Mark and Marlene Markowicz - Creating Memories

When you get married in your early 20s, reciting the vows “in sickness and in health” doesn’t mean a whole lot. You spend your days working, raising your two sons, and going to the lake, and life just sails on. So it was for Mark and Marlene Markowicz, until the day Marlene said she really wasn’t feeling very well at all.

It was a November day, in 2012, when Marlene told her husband that she felt sick, like she was having a heart attack. She thought that if she still felt that way the next day, she would go to the doctor. No, Mark told her, you’re going to the doctor right now.

Marlene Markowicz

“There’s a space between your lung and rib cage called the pleura,” Mark said. “Marlene had two liters of fluid that had to be drained.”

That’s a lot of fluid, but when you’re just two people who haven’t had any noticeable health problems, you’re not necessarily aware that it might have significance. Marlene was sent home with the advice to go to the nearest hospital if she began feeling poorly again. So she and Mark went to Table Rock Lake as planned. “Marlene didn’t say anything,” Mark said, “but I could see she was having trouble. So we came back and went to the hospital.”

Tests showed that there was more fluid buildup that would need to be removed. While they were at the hospital, Mark said, the lung doctor who had seen Marlene a few days prior was doing her rounds. “When she saw us,” he said, “she came in and said, ‘I have some bad news.’” The doctor had ordered an analysis of the first fluid that was removed. “‘She said, “There are some cancer cells in the fluid. You need to see an oncologist.’”

Before then, they had supposed Marlene had a cold or some simple virus. They were surprised to hear the word ‘cancer.’ A visit to the oncologist brought even more shocking news. “They concluded that she was in Stage IV lung cancer,” Mark said.

Stage IV is a devastating diagnosis. According to the Mayo Clinic, such a diagnosis means that cancer has spread beyond the affected lung to the other lung or to distant areas of the body. “The doctor said ‘I cannot tell you what will happen to you,’” Mark said, “but statistically speaking, someone with that diagnosis, those symptoms, means 12 months.”

Marlene immediately started on a chemotherapy plan, Mark said. But after several months, tests showed the treatment wasn’t working, so she started on a different drug. Eventually, that drug stopped the growth of the cancer.

In May, 2013, Mark and Marlene took a trip to Florida, Louisiana and Texas to visit family and friends. “Her attitude was great,” Mark said. “She was getting her hair back. She was more motivated. She went 15 to 16 months with no symptoms.”

But in September, 2014, the cancer was growing again, so Marlene had to begin another round of chemotherapy. “Three or four days after the treatment,” Mark said, “she was physically sick. The toll it took, she could barely get out of bed.”

(from left) Jason, Mark, Marlene and Eric Markowicz

Marlene was scheduled to take a total of six treatments, one every three weeks. During this time, Mark tried to keep her comfortable, but mostly he watched her suffer. “I finally said, Marlene, in a 30-day period, you’re sick 25 days. Is that worth it?” But Marlene had a goal to stay alive: both their sons were planning their weddings. She was also taking care of her mother, who was in a nursing home.

Their youngest son, Eric, and his fiancée, Erin, were getting married in December, 2014. With the doctor’s consent, Marlene held off taking that month’s treatment until the day before the wedding so that she would feel okay. The wedding was at Pilgrim Chapel in Kansas City, and Marlene held her own. But a week later, Marlene, who had been mobile, couldn’t walk. With no warning or explanation, her legs quit working. “We didn’t have equipment or guidance to know what to do,” Mark said. “We got a walker, we eventually figured it all out. But obviously, this was not good at all.”

After running tests, the doctors couldn’t find a reason for her sudden lack of mobility. Finally, Mark took her to the hospital on December 29. Unfortunately, there was a flu epidemic at that time, and Marlene sort of fell through the cracks while the harried emergency room staff attended to all the sick people. So they went back home, only to return on January 2. By then, the flu epidemic had somewhat subsided, and finally Marlene got to see a neurologist who performed a spinal tap.

The news wasn’t good. “We got the results on January 6,” Mark said. “The cancer had moved into her spine and was working on the nerves. That’s why she couldn’t walk.” Marlene went under hospice care the next day, since the prognosis was about a month to live.

Their oldest son, Jason, knew he wanted to get married while his mother was alive. “You know how long it takes to plan weddings,” Mark said. “Eric and Erin got this planned in 24 hours.” Since Mark and Marlene were Holy Cross mission partners, they called the church and Pastor Mike Peck agreed to officiate. Erin and Kimberli, Jason’s fiancée, got Marlene all dressed up, and did her hair and makeup. Marlene’s best friend from high school, Jana, flew in unannounced and was able to join them. “The ceremony was in the living room,” Mark said. “The procession was coming down the stairs.” They even had a catered meal. “I could tell Marlene was a little emotional about it,” Mark said.

(From left:) Kim, Jason, Marlene and Rini

During the next weeks, Kansas City Hospice helped a lot. “They were honest with any question I had,” Mark said. “They didn’t pull any punches. When I asked, they said you have about two weeks.” 

Mark said he wrote down the goals and observations for each day – pain, medication, food, whether the nurse was coming, when to change the sheets. “You kind of enter a zone where you almost go into slow motion,” he said, “at least that’s what I did. I was able to process it a little more calmly. What do I need to do? Who do I reach out to? Who do I call?” He was thankful that Pastor Jon Wolf had come by earlier in January and mentioned something Mark hadn’t even thought about. “Jon was the one who said if you have some questions, need some guidance on the funeral service, we’re here,” Mark said. Receiving that advice allowed Mark to do something useful and for Marlene to participate.

Marlene lost her battle with cancer on February 2, 2015. Her memorial service was held at Holy Cross on February 7. Some of the people who came were ones who had been with them throughout these past two years, bringing medical supplies, meals, planting a garden, visiting, praying with them.

The girl Mark had met when he was just home from serving in Vietnam, who wore her hair a little ratted up, who was level-headed and fun, who had strong family roots, his wife of 43 years, now gone from his life. But not her memory. When Mark sees a red Chevrolet Cruze like the one she drove, he does a double take. And then there’s Marlene’s gift to Mark, a little dog named Norie.

