas, now, a couple of hours of raking, weeding, planting, or mowing is plenty for one day.

The Taylors go to bed earlier these days and wake up with the birds. Three meals a day is a memory. A big lunch results in a light dinner. I am no longer allowed to go on the second story roof to clean out the gutters—good idea, Diane. With age has come pills for a compromised thyroid, severe restless legs, and early-stage glaucoma. One last thing—stairs are becoming an issue and the move to a one-story home is on the radar. So now what?

Birthday #75 began with a lovely walk on the beach with high school friend, Michael Mason. Upon our return, Judy Mason and Diane quit talking immediately. I knew Diane had been up to something but didn’t know what. Regarding birthday and Christmas presents, Gordy Taylor has everything he could possibly want. What was she up to? Diane was on her iPhone and iPad more than usual and got secret phone calls. She just smiled again and reminded me I was having a birthday. What the dickens was going on? I would soon find out.

Midmorning she asked the Masons and me to join her to watch something on the TV. Diane had a twinkle in her eye. Suddenly, a montage of familiar faces appeared on the screen, music played, and one-by-one each person spoke to their relationship with me over the years. During the course of the day, we watched four splendid group videos: the men of Tau Kappa Epsilon and Delta Sigma Phi respectively, close friends, and finally my family. It was an extraordinary trip down Memory Lane with over 150 well-wishers. It was like listening to my own eulogy in real time with the good fortune of being alive to hear it.

And there was more still to come. After dinner we had a Zoom birthday party with our kids, spouses, cousins, in-laws, and grandkids. It was wonderful seeing their faces since Covid had made person-to-person visits impossible. Then after special birthday cake was served, with minimal cake and a frosting overload—just the way I like it, Diane brought out a 24 x 36 poster board. On it were printed columns—one by Jennifer, one by Gordon, and one by Ryan in which each one wrote 25 memories of “Life with Dad” for a total of 75. WOW!! I took the poster and exited to our bedroom where with a glass of wine, I read what my three kids had written. I laughed; I cried. It was incredible. My family had somehow found a way to bestow on me a one-of-a-kind gift I will treasure for the rest of my days. The words of Yankee baseball Hall of Famer Lou Gehrig seemed appropriate, “Today, I’m the luckiest man on the face of the earth.”

As I enter the 4th quarter of my life a bit further each day, I am grateful for the many gifts that have come my way. I’ve seen too many friends leave this world too soon and that makes me see the wisdom of living each day to the fullest. A dear friend once told me, “Gordy, every day above ground is a great day.” She’s right!

I try to remember the important events like my first date with Diane, a special lunch we shared in Sorrento, Italy, overlooking the Mediterranean, and, of course, the birth of our kids and grandchildren. I try to “make a difference” in my life and hope when I leave the stage, I leave things a little better than I found them. Clearly, 75 is not my beginning but then again, fortunately, not the end either as there are footprints in the sand yet to be made and memories still to come. As Jackie Gleason was known for saying, “And away we go…”

Only a couple of months have passed since I took fingers to keys but it seems like years. There has been post-election drama, the hard to comprehend worsening of COVID deaths and destruction, the muddled vaccine roll out (but let’s be grateful, it is rolling out), the unbelievable chaos at our capitol by anarchists, and a presidential inauguration for starters. As if that is not staggering enough, and clearly it is, add in the celebration of Christmas, one of our holiest days of the year. I naively had hoped that the 25th of December might just mark the beginning of the promise that, as Americans, we might just pull together and unite again in pursuit of the American Dream. I was wrong.

I will let the pundits, philosophers, historians, and deep thinkers sort out all of the above and simply do what I think I am reasonably good at, that being, how does Gordy Taylor look at that which is important to me, and of course, that is family, friends, and our mutual journeys through life.

I don’t know who to thank, but recently somebody “out there” was kind enough to send my way “The Train of Life” by Malcolm Tilsed who is unknown to me but as surely as the sun will rise tomorrow, he speaks for me:

“Life is like a journey on a train–With its stations…With changes of routes…And with accidents! At birth we boarded the train and met our parents, and we believe they will always travel on our side. However, at some station our parents will step down from the train, leaving us on this journey alone. As time goes by, other people will board the train, and they will be significant i.e. our friends, children, and even the love of our life. Many will step down and leave a permanent vacancy. Others will go so unnoticed that we don’t realize that they vacated their seats which is very sad when you think about it. This train ride will be full of joy, sorrow, fantasy, expectations, hellos, goodbyes, and farewells. Success consists of having a good relationship with all the passengers…requiring that we give the best of ourselves. The mystery to everyone is we do not know at which station we ourselves will step down. So we must live in the best way–love, forgive, and offer the best of who we are. It is important to do this because when the time comes for us to step down and leave our seat empty–we should leave behind beautiful memories for those who will continue to travel on the train of life. I wish you a joyful journey this year on the train of life. Reap success and give lots of love. More importantly, give thanks for the journey! Lastly, I thank you for being one of the passengers on my train.”

