Mary Ann Mead, December 25, 1948 -- December 20, 2021

Mary Ann, May 2004, at the Acoustic Cafe Music Festival

On Monday, I said goodbye to my bride of 17 years, Mary Ann. The only saving grace was that she had suffered for more years than I care to remember the painful effects of fibromyalgia, polymyalgia rheumatica, osteoporosis, and other pain-inducing maladies. Her suffering was extreme and constant. She is truly in a far, far better place.

Mary Ann Lau and I met in 1984, not long after I had found sobriety and began working in the aerospace industry at John M. Cockerham and Associates in Huntsville, Alabama. She was hired to be an executive assistant to Charles Stroud, a senior vice president of the firm. Lau was the name of her first husband, Peter, from whom she had been divorced for a few years. She chose not to return to her maiden name, which had been Allard. She was regal is her poise and stature, always made a fashion statement, and was rarely on time. Charlie overlooked the lateness because Mary Ann was beyond competent.  She was obsessive-compulsive in everything she did, an absolute perfectionist.  Soon, she was put in charge of arranging travel for everyone in a company of nearly 100 employees who traveled a lot. Even that job didn't phase her. She performed it with ease.

Cockerham was a unique company. It had the feeling of a closely-knit family. Employees went out of their way to help and support one another. This camaraderie was reflected in a weekly Friday evening happy hour, at which Mary Ann could be counted upon to make an appearance. And often, she embarrassed herself with her excessive well-lubricated enthusiasm.

I had become a recovering alcoholic only a few months before we met. In the glow of my newly-found sobriety, I was out to save the world. After hearing stories of Mary Ann's performances at the happy hour events, I concluded that she might have "a problem." One day I appeared at her desk with a paperback copy of the AA "Big Book." I suggested to Mary Ann that she might benefit from reading it. (This is not, by the way, a technique recommended by AA or any of its affiliates!) I was told in no uncertain terms where I might insert my book.

In this part of the country, most AA groups offer a white poker chip to newcomers who want to follow a new path. Usually there is the suggestion that "If you feel like taking a drink, put this on your tongue and let it dissolve first." It was only a few years later, in January of 1988, that Mary Ann walked into my cubicle and showed me her new white chip. Miraculously, she had been both a crack cocaine addict and an alcoholic, but never drank or drugged after that date.  She became a changed person.

Mary Ann decided she needed a decent, clean-cut man friend. Somehow, she heard that Whitesburg Baptist Church had a singles club, and she got religion. She began attending Whitesburg Baptist Church, then pastored by Brother Jimmie Jackson. She received religious instruction, got involved in a women's bible study group, and was baptized all within a year of her sobriety. She remained a bible-believing Christian the rest of her life. When Mary Ann passed away, she was only a couple weeks away from her 33rd sobriety birthday.

Mary Ann and I had stayed casually in touch over the years that she returned to her home state of Iowa. We would exchange Christmas cards and an occasional birthday note (She was a Christmas baby.). A few months after I lost my first wife, Margo, to ovarian cancer, I heard a rumor that Mary Ann Lau was back in Huntsville. Within a few weeks, I got a phone call from Mary Ann asking if she could use me as a reference as she sought employment.  I of course agreed and wrote a glowing recommendation based on her performance at Cockerham and Associates. We met for lunch and I gave her the letter.

Only a few weeks later, I had tickets to a Huntsville Chamber Music Guild concert to be performed by Chanticleer, a San Francisco-based men's choral group of fabulous talent. Not wanting to waste a ticket, I called Mary Ann to see if she'd care to accompany me to the concert. She accepted and we went out to dinner, then to the concert, followed by dessert at a small German restaurant known for their desserts.

I found out later that Mary ann had called a dear friend and counselor in Iowa the next day. She recounted to Joyce the details of the night before and then asked, "Do you think that was a date?" Her friend responded, "Mary Ann, did you shave your legs?" When Mary Ann responded in the affirmative, she was assured that it had indeed been a date.

We began seeing each other regularly and were soon engaged. Our engagement party was in the same Italian restaurant where we had gone on that first date. Charlie Stroud and his wife Brenda and two dear friends, Monty and Dinah Love, were in attendance. 

