Has anybody here seen Corey, Mike, and Tom? Can you tell me where they've gone...

2025--don't let the door hit you on the way out...

On many levels, 2025 was a mixed bag. Professionally, I have relatively few complaints.

On a personal level, my life has been great. Stephen and I are moving forward with a wonderfully loving journey. I would like to share something about our life together for a future post.

My home has been undergoing many renovations--and I do mean many.

Over the course of the past two years, I now have a desperately needed new bathroom, a new ceiling in the dining room, a new stairwell, a beautiful new kitchen (not completed at the time of this posting), a new back door, and every window in the house has been replaced.

I'm never going to get to retire (three years away, actually).

Where 2025 failed us was the passing of three close friends. Thomas, a dear close friend passed away on April Fool's Day, after being stricken with pancreatic cancer. His passing was a devastating blow to our circle of friends--and especially to Roger, his husband of seven years.

Tom was a great man. He lived life to the fullest. He loved his friends, family, and his husband. He was generous, perhaps to a fault. Generous of his time, his money, to civic causes, and his exuberant personality. Time was a consummate jokester. His laughter was contagious. Tom was larger than life, and we all miss him very, very much. Tom was 60 years old.

On July 30, my friend Corey peacefully passed away in his sleep--I assume from cardiac issues. Corey was a friend of more years than I dare to count. We talked on many subjects, be it plants, our pets, our travels, walking for pleasure, and our dining out experiences. One regret I have always had--both Stephen's and mine--is that I never invited him out to our Saturday night dining out group.

His mother posted the following for his obituary... His life was a testament to the adage by Ralph Waldo Emerson, “To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children... to leave the world a bit better... to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”

I've always envied Corey. He was an increcdibly well traveled man. How could he not have been? He had a long career as a travel agent. Yes, I have traveled but always under the guise of military duty. Mike truly got to see the world through the eyes as a tourist. Corey was 55.

Our friend (the dining group) said our farewells most recently to our friend Mike. Mike passed away on 12 December from an incredibly aggressive, very rare disease called Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease (CJD). There is no treatment or cure for CJD. Once diagnosed, a person's life is but a matter of weeks, even days. Mike lived but three weeks (or so) after his diagnosis.

Mike was that rare man. Kind. Gentle. Loving. Loved to laugh. LOVED to dance. A father and grandfather who led a life by example. There is not a person alive who could have a bad thing to say about Mike.

These three losses have been life-changing for me. Each of these friends were younger than I, making me feel my mortality quite a bit.

I'd like to close paraphrasing a line from the song "Abraham, Martin, and John."

They touched a "lotta people but it seems the good they die young,
I just looked around and they're gone,
Didn't you love the things that they stood for?
Didn't they try to find some good for you and me?

Rest in peace, dear friends. You left us too soon.

Farewell, June Lockhart

Farewell, June Lockhart. Lockhart appeared on three television series Lassie, Lost in Space, and she also portrayed Dr. Janet Craig, after joining the cast of the CBS sitcom Petticoat Junction, after Bea Benederet passed away from lung cancer. She appeared on ABC-TV's General Hospital in the 1980s and 90s. She and five of her Lost in Space colleagues made cameo appearances in the 1998 Lost in Space movie. Her last role was in the 2021 Lost in Space remake (voice only).

She was well-known for portraying intelligent, compassionate, strong, loving women.

June was a two-time Emmy Award nominee and a Tony Award winner. Her career spanned nearly 90 years. Lockhart was one of the last surviving actors from the Golden Age of Hollywood. She debuted on stage at the age of 8. Her film debut was with her parents, Gene Lockhart and Kathleen Lockhart in a filmed version of A Christmas Carol.

She is survived by her daughters Anne, June Elizabeth, and her four grandchildren. June was 100 years old and passed from natural causes.

Where is Congressional oversight?

He LIED! Imagine that?

First, he said his 200 million dollar ballroom would not impact the existing East Wing building. He said it was being funded by donations, not tax dollars. Should we believe any of that? I do not.

Then, this week the demolition began.

Now, we learn the entire East Wing is to be demolished! Now, the cost of the ballroom is expected to be 300 million dollars.