We can all relate to our “own train ride through life,” and it is interesting how in one short paragraph, the journey each of us takes can be encapsulated succinctly and without verbosity or idle chatter. My train continues down the track. My parents and three brothers have all exited the train. In addition even more friends and other loved ones have exited than seems fair to me. I miss them. Each leaves wonderful memories. I do my best not to focus on the sadness each departure brings my way but rather the joy of knowing them. For Diane and me, our train keeps chugging along as our six grandchildren, family members, and new friends have gotten onboard. I have not yet met THE Engineer nor do I intend to for quite some time. Thus far the ride has been everything I could have imagined. We trust our journey will continue for many years to come. So it’s chug, chug, chug and may your own ride be a healthy, happy, productive, and long.

My last blog entry was October 5th which now seems like years ago. We are all very tired from what Covid has done to our families and us. In all my recent blog entries, I stressed the need to follow the 3 W’s of Covid-19 precautions: wear a mask, wash your hands, and watch your social distancing. Additionally, at the request of our hospital’s CEO, I interviewed 3 doctors and a health professional on Macomb’s tv channel outlining specific Covid facts and precautions.

Diane and I have been compliant through all of this and follow all prescribed guidelines. We practice what we preach. Diane has almost been a hermit since we returned to Macomb from Florida at the end of March. Her last trip to Hy-Vee was December 2019. The mask is not my cup of tea, but I wore it. This is our story:

November 7th: Diane didn’t feel right—nothing to pinpoint. She went to bed very early. I decided to watch TV and treated myself to a delicious Dove ice cream bar which strangely I could not taste. I could not smell. How come?

8th: Diane had a headache in her sinus areas, felt like her head weighed ten pounds, couldn’t taste or smell anything, didn’t want to eat anything. Now I’m not feeling well at all: chills and night sweats, cannot taste or smell, and feeling lousy.

9th: Now I have a lack of energy, coughed up mucus, chest feels heavy. Before I could see my doctor, I was told to get a Covid-19 test which I did at the McDonough District Hospital drive-thru—no waiting at all! That was good news. In addition to the previous symptoms, Diane adds intestinal issues to her list and so do I. Neither one of us has ever had a temperature.

10th: Diane’s symptoms continued. I slept quite a bit during the day which I never do. I felt worse with each passing hour. I’m expectorating more mucus and a rough cough shows up.

11th: I woke up with more chest congestion and had a rattling in my lungs which concerns me. My doctor tells me to get a chest X-ray at the hospital. The ER staff prescribes an antibiotic and a steroid. With each passing day, I feel worse and worse with lots of mucus. Do I have pneumonia?

13th: Not a lucky day—McDonough County Health Department called with my test results—POSITIVE. What? You have to be kidding me. I follow all the rules and Diane seldom leaves the house. Diane had a virtual appointment with her doctor to get an antibiotic for her “sinus” issues. Now she has to get a Covid test.

14th: I continue my downward spiral; Diane is on the mend.

15th: Diane is fine but is fatigued. I am worse—more mucus.

16th: Oh my God, Diane tests positive! Really? Can this be happening to her too? Guess she should have been more careful who she sleeps with. But she is ok! She really thought it was going to be a serious sinus infection but NO.

18th: We get daily text surveys from the health department in order to inform them of our overall symptoms. Gordy and Diane are officially cleared of isolation and are released back into the general public. Diane had a mild case; my dance with the virus has been much worse because of my compromised immune system from chemo and radiation 10 years ago and a chronic bronchial condition. Our age is also a factor but we have numerous positives with our overall health status.

19th: Finally, I feel better. I have not left our home for 10 days; this has been absolutely excruciating for me BUT that reveals the severity of this insidious virus. When I’m ok, a part of my daily regimen is to walk about 4 miles—haven’t done that in over a month. On November 24th, I am scheduled for a follow-up chest X-ray and hopefully will be able to put this behind me. I did a couple of errands and then picked up some sticks in our yard—nothing strenuous. But I was nevertheless fatigued. I don’t like this at all.