“One of the good things Marlene did, when she was feeling well, was to say we have to go get a rescue dog,” Mark said. “She knew I was going to be by myself around the house.” Marlene found a dog on the Internet through LL Dog Rescue, a Yorkshire Terrier mix. They named the dog Norie, after Nori Aoki, the Kansas City Royals right-fielder at the time, who they liked because of his wild catches during the playoffs.

Norie

“She’s a cute little dog,” Mark said. “She bonded with Marlene, and would curl up with Marlene on the bed. Then when Marlene passed, she bonded with me. She’s been a great dog. Unconditional love. And when I see her, I think that’s the dog Marlene picked.”

Mark wanted to add an ending paragraph to this story. Here is what he has to say: “Before that, let me thank the pastors, staff and partners of Holy Cross for their help and attention. Thank you all. The initial prognosis was 12 months. Marlene made 28 months before she passed with 13 months being chemo free. She never lost hope. That is a blessing. During her time in home hospice I did pray that Jesus would relieve her pain and take her into His kingdom. She is in a better place. I miss her. I love her. My journey now is to do the right thing by God and friend so that one day I’ll see Marlene again.”

Larry Colburn - a passion for gymnastics

Gymnastics has been around for thousands of years, and has come a long way since being banned in 393 AD by Theodosius, a Roman Emperor, because it was believed to cause corruption. It is synonymous in the U.S. with names like Mary-Lou Retton, Nadia Comaneci, and Bart Conner.

In Johnson County, gymnastics got its start in 1969 at Shawnee Mission East High School as an

Larry Colburn spotting a gymnast

intramural sport, led by a coach who was a gymnast when he was in high school. His name – Larry Colburn. Larry has been referred to as the ‘Father of Gymnasts’ in Johnson County.  He led gymnastic demonstrations at places like Metcalf South Shopping Center to draw attention to the sport. Larry also started age group gymnastic classes through Johnson County Parks and Recreation, including the well-known Kansas Kips. “A kip is a quick movement in gymnastics,” Larry said. “Hank Stram’s wife came up with the name.”

Larry credits his own gymnastics teacher, L.R. “Dad” Perry with setting him on a path that has brought him multiple awards. Under Perry's tutelage, Larry was a gymnast and pole vaulter at Lawrence (KS) High School. At KU, Larry was a gymnast and Yell leader, and one year was the Jayhawk mascot during football season.

He had already met his future wife, who lived a couple of blocks away from him growing up. “She was two years younger than me,” Larry said of the girl named Gini. “I knew who she was. She knew who I was.” They began dating the summer after Larry had graduated, when Larry needed a date for a movie. “She was the first one I thought of,” Larry said, “and I called her. On our second date, we played tennis. She wore a pink outfit she had made.”

They dated throughout college, while Larry earned degrees in physical education and biology and a master’s degree in secondary school administration, and Gini earned a teaching degree in English. Larry had started out wanting to be an architect, but said he discovered that “I have some artistic talent but not any creativity.” His dad had been a teacher in a one-room schoolhouse, so teaching was something Larry understood and he switched majors. Larry and Gini married in 1967 and moved to Elkhart, Indiana, where Larry was hired to teach physical education and coach gymnasts and pole vault.

A couple of years later, they returned to Johnson County. Larry got a job teaching physical education and coaching track at Shawnee Mission East. Gini taught English at the newly opened Shawnee Mission Northwest High School, making her one of the teachers hired for the first year the school was open.

Larry Colburn, back row, far right,
2nd year of coaching in Elkhart, Indiana

When Larry started an intramural gymnastics class, he said that 40 kids were coming regularly. That’s what caught the attention of the athletic director, a man Larry knew well, and is why gymnastics was added to the curriculum as a regular sport.

During this time, Larry coached boys’ gymnastics. His teams placed five times in the top five, and were Kansas State Champions in 1978. Twelve of those males were chosen as high school gymnastics All-Americans, and three were state champions.

'72-'73 Third in State

While he was in high school, Larry twisted his knee, tearing cartilage. He started running cross country to build up his knee, but it continued to bother him. As a gymnastics coach, he eventually tore muscles in his shoulders from spotting and lifting so many kids. He decided it was time to take a break, in part so he could heal, in part so he could make a better living, but mostly because he had two children of his own. “I realized I was spending more time with everyone else’s kids than I did with my own,” Larry said. So in 1979 he took a desk job at Hallmark, in the scheduling department.

To go from a career where you’re physically active most of the time to a desk job is quite a shock to the system, as Larry discovered. But it allowed him time to coach his kids’ sports, to join the family for dinners, and for his body to begin healing.  Eventually Larry changed jobs again, taking a position in 1985 in sales for Uarco Business Forms, where he won the company’s Quinnquillian Award for five consecutive years of quota sales.

Kyle Englekren

But coaching was calling Larry back. It was 1995, and Larry took stock of his life. His kids were grown, college was paid for. “And I thought, why am I doing this?” Larry said. “I want to go back and do what I have a passion for.”

In the fall of 1995, Larry returned to coaching, first at Shawnee Mission North, next at Shawnee Mission Northwest. He transferred back to Shawnee Mission East in 1998. He coached both boys and girls pole vaulting, and his athletes placed 10 times in the top five at the State meet, including two state champions. Erin Wesley vaulted 12 feet, setting the State 6A mark, and Kyle Englekren cleared 15 feet.

Larry Colburn, second row, far left
with girls team 6th in State

Since boys gymnastics had been dropped as a sport in Kansas, Larry became the coach for girls gymnastics. His teams placed fifth, fourth, and third two times, then placed second in the 2006-2007 season. Eight girls were chosen high school gymnastics All Americans, and two were state champions.

Larry himself was twice selected for the L.R. “Dad” Perry Award for contribution to the sport of gymnastics by the Kansas Gymnastics Association. “To receive such an award was really meaningful for me,” Larry said. “He was my mentor.” Larry was selected KGA Gymnastics Coach of the Year in 1972, 1979, 2001 and 2006. The Kansas Coaches Association named Larry Coach of the Year in Kansas in 2001 and 2006. The 2006 award was also recognized by the National Coaches Association.

Larry is quick to credit his wife’s support in helping him excel, as well as the athletes he coached. “I feel a little funny about this,” Larry said about sharing his story, “as any success I have achieved is because I was blessed to have a number of talented athletes to work with. And, I need to add, a ‘coaches’ wife’ that was very understanding.”

Colburn family photo
Larry & Gini Colburn, back row, left

But all the physical exertion involved in coaching was taking its toll. “My body was just giving out,” Larry said. “I was no longer effective as a spotter.” In addition, Larry had broken his ankle in 1995 when he jumped off a wall while painting a neighbor’s house and landed wrong.

His ankle hadn’t healed correctly, and the added pressure of coaching continued to weaken it over the next years. “I was in constant pain,” Larry said, “and it was changing my personality. I was becoming curt.”

Larry finally retired in the spring of 2007, but continued coaching pole vaulting.  His ankle still gave him trouble, so he eventually went to another doctor. “He said you shouldn’t be walking on this, let alone coaching on it,” Larry said. Part of the bone had died, and all the doctor could offer was to freeze his ankle in place. Then in 2009, a new procedure became available. It was designed by a Swedish Lutheran doctor and was called STAR, Scandinavian Total Ankle Replacement. It’s the only three-piece mobile bearing total ankle available in the United States. In 2011, there were only four doctors in this country that could perform the surgery, and one of them was an orthopedic surgeon in Kansas City. Larry had the surgery in 2011, and it was successful in restoring movement without pain.

Coach Colburn and Alex Erpelding

Larry coached pole vaulting through the end of the 2014 season, and has continued his interest in gymnastics as a judge in state competitions. Besides his coaching skills, Larry has shared his tenor singing voice with a men’s quartet, the church choir, and the Heart of America Chorus. “I sang at a lot of weddings and funerals as I grew up,” Larry said.

All the awards that Larry and his athletes have received are testament to his coaching ability. So too are the Christmas cards and letters Larry receives from former athletes. Looking back, Larry said, “I wish I would have been a better athlete myself. I always told my students that if they aspired to my level of accomplishment, we weren’t going to be very good.” 

Sherry Meyer - death in the middle of life

Death is a normal part of life, right? We all know that generally speaking, we get old and then we die. But sometimes death comes much sooner. It steals life away when a marriage is vibrant. It robs young children of a parent. It cheats friends and family of a beloved companion.

Jeff and Sherry Pearce July 4, 2007

Sherry Meyer, who is our Director of Resource Management and Development, can tell you about how death can come all too soon. She knows the story well. Life was totally normal in early 2007. She and her husband, Jeff Pearce, lived active, busy lives. They were parents of two children, Alexis, 8, and Zachary, 4. Sherry and Jeff would celebrate their 12^th wedding anniversary in July. There was no question, in early 2007, that birthdays and anniversaries would continue to occur.

Sherry and Jeff met in 1993 through mutual friends. She was almost 27; he was almost 30. They started dating, and eventually married in 1995. Jeff had always been athletic, and had played a variety of sports when he was young. That year, in 2007, he started having unexplained headaches. No big deal really. But eventually the headaches bothered him enough that he went to a neurologist, who prescribed a stronger pain medication to help.

That spring, Jeff was playing a basketball game with friends, when he collided with someone and went down. He landed a little funny, Sherry said, and started limping. Again, no big deal. But the limping continued longer than it should have, so he went to a doctor, got X-rays which showed nothing, and started physical therapy. “It was kind of helping,” Sherry said. “But then, he was going for a bike ride and couldn’t get his leg up over the bike bar. That was kind of strange.”

Soon, Jeff’s foot started dropping as he walked. That, combined with the weakness in his leg, pointed to the possibility of nerve damage. So Jeff visited a neurosurgeon, and had a series of MRIs, all of which showed nothing unusual going on. The neurosurgeon performed a minor procedure on Jeff’s leg to see if there was something pressing on the nerves, but again, all looked fine.

Jeff with children Zachary and Alexis

By this time, Jeff was wearing a foot brace to help him walk better. “But it was becoming very noticeable that something was wrong,” Sherry said. “His balance was off.” Sherry said that one doctor had mentioned MS (multiple sclerosis) but said that probably wasn’t what it was. Other than that, they hadn’t considered that Jeff had anything other than some type of nerve damage that just wasn’t showing up on tests.

“In the beginning of November, at the follow up appointment with the neurosurgeon, he noticed there were muscles twitching in Jeff’s arm and he suggested we make a follow up appointment with Jeff’s neurologist,” Sherry said.  “At this point, I decided to go to the doctor with him. I wanted to know what was going on.”

They went to the appointment with the neurologist who had helped Jeff with the headaches. This was the first time they heard words that they weren’t familiar with, but that would ultimately change their lives. “She (the doctor) said I’d like to test for ALS first. I didn’t have a clue what that was,” Sherry said, meaning she knew nothing about the disease itself. “When we were leaving, Jeff turned to me and said, ‘Do you know what that is?’ I said yes, it’s Lou Gehrig’s Disease. Jeff said, ‘There’s no treatment. No cure.’”

The Pearce Family, about a week before diagnosis

Jeff was scheduled to return in a week. In the meantime, the neurologist warned them, don’t get on the Internet and start reading about ALS. “Of course, that’s the first thing I did,” Sherry said. “And we prayed don’t let it be anything like that.”

But sadly, ALS is the diagnosis Jeff received. “It was like a bomb,” Sherry said. “I felt like the world ended on that day. And it did, because nothing was ever the same.” This was in mid-November, 2007.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) is a progressive neurodegenerative disease that affects nerve cells in the brain and the spinal cord. The affected nerve cells are motor neurons, which send signals to muscles throughout the body, controlling voluntary movement and muscle power. Without these signals, the muscles atrophy and the body dies. There is no cure, and it’s a fatal disease.