We all know government spending is never what they claim it will be.

Did the Donald approach Congress? Did he consult with the National Trust for Historic Preservation? Did he consult with historians? Did he ever, perhaps most importantly, consult with the American people?

Where is government oversight? Where is transparency?

The question remains--why? The Donald says people have clamored for 150 years that we need an extravagant White House ballroom. Funny, I've not once in my years heard of a movement decrying this. This is nothing short of a dictator wannabe flexing his muscles.

The current East Wing will be gone in a matter of days.

If this does not scream "I do not intend to leave office--not ever," I do not know what is.

I anxiously look forward to the "No Kings 3" rallies.

A Man. Charlie was just a man

I hope I don't take heat for this. I hope this is the last time I have to say anything about this subject. Charlie Kirk was just a man. 

Yes, it was a terrible thing that Kirk was assassinated before a crowd of 3,000 followers. No one deserves to be gunned down as he was. No one deserves to be gunned down. Not ever.

Yesterday, the memorial in Arizona held in his honor, he seemed to have been elevated to messiah. 90,000 people in attendance? 90,000?

And why? He preached hate couched in love. But if this is his brand of love, I don't want to love anymore.

I would venture a guess that most of those in attendance had never heard of a Charlie Kirk before he was shot, and not until the conservative element saw an opportunity to use his passing as a means to wage war on their perceived enemies.

 This is no secret. Kirk will be turned into a martyr to a cause that is best exemplified by 1950s America--an America best buried but not forgotten. How else will we learn from the lessons of our past? The question is, will we?

Charlie preached that gun violence is a necessary evil if it means we continue protecting the Constitution's 2nd amendment. Charlie preached that gays are deserving of being put to death. He preached that retirement is not necessary. Charlie preached that women should be beholden, subservient to their man. He preached a whole lot more. His views were (and are) incendiary.

So I ask, is this the kind of person we want shaping public policy?

I repeat, Charlie Kirk was just a man. ONE man. 

Does our country go insane when a classroom of school children is gunned down? Shoppers at a mall? Worshippers at a Jewish synagogue? Theatergoers? A woman hiding from a crazed ex-husband? A gay bar?

You see, we don't--we don't go crazy over these senseless deaths, and we sure as hell should.

Charlie, Charlie, where have you gone?

I wanted to wait 24 hours before addressing the Charlie Kirk assassination.

First, thoughts and prayers. Yes, that is me being cynical.

Second, I am appalled and saddened by this act of violence. Violence is never the answer to political discourse. Violence is not the answer to anything. Not ever.

Third: I see the conservatives bemoaning a death of one of their own, BUT where was their anguish and outrage when Minnesota State Representative Melissa Hortman and her husband Mark (and their family dog) were gunned down in their home on June 14? President Trump could hardly be bothered to comment on that tragedy.

Trump has ordered flags flown at half mast. Did he do the same for Representative Hortman? Trump announced today he is going to posthumously award Kirk the Congressional Medal of Freedom.

No comment.

Fourth, i despise just about everything Kirk stood for. He was a divisive as many others of his political party, particularly Mr. Agent Orange.

Do I feel sorry for Kirk? A bit, yes. I feel sorry for any victim of gun violence. Who I really feel sorry for are those left behind—Kirk’s wife and his two young children. I feel sympathy for the hundred in his audience who witnessed this act firsthand.

Fifth, we are a torn, wounded, suspicious society. No one trusts the perceived other side. Funny, I thought we were Americans, not bitter enemies.

The gun violence plaguing our nation will not go away, nor will it cease with just thoughts and prayers.

We wuv woo, Tom

 

 

Our good friend Tom passed away earlier this evening after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer six weeks ago. Our thoughts are with Roger, his husband of eight years.

As you might surmise from the photo (my favorite of the two of them), Tom loved to ham it up. He loved to laugh. He loved telling jokes--all too often--VERY corny ones. And we loved to laugh with him. On numerous occasions, Tom and I would get into nonstop giggling that could last five to ten minutes. We'd laugh, we'd stop, we'd take one look at another and start giggling all over again.