20th: Covid-19 likes to remind me that I’m not 100%. Today is not a good day but it is not a bad day. I’m told fatigue could be a factor for weeks. I don’t know if I could be a “long hauler.” In medical surveys of recovering Covid patients, loss of taste and smell and fatigue are still present in people who are not contagious but recovering.

So why are we telling our story? The answer is simple: Covid is real, it is not the flu, it is not a joke, it is not a “hoax,” and it is not fake news. Don’t ask us because we don’t know how we got the virus. But we did. The virus is extremely contagious. If you suddenly cannot taste or smell, you might want to get a test. Our symptoms were different from each other; the reality of Covid-19 is the same. When people hear that their tests are positive, they are scared. We were no exception. Both of us have had our share of anxiety and sadness with the virus. The unknown variables are worrisome. As Thanksgiving approaches, we wish you well and encourage everyone to be vigilant, careful, and safe. When we have our health, we want other things. When we don’t have our health, it is all we want.

Diane and I had a difficult night October 5, 2020, absorbing what we witnessed on TV as events unfolded in real time regarding the President’s response after contracting Covid-19. Then this morning, I received an email from former Purdue University Alumni Director, Larry Preo, which included the following editorial in the Washington Post. Ken Beckley is a much-respected alumni professional who served as the head of the Indiana University Alumni Association. Ken is a person whose integrity and honesty make him a cherished friend. I’ll let his words speak for themselves.

My wife and I got the virus. I got better. We had to say goodbye over FaceTime. Many Covid-19 patients die alone, without family by their sides. My wife was one of them. The two of us were strict about wearing face masks, washing and sanitizing our hands, and physical distancing. Yet the insidiousness of the coronavirus somehow let it infect both of us anyway. I’ll never know how, where, and when we contracted it.

What is the lesson of two lives shockingly upended? I cannot persuade those who refuse to follow all recommended common-sense health precautions. Some people still believe the world is flat. But I appeal to everyone else. Please wear the recommended face coverings, physical distance and never ever touch your faces without washing or sanitizing your hands. Those practices may not have spared my family, but they can still protect others. Despite the national government’s ongoing inaction, or what state and local governments have been trying to do, it is up to each of us to do everything we can to stop the pandemic.

She had a pedicure three days before her first symptom and an MRI at an imaging center one day after that, always wearing a mask. We attended a funeral where she spoke the afternoon before manifesting her first symptom, but we were not in proximity to anyone and no one else who attended is known to have had the virus.

On August 9th, Audrey complained of her legs hurting. The condition disappeared later in the day, and her activities were normal. The following morning, she awoke unable to move her legs. After seven hours in the ER, I drove her home. None of the professionals who looked after her mentioned the possibility of Covid-19. Instead, after taking MRIs, they suspected a flare-up of multiple sclerosis.

That night, I experienced chills, body aches, and a headache. Those symptoms disappeared by the following afternoon. We both tested for the virus on August 12th. Our son came from Indianapolis to be with us in case we had more physical problems. (After 18 days at our home, he tested negative.) The following morning, Audrey was confused and unable to move her legs again. When the EMTs quizzed her, the only question she could answer was the name of the U.S. president. “Trump,” she mumbled. (She was not a fan.)

Admitted to the hospital with a suspicion of the coronavirus, Audrey was moved to isolation in the ICU within two days. Her body’s demand for oxygen from outside sources was growing. Mentally, she was sharp. On August 16th, she asked whether our son, visiting daughter, granddaughter, and I would share a dinner of ribs. I thought she was joking, but the charge nurse assured me it was all right, as long as we withheld the wine Audrey had requested. A meal of ribs, baked potato, and salad was taken to the hospital. Audrey texted a photo of her enjoying the food. She was happy.

Good mothers always worry about their children. The morning of August 17th, Audrey texted that I should make certain our son had a specific food item for his birthday that day. In the afternoon, she sent a selfie with her oxygen device and said health staff were pleased with her oxygen level. A physician left a voice message on my cellphone, “Just know that the missus is doing okay.”

But less than 12 hours later, at 3 a.m., August 18th, I received a call that Audrey’s condition had changed drastically. The caller asked whether I supported her living-will declaration of no artificial means to keep her alive if all it did was prolong the inevitable? I did.

