Category / Health & Wellbeing
Thanking Heaven for Gordon and Ms. Bessie

The late, great Gordon Chance with his daughter-in-law Shannon Chance. (Photographed by Gordon’s son, Dave Chance, in 2008.)
Two people have been on my mind these past few days — Gordon Chance and Bessie Clark. They’ve both passed away but help keep the fire going in my heart.
Gordon was Dave’s dad, who we lost last May. He and Christina loved to visit Williamsburg, so I’ve included a photo of the two of us enjoying a sunny day in that colonial town during 2008. Gordon was skilled with his hands. He was the knowledgeable and hard-working father of seven kids and grandfather of five. I assure you: he is sorely missed.
Gordon’s passing was completely unexpected. He died of a heart attack at age 64. We had no opportunity to wrap things up or to say good-bye.
That is completely different from the case with the other person on my mind — our former next-door neighbor — Bessie Clark.
Ms. Bessie lived on the other side of us from Thom and Beth White. She passed away about five years ago, at the age of 88. For about two years, in around 2005 – 2006, I visited Bessie in her home every evening. Her kids appointed me to this job because they live far away (Maryland, DC, and California) and because Bessie wanted to stay in her own home but needed someone close by to keep an eye.
My visits with Ms. Bessie generally lasted 20-50 minutes. I enjoyed them because she told such fascinating stories. I learned about what it was like for a colored girl (Ms. Bessie’s preferred term) growing up in the American south in the aftermath of slavery.
Bessie was born in North Carolina. Remarkably for that day and time, her mother owned her own house and farm. Her mother sent both of her daughters to college — although Bessie stubbornly refused. After a week on campus, she boarded a bus back home. Bessie had no interest in studying more, even though she’d garnered A’s in school; what she came to love most in life was being a mom.
In the period I visited, Bessie was going though a very important phase of life. She was reminiscing and reviewing all that had happened. She was coming to terms with pent up frustrations and left over worries. She held nothing back. She told of days working retail and of dealing with a difficult husband who she (somehow) managed to love.
During my own life, I have spent a lot of time with older folks. Because I’d heard stories repeated over and over, I assumed I’d have the chance to hear her stories again. I fully intended to ask Ms. Bessie if I could make notes when repetition began.
But I heard her life tales only once. My “second chance” never came.
When Ms. Bessie had resolved everything to her satisfaction, her story telling stopped. She wanted just to sit and watch TV. When she started watching static, I had to say something. I called her kids to intervene.
It turned out that Ms. Bessie had developed a brain tumor. She had to be hospitalized, and she could no longer live on her own. She was unwilling to live that way and, with piece of mind and conviction that she was ready, she determined not to tell anyone when she contracted a bladder infection.
I wasn’t too surprised. She wins my superlative for “most stubborn.” She’d threaten as much in years prior. She just didn’t want to live away from her home.
Bessie’s children asked me to speak at her funeral. As an outsider to her community, I thought I’d feel out-of-place. But the congregation, which filled the sanctuary, welcomed me with open arms.
The thing that struck me most about the day was how incredibly appreciative the entire congregation was of teachers. They mentioned and praised teachers and the role of education throughout the funeral and the meal that followed it. Not only did I feel welcome, I also felt special and appreciated. I was able to share Bessie’s sentiments about the importance of various people who were assembled there to celebrate her life.
In my experience, small things can spark powerful memories. What brought these memories of Bessie rushing forth was a text that arrived from Dave in early December. Bessie’s son and daughter-in-law had sent us a Christmas card.
The envelope itself was endearing. They way they addressed it — to Dr. and Mr. David Chance — reflects many of their values. To them, education and formality are important.
My life is better for knowing them and for having spent those years learning from Ms. Bessie.
So today, I smile to the Heavens, thankful to have known these two fabulous people. And thankful for the legacy they left behind for their families, the world, and me.
And the Award for Most Ambitious goes to: Tony Brown!
My friend Tony Brown is always, always, always into something new.