Tom and I made a game of tormenting one another with puns, insults made in jest, always ending with a show of loving affection for the other.

Earlier tonight, Stephen and I visited Tom. As we left, we told him we loved him and that he need not linger on for us. I truly believe a person can hear everything said to them, even when in an apparent vegetative state. We told him we would care for Roger in his absence. We think he needed to hear that.

When we left the hospice, we both agreed we might not see Tom again. I told Stephen the next time I saw him I would have to say to him our usual retort... wuv woo.

Tom, we wuv woo.

45 years

 

 

Today is the 45th anniversary of Star Trek - The Motion Picture. The better and completed version was re-released in 2022. ST TMP, to this day, remains my favorite of the 13 Star Trek big screen adventures.

Forever remembering

 

An unfortunate truth

 

Here’s a sad thought: Some people are too poor to work.

Consider this. All too often the jobs available to the poor pay hideously low wages; usually are part-time employment with no benefits. Many cannot afford a car or other means of transportation. Many cannot afford daycare for their young children. Many cannot afford adequate work attire. Many cannot afford to be ill or miss work if their children are ill. Many cannot afford adequate health care for themselves and their families.

Most do not have a cushion or fallback if something devastating happens to their home, car, or family.

The poor do not bring their condition upon themselves but have little means to escape their lot in life. The American dream is becoming more and more elusive.

So please, during this holiday season of giving, the next time you harbor ill thoughts about the poor or turn a blind eye, you might think more kindly, maybe even donate to supporting agencies such as soup kitchens, food pantries, and homeless shelters.

Sometimes there are angels on earth--can you be one?

Failing Afghan girls and women

Afghanistan is an enigma... and a tragedy.

Let me tell you something you may not have known about this landlocked Asian country.

From the 1950s through the mid-1970s, Afghanistan was a VERY modern Islamic country. Metropolitan even, and then came the Russian invasion in 1978. From there, the nation descended into a religious quagmire that propelled the Afghan people back to the 14th century. With the Russians defeated and exiled, the Afghans became embroiled in governmental corruption that led to the Taliban gaining a toehold in the Afghan’s day-to-day life.

The Afghans are a beautiful people.

For those of us servicemembers who served there (I served in Afghanistan from February 2008 through April 2009), seeing the collapse of the Afghan government in 2021, brought on by a treaty that former President Donald Trump negotiated with the Taliban, I mourn the fall. To be fair, President Biden's order for a hasty exit only served to worsen an already horrible scenario.

While the coalition's 18-year presence was of missed successes and failures, perhaps the biggest failure was to the Afghan girls and women. While we were there, girls were allowed to go to school once again. Women could once more have careers outside their homes once more. Women became women again, not just slaves to their men.

Today, women are forbidden to speak in public. Young girls are prohibited from attending school beyond middle school, i.e., no secondary or post-secondary education. While out in public, women are forced to wear a burka, clothed head to toe. To show their faces could endanger their lives.

Afghan women have no voice nor any rights. Per Wikipedia, "The Taliban, who took power in Afghanistan in August 2021, have banned girls and women from attending secondary and higher education, making Afghanistan the only country in the world to do so. The Taliban claim that this ban is in line with their interpretation of Sharia, or Islamic law, but no other Muslim country prohibits girls from receiving an education."

It is easy to throw your hands in the air, and please pardon my French, but fuck religion. It is the bane of our existence. It is all too often the cause of pain, suffering, strife, violence, and death.

While I served in Kabul, I interviewed a female major in the Afghan National Army. She was an educated pharmacist. She thanked me for being there. When I told her I was merely doing my job, she said, "No, not just you, but your people. Before you, the Taliban required me to stay home, and ignore my education. Your presence has given my daughters hope for a better future."

I have wondered where this woman and her daughters are today. I mourn their present existence.

Take a look at the photographs from the 1960s; they give cause for tears. I assure you what you see (then) is not what you will see in Afghnistan today.

Guns, guns, guns

 

There have been at least 15 known assassination attempts on our American leaders in the past 150 years.