Despite steroids, antibiotics, the drug Remdesivir and an experimental convalescent plasma therapy, covid-19 won. Just after midnight, August 19th, Audrey Jane Beckley, 77 — role model to all with the debilitating disease; community, university, and church volunteer; and wonderful wife of nearly 56 years, loving grandmother and great-grandmother — died.

Audrey had the first symptoms of MS at age 25. The disease would eventually limit the mobility of her right leg. She used a cane and retractable walking/hiking poles. Her can-do attitude was remarkable to the end. But the virus filled her lungs with pneumonia. Sepsis and arterial fibrillation developed and mixed with the effects of MS to end her life.

Throughout all of this, the viral monster was depleting my own body of strength. Covid-19 combined with sleeplessness, a total lack of appetite and the stress of Audrey’s ordeal to leave me nearly lifeless. Through the care of my children and an eventual return to sleep and food, I am regaining strength daily. My symptoms have long since disappeared, but I still must exercise daily to combat some lung damage that has left me easily winded.

Let’s stop killing one another. We don’t need more needless deaths like that of Audrey Jane Beckley.

Today I am going to be a “Ramblin’ Man.” It has been five weeks since I last sat down at this keyboard and must admit I never know for sure what will emanate from my fingers so here goes. The date is August 24, 2020, and five local tv interviews have now been completed in the on-going “Macomb on the Move” series. All of these extremely busy professionals at McDonough District Hospital took time from their hectic schedules to be interviewed by me in order to get the word out to the local community on the realities of Covid-19 and how to deal with it in order to save lives and defeat this horrible menace. These thoughtful concerned citizens are the following:

· Brian Dietz–CEO
· Dr. Ed Card–Chief Medical Officer
· Dr. Jack McPherson–Director of the Hospitalist Program
· Wanda Foster–Vice President of Nursing and Incident Commander
· Dr. Rick Iverson–Board Chairman

Our topics were many and diverse but the central theme throughout was the virus and what to do about it. At this point it just doesn’t matter how you slice things up, there is plenty of blame to go around starting with our government but let’s move on from there as this is not intended to be a political commentary. That leaves US to discuss. I can’t change the Constitution and I know about our right not to wear masks but personally, is that really too much to ask? Apparently so for folks who just don’t want to wear one.

I think back to the people who were “here” for World War II when we sent young men and women off to war, some never to return, and others to return with body pieces missing. Watching the first few minutes of Saving Private Ryan gives a view of how horrible it must be to serve in a combat role. Even today, we have Afghanistan and other hot spots and all WE are asked to do is stay six feet from one another and wear a mask. The mask is a nuisance but apparently a necessary one. If Americans in WWII could ration gas, nylon, rubber, cars, and food, can’t we be inconvenienced by a mask?

Today, we lambast young people who parade around not wearing one, exposing themselves and others to the possibility of death, the end, an early finish line. Then you walk into a store and see folks of all ages “exercising their rights” and you just shake your head. Or you see the videos on tv of Ozark partiers or ministers bringing the flock together to spread death, or wedding receptions that simply must go on, you get my point.

I want to return to the five gifted, highly-educated, well-informed, concerned health care professionals listed above. In total, we spent over seven hours of tv-time discussing aspects of the pandemic, and there was one central theme throughout and you know precisely where I’m going. To a person, all of them said the single most important thing we can all do is “Wear a Mask” so I will. I hope you will too.

Moving on, when Diane the editorialist, and her sort of able cohort were composing the last blog “Ozzie and Harriet,” we decided we were done writing about Covid-19. There would be no Ground Hog Day or Bill Murray references. We were wrong. It’s the same thing day after day as the numbers all continue to move in the wrong direction. Damn, where is the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel? It still isn’t visible and on multiple dimensions, Covid-19 is out there affecting the lives of everyone in ways large and small.

I walked through campus the other day and it was eerily quiet. Can you imagine what it must be like to be a college student today? You wear a mask everywhere, you have two to an elevator, you get your food and take it back to your room, you always sit six feet apart, student ​organizations are scaled way back, there are no football games on Hanson Field. I feel so sorry for the students of today as they are missing out on so much we took for granted. You have to admire their determination and grit and maybe years from now they will have fascinating stories about College and Covid 19.

And then we have our grandchildren. My kids are struggling with decisions on sending their children out in all this, home schooling, or maybe some hybrid classes. Of course, the issue of job security or even having a job at all are critical issues to be addressed. Sort of makes you think. In the final analysis, all Diane has to do is “live with Gordy Taylor.” Maybe she doesn’t have it so good after all. What concerns many of us is what to do or can we do anything and when will this end. It is exasperating, and we just want answers.