Mary Ann had remained friends with her first husband, Peter Lau and his lovely wife, Ronelle, who live in Davenport, Iowa. When Pete and Ronelle found out that we were engaged, they invited us to Iowa to celebrate with them. We flew to Davenport and enjoyed a wonderful weekend with family and friends, including a memorable barbecue at a small cabin on a little lake that is located on the Lau homestead farm.  What wonderful memories that weekend produced.

On July 30, 2004, we celebrated our marriage in a private ceremony at the First Christian Church, Disciples of Christ, in Huntsville. The presiding minister was the Rev. Dianne Wood, who knew Mary Ann from her early days at Whitesburg Baptist, when Mary Ann had started a 12-step ministry for Christian women. And our friend Monty Love, a former lay minister, assisted Dianne. It was a very special day.

I continued working in the aerospace industry and Mary Ann did as well until around 2006. She had a lifelong dream of having her own gift shop. Quite unexpectedly, the property adjacent to our home became available and I was able to purchase it. Ebabe's Gifts was about to become reality. Mary Ann had already started a gift shop on Ebay and it was doing quite well.  We decided to go ahead an build a brick-and-mortar store on the newly acquired real estate. She was like a kid in a toy store. She got all her necessary licenses and permits and bank accounts, decorated and equipped the new building, and we had our first experience with the wholesale gift market in Atlanta. The store opened on October 18th, 2008, just in time for the Christmas season.

The store was a real "find" for people who discovered it. We are located in a rural area only reached if one is intent on reaching us. We had lots of repeat customers and as the word spread, the store reached a break-even point within a couple years. Mary Ann had an uncanny instinct for selecting the next "latest thing." She became a sizeable retailer of Abbas leather goods, Christopher Radko Christmas ornaments, and a wide variety of lawn and garden art works. There were always an abundance of children's items as well as collegiate-themed goods - Alabama, Auburn, Tennessee, Georgia Tech - we played no favorites.

Saturday mornings were like social hours, with abundant baked goods and beverages. Hot spiced cider filled the store with holiday aromas during the winter months.

Then came the day in 2013 when Mary Ann's pain became too much to continue to operate the store. We had one blowout sale and closed the door.

After its closing, Mary Ann rarely spoke about the store.  A major part of her life had been cruelly ended.  The loss affected her deeply.  Her will to live suffered.

We spent lots of time engaged in doctors' visits as Mary Ann's ailments progressed. She reluctantly accepted the use of a walker, then a wheelchair. Her pain medication became less effective and her life more tortured. Stints in rehab seemed to be of little benefit.

After several falls, we ended up in the Columbia Regional Medical Center, where she spent her last days.  Her cause of death was officially listed as congestive heart failure. She maintained a deep and abiding faith in a loving God up to the very end.

I miss her more than I can express.

Mary Ann with daughter Tori

... with daughter Tori and Son-in-Law Todd

... with my mentor Keith Young at a workshop in West Virginia

... ready for a Tidball Halloween party

... celebrating Christmas in Iowa with Tori and Granddaughter Taylor

... presenting a gift to a friend at the store

Eyeball Developments

 

A number of years ago (I can't even guess how many.), my ophthalmologist informed me that I had a condition in both eyes called Fuchs' Dystrophy. The good folks at the Mayo Clinic describe the condition this way, "In Fuchs' (fewks) dystrophy, fluid builds up in the clear layer (cornea) on the front of your eye, causing your cornea to swell and thicken. This can lead to glare, blurred or cloudy vision, and eye discomfort.

"Fuchs' dystrophy usually affects both eyes and can cause your vision to gradually worsen over years. Typically, the disease starts in the 30s and 40s, but many people with Fuchs' dystrophy don't develop symptoms until they reach their 50s or 60s.

"Some medications and self-care steps may help relieve your Fuchs' dystrophy signs and symptoms. But when the disorder is advanced and your vision is affecting your ability to function well, the best way to restore vision is with cornea transplant surgery."

Gradually, the effects of this condition have become more pronounced and onerous.  A few weeks ago, during a regularly-scheduled exam, I told my doctor that I'd like to consider a surgical remedy.  He informed me that during the years since I was initially diagnosed, some new techniques had been developed for dealing with the condition. There happen to be a couple of expert corneal surgeons in Birmingham whom he would be happy to refer me to.