A would-be assassin fired a weapon at Teddy Roosevelt while he was campaigning in Milwaukee in 1912. Roosevelt was struck but by a stroke of supreme luck the bullet was slowed by Roosevelt’s eyeglasses case and a copy of his folded-up speech in his pocket. The bullet was never removed from Roosevelt’s body.

Two attempts were made on Gerald Ford’s life.

Presidential candidate George Wallace was paralyzed for life after being hit by an assassin’s bullet.

John F. Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, Ronald Reagan, Abraham Lincoln, Harvey Milk, George Moscone, Gabby Gifford, James Garfield, Warren Harding, Andrew Jackson… should I go on?

Yep. America sure loves its guns. Especially crazies who have no business having access to a gun. We loves our guns even more than our leaders, even more than our precious children.

Where ?

 

* "I'm just going to the Super Bowl celebration tonight. I'll be safe there."

* "My children are at school. Who doesn't love children? Who would want to harm them?"

* "Honey, I'm going to the grocery store. Be back soon."

* I am going out for a jog. I won’t be bothering anyone."

* "Hi, Dad. I love it here at college."

* "Postage stamps are up again. At least it's safe here."

* "I cannot wait to get home from work, but yeesh, the traffic is at a standstill."

* "This concert in Las Vegas is so great! I'm having a ball!"

* "Hey Susie! Wanna go to the mall?"

* "The Godzilla movie is coming out tonight. Wanna go early? It's going to be packed!"

* "Honey, I'll be late tonight. Don't forget tonight is our men's league baseball game at the park."

* "I love my job at the Capitol Building."

* "I'm minding my own business."

* "We're going to the Black Lives Matter rally."

* "My car broke down. Can I use your phone to call for a tow truck?"

* "Honey, do you need anything from Walmart?"

* "(knock knock) "I'm lost. Can you tell me where the nearest (fill in the blank) is?"

* "I just heard gunshots down the street. Thankfully, we're safe in our home."

* "I'm walking home from my friend's dinner party." **

* "Man, work has been so intense of late. They just fired Tom."

* "Church services were great last Sunday. Can't wait to go back tomorrow."

* "What are you doing in this neighborhood?"

* "My gun is tucked safely away under my bed where no one can find it. Johnny, you stay out of my room!"

* "Not sure why, but the Proud Boys are protesting at the library."

* "Can you show me your driver's license?"

Tell me, what has happened to our country, our world?

** My friend Eric's son was killed walking home one summer night on a "safe" Philadelphia street.

Happy birthday, son!

 

47 years ago this afternoon (even though it seems like yesterday) I was at work at Pike Lumber Company when my (then) wife Phyllis called me and said, “Now be calm. I’m not sure but I think I’m in labor.” I asked if she wanted me to come home, and she said, “No, not now, but if I need you, I’ll call.” I worked with her Dad so I crossed over to his workspace to let him know.

You have to know her Dad Abe, and also my boss Tony—both pranksters supreme. For the rest of the afternoon, every time the sawmill phone rang, I was sure it was Phyllis. Little did I know our plant manager was sitting in the bunkhouse calling and Tony would not answer the phone. He just let it ring and ring and… I was going crazy!

When I got home, Phyllis was pretty certain she was in labor but all we could do was wait. Late that night, around 3 am Phyllis was awake and had called the hospital to let them know her condition. Somehow I slept through all of this, but she awoke me, as I recall around 4:30 am. We arrived at Rochester’s old Woodlawn Hospital, a ten-mile drive from home, just after 5. She was wheeled into the delivery prep room where we waited for the doctor.

Just around 5:50 we were escorted to the delivery room… our bundle of joy, our baby boy Wesley Adam, was born at 6:16 am on February 1st, 1977.

During delivery, I almost got thrown out of the room. When the needles came out (for a local) I covered my eyes. The doc said, “If you’re going to get squeamish, you should leave.” I was fine, I said… once you put the needles away. So brave I was (haha).

The nurses told Phyllis afterward that that was one of the quickest deliveries they had ever seen, and if we planned on having any other kids we should camp out at the hospital.

Soon, all of our parents arrived (mine, that is). We lived with Phyllis’ parents at that time so they actually drove us to the hospital.