This has been a troubling week for me—I wrote six notes of sympathy or compassion. My college roommate died from Parkinson’s, the 24 year-old daughter of a friend died from ovarian cancer, another friend’s dad died, the wife of another friend died from Covid and he has it now, the younger brother of one of my WIU mentors died after a long battle with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease, and finally a good friend from college who has spent the past 11 years in prison has symptoms of colon cancer and they won’t give him treatment. This is the world we deal with today. I can’t go to prison to see my friend or visit the others in their time of need so a note has to suffice. That’s just the way things are and that personal touch is just not there. We took it for granted for so long; now it has been taken from us.

When all this finally does get mitigated or at least becomes manageable with a vaccine, our lives will still never be the same. We will fly less, possibly require Business Class, eat only at restaurants we “trust,” think ​twice about taking a cruise, rely more on home delivery for our shopping needs, and rethink the whole idea of maybe living close to one of our kids as the 4th Quarter moves forward. Dr. Mehrdad Ayati, who teaches geriatric medicine at Stanford University writes that we boomers, “Never calculated that a pandemic could totally change the dialogue of our lives.” One of his observations that really hit home was that “older folks will disengage at a cost” meaning that if we don’t do our best to at least try and interact with others, even in a necessarily reduced manner, it will be bad for us. So, there you have it–wave to people, enjoy a “distanced meal,” make a phone call or several, take a walk with mask on or “in hand” and do your best to live life as normally as you can.

Jeepers, I said I would be “ramblin” and guess I have. Maybe tomorrow that damn groundhog will be gone.

mask everywhere, you have two to an elevator, you get your food and take it back to your room, you always sit six feet apart, student organizations are scaled way back, there are no football games on Hanson Field. I feel so sorry for the students of today as they are missing out on so much we took for granted. You have to admire their determination and grit for still going to college and maybe years from now they will have fascinating stories about their experiences with Covid-19. And then we have our grandchildren. My kids are struggling with decisions on sending their children out in all this, home schooling, or maybe some hybrid classes. Of course, the issue of job security or even having a job at all are critical issues to be addressed. Sort of makes you think. In the final analysis, all Diane has to do is “live with Gordy Taylor.” Maybe she doesn’t have it so good after all. What concerns many of us is what to do or can we do anything and when will this end. It is exasperating, and we just want answers. This has been a troubling week for me—I wrote six notes of sympathy or compassion. My college roommate died from Parkinson’s, the 24 year-old daughter of a friend died from ovarian cancer, another friend’s dad died, the wife of another friend died from Covid and he has it now, the younger brother of one of my WIU mentors died after a long battle with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease, and finally a good friend from college who has spent the past 11 years in prison has symptoms of colon cancer and they won’t give him treatment. This is the world we deal with today. I can’t go to prison to see my friend or visit the others in their time of need so a note has to suffice. That’s just the way things are and that personal touch is just not there. We took it for granted for so long; now it has been taken from us. When all this finally does get mitigated or at least becomes manageable with a vaccine, our lives will still never be the same. We will fly less, possibly require Business Class, eat only at restaurants we “trust,” think ​twice about taking a cruise, rely more on home delivery for our shopping needs, and rethink the whole idea of maybe living close to one of our kids as the 4th Quarter moves forward. Dr. Mehrdad Ayati, who teaches geriatric medicine at Stanford University writes that we boomers, “Never calculated that a pandemic could totally change the dialogue of our lives.” One of his observations that really hit home was that “older folks will disengage at a cost” meaning that if we don’t do our best to at least try and interact with others, even in a necessarily reduced manner, it will be bad for us. So, there you have it–wave to people, enjoy a “distanced meal,” make a phone call or several, take a walk with mask on or “in hand” and do your best to live life as normally as you can. Jeepers, I said I would be “ramblin” and guess I have. Maybe tomorrow that damn groundhog will be gone.

I woke up this morning like I do all mornings and that is a good thing. Today was different. Diane gave me a nudge and asked how I was feeling? I instinctively said “Fine” but then she pressed the issue saying she was waking up with a sense of ennui and wondered if I was experiencing anything like that. It dawned on me, I was. We aren’t sick, we have a pension (at least for now), the kids and grandkids are handling things, it’s summer, so what’s up? I’ll tell you what’s up. I wouldn’t attempt to define it but we have some sort of mental fatigue. We are both exasperated by our own Bill Murray “Ground Hog Day” existence.