When Jeff was diagnosed, Sherry said, she heard things she had never imagined for their life together. Walkers and wheelchairs, breathing tubes, feeding tubes. “They were just suffocating me,” she said. The information was meant to be helpful, and eventually it would be, but at that time, Sherry needed to shut down and try to process this.

Trying to be normal, after diagnosis

Anger was foremost. “People would say they were praying for us,” she said, “but I’m thinking, exactly what are these prayers doing, because he’s getting worse. His progression was so fast it was hard to keep up with.”

She and Jeff tried desperate measures – dietary, detoxing, supplements, sweating it out, even a hair analysis that could give them a reading on minerals that he might need. They read everything they could find about the disease. “I think when you have no hope, you’re willing to try anything,” Sherry said.

Jeff began walking with a cane in December that year, and by January he was using a walker. He continued to work, but his job involved a lot of travel, and he finally had to stop working in February. Jeff had also been involved at Holy Cross through Community Ministries, and gave a lot of time and effort to Metro Lutheran Ministries. He continued to serve as an usher on Sundays, even while using a cane. In March and April of 2008, Sherry noticed that Jeff’s voice was starting to go. “He was getting harder to understand,” she said. By June, he was using a wheelchair.

As Jeff’s health continued to deteriorate, Sherry’s concern was trying to keep up with her kids while protecting them from a reality too harsh for them to grasp. As their classmates starting asking them if their dad was going to die, they asked Sherry that question. “I couldn’t lie to them,” Sherry said. “So I said we don’t know. We’re doing everything we can.”

But there was no escaping seeing Jeff grow thinner, be unable to move or talk, be confined to sitting in a wheelchair day after day, be fed through a tube. Looking back, Sherry said it was pure torture for Jeff, because he was completely cognizant of what was happening. He even found a way to express to her that he didn’t expect to be alive through the holidays that year, almost as though it were his wish.

In early April, 2009, Jeff made the decision to stop eating. He took only a little bit of water, and was administered morphine to keep him as comfortable as possible. Jeff grew up Lutheran, and his faith allowed him to accept that he wasn’t going to beat this. During this time, Sherry’s prayer was that he would die while the children were out of the house, and in such a way that she could handle. “And that’s exactly how it happened,” she said. 

The morning of April 15, Sherry said, she looked at Jeff, and saw the changes in breathing, and knew this would be the day. Alexis and Zachary were at school. Sherry had been Jeff’s primary caregiver throughout the past year and a half, and had used hospice care only minimally along with a few hours a week of paid help. That morning, she called for a hospice nurse to come over, but learned no one would be available until later that day. “I thought, I probably don’t want to do this myself,” Sherry said, “so I called the church and talked to (Pastor) Mike, and he came over.” The two kept watch over Jeff as he breathed his last. Pastor Mike said he was there for about two hours, praying and talking with Sherry, checking on Jeff's breathing, and remaining with her until the funeral home came to pick up his body.

The sixth anniversary of Jeff’s death was this past week, April 15, 2015. It fell on a Wednesday, which is also the same day of the week that Jeff passed away. Coincidentally, that is the day Sherry sat down to share this story. As she recounted the above, she described how she can see God’s hand all through it. Her initial anger was replaced with gratitude, as people called, came to visit, sat with Jeff so she could take a break, helped with her kids, and brought meals. “I didn’t think anyone was helping,” Sherry said, “but when I look back, they were all doing stuff. Those meals were wonderful. It became an adventure for my kids – what are we having for dinner tonight?” She continued, “It was easy at first to say where was God. Jeff got cheated out of raising two kids. I got cheated and it’s not fair. But it was God who brought those people into our lives. We were surrounded by so many people that cared for me and the kids. He was always there, providing for us.”

The year following Jeff’s death was one of transition. There was the initial relief from the intense burden of caregiving that was forced upon Sherry, followed with deep grief and the sense of great loss. There was worry about the future and finances and trying to be a single parent to two active children. Jeff died about a week before his 46^th birthday. So on April 23, his birthday, daughter Alexis said, “Daddy won’t be able to celebrate here with us but he can celebrate in heaven.”

Eventually, Sherry realized that life continues and so she started to let herself be more open to getting back out in its midst. The way she had met Jeff through mutual friends would repeat itself again in her life, as a friend introduced her to a man named Allen Meyer. “He brought me back to life,” Sherry said of Allen. “He knew my situation. He was open and genuine from the very beginning.”

Sherry and Allen Meyer

Sherry and Jeff had a good marriage, so she was okay with the thought of another relationship. Allen and Sherry connected right away, and their friendship grew as they got to know each other. They married in May, 2011.

“I don’t think there’s a day that goes by that I don’t think of Jeff,” Sherry said. “It was a lot of transition. What would have been, what could have been. You can either wallow in that or move on. I had to grow and learn.”

Sherry is happily married to Allen, but that doesn’t diminish the grief that still overtakes her occasionally. But Allen has come to understand how to be her friend during those times. For example, on April 15 a week ago, as Sherry shared this story, she got a text from Allen, who was out of town, letting her know he realized this was a difficult day for her, and that he was thinking of her.

We Christians celebrated Easter a couple of weeks ago. Easter is God’s story of death and resurrection, and it is why we can have hope through tragedy. Sherry’s story illustrates that hope.

Dianne Ready - a tingling feeling that something was wrong

Most of you have probably had a tingling arm at some time – that sensation that a limb was asleep and is awakening. Or the residual feeling after hitting your funny bone. But when is a tingle more than just that?

For Dianne Ready, the day she distinctly remembers such a tingle starting was Thanksgiving, 1980. She and her family were at her grandparents’ home, in St. Paul, Minnesota. “The tingling went down my right arm, and my neck,” Dianne said. “It was not painful, but annoying. I thought it will go away, but it didn’t go away.”

Dianne Ready serving at
Blessings Abound thrift store

A normal assumption was that it might be a pinched nerve, though generally there is pain with a pinched nerve. Dianne made a doctor’s appointment to get it checked out. The doctor sent her to the hospital to run some tests, including a spinal tap. The diagnosis was inconclusive. “I can tell you a hundred things you don’t have, but not what you have,” is what Dianne remembers the doctor saying. “It was disconcerting,” she said, “because I just wanted to know what it was.” Dianne was 32 at that time.

It would be another six years before that question would be answered, in large part because Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) had finally become widely available and reliable.

Through the next years, Dianne continued in her job with human resources for a firm that specialized in animal health care products, but most of her job involved typing. As the tingling went all the way to her fingertips, typing because increasingly difficult. Then colleagues started making comments that got her attention, such as, “What did you do to your leg? You’re limping.” Dianne hadn’t even been aware she was limping. As with her arm, the symptoms affected her right leg and foot.

By 1986, the symptoms had increased enough that Dianne knew something was wrong, and made another doctor’s appointment. This time, with the use of MRI, lesions were noted on her brain.

She and her husband, Dick, were asked to meet with the doctor once the test results were in. Dianne had met Dick when she was 18 and working at the Jones Store Co. in Prairie Village. “I worked in the sportswear department, and he came in looking for a gift for his girlfriend in Ohio, a sweater or a blouse,” Dianne said. “Everything I showed him, he said, ‘I don’t want to spend that much money.’” From that comment, Dianne inferred that Dick and his girlfriend must not have a good relationship. Sure enough, after that meeting, Dick, who also worked at the store, started stopping by the sportswear department just to say hi. Dianne and Dick were soon dating, and married in 1968.

Dianne and Dick Ready

At the doctor’s office, Dianne and Dick received news that would send their world spinning. The diagnosis was Multiple Sclerosis. “It was a real shock,” Dianne said. “I didn’t even know what questions to ask. I said, if there’s a cure do you keep me on a mailing list or what? And the doctor said that a cure isn’t likely.”

Dianne said that particular doctor’s bedside manner was poor. He didn’t offer any suggestions, a word of hope, or even much basic information. But the next day, as Dianne was trying to process what this all meant, her husband paid a visit to an organization that could help. “Dick had gone to the MS Society and gotten a lot of info,” she said. “I hadn’t thought of that. He even had a brochure on newly diagnosed people.”

The information contained details of a support group, so Dianne decided to try it. But what she found, she said, was that the people in the group were all at different stages than she was, more severe stages, so she didn’t return.

Multiple Sclerosis is an immune-mediated disease, where the immune system eats away at the protective covering, called myelin, of the nerves. The damaged myelin forms scar tissue, called sclerosis.

Dianne’s diagnosis was Primary-Progressive MS, which affects about 10 percent of people diagnosed with MS. The disease steadily worsens from the onset, though the rate of progress varies among individuals. PPMS involves less inflammation than the other three courses of MS, so there remains some controversy regarding whether any type of medication is useful. There is no cause or cure as yet identified, though it is thought to be triggered in a genetically susceptible person by one or more environmental factors. PPMS tends to affect the ability to walk more than the other three courses of MS.

For Dianne, who has lived with the disease almost 35 years, the progression has given her a variety of challenges. Her right hand is stiff and curled into a fist. She can use force to unbend her fingers, but they won’t then stay in that position. She uses a cane but walks with a slow gait. “I fought using a transport chair, a chair with wheels that someone pushes, for a long time,” she said. “I don’t know if it was vanity, or if I didn’t want to admit that I needed it.” But she has come to appreciate how helpful it is for navigating longer distances, such as when in a shopping mall or an airport. Dick is normally her navigator, but many others have helped.

One Sunday at worship, Dianne received an epiphany of sorts that would allow her to make a decision that she had been wanting to make for quite a while, and that was to leave her job. “The gospel was Matthew 6:25-34,” Dianne said, referring to a text that says we need not worry about tomorrow. “As I listened, I got all teary-eyed,” she said, “and I knew that God was speaking to me and would take care of me. And I said that’s it, I’m done. I informed my supervisor of the decision to go on long-term disability the next day.”

Dianne Ready (far right) with three others
from Holy Cross serving at Grand Avenue Temple

Though retired, Dianne doesn’t spend much time sitting idly. When she and Dick came to Holy Cross 10 years ago, she became involved in Community Ministries. “I was made aware of all the opportunities to help,” Dianne said. “There was so much to do. I was excited.”

Dianne especially enjoys serving monthly at a breakfast for clients of Metro Lutheran Ministries, where she greets and hands out silverware and plates. “I love the interaction with people,” she said, “their appreciation for what we do. Many say God bless you as they go through the line.”

She helps weekly at Blessings Abound thrift store, pricing donated items. At Holy Cross, she serves as a greeter at the welcome center. Dianne also is the intake coordinator for HopeBUILDERS, entering information in the database for clients who need help with such things as minor home repairs and wheelchair ramps. After she had mentioned to a few Holy Cross mission partners who are active with HopeBUILDERS that it would be nice to have easier access to the west wing of the building, a ramp appeared the next week.

Dianne also has mentored others diagnosed with MS. “I just want to let them know there’s hope,” she said, “to support them and tell them what my journey is like, that they’re not alone.”

She has not had to walk this path alone either. She and Dick have an adult son and daughter, and three grandchildren. But it is Dick who has been her rock. “God gave me an incredible and loving caregiver,” Dianne said, “who makes certain my life is easier and less stressful.”

Dianne also is thankful for family and friends who offer concern and support. “People in general are so kind, so considerate,” she said. “I’m truly blessed.”

Craig Gerwick - professional chef and caterer

When you’re a 12-year-old boy whose parents work full-time, and you come home hungry after a sports regimen, raiding the fridge is to be expected. Craig Gerwick took that scenario a bit further though.

“I was on the swim team, and I ‘d be starving,” Craig said. “So I started cooking out of necessity.” Eventually, that experience led to a career as a professional chef.

Craig Gerwick at a banquet

As a youth, Craig learned how to read recipes and experiment with spices. “Curry, fennel, anise seed, caraway, they all have their own taste,” he said. He also learned that adding just a little more cayenne wasn’t always a good idea. Under the tutelage of his mom, Clara Gerwick, Craig’s knowledge of cooking continued to grow and improve.

He got a job at what was then Nall Hills Country Club as a dishwasher when he was 12, and a couple of years later became a waiter. At age 15, he was working two jobs, cooking at both the country club and a nursing home. Though he was still a student at Shawnee Mission South High School, Craig got out at noon on a work release, enabling him to work both places.

After high school, Craig attended the new hospitality management program at Johnson County Community College. While there, he learned a good deal more about cooking, as well as gaining the valuable experience of how to manage a staff and run a kitchen.

One of Craig's appetizers

He completed that program, and then elected to be trained at the California Culinary Academy in San Francisco. “It was hands-on cooking the day I got there,” Craig said. He learned how to be a Garde Manger chef, which is considered by many to be the most demanding station/job in any kitchen. It involves learning how to season both hot and cold food, being aware of sanitation, plate presentation, buffet decorating, becoming skilled in ice carvings, and basically how to put different kinds of food together in the tastiest and freshest ways.

The training also included working a cruise line for three months at a time. “You work 10 hours a day, cooking for 2,000 every shift,” Craig said. “I was only off ship for two hours a day.” Craig said that getting used to the movement of a ship took some practice, and that the first storm was especially challenging. He described a time when he was carrying a pot of stock and vegetables that weighed 50 to 60 pounds, when a swell came, causing him to lose his footing. The pot landed squarely on his chest, a painful experience, but thankfully not as bad as it could have been if the stock had been heated.

Craig Gerwick busy cooking

Craig said that in his class of 150, only 18 graduated. “You know the show ‘Hell’s Kitchen?’ ” Craig said. “Multiply Gordon Ramsey by eight chefs doing that all day. They try to belittle you but at the same time teach you.” It took quite a bit of stamina to put up with that day after day.

After Craig graduated from the culinary institute, he found it necessary to get what he called a “working chef license” from the American Culinary Federation. Finally, he was ready for a career. He worked four years for a hotel chain, 16-hour days, managing a staff of 12, cooking for as many as 5,000 people for conventions, receptions and the like.  He followed this with a five-year stint at an upscale senior living facility that was then at 119^th and Lamar in Overland Park. “They were looking for good quality food,” Craig said, rather than the bland stuff you might imagine. Next, he consulted with his family’s health care organization, C&L Gerwick Associates, helping with menus, purchasing and more.

It was during this time that he met his wife, Brenda. “She was selling quality pork,” Craig said, which meant he saw her regularly because their jobs intersected. Since Brenda lived in Des Moines, Iowa, they dated long distance for a couple of years before marrying in 1999.

Brenda Gerwick

In 2008, Craig started a catering company with a partner, but bought him out a couple of years later. The name of his company is Culinary Crossroads, www.culinarycrossroads.co/. It provides appetizers, salads, breakfast and dinner buffets, boxed lunches and desserts. Perhaps you’ve had some of Craig’s chicken tortilla soup, or potato soup, or beef vegetable soup at a Holy Cross Lenten supper.

Craig was also familiar with barbecued and smoked meats, having competed in the Great Lenexa BBQ Battle from 1990 to 2005. Eventually, he branched out with his own company, Orchard Pit BBQ, which offers a variety of smoked meats and gift boxes.

Orchard Pit BBQ meat presentation

The best praise Craig receives is the raves from satisfied customers. “I like to see people going wild,” he said. “I did a wedding for 262 people. The food is always fresh. There’s always plenty of food. The vegetables are green and vibrant; the brisket is tender, smoked.”

Looking ahead, Craig hopes to expand from operating on-line into opening his own storefront catering company and butcher shop. He envisions a place where people could come in and buy meat, and he could offer recipes and tips on how best to serve it.

Craig Gerwick

He has some advice for anyone seeking to follow the same path. “I wish I would have started it earlier,” Craig said, “because it takes a toll on knees and wrists.” He also says that you should never walk around with a knife in your hand, but if you do, make sure it’s sharp, because a cut from a dull knife takes a lot longer to heal.

Melissa Marienau - coaching good health

Melissa Marienau started on a path that would lead to a career in dancing. But the reality of what that sort of life was like changed her mind quickly.

“I grew up dancing,” Melissa said. “I was dancing 37 hours a week by age 17.” She wasn't the product of a stage mother or anything like that. She was simply driven by her love of dancing. Jazz, tap, ballet – she loved it all.

Melissa Marienau

After high school, Melissa moved to Los Angeles. Her goal was to be part of the dance world. She traveled weekends for dance conventions, teaching and demonstrating a variety of dance styles. But within a year, she was questioning her decision.

“The dance industry just didn't feel right,” Melissa said. “It was a gut feeling. I was thinking, do I want to be with this group of people for my whole life? Choreographers don’t really get married and have kids. And I didn't want my entire life to be about one thing.”

Melissa made the decision to move to Lawrence and attend the University of Kansas. When she arrived, she said, she had no idea what she wanted to do with herself. She talked with a counselor, who steered her toward journalism, and she started finding a focus.

She was still sports minded. Besides dancing since she was a toddler, Melissa had run track in high school, and swam a lot in her youth. But she didn't necessarily understand how to take care of her body, how to eat properly, how to have a well-rounded physical routine.

Logan & Melissa Marienau

Right after her freshman year, Melissa decided to work as a lifeguard. At her first internal employee meeting, she met Logan Marienau. “He’s the one who kind of introduced me to lifting weights,” she said. “He got me back into running. He taught me how to be more healthy. I started strength training more, running more, swimming more, living a healthy life style.”

Melissa graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in Strategic Communications, a field that taught her about technology, how to keep up with the changing future, and social media. She and Logan dated four years before getting married in 2012. After moving to Kansas City, Melissa started coaching at the Jewish Community Center. In one of the JCC flyers, she saw information about triathlons, and signed up for the class.

“I was the joke of the class,” she said. “I had this old bike, handed down from my brother. I didn't know what a wind trainer was.” Fortunately, her mother-in-law, who was a triathlete, drove up from Lawrence to give Melissa her wind trainer. The class lasted for 10 or 12 weeks, Melissa said. She spent hours bike riding indoors with the wind trainer, and alternated that with swimming and running.

Melissa - competing in the
Meshugge New Year's Challenge

It was through triathlons, Melissa said, that she realized many athletes had no body awareness, didn't take time to stretch, and were unable to know what their body was feeling. So she decided to use her dance background, as well as what she had learned in college about communicating and technology, and put it to use.

“I took my whole background and turned it into a way to help athletes,” she said. Melissa spent several months searching for companies that could help her find a way to do that, then went through an eight-month process to become certified as a Yoga Sports Coach. She works part time with a travel agency, but spends most of her time building up her new business, MVMNT for Athletes, LLC.

Though she and Logan lived nearby, they had never visited Holy Cross Lutheran Church. She had grown up in a non-denominational Bible church, and Logan was more of a traditional Lutheran. Or as Melissa explained it, “He went to church where they had all these specific lines you have to say.” (In the traditional Lutheran church, we call that liturgy.)

So the couple visited about 10 different churches, but nothing seemed to fit. Melissa continued to research congregations, then said, “Hey Logan, there’s a church right down the street!” Melissa said that they attended the 10:30 a.m. contemporary worship and praise service, in the fall of 2012, and said, “This is it! No way we’re looking for another.”

Since then they've been finding their place in this faith community. She and Logan helped with the snacks for the Blessing of the Bikes, and Melissa accepted Cathy Martin’s invitation to help with altar ministry. “I said I have no clue what that is, but sure, I’ll do it,” Melissa said.

Melissa competing in
Silverback Lawrence Triathlon

She also learned about Pastor Mike’s love for marathons through following him on Twitter, so it was a natural connection to want to be part of a training group for runners and walkers that Pastor Mike wanted to start.

The group’s purpose is two-fold. “Running is a great way to create community,” Pastor Mike said. In a recent blog post, he cited how runners, whether they realize it, support a lot of charitable organizations through the sport. The training group is a springboard as such for those who might want to participate in the May 17, 2015 Triple Crown Showdown, a benefit for the Myasthenia Gravis Association. The run was started by Holy Cross Mission Partner Allison Foss, who has battled the disease her whole life. Her story can be found in an earlier blog by following this link: http://sherriarmel.blogspot.com/2013/08/allison-foss-living-with-chronic-disease.html

Melissa is a coach for the new Holy Cross training group, which for now meets at 11:30 a.m. Sunday mornings through early May. It’s a win-win situation for Melissa. “Once you get there,” she said, referring to what she has learned through a fit lifestyle, “you feel so healthy, and you want to help others feel healthy.”

Curt Johnson - a vision for technology

On January 14, 2015, Cedar Falls, Iowa was the backdrop for a speech by President Barack Obama about the importance of broadband service being made available in ways that give consumers choices that bring faster and cheaper Internet, and smaller companies the opportunity to compete with the larger gatekeepers of Internet access.

Cedar Falls was chosen because the town of 39,000 was one of the first in the country to introduce its own fiber optic network. Curt Johnson, manager of engineering for Cedar Falls Utilities (CFU) at that time, was instrumental in bringing that about. He was already on the cutting edge, being the first person at CFU, in 1981, to have a personal computer on his desk.

Curt Johnson

“In 1988,” Curt said, “we installed the first fiber cable. It was internal to our campus, between the office and the power plant. It gave us a more reliable communication system. Because we tried the technology and it worked well, we were confident we could install city-wide access.”

Approval for the city-wide project was granted in 1994, and the first service connected, for cable television, was on Feb. 29, 1996. “We got 75 percent of the market share in the first two years,” Curt said. “We offered 78 channels. Big cable companies were offering 35 to 50 channels. So basically, more for less money.”

A year later, in spring of 1997, CFU launched its first broadband Internet service. “We offered the first publicly available broadband Internet service in Iowa,” Curt said. “The technology was so new that we were the eighth largest broadband Internet service provider in the world in May 1998.”

That’s heady stuff. But consider where we were, technologically speaking, back then. Microsoft essentially had a monopoly on computer operating systems. You could sit at your computer for an hour waiting for a few pictures to download, and hope it didn’t freeze your computer in the meantime. When it came to search engines, most people had no idea what that even meant. If you needed to look up some facts, you might have used the digital version of Encyclopedia Britannica. Sometimes you could get a few music tunes using CD burners. Antennas on mobile phones shortened from five or six inches all the way to about one or two inches before finally disappearing completely. If you had a mobile phone, chances are you had a separate PDA device. And Web TV introduced a new connection between computers and televisions.

But Curt and CFU didn’t stop there. In 2000, CFU added digital television channels, and four years later added high definition television service.

Curt Johnson, bottom picture

Curt said he grew up interested in technology, and pursued a career in engineering. When he was a student at Iowa State University, he was the co-director of the praise band at University Lutheran Church. In early 1975, a girl named Elaine joined the choir. Soon, she was asked to help the praise band by playing piano. Curt said that a couple of weeks later, the two started dating. They celebrated their 38^th wedding anniversary this past December, and have two adult sons, Scott and Erik.

The Johnsons relocated to Overland Park in 2005. Presently, Curt is a business line director with a global engineering, consulting and construction company. Before that, he was a project manager. Elaine is a teacher.

Curt said he knew nothing of President Obama’s visit to Cedar Falls until the night before he was to speak, nowhere near time enough to be able to attend. “I wish I could have been there,” Curt said. “It made me proud that a system of which I managed the design and construction was being recognized 20 years later.”

In a Facebook post, Elaine Johnson noted that “Twenty years ago, bringing broadband to Cedar Falls (our home for 27 years) was Curt's baby--a monumental and ground-breaking project. How exciting to hear that CFU has continued the journey and is being recognized… Congratulations to Curt and CFU for pushing the envelope.”

The president noted that Cedar Falls was on a par with Tokyo, Hong Kong, Seoul, and Paris, each ranked with the highest capacity of 1000 mbps (megabits per second). The only other U.S. cities at that level are Kansas City, Kansas, Kansas City, Missouri, and Chattanooga, Tennessee.

Consider this. Using fiber optic compared to broadband Internet service can mean the difference of downloading an audiobook, movie, television show, music, etc. from minutes to seconds. That kind of speed allows businesses and individuals to accomplish much more than they had ever imagined. Curt said that technological advance, which started at 4 mbps, took over 16 years to get to the 1000 mbps it is now.  And it will only keep changing, and becoming faster.

Ken Stenzel - once a soldier with a famous friend

Four buddies had recently graduated from high school, and over beers one night were discussing their immediate futures. Since none of them really knew what they wanted to do with their lives, and they were all sick of school and not looking forward to college, they decided to volunteer for the draft.

Ken Stenzel in Germany 1958

That was in 1957, and one of those guys was Ken Stenzel. This, then, is the story of how Ken, a kid from the small town of WaKeeney, Kansas, went to Germany as a U.S. soldier, and ended up becoming friends with another soldier, a guy who would become so famous that the world still knows his name.

Ken was born into a German family that had settled in WaKeeney. “I couldn’t speak English until I started grade school,” Ken said. He was in the 4-H program, where he competed in square dance among other things. After high school, his girlfriend went off to college, so Ken became friends with her friend, a girl named Darlene, and soon they began dating. Darlene’s father was German, and while the families lived about 10 miles apart, and Darlene also was in the 4-H program, they didn’t know each other until after high school.

On Feb. 25, 1958, Ken left Darlene behind with the promise to write, and he and his buddies began basic training in Ft. Hood, Texas. “We learned how to march, shine boots, and things like that,” Ken said of those first eight weeks. The second eight weeks brought more intensive training, such as shooting guns. Ken was assigned to the Army Infantry.

Later that year, after boot camp and a short leave, Ken traveled to Savannah, Georgia, where he boarded a ship that would take him on an eight-day journey across the Atlantic Ocean to Germany. Ken said to imagine 50 men crammed together on a long narrow ship, sleeping in bunk beds that were stacked four rows high. Ken had the bottom bunk, not a great spot, he said, considering the water was choppy and some of the guys in the upper bunks had bouts of seasickness.

When they reached the port of Bremerhaven, they were ushered off the ship and straight into the field for training. Life in the Army had begun. 

Some time after that, Ken had a chance encounter with fame. He was in the latrine, he said, when he saw another soldier who he thought he recognized. “I’m Ken Stenzel,” he said to the soldier. The soldier replied, “I’m Elvis Presley.”

It was still early in Presley’s career, and though he was already an international star, he wasn’t really that big of a deal to someone like Ken, who only marginally knew of him. And when Ken wrote to Darlene that he had met Elvis, she wasn’t that impressed either. “I had a scrap of paper with his name on it, and I threw it away,” Darlene said. Nor did she keep the photos of Elvis that Ken had sent. At that time, her attention was really only for Ken.

After that first encounter, Ken said, he saw Elvis in the mess hall, the PX, and elsewhere. Elvis was just one of the soldiers, Ken said, and having beers with him wasn’t anything special. That changed when Ken told Elvis that he spoke German.

“He was dating a girl who was German,” Ken said, “and he asked me to go along with him and listen, and interpret what she was saying.” The girl did speak enough English to get by, but having an interpreter would greatly help with conversation. Ken said he and Elvis rode the train to Frankfurt, where the girl was living in housing Elvis provided. On subsequent visits, they rode in Elvis’s car.

Elvis Presley photo credit
itineraries.nbcnews.com

There wasn’t the onslaught of media like there is today, Ken said, but still, girls always seemed to know when Elvis was around. “It was fun to watch,” Ken said. “Elvis was the most down-to-earth person I could ever talk to. He never acted like he was better than you. And he was a Christian too.” Elvis often picked up the tab though, Ken said, when they had been out on the town.

Ken said that although Elvis never did any concerts for them, he did spend many an evening sitting in a chair in the barracks, singing a little as he strummed his guitar and wrote songs. Since Elvis was in the tank battalion, Ken said, their interaction was more of a social nature. Ken served as Elvis’s interpreter when necessary, and at one point, found himself riding in a car with Elvis and a certain young girl he had met named Priscilla.

Ken Stenzel in front of personnel carrier he drove

After 18 months, Ken returned to the states, and his friendship with Elvis was left behind. Through the years, as Elvis’s fame grew, Ken would see him on the television occasionally. But he became dismayed to see what had happened to the kind young man he had known. “I didn’t even want to watch him,” Ken said. “The media made him too big too fast. They should have just left him alone, let him do his music.”

Ken and Darlene married, and recently celebrated their 54^th wedding anniversary. They have a son and daughter, and six grandchildren. Ken owned and managed a hardware store, and later became an insurance agent. Then came the news on August 16, 1977, that Elvis had died. Ken said his secretary at the time, a huge Elvis fan, had to take several days off work to grieve. Ken grieved too, for the boy he once knew. “I was sad,” Ken said, “it was heartbreaking. I had known him pretty well. I still blame the media for what happened to him.” Ken had heard about the drug and alcohol abuse, but said that when he knew Elvis, all he had ever done was have a beer or two like the rest of them.

Ken & Darlene Stenzel circa 1970s

On a vacation one year, Ken and Darlene toured Graceland, Elvis’s estate. There, in the museum, Ken spotted a field jacket worn by Elvis. He turned to Darlene and told her he knew about that field jacket. “I was visiting Elvis in the barracks one night,” Ken said. “It started pouring down rain and I didn’t have my jacket, so Elvis gave me his field jacket to wear while I walked back.” Ken hung up the jacket to dry, and didn’t think about it again until he was getting ready to head back to the states. “I took the jacket back to him (Elvis),” Ken said, “and to say goodbye. If I’d have kept that jacket, I’d be a rich man today.”

Elvis would have been 80 on January 8 of this year had he lived. For some of the legions of Elvis fans even now, perhaps they will enjoy knowing that their idol was really a decent sort of guy at heart, who was once a friend to another soldier named Ken.