Anyhow, the most precious moment of our 19-year-old lives arrived that morning, and our lives were never the same after that.

These are, of course, my recollections. I’m sure Wes’ Mom Phyllis has even more stories to tell. This is my story of becoming a Daddy; it is Phyllis’ story of becoming a stupendous Mommy. A story about the happiest moment of our lives.

Happy birthday, Wes. Your parents love you!

Good bye, 2023 Welcome, 2024

 

Smiles, everybody, smiles

When Stephen and I sat eating breakfast this morning, I noticed a few Facebook posts from friends that led to thoughts of life churning in my thoughts. As we prepared to leave, we ran into two of my dearest longtime friends, Hank and Nancy Mascotte.

I have long known the friends we keep make the journey. Stephen and I treasure our friends. Yesterday, two of our dear friends faced the ultimate crossroads in life's journey. I "met" Beth Riches, Shane's cousin, on Facebook while I was stationed in Afghanistan in 2009. Not long after redeploying home, I met both Beth and her husband Ken. I liked them both from the word go. 

We met only occasionally, usually dining out, or when hanging out for special gatherings. In 2010, the two of them took me to see Devo in concert for my birthday. Holiday dinners, barhopping, concerts (John Mellencamp, for example--okay, Ken had to miss that one), Beth and Ken (with an assist from Matt and Shane) hosted several private concerts, inviting Stephen and me last year. At no time whenever we were together were there not laughter and good times.

Beth and Ken are the epitome of warm, caring, embracing friends. Nay--more like family. Ken was always friendly, quick to a joke, insightful comments, and a ready-knowing smile. If you ever see any of Beth and Ken's photos together, there is a constant: fun, joviality, smiles, BIG smiles (Mr. Roarke would be proud).

I cannot recall how many years distant it has been Ken when was diagnosed with a form of leukemia. After a long, tough battle Ken overcame it. Ken's strong personality would not easily accept defeat. These past six months, however, Ken's health presented him with new challenges.

Ken quietly passed away yesterday afternoon. Beth and Ken's two adult children were with him when he crossed over to what exists for us in the afterlife. I would like to think he is soaring in the stars.

Ken, you will be missed by your family and friends from all around this country.

Invisible in plain sight

Recently, I was asked to speak about being gay, specifically gay in the workplace. I do not exactly like the term ‘coming out.’ I believe living one’s life to truth, the truth of who we are. Is it always that simple? Hardly.

In my life, living out arrived in a wave of stages. In the time when I was a teen, living truth to my nature was not an easy thing. I knew I was different. I knew I was not like other boys my age, but I did not understand the implications. In the 1970s we did not talk about those things. Living one’s truth, at times, takes courage. At that point I was a scared young man with no one to share my fears.

The short of it is, I married and knew it was wrong, but I was too scared to do otherwise.

Jumping ahead, after seven years I could no longer deny my truth. After my divorce, I made a promise to myself where I would lead a life on honesty. In the workplace, I kept that vow.

Did I stand in the window and proclaim for all to see and hear, “I am gay! I’m here! I’m queer?” Nope. Not that either. I did not feel that need. I mean, do straight people proclaim their heterosexuality? That, by no means, means that I hid either. In my day-to-day conversations and interactions, I lived a life as me. I have often joked that I can be me, I cannot be you.

If a friend cared, they knew who I was. If I felt a need to share that aspect of my life I did so. When I worked at Fox Photo, that worked against me. In 1985 I was up for a promotion in my department and I was passed over. When I learned it was because of being gay, I made some waves. I was told I was not passed over for being gay, BUT was then told “I have to understand we do not live in San Francisco.” I was also told if I did not like it, I could also work elsewhere.

In 1985, companies could get away with that sort of thing. My boss was right, we did not live in San Francisco. I lived in Indiana where being gay in many eyes was not acceptable, and in a “right to work” state, companies can, all to often, do as they please.

Not long after that I left and decided to go to college to fulfill a lifelong dream to be a teacher. College afforded me to work in an enlightened environment where intelligence rules over ignorance. College is not necessarily the real world. There, I did live my truth. As a student, I, and four other men, formed Indiana University at South Bend’s first gay social group, OUT-IUSB. We were met with some resistance but in the end, we succeeded in launching the group. The group exists to this day (under a different name).