The first blog that touched on the virus was posted in March sometime, then another entry a month later, then three weeks after that, and so forth for the past four months. It has been 120 days and in every entry I found a way to look for that silver lining but today, I just can’t see it. With the exception of a couple of states of which Illinois is fortunately one, Covid-19 is winning. Sure, deaths may be down but numbers of positive cases continue to rise dramatically throughout the Sunbelt and West Coast. We feel pretty safe here in Macomb, but then all we old folks are just one “non-masker” away from potential death.

Diane and some women from our old neighborhood have a Zoom get together each week. Less than a month ago, one of the friends recounted that a 73-year old woman who is not overweight, exercises regularly, doesn’t smoke, takes no prescription meds, eats right, and basically practices a healthy lifestyle had just tested positive for Covid. The next week, we got an update about her friend. The lady stayed at home for 5 days but her breathing became labored. On the 6th day, she entered the hospital for some oxygen treatment. After 24 hours, she had to be put on a ventilator—12 days later—she died. Unfortunately, she had gone to a family gathering of about 20 people held outside with no one wearing a mask and got the virus. Now she’s dead. That’s me, that’s you, that’s any of us in the Fourth Quarter. I just don’t get it.

I don’t want to get political and will do my best not to do so here, but I just want someone, anyone, to lead us out of this crisis before the pandemic steals more of our lives from us than it already has. ZOOM and FaceTime are terrific, but we need to be with our loved ones and not just see them on the screen. Every day that passes puts us closer to the finish line and this is not how I want to spend my time before I have no more time to spend.

So far, I have interviewed four highly-respected doctors and asked each of them, how do we stop the spread of 19? All of them had the same response. “The one thing we can all do is utilize social distancing and wear a mask.” Will this eliminate the virus? No, but it will stop it in its tracks until a vaccine is available. Would anyone choose to have a doctor perform surgery on them who is not wearing a mask? Of course not.

Can’t the President just mandate that we wear masks? I know it is unenforceable but it would send a message. I don’t like to wear mine; the doctors told me they don’t either but they have to–we all have to. Let’s be considerate of others. It is not a sign of weakness or even a violation of our First Amendment Rights. It’s just a temporary inconvenience to show consideration of others.

People didn’t like seat belts but now we don’t give it a second thought. Smoking is prohibited in public places, and we seem to be doing just fine with it. So wear the damn mask when you enter a building. Don’t do it for yourself but do it for others. At the federal level, and there is plenty of miscreant behavior on both sides of the proverbial aisle, figure out what needs to be done and as Nike says, “Just do it!” Surely as a nation, we can figure this out.

My parents were wonderful people. I love them to this day but their four sons were raised in a small three-bedroom house where Doc and Connie, between them, smoked 5-6 packs of Phillip Morris Commanders and Parliaments a day. All four sons suffered respiratory issues in part due to secondary smoke for the 18 years that each of us grew up in that house. Smoking was cool back then but science has taught us irrefutably that it kills people. Not wearing a mask is the same.

Walmart just got it right–no mask, no entry. I grew up on Ozzie and Harriet. David and Ricky were such nice boys, just like my brothers and me. It was the 50s and we pretty much did what our parents told us to do. Like the Nelson boys and kids on Father Knows Best, we respected our parents and really didn’t want to disappoint them. What’s going on today? I find myself not angry at young people but rather disappointed. To the ones I see on tv I can only say the level of arrogance and complacency they display for my generation is sad to see, very sad. It’s like cigarettes. The proof is undeniable, they kill you. Not maintaining social distancing is the same. It won’t kill YOU, but it might kill Mom and Dad or Grandma and Grandpa when you give the virus to them.

If we all “did the right thing” for a month or six weeks, we could get control of this horrible plague. We were “on our way” and then politics got in the way and we opened up the economy too soon. Today we are on the downward slope; whereas, if we had been prudent and cautious like a certain Dr. with a capital F suggested, we would be ready to open our schools and stores and restaurants and bars and salons and all the rest. But no, they worried about getting reelected and now the economy will suffer another tailspin. Please, someone who matters, speak truth to power until there are so many of you that truth prevails. Please, I don’t want to lose any more days, months, or years of my life to a stupid but deadly virus.

I remain confident that the day will come when all this is just an awful memory. We survived the Spanish Flu of 1918 which of course was not Spanish at all and we will survive this too. I just want it to be sooner rather than later. Tick Tick Tick.

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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.