A life less ordinary

Retirement -- for some, the word evokes the long, cool greens of a golf course, perhaps a lounge chair on the beach, a gardening shed or a wood shop, a chance to finally find time for oneself.

Not, however, for Gordon Taylor. Retirement was the beginning of a journey, and not the end. A journey that included thousands of hours of tireless work and thousands of miles traveled. For the Alaska Red Cross and victims of disasters across the state, the country and around the world Taylor's retirement has been a blessing. For Taylor, retirement has meant finding time not for himself, but for others.

Taylor and his wife Carol had a different kind of journey in mind when he retired -- one spent traveling the country in an RV. They wandered all of North America for two years. In 1994, they found themselves in Arizona where the temperatures topped 100 degrees. A well-timed phone call to their daughter who was enjoying the cool breezes of an Alaskan summer convinced them. They drove back north and never looked back.

The Red Cross opens its arms

The Taylors found themselves happy at home, but at loose ends. "I had nothing to do, really," Taylor recalled. Their daughter Laura stepped in. She had a friend in Haines who was a Red Cross volunteer. She suggested that her parents volunteer for the branch in Anchorage. "So we did," Taylor said, "and they opened their arms to us." After taking "just about all of the disaster classes," Gordon and Carol were sent down to New Orleans to help victims of a tornado and flood. The experience renewed their commitment to helping others and changed their lives.

"We got to help people who could not help themselves," Taylor said.

They decided to set their sights on their own community and set up a Red Cross office in the Matanuska Valley. At first, they had no office and little recognition. They filled up their basement with all the Red Cross literature, and they went to see the fire chiefs and other emergency management.

"We let them know how to contact us if something came up," Taylor said.

The response was overwhelming.

"It was clear that someone in the Valley was needed to respond 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Too many house fires took place at 2 a.m.," he said. In 1997, an office was opened, complete with a hired manager.

A love affair with Alaska and with a particular Alaskan

It's not surprising, perhaps, that the Taylors could not stay away from Alaska and chose this state as the place to make their mark. Their love affair with the state and the people began in 1969 when he was sent to Fairbanks to set up an office and act as the sole Social Security representative to 57 Native villages covering 300,000 square miles.

"I traveled well over 100,000 miles in chartered planes, dog sleds, canoes, or whatever was pointed in the right direction," Gordon said. He loved the days of travel and adventure. "These were the days when the older Natives had good stories to tell. Not one had a television or a telephone. They loved to have visitors. And I would listen for hours on end," he said.

In return for their welcome, Taylor was glad to offer them the help they didn't always know to seek for themselves. "In some of the villages, for example, many of the men had done government or contract work during World War II. They were insured under Social Security but they didn't know it. Nobody had ever talked to them about it."

In 1971 Taylor was charged with setting up another Social Security office in Ketchikan. It was there that Taylor met Carol, who was then working at the city offices. They fell in love, were married and then, said Taylor, "I brought her to the real Alaska."

Disaster strikes close to home

Carol and Gordon worked side by side and together rose to one of their biggest challenges in 1996, when a local disaster hit. The Miller's Reach Fire in Big Lake claimed 350 homes and several larger buildings. Taylor remembers the call they received one night.

"'We're evacuating 2,000 people from Big Lake,' they said. 'Can you operate a shelter?'" Taylor recalled.

It had been two years since the Taylors had done any shelter work, but he said, "we didn't say 'No.'" They called in everyone they could to come and help and then began 10 "very long, hard-working days."

Despite the heavy losses in property (which fortunately included no human lives), something good did come of the crisis, according to Gordon. Disasters can be a catalyst for waves of new volunteers. "Victims come forward and say, 'We've seen what the Red Cross can do. Can we volunteer?'"

Taylor himself teaches almost all of the disaster classes in the Mat-Su offices and elsewhere. More 400 people in the Valley have taken classes. They may not all be active volunteers but Taylor knows that they are all ready in case of emergency.

Toothpaste and "tobakky" -- Providing comfort for everyone

Taylor said that he's happiest when his role is simply to listen to the victims of a disaster.

"Whether it's a big disaster or a little one, if I can sit across a table from an individual who is obviously suffering and help, that's when the work is best for me. I can say, 'Alright what do you need?'" Taylor said.

Surprisingly, he said, it's most often the small things that victims miss.

"People say, 'I had to put yesterday's underwear on the kids so they could go to school' or 'I don't have a toothbrush.'" Taylor said.

The Red Cross offers comfort kits that include a toothbrush, soap and a credit card for underwear and clothing. "It's not a lot," he said, "but it's amazing how little pleases people. It sets my heart on fire when I see what we can do with so little. And it sets people on their pathway to a new life."

One man down South, when asked what he most needed, said simply, "'Well, I lost all my tobakky,'" Taylor was able to find him that one small comfort. "Not that the Red Cross condones smoking," he said with a laugh.

Rewards that outweigh the awards

The Taylors have received many awards for their work including Volunteers of the Year for the chapter in 1995. In 1996, they were awarded Volunteers of the Year for the Pacific Region and were runners-up for the national award as well. Last year, Taylor received the Clara Barton Meritorious Volunteer Leadership award. But he doesn't like to discuss the awards of his work as much as the rewards.

"The feeling of being able to do something. To be able to put your arm around someone," he said.

In New Orleans, more than half of the 300 people he interviewed hugged him afterwards. "They appreciated what I did. The business that we're in touches their private lives."

It's a business he loves, clearly, or he wouldn't have traveled to 16 different disasters over the years: Puerto Rico, Florida, North Carolina, Louisiana, Oregon, and most memorably Guam when he found himself on an airplane heading South on Christmas Day. He didn't arrive until the day after Christmas since the trip took him across the International Dateline. He missed the traditional turkey dinner that year.

More recently, Gordon responded to what can only be described as a national disaster. "I was real proud because 12 people from the Valley went to New York to assist after September 11," he said.

And the tally? "I've been away from home on disasters for a total of 251 days -- not bad for 10 years," he said. Certainly not bad for the people he's helping. Unfortunately, Carol died in 1998. That made a void in Gordon's life, but it has not prevented him from adding to his more than 3100 volunteer hours.

Looking forward to the next chapter

"I've cut back on a lot of the work I've been doing because my teeth are getting worn down, and my hair is getting worn off, and my legs resist getting out of bed in the morning," he said with a chuckle.

Is a "real" retirement in his future? Not exactly.

"I'm going to write a book," he said. It will be based on the letters he wrote his parents while traveling throughout the Bush.

"The old stories of where the tribes came from and how they settled," he explained.

For Taylor, retirement isn't an option -- he's just embarking on a new journey.