As I ventured out into the world I stepped up as an educator, and sadly I quickly realized I would need to compartmentalize my being. Being out as a brand-new teacher would not come easily. Knowing I would need to learn to be a good teacher first, that was not an issue for me. I was a temp my first year, filling a position for a teacher on medical leave.

The funny thing about being a single man at the age 32, and perhaps because of my gentle nature, some kids assumed I was gay, some never gave it a thought, or could have cared less. I did face down a couple homophobic students, and much to their disdain, my school protected me. One student, in particular, who was already walking on thin ice, ended up on academic probation because of her behaviors.

When the teacher returned, I continued as a sub.

A number of years later, I took a job at Notre Dame. You might think being out at a Catholic school would be dangerous. Amazingly, I found just the opposite. Living my life as who I am earned me respect from my peers and management.

It was at this time I decided to pursue another of my life’s childhood dreams. After President Bill Clinton signed the “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” legislature I made moves to join the U.S. Navy Reserve. It was perhaps the best move I made in my life. Of course, this did mean I had to take a small step back and while I lived my life no differently, I did take a more conservative bent while serving, at least for my first five years as a Sailor.

I am not exactly sure how successful I was about this tack. When I joined a Navy public affairs unit in Chicago, I found a welcoming environment… to a degree… In my 21 years in the Navy, I came to know that no one with whom I worked could care less. Occasionally my colleagues would make a joke with a wink that let me know I was safe there.

Being gay in the military, I believe, the attitudes from most of the ranks was a non-issue. The one who did care, the ones who made it an issue were either unenlightened and insecure in their own skins, or those who had to answer to politicians who love using gays as a wedge issue.

When President Obama signed legislature making it legal to serve with no risk of expulsion, I continued life as usual. Did I throw open the doors? No, but I made no efforts to hide either.

I have been a lucky man. My jobs through the years were places where I felt I could make a difference, especially as a Sailor and a high school teacher. I have worked in jobs where I made friends who I cared for, and who cared for me.

My point of this essay is to say this: Whether you are gay, straight, trans and any of the alphabet identifiers, it is imperative to be true to your nature. Staying true to yourself, you will find allies who matter and if they are not your ally, they do not matter.

Since we spend so much of our lives working, being comfortable in one’s skin is the only way to be happy, sane, and productive.

Being who we are is not a choice, being out is. If living a lie means being miserable in our jobs, it is time to evaluate our priorities.

Life is just too short.

A friend remembered

For eight years, I was employed at the Notre Dame Law School Library and I can say our staff was a united, loving family. I worked in the Technical Services Department where we worked largely behind the scenes. Our law librarians and circulation desk staff were the visible face for our law students. One face, in particular, was librarian Ken Kinslow.

Ken was the epitome of professionalism. Friendly, cheerful always, quick to tell a story or joke, and I am 100% certain you cannot find a single person with a bad word to say about him. He was pure class.

Ken ofttimes worked alongside his wife Carmela who was the director of the Circulation Desk. The two fit together hand-in-glove, at work and in their private life.

I left Notre Dame in 2000 and I have done my best to stay in touch with my former coworkers.

Occasionally I saw Ken walking his beloved dog (usually when I was driving through campus). We actually crossed paths a few times when I was on one of my many walks on campus, and it was always nice running into him where we could catch up on our lives.

If Ken ever had a bad day, I’ve never seen it. I doubt no one has.

Ken passed away yesterday (Sunday, 12 November) after suffering a totally unexpected heart attack a week earlier. Please keep Carm and their son Ken, Jr., in your thoughts.

Ken was a wonderful, kind loving soul.

A national anthem, never forgetting

On this day in 2001, it started as any normal school day. That calm was not to last.  As we watched as the attack on America unfolded, I tried to answer my students’ questions. My class watched in horror as the second plane slammed into the south tower. We teachers tried to present a voice of calm. For all of us, it was a day fraught with concern, anger, confusion, and for some, fear. 