He orders and reads dozens of books each month and he knows all the latest news. Every time I talk with him he’s discovered more about his favorite topics — and he has also almost always launched a major new initiative to boot.
This month’s initiative is a new online video library that gives (okay, sells) people access to 40 years worth of his TV shows. It should be up and running any time now.
To put it simply: Tony is a journalist, producer, and writer. He hosted PBS’s longest-running series, Tony Brown’s Journal. He even organized the first event where Dr. Martin Luther King delivered his famous I Have a Dream speech. That happened in Detroit.
Since I’ve been noting superlatives lately I have to say that, without doubt, Tony is the most ambitious and most entrepreneurial person I know. He’ll soon be turning 80, but he’s energetic, witty, and always on the go. He lives as if there’s not a moment left to spare.
And he questions everything.
I met Tony on graduation day the year he joined Hampton University’s faculty. He was the new Dean of the Scripps Howard School of Journalism and Communications. His keen sense of intellect had me hooked from the get-go and I made the effort to spend more time with him. It made good sense to me: he was a dean and I was studying higher education administration. I wanted to know what begin a dean was like. I learned about that and much more. I considered Tony a mentor then and I still do to this day.
Tony had been living in NYC since 1970 and hadn’t owned a car since then, so I offered him a ride home once a week or so. On the way, I’d hear his take on life and find out what new things he’d discovered about health and/or the history of world religions. We’d stop for groceries and I’d learn more about healthy eating.
A 1998 interview with Tony, printed in the Los Angeles Times under the title Vitamins Are TV Host’s Secret Weapon, provides a sense of our regular conversation. His knowledge of health has expanded since that article was written.
I don’t get to drive Tony any more. He bought his own fancy new wheels — a sports car even faster than mine. But I do remember with fondness driving Tony to the Department of Motor Vehicles to get him a learner’s permit for driving. He was miffed he’d had to study! After all, he knew how to drive….
Over the years, Tony has written many insightful books. My favorite of them is What Mama Taught Me: The Seven Core Values of Life. If you’re in the market for an interesting take on American history — an inspirational lift — I highly recommend this “self-help” book. After all, it’s written by someone who is undeniably healthy, wealthy, and wise.
Dissertation 101: Picking Top-Notch Advisors
You know those horror stories you hear about PhD students, endlessly stalled in their work? Although many are true, they don’t have to be! With careful consideration a little luck, it is possible to find excellent advisors who have the goal of helping you succeed.
When I was completing my dissertation, I was blessed to have two exceptional advisors, Dr. Pam Eddy and Dr. David Leslie, who were there to help me from start to finish. I also benefited from some sage advice from Drs. Michael DiPaola and Tom Ward.
All these people were instrumental in the timely completion of my dissertation. These folks wanted me to succeed. And, all these people knew how to let a self-starter like me start, and finish!
I often heard them say, “the best dissertation is a done dissertation” and “Keep It Simple (Stupid).” I think the KISS principle should apply to far more dissertation studies than it typically does.
My advisors knew that the main points of a dissertation at the PhD level are (1) for the candidate to demonstrate s/he is capable of producing quality, doctoral level research and (2) to contribute something new to the pool of human knowledge. It is not, necessarily, to write the most eloquent piece of prose known to mankind or to solve world hunger in one fell swoop.
Thankfully, my advisors didn’t micromanage my work or act as though the fate of the world hung on each word I composed.
But make no bones about it: quality counts.
I finished my dissertation swiftly, but I also produced a piece of work that won an Outstanding Dissertation Award from the International Society for Educational Planning (ISEP), got published in a top-tier journal, and was downloaded more than 800 times over the course of a few weeks from the Society of College and University Planners (SCUP) website.
Moreover, my advisors nominated me for my school’s Award of Excellence — which I was truly thrilled to receive. (Donors to W&M even provided a cash prize, and I used the award money to buy my graduation regalia. I’ll enjoy wearing that each year, with pride, at Hampton University’s commencement and gradation ceremonies.)
So my advice is: when you’re selecting your thesis/dissertation advisors, take care. Make sure to select accomplished people who are interested in and reasonably knowledgeable about your topic and who can keep things in good perspective.