Thus it was that last Wednesday I drove to Sheffield, Alabama, to meet with Dr. Jack Parker, M.D. and Ph.D. Dr. Parker is the son of a father-son surgical team specializing in corneal surgery. Dr. Parker's credentials are impressive, as described on the Parker Cornea Website: "Jack Parker is considered one of the world’s foremost authorities on the treatment of keratoconus and Fuchs dystrophy. He is currently the only U.S. eye surgeon fellowship trained at NIIOS–the Dutch institution that developed modern corneal lamellar surgery (DMEK, DSEK, and Bowman layer transplantation).

During medical school and residency at UAB, Jack collaborated with world renowned corneal surgeon Gerrit Melles of Rotterdam. Following completion of a UAB ophthalmology residency, Jack completed a joint fellowship with NIIOS in Rotterdam and his father at Parker Cornea in Birmingham. Jack’s PhD thesis Recent Innovations in Minimally Invasive Anterior and Posterior Lamellar Keratoplasty was co-promoted by Dr. Melles and Dr. Martine Jager and was accepted by Leiden University on July 4, 2017. Jack currently serves on the board of Directors of NIIOS USA."

Needless to say, I feel extremely fortunate to have made contact with such a highly qualified practitioner.  He greeted me most cordially on Wednesday and then examined my eyes.  He confirmed that I have a mature case of Fuchs, but the good news is that my corneas are not yet scarred (a condition that can result if the disease progresses long enough).  He suggested that I would benefit from a procedure called Descemet Membrane Endothelial Keratoplasty (DMEK). In this process, the back layer of cells on the cornea is removed, after which the same layer of cells (called the Descemet membrane and endothelium) from a donor cornea is implanted on the back of my cornea.  Talk about micro-surgery!  Sources on the internet describe the procedure in much more academic terms, "DMEK is a partial-thickness cornea transplant procedure that involves selective removal of the patient's Descemet membrane and endothelium, followed by transplantation of donor corneal endothelium and Descemet membrane without additional stromal tissue from the donor. The graft tissue is merely 10-15 microns thick. Similar to DSAEK, direct contact with the DMEK graft tissue should be avoided to prevent endothelial cell damage and graft failure. A clear corneal incision is created, the recipient endothelium and Descemet membrane are removed, and the graft is loaded into an inserter. After injecting the tissue into the anterior chamber, the surgeon orients and unscrolls the graft, and a bubble of 20% sulfur hexafluoride (SF6) is placed in the anterior chamber to support graft adherence. A variation known as Descemet membrane automated endothelial keratoplasty (DMAEK) utilized an automated preparation of the donor tissue that left a rim of donor stroma peripherally for easier tissue handling, but the procedure is no longer performed due to advances in DMEK that have allowed for easier insertion and manipulation of the graft tissue."

There's a really informative animation of the procedure at https://youtu.be/7Ai8PxaXE2s

Dr. Parker suggested that we start with my right eye, which would benefit the most in visual acuity.  Today, I had a call from his scheduler and I'm scheduled to have the first procedure on Tuesday, July 6th.  I'm really excited.

Reading the comments from people who have undergone this surgery is enlightening and encouraging.  People talk about almost instant results, "miraculous" changes in clarity of vision, and amazing changes in color perception.  I'm incredibly grateful that we have such procedures and dedicated specialists available in my lifetime.  Recovery will take about a month before we repeat the process on my left eye.

David Page Robbins February 14, 1940 - September 25, 2018

Dave Robbins in the 1960s

A few days ago, I was explaining to someone how I became a member of the Sigma Chi social fraternity.  When I left my home to attend the University of Rochester, I wasn't certain that I wanted to join a fraternity.  My brother Bill had been a member of the Chi Psi fraternity at the University of Michigan, but there wasn't a Chi Psi chapter at Rochester. My father had been a member of Delta Sigma Delta at Michigan, but that was a dental society. Thus, there was no legacy tradition that would motivate me to become a member.

I had looked through a list of fraternities at Rochester, and could relate to three of them. Our good friends, the Gardners, had two sons at Rochester who were members of the Alpha Delta Phi fraternity.  My father's insurance broker, Chick Heckenburg, had been a Psi Upsilon brother. My "Aunt" Betty's late husband, "Uncle" Ned (Edward McGrew) had been a Sigma Chi at Northwestern.  I decided I'd visit these houses during the Fall rush period and see if the idea of fraternity membership might interest me.  I don't think I realized until I had arrived on campus that one of my sister's high school friends, Dave Robbins, was attending Rochester and had become a brother in the Sigma Chi house.

When rush week rolled around, I visited these and several other houses.  The group that I seemed to "connect" with was the Sigme Chi brotherhood. I decided I'd go back for a second visit if I was invited.  Shortly thereafter, I read something in the Campus Times that dampened that idea. It seems that the Sigma Chi national consitution had a "White Clause" stating that only white males were eligible for membership. That ran directly counter to my personal culture and belief framework. I prided myself on my non-racist attitudes.  I then decided that even if I were invited to the Sig house, I wouldn't respond. I could navigate four years at Rochester perfectly well without a fraternity.

I received an invitation to return to the Sigma Chi house for a follow-up Rush Smoker (Doesn't that term sound archaic?). I ignored it. The next day, I received a phone call from Dave Robbins, asking if we could meet to discuss Sigma Chi.  I explained my reason for ignoring their invitation.  He was persistent and we met for coffee at the student union.

Dave presented it this way. He, too found the white clause to be abhorrent. There was a "Grand Chapter" coming up the next summer at which he was quite sure it would be removed.  There were several undergraduate chapters, including the Rochester chapter, that had been informed by their host universities that the clause must be removed by a specified deadline or they could no longer be recognized by the institutions. You could do a whole lot more to bring about change from within an organization than from the outside.  Would I please reconsider?

Dave, in his extremely low-key approach, had changed my view. I subsequently pledged and was initiated into Sigma Chi. The white clause was removed the next summer. Our chapter survived. I eventually served my chapter as its Social Chairman, Pro-Consul (Vice-President), and Consul (President). The brotherhood and its principles have been a most powerful and meaningful influence in my life.  I have never regretted my decision to become a brother.

Today, the fraternity is a remarkably inclusive organization, celebrating its diversity. In 1995, Sigma Chi adopted its Statement of Policy on Human Decency and Dignity. Sigma Chi’s Executive Committee approved the formation of a Diversity and Inclusion Commission.  When the Commission was formed, the international Grand Consul stated, "The commission is charged, foremost, with listening. They will listen to anyone who wants to speak. All opinions, thoughts, perspectives and recommendations are encouraged and needed. They will be responsible for organizing the thoughts of the collective and distilling those thoughts into a series of recommendations to be brought forward to the Executive Committee. Recognizing the urgency of this work and the importance of tackling the subject of diversity and inclusion in our Fraternity,"

Dave Robbins was right.  I owe him a debt of gratitude for his wise counsel.  Unfortunately, I recently learned of his passing.  His obituary speaks volumes about his character.  All Honor to His Name!

Obituary for David Page Robbins:

David P. Robbins, 78, of Fredericksburg, passed away on Tuesday, September 25, 2018.

David was born in Schenectady, New York. He spent his school years there and his summers in York Beach, Maine. In 1961, he graduated from the University of Rochester with his fiancée, Martha Lightbown. They were married later that year. David served in the US Army Reserve 1962-68. In 1965, he graduated from UC Riverside and returned to the east coast. He and Martha raised their two daughters in New Hampshire and later retired to Virginia.

David was a lifelong learner. He was a passionate public educator (US history and geography) at New York and New Hampshire schools for many years. A cheerful, friendly man who was full of wit, he loved talking with and learning about others. He treated everyone with equal respect and interest, touching the hearts of all who met him. He was deeply committed to helping the overlooked and the underprivileged. David was exceptionally musical: he sang, played the piano, listened to music all day long, and collected vintage sheet music. His other special interests included baseball, maps, current events, statistics, and religion. He was a lifelong Christian—a Presbyterian as a child, an Episcopalian as a young adult, and then a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, where he served as a pianist, teacher, and leader for almost 40 years.

Above all, David adored his family. He delighted in his beloved wife, children, grandchildren, and great grandchild and spent many hours communicating with treasured extended family. He kept a journal, wrote his personal history for his posterity, researched family history, and covered his walls with family trees and pictures of his ancestors and descendants.

Left to cherish his memory are his devoted wife of 57 years, Martha; children, Beth Austin (Gary) and Meg Andrew (Bruce); grandchildren, Michael (Rachel), Sarah, Becca, and Daniel Austin and Wil, Amy, Henry, and Martin Desposorio; great-grandson, Clive Austin; brother, Doug Robbins; nephew, Joseph Robbins; niece, Deborah Speckhard (Jesse); cousins, Joanne Smith and Paula Page (Lee); and many other cousins, nieces, and nephews. David has now joined his parents, Barbara and Ralph Robbins; aunt and uncle, Muriel and Clayton Robbins; niece, Sarah Robbins; nephew, Thomas Robbins; and cousin Joanne’s husband, Bruce Smith.

A service to remember and celebrate David’s life was held privately, per his wishes.

In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to Doctors Without Borders (https://donate.doctorswithoutborders.org/onetime.cfm), the American Indian College Fund (https://collegefund.org/make-a-gift/?source=website), and the United Negro College Fund (https://www.uncf.org/ways-to-donate).

David P. Robbins (1940-2018)

Marvin Collins, Doctor of Motors

Collins Garage as it appeared in the 1960s. Entrance on the right.

I moved to Norman, Oklahoma, in August of 1965.  My only transportation was my 1932 Plymouth Model PB business coupe, which I drove from my former Navy duty station in Groton, Connecticut, to Norman. I went by way of Milwaukee, where I had to attend a Navy indoctrination training program at Marquette University. Within a few weeks of my arrival, I decided to find a mechanic whom I would trust to work on my prized vintage car.

I spoke to a number of newly-made friends and colleagues at the University of Oklahoma and concluded that my best bet might be Marvin Collins, the owner of Collins Garage at 420-422 East Main Street in Norman.  The following Saturday, I drove my old Plymouth to that location and ventured through an open door.  I saw a lone mechanic bent over the front fender of a fairly new car.  I spoke after a short delay, "Would you happen to be Mr. Marvin Collins?"

   The man emerged and greeted me with a cigarette locked between his lips, "I sure am, and who are you?"  This began a friendship that would last many years.  He admired my car, asked how long I had owned it, told me that the early Plymouths were fine machines, and agreed to help me maintain it.  He was amazed that I had chosen to drive the car halfway across the country.

I learned from Marvin's business card that he jokingly referred to himself as "Marvin Collins, Doctor of Motors." I also realized that the trademark Chesterfield hanging from Marvin's lips was a permanent fixture.

Over many years of employing him to work on my cars, I realized that Marvin was a walking encyclopedia of automotive knowledge.  A specific example that comes to mind was the day I walked into the shop and he was working on a late 1940s Lincoln with its flathead V-12 engine.  The owner had rebuilt the carburetor, after which the car refused to start.  Out of frustration, he had towed the car to Collins Garage to see if Marvin could help.  Shortly after I walked in, Marvin got in the car, hit the starter, and the car burst into life.  He fidgeted with the carburetor to get the idle speed where it belonged, then turned off the key.  "Poor fellow that owns this didn't realize they made a design change halfway through the model year.  All it needed was a different economizer valve."  That's the kind of obscure information that resided in Marvin's head.  Keep in mind that this was a 20-year old car at the time.

Marvin was outspoken. He didn't mince words.  One day, I happened upon an early Saturday morning estate auction being conducted on a front lawn in an older neighborhood in Norman.  I registered as a bidder "just in case."  Before the auction concluded, the auctioneer announced that the family had owned three cars.  The first to be sold was a 1957 Cadillac Sedan de Ville with only 35,000 miles on its odometer.  It soon was mine at a hammer price of $735.00.  As a proud new owner, I immediately headed down to Marvin's to show off my new acquisition.

Marvin saw me pull in, walked around the car surveying its merits, then asked, "Is this yours?" I nodded. "Didn't talk to me before you bought it, did you?"  I didn't like what I was hearing.  "You're gonna pay me a lot of money if you keep driving this thing." 

It turned out that the 1957 Cadillac engine, a 365 cu. in. V-8 (shared with the Oldsmobile 98, I was to learn) had a fatal design flaw.  The webbing around some of the valve seats in the cylinder heads was too thin and would develop thermal stress crack over time. Marvin and I scoured the junkyards in and around Oklahoma City and acquired three spare "good" cylinder heads for each side of my engine, "just in case."

Sure enough, within a few months, I started to notice a rough idle and a compression check revealed which cylinder head had cracked.  Upon removing it, the crack was easy to spot. We retrieved one of the good heads, made sure everything was nominal, and installed it.  

I was at the garage just as Marvin was about to start the rebuilt engine for the first time.  It cranked over, started, and then produced a horrible loud metallic clattering sound.  Marvin instantly shut down the engine. His character as an honest man was then displayed. "There's something in one of the combustion chambers. That's my fault. Any costs from this point forward are on me," he said.

We later reconstructed what probably happened. After the cylinder head was installed, as well as the intake manifold, we concluded that a small washer on the workbench had adhered to Marvin's sweaty arm.  When he reached across the engine it dropped off of his arm and into one of the openings in the intake.  When the car started, that little washer was ingested through an intake valve and was bouncing around inside the combustion chamber. 

Marvin used a borescope to spot the culprit, removed the appropriate cylinder head for a through inspection and to remove the battered washer.  After completion of the reassembly, the car ran beautifully.  I had to replace one more cylinder head before I decided to sell that car.  Marvin, as usual, was right.

Marvin Collins was a rare breed -- incredibly knowledgeable in his chosen profession, honest as the day is long, and one of the most decent human beings you could ever ask for. He passed away in 1987 at the age of 66 and is buried in Norman.  I feel privileged to have benefitted from his skill and knowledge as a Doctor of Motors.  Even more, I feel blessed to have called him a friend. 

† RIP †

A Cane-Inspired Poetic Memory...

Mary Ann showed me a picture of a new cane she had ordered.  She said that when she saw the handle, she simply had to get it.  I said, "It looks like a toucan," and immediately was reminded of a poem.

Very few can Tell the Toucan

From the Pecan — Here's a new plan:

To take the Toucan from the Tree,

Requires immense agilitee,

While anyone can pick with ease

The Pecans from the Pecan trees.

It's such an easy thing to do,

That even the Toucan he can too.

From: How to Tell the Birds From the Flowers: a Manual of Flornitology for Beginners (Nature Series No. 23) Hardcover – January 1, 1907, by Robert Williams Wood (Author, Illustrator). Dr. Wood, a world-famous physicist and inventor was a good friend of my friends growing up, the family of Dr. Alfred Theodore Goble, a professor of physics at Union College in Schenectady.

An Unexpected Family Connection...

Edward S. Farrow 1898-1962

In January, 1962, in my senior year at Rochester, my Sigma Chi brothers honored me by electing me to serve as Consul, the president of the chapter.  Not long before that, I had learned that Edward S. Farrow, a resident of Rochester and a former international president (Grand Consul) of Sigma Chi, had suffered an acute brain aneurism and was comatose and in critical condition. Mr. Farrow had retired from Kodak in 1958 as Vice President and Assistant General Manager, with over 37 years of service.

Ed Farrow had a unique role in the establishment of the Sigma Chi chapter at the University of Rochester.  In the late 1920s, Sigma Chi had collectively decided that they were no longer interested in expanding to additional campuses.  But Ed Farrow, who at that time was a young engineer at Eastman Kodak, wanted the undergraduates at Rochester to have the opportunity to become brothers in Sigma Chi as he had done at MIT a few years before.  In 1929, he was aware of an outstanding local fraternity at the University of Rochester (I recall that it was Sigma Delta Epsilon) that would be a perfect candidate to petition Sigma Chi for acceptance as a new chapter.  So, in spite of the prevailing "no growth" attitude of the international fraternity, Ed Farrow made it his personal mission to add at least one more chapter. He brought a crew to the campus and made what today would be called a promotional film depicting the men and activities of the local candidate fraternity.  Then he traveled the country visiting chapters, showing the 16 millimeter black and white film, and making his case for the establishment of a new chapter at the U of R.  His one-man campaign was successful, and in 1932 the Gamma Pi chapter of Sigma Chi was recognized and its first brothers initiated.

In 1962, as I assumed the leadership of that chapter, Ed Farrow was in a vegetative state, not expected to live.  I proposed to the chapter that we rededicate our chapter room, the place we conducted our most solemn fraternal ceremonies, to the memory of Brother Farrow's devotion and service to Sigma Chi. Every brother embraced the idea.  We had some brainstorming sessions and decided we would refurbish the space and place a memorial plaque above the fireplace in the basement room that served as our dining room and chapter ceremonial room.  I contacted Marnie Farrow, Ed's wife, to advise her of our plans and to ensure that we would not offend her or cause any emotional pain by moving forward.  She wholeheartedly supported our effort.

I wrote a letter to Mr. Lloyd Balfour, CEO of the Balfour Jewelry Company, the official Sigma Chi jeweler at the time, to determine if they could produce a silver plaque, etched with a likeness of Ed Farrow and containing a dedicatory inscription.  Our alumni and brothers would donate to pay for this memorial panel.

Mr. Balfour, himself a prominent Sigma Chi alumnus, responded within just a few days. He advised me that he and Ed Farrow were close friends and that he was thrilled that we wanted to honor Ed's many years of service to Sigma Chi.  He proceeded to say that he would like to donate the memorial plaque and couldn't imagine charging the chapter for its manufacture.  We would be receiving his contribution in a few weeks and he was honored to be part of this tribute. The next part of his letter took me by surprise.

Mr. Balfour said that he noticed my last name was Mead.  He recalled that in the early 1930s, a woman named Ethel Mead Van Auken had been largely responsible for bringing the jewelry business of the Alpha Chi Omega sorority to his company.  He wondered if I was related to that person to whom he was especially grateful.  As I have written in a previous blog entry, I knew that woman as Aunt Ethel, my father's sister.  I wrote back to Lloyd Balfour to advise him of our connection.

A few weeks later, the engraved plaque arrived.  It was stunning!  The engraved image of Ed Farrow was remarkable and the inscription was flawless. And so, on a sunny spring Saturday, a date suggested by Mrs. Farrow, the chapter gathered for a formal celebration and dedication. Dignitaries from the University and the fraternity participated, as did Mrs. Farrow and one of the couple's daughters.  Just a few months later, in August 1962, we lost Ed Farrow at the young age of 64. His death impacted many institutions, the city of Rochester, and hundreds of friends. In his community, Ed Farrow had served as president of the Rochester Civic Music Association, board member of Rochester Art Gallery, vice president of the Rochester Council of the Boy Scouts of America, and chairman of the finance committee for the Episcopal Diocese of Rochester. In addition he served as a member of the Corporation of M.I. T.  As we say in the brotherhood of Sigma Chi, "All Honor to his name!"

Mike Armstrong, Gone But Not Forgotten

Michael F. Armstrong
1941-2020

A few days ago I was reviewing the Christmas cards we had received this year and noticed that one of the names missing was Mike Armstrong. I first met Mike Armstrong in 1959 when he entered the freshman class at the University of Rochester. I can’t recall who first introduced us. Mike was from Ballston Spa, New York and so we had been relatively nearby neighbors growing up but had never known each other. We became close friends through a common interest in physics. Not long after we had established a friendship I began talking to Mike about possibly joining the Sigma Chi fraternity. Mike decided not to pledge a fraternity until his sophomore year at which time he did become a Sigma Chi pledge and I became his big brother. We had a lasting friendship that that went on for years. He was initiated into the fraternity in 1961. 

Mike and I had some fabulous experiences as undergraduates. One time he had acquired a 1953 Ford convertible. It was a very tired car. We had driven home for a weekend and were on our way back west on the New York State Thruway on Sunday evening after dark when a horrible sound erupted from under the car. We were sure there was some major mechanical problem so we pulled over decided to sleep in the car and worry about solving the problem the next day. The next morning when we got out of the car and walked around it we noticed that it had nothing more than a flat tire. We changed the tire and were on our way. We didn’t share that story with very many people. We lived together in the Crosby Dormitory our last two years at Rochester. We remained close friends who corresponded regularly over the next several years. 

One of the funniest experiences Mike and I had involved an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting although Mike was never an alcoholic. Mike had gone to work for a company in Florida, Ryder Systems, that implemented information technology systems. He had gone to Memphis on a business trip to discuss the implementation of one of their systems for a company in Memphis. He called to inform us that he was driving and asked if he could drive through our hometown of Fayetteville on his way back to Florida and perhaps spend the night with Margo and myself. This was probably in about 1985. I had only recently gotten sober and was trying to get to as many AA meetings as possible. Margo and I had heard that one of our favorite speakers, Father Hilary Dreaper, a Benedictine monk, was speaking that night at an AA meeting in Lawrenceburg, Tennessee. I suggested to Mike that since he would be driving right through Lawrenceburg on his way to our home he could meet us at the AA clubhouse in Lawrenceburg. We would go to the meeting together, then go out to get a bite to eat, and then come to our house. It was a plan!

As usual Margo was late and we didn’t leave the house on time in order to be at the meeting prior to its start. Mike had arrived in plenty of time, found the location of the AA house, gone in and gotten himself a cup of coffee and sat down to wait for us to arrive. The meeting started. They started reading excerpts from the AA "Big Book" and introducing members of the local AA group. Mike was convinced that I had done this as a practical joke. Of course we arrive 15 minutes late, found a place to sit next to Mike and the rest was just a great story.

Gradually our friendship grew more distant because we never lived in the same area for any length of time. Nonetheless we stayed in touch, corresponded, and exchanged Christmas cards.  In about 1992, I invited Mike and his wife Bettie to come to Tennessee and hike up Mt. Le Conte in the Smokies.  They flew into Knoxville where a small group of my fellow hikers picked them up and we proceeded to spend the night in Townsend prior to our two-day hike.  I got the impression that this was not Mike's idea of fun.

This year when I realized that Mike had not sent a Christmas card I began to search for his name on Google with various tags that might locate some information on him such as Mike Armstrong University of Rochester. Sure enough I learned the worst -Mike had passed away last July. Even worse, he died of Lou Gehrig’s disease, the dreaded ALS. A further search revealed that the ALS foundation has a forum used by victims of this horrible disease and that Mike had been a regular contributor for several months. Reading those entries on the ALS forum I could hear his voice clearly speaking to me of the experience he was going through. I only wish I could have been there to help. It makes me regretful that sometimes we let relationships die when they need nurturing. 

His obituary reveals the life of a unique and very talented individual:

Michael Frederick Armstrong

Michael Frederick Armstrong passed away on July 20, 2020, in Hansville, Washington, after waging a courageous battle against ALS with humor and strength.

Michael was born on March 6, 1941 to Frank and Virginia (Hawkins) Armstrong. He received his Electrical Engineering degree from the University of Rochester in 1963 and worked for the University of Rochester Computing Center for fifteen years. In 1973 he met Bettie Francis scuba diving in the waters off Grand Cayman Island and they married in 1981.

Michael loved problem-solving, learning, teaching, mentoring and all things computers and airplanes. He built his own crystal radio and received his Ham Radio license, call sign K2RDB, at the age of thirteen. Michael was vice president of Information System for Ryder Corporation in the 1980s and some of his most cherished memories were as SHARE president from 1986-1988. Michael was also a pilot, a licensed aviation mechanic and a Quiet Birdmen member. He volunteered at the annual Sun N Fun Fly-In in Florida and assisted with rewiring WWII airplanes at Fantasy of Flight. There wasn't a tool, manual or book he didn't like, and he secretly wanted his own hardware store (so he could play with even more tools). He relished receiving calls from friends with challenges, so he could show his problem-solving skills. His college years were so important and transforming for him that he created an Endowed Fund at the University of Rochester to provide educational opportunities for future students. No one was ever a stranger in Michael's eyes. He loved life, music, laughing, and appreciated his incredible klatch of family and friends. His beard could never hide his big grin and Mikey's twinkly blue eyes always made you smile.

Michael is preceded in death by his father and mother. He is survived by his wife and soulmate, Bettie, his sister, Patty and all of his loving extended family members. His ashes will be interred at Hansville Cemetery, Hansville, Washington and the Armstrong & Hawkins Family Plot, Corinth Rural Cemetery, Corinth, NY.

A memorial service date is pending until sometime next year. If anyone wishes to honor Michael, donations may be made in his name to the ALS Association Evergreen Chapter at webwa.alsa.org.

Mike, I will always miss your company and know that you are loved and missed. All honor to your name. ΣΧ