I knew soon we would be at war.

Each generation has one or more defining moments—some good, some bad—that we can identify where and what we were doing as events became apparent.

 
For my elders, it was the attack on Pearl Harbor, FDR’s death. My generation remembers the assassinations of President Kennedy, his brother Bobby, and Rev. Martin Luther King. We remember the first landing on the moon and Richard Nixon’s resignation.

 
My son’s generation can recall the downing of the Space Shuttle Challenger (and later the Columbia), and the Oklahoma City bombing. For our youth, it was the attack on NYC, the Pentagon, and the downing of Flight 93 over the skies of Pennsylvania.

 
Where were you?

As the years pass by, it is hard to believe we have a whole generation that was not even alive on this day in 2001, and I wonder what moments will define them.

We will always remember.

Meghan Buell, Rest in Peace

Gentle persons, it is my sad duty to let you know our friend, the former LGTBQ+ Center Executive Director, Director of TREES, recent author of her memoir The Road to Me: A Transgender Journey, and good friend to our community has passed away.

Meghan was last seen Sunday and found in her home this morning. Foul play is not believed to have played any part in her passing but at this time I do not have any details as to the cause of death. When we learn of funeral or memorial plans being made public, I will pass them along to you all.

On a personal note (Doug speaking), I have known and loved Meghans for many years. I have marveled at her sly wit, her intelligence, her love of ours, and her biological family, and her bravery. Meghan has been a shining beacon for the Michiana trans community. She had put herself out there in the public's eye on many, many occasions. She spoke to the local media and at various conferences and gatherings. 

If any of you attended any of the Pride events in past years, Meghan was there, always there. 

You may not have known this, but Meghan was a beloved substitute teacher in the South Bend Community School system. On those many occasions when she was before a classroom, young children asked her if she was a man dressed as a woman. She freely spoke of her life in terms that young children might understand. When the LaPorte community made a big stink about Meghan corrupting the lives of our young children, they admonished the SBCSC for hiring her. South Bend School Corp told them to mind their own business.

You may remember that Meghan stood her own (privately very shaken) when the proud boys tried to disrupt her children's reading event at the Tutt Library Branch. We learned then that ugliness has found its place in our community.

Earlier this summer, the men's group met at Meghan's TREES (Transgender Resource, Education & Enrichment Services), a beautiful center and haven for our trans community. If you had not been there, you have missed experiencing a great educational and inviting center for all that walked through the doors. The center reflects on Meghan in ways that go beyond her character alone.

Meghan, you will be sorely missed. Even in her passing, I am reminded of Hillary Clinton's slogan, "Nevertheless, she persisted." She certainly will in my memories of her.

If any of you have any fond recollections you would like to share of Meghan, please feel free to share them in the best way you can.

Happy 130th birthday, U.S. Navy Chiefs

The pinnacle for any U.S. Navy Petty Officer is to achieve the rank (E-7) of Navy Chief. During the last six years of my 21-year Navy career, I was "up for" Chief five times.

In a case of coulda, woulda, shoulda, and...

For whatever reason, I was not selected, which was mostly by fault of my own. While I think I would have been a good Chief had I the honor of being selected, I think in retrospect, I did not want it badly enough. For another reason, I had a concern that, after supremely letting down a Navy Chief--he who largely launched my career--on a very important assignment, I am not certain I deserved to be a Chief.

In part, I was somewhat disillusioned by the rank. I personally know three Chiefs who I felt did not represent the ideals, one of which nearly destroyed my career in my final year of service (he, in a fit of irony, sabotaged his career and the justice of it all does not escape me).

Rather than try to single out and name the many, many fantastic Chiefs whom I had the honor to serve, Iest I inadvertently leave someone out, I want to thank the Chiefs whose dedication and mentorship made my career a joy! I will say that two CPOs from NOSC Chicago, one who literally saved my life, and the other, my Navy career, epitomized service to those they lead. To them, and all the others, I am eternally grateful!

Again, as I said earlier in an earlier post, the Navy could not run without the dedication of our U.S. Navy Chiefs.

Happy Birthday to those fine men and women!