Many candidates fall into traps I learned early on (I’ve completed two theses — one for my Bachelor of Architecture degree and one for my Masters of Architecture — as well as the doctoral dissertation). In the first of these experiences, I wasn’t careful enough about editing my advising team. There were too many “cooks in the kitchen,” so to speak. After five frustrating weeks trying to please four different advisors who had somewhat competing agendas, I took matters into my own hands. I learned to trust my own judgement and ask for targeted advice when and where I needed it. I finished that B.Arch. thesis on time, something rare in my architecture school back then. I took exactly the same amount of time, 8 months, to write my PhD dissertation. In both cases, I’d laid much of the groundwork (such as review of the literature) ahead of time, so as to start the race on solid footing.
For the past 14 years, I’ve advised students who are completing architectural theses themselves. I know I’ve inadvertently sent some of them scurrying in circles, but I’ve also tried hard not to be that type of advisor. I’ve learned a great deal over time, and I’ve developed skill in thesis advising. Today, I feel quite confident in my ability to support students in their thesis work. Many of my students have won awards and presented their thesis work in professional forums. And with Facebook, I get to watch them grown into skilled architects over time… what a joy!
I have this to say that students approaching their capstone projects: be on the alert for signs that the person you’re about to invite to your committee might fail to see what’s in your best interest. It seems to me that some dissertation/thesis advisors view each candidate’s work as an immediate reflection of themselves (in that realm, I’m sometimes at fault myself). Some advisors want every aspect of the work done the way they would do it themselves (and that’s not the case for me). I have seen instances where advisors haven’t been able to stretch their minds far enough to understand what the candidate is trying to achieve or how s/he is going about it, even though the approach appears valid to me. In some cases supervisors act as if the student’s dissertation/thesis is the single most important piece of research ever conducted. They go overboard belaboring every aspect. Although I know there are times when such tinkering is warranted, I have also seen some professors reject work and/or demand countless revisions regardless of the quality of work they have been presented for review. Yes, they want the work to be the best it can possibly be… but the work this student does later in life is likely to be far more important (as long as they can meet the required quality thresholds for their degree level).
So keep in mind: it’s crucial to find people who respect your abilities and want to share the joys as well as the pains of critical investigation with you. People who want to help you achieve and succeed. And people who won’t let their own egos drive your project.
Thank God I found those people! To this day, I maintain personal ties with Drs. Leslie and Eddy.
Dr. Eddy, for instance, helped me build connections in Ireland that helped me land my Fulbright. She’ll be visiting me in Dublin for a couple of weeks this spring and I can’t wait!
In the meantime, we recently enjoyed a little time together with our “Daves” over dinner in Williamsburg.
The Art of Traveling (with a Cat in Every Lap)
In anticipation of retirement, our friend John Baird has decided to learn the art of traveling. He’s starting small.
On Wednesday he called to say he’d be making the trip to our home in Portsmouth. It’s a 5.5-hour drive from Blacksburg (my hometown and the place he lives) to our home in the Tidewater region of Virginia. Dave, the cats, and I were all thrilled we’d get to see him!
John is Dave’s former boss and a groomsman in our 2001 wedding. We were very happy to hear he was on the way, because we haven’t yet found time to make a trip to Blacksburg.
In anticipation of his arrival, I pulled out our wedding album. While John was here we took a stroll down memory lane.

Our 2001 wedding ceremony at Hampton University Memorial Church with (left to right) Annie Nichols, Esther Sterchi, Katie Sullivan Booth, Heather Massie, Shannon Massie Chance, Fr. Slovik, my mom Dr. Rev. Cynthia Massie Mara, Dave Chance, Jay Gallagher, Michael, Chance, John Baird, and Rob Nichols.
Dave and I haven’t viewed it for a decade. When I received the proof prints the week after the weeding, I was disappointed with the quality of composition.
My mom, dad, and husband have all been professional photographers at some point in life. I myself served as photography editor for my high school yearbook. And so I resented the missing feet in our photos — and the fact that the photographer had chosen distracting backgrounds.
But what can you do at that point? So I doled out photos from one set of proofs (to Mom, Annie, etc.) and placed the second set on a shelf.
From this experience, I garnered some helpful advice for people who are booking wedding photographers: avoid bait-and-switch disappointment. Be sure to specify in your contract which person you expect to show up at with a camera on the wedding day. (Lucy/Matt and Dave/I each had the experience where we met with the owner of the photo business prior to our big day and liked her and her work. BUT on the day of our weddings, an untrained photographer’s-husband showed up on each scene with not much clue about how to use a camera. In both cases, the owner of our selected companies had booked multiple gigs. In reviewing our photos last night, Dave and I agreed we’d made out far better than Matt and Lucy. Our husband-photographer wasn’t great, but also wasn’t anywhere near as bad as theirs. Perhaps a little editing can alleviate my wedding-album angst.)
In any case, perusing the wedding photos was fun. I enjoyed seeing much we/things have changed and how much we/they have stayed the same. I’ve included a photo I took myself of the church where we married, on the campus of Hampton University.
As for our bridal party: since November, I’ve gotten to see all but one of them!
It’s always a joy to see John. We wish his wife Wendy would have made the trip, too, but she’s tied up right now, doing the agriculture research she so dearly loves.
John was Dave’s supervisor when they both worked as photographers for Virginia Tech. For a few months before Dave moved here to Hampton Roads to be with me, Dave lived with John, Wendy, and their kids in Blacksburg. The group of 5 Bairds took him in and treated him as a member of the family.
I’ve always admired the kids — Caitlin, Gillian, and Logan — for treating Dave like a brother.
Whenever we’ve visited Blacksburg since, we’ve stayed with John and Wendy in the beautiful home John designed and built on the side of a mountain near Ellet Valley. Today the kids are spread out across the USA. They live in NYC, Seattle, and DC. Nevertheless, we’re sometimes lucky enough to be on the mountain when they are there, too.
And that, my friends, is a unique pleasure. It has a certain feeling that I’ve found no where else and can’t really describe. Except perhaps to say: it’s like getting to see inside a family that just loves being together. Being there is something like watching the Waltons. Except in this case, we’re not watching on a TV screen. We’re members of the clan, accepted almost as if we were Mary Ellen and Jim Bob.
During John’s overnight to the flatlands of Virginia, we went out for sushi and visited Dave’s studio and a company where Dave used to work (Superior Marble and Stone). Then John hopped into his Honda for the trek home.
You Must Have Had Your Weetabix!
I felt like a reindeer just before dawn on December 15, as I dragged two overstuffed suitcases, a backpack, and a fragile gift bag through the streets of Dublin.
I was headed for the 747 Air Link bus to Dublin Airport and Christmas was in the morning air.
A passing man remarked at the sight of my lanky frame tugging its equivalent weight in baggage: “You must have had your Weetabix this morning!”
I nodded in agreement, though it took me a half-minute more to figure out what he’d actually said. (At times, the accent still throws me off, and I’m not quite familiar with the Weetabix brand.)
Arriving home to the States, I found Weetabix in the cereal aisle of my local Harris Teeter.
Unfortunately, this cereal is chock full of wheat and gluten so it’s a total “no go” for me… but the sight of it still made me smile, thinking of my morning jaunt through Dublin and that friendly passer-by.
Beaming Across the Table

An image Dave texted me last week — from one of my favorite seats in Norfolk, sitting across from Wayne Ringer at D’Egg diner.
I haven’t been eating out much these past few months. It’s just not as delightful when the seat across from me is empty.
I’m lucky to have many memories of meals with loved ones to keep me company, but it’s still not quite the same.
I particularly miss breakfast time with Wayne Ringer. Dave and I meet Wayne for breakfast a couple of times each week when I’m in Hampton Roads. When I’m away, Dave often texts me pictures so I can feel included. Here’s a shot of Wayne that Dave sent me last week. I haven’t seen Wayne yet, but hope to “real soon.” I know he’ll be happy I’ve been able to “tell everyone in Dublin ‘hey.'” (That’s his normal directive when we part.)
Wayne and I originally met at a little coffee shop in our Port Norfolk neighborhood. That was way back in 2000. Even though that shop closed and Wayne moved across the river to Norfolk, we still find time to meet for breakfast.
These days, Dave’s schedule permits him to join us (he typically rises before the sun, to photograph buildings in the light of the rising sun, and joins us after his photo shoot).
Here’s a view I typically have in Dublin:
Fresh Off the Plane
Dave met me at the gate when I arrived into Norfolk “International” Airport. We grabbed my bags and he whisked me off to a dinner party at the McClure’s. He had made-from-scratch two beautiful lasagnas that were to be the centerpiece of our meal.
We arrived at Glen and Marshall’s home just in time to view the sunset off their back desk and take a quick peek into their lovely garden. Even mid-December, the flowers are abloom in their back yard. For Marshall this seemed like nothing special; this type of flower always blooms this time of year, she said. Hampton Roads (our region, comprised of seven different cities in close proximity) is awash in pink blooms right now.
But the sight of fresh winter blooms left me in awe….
I notice that the flowers looked a lot fresher than I did (sporting my glamorous just-off-the plane aura)!
As the sun dipped below the tree line, we headed in to the McClures’ cozy living room. We sat around, petting the animals and chatting for a while.
Then, low and behold, Jamie and Mark Lewis showed up at the front door — with party balloons and Christmas gifts in tow. Mark is a conservator who works at the Chrysler Museum of Art. We initially met at an art gallery, where he told me he is job is to “clean dirty pictures with Q-tips and spit.”
What a catchy line pick up line!?!
It’s one that worked. Mark, his wife Jamie, and I have been fast friends from that moment forward.
I’ve so many fond memories of dinners around the McClures’ dinner table(s).
As I mentioned, Dave had assembled two delicious lasagnas — one red and one white. He made them completely from scratch, noodles and all! The McClures rounded out the selection with a crisp salad and ice cream.
Everyone chipped in bottles of wine they’d socked aways for special occasions. Dave brought one from Dolceaqua (a Ligurian town we visited this past summer). Marshall contributed some of the finest from her brother’s Virginia winery. And Jamie, knowing Marshall’s preference for pale wines, shared a delightful bottle of white.
I have to say: this was the perfect way to spend my first evening back in the States. Seeing people I love gave my heart such a lift!
Amazing Teachers
Amazing teachers transform lives. That’s what they did for me at least!
Last week, one of the very best teachers I’ve had in my life–Ron Daniel–visited Dublin with his colleagues from Webster University. Ron is the Director of Academics at Webster’s Geneva campus.
While they were here, we got together twice to reminisce and talk about higher ed.
I didn’t post about this topic right away, because some things are difficult to express into words. This morning, I’m allowing myself to just cover the tip of the iceberg of what I’d like to say….
The best teachers I’ve experienced in life actually just put a good framework in place in for me. Then, they stepped back and let me explore the issues.
The best learning experiences I’ve had in life have happened under the astute guidance of Ron as well as:
- Wilma Brown (my fifth grade teacher)
- Liz Lindon and Joyce Martin (my 4-H leaders)
- Dave Dugas, Eugene Egger, and Bob Dyck (some easy going Virginia Tech professors)
- Bridget Arvold (my high school geometry teacher)
- the faculty of higher ed at the College of William and Mary
I am particularly indebted to Ron Daniel (my second year architecture professor and the person who gave me my first architecture teaching job) and Wilma Brown (my fifth grade teacher who gave me my first official teaching assistant role). These two used a Montessori / Bauhaus sort of approach.
They put relevant materials in front of me and let me do my thing.
Wind me up and I’m like the Energizer bunny!
Thankfully, Bridget Arvold was there at precisely the right moment in time as well. In ninth grade, I was struggling through geometry because I had initially been assigned a very poor teacher. Thankfully, I met Bridget and had the sense to change instructors. She made geometry seem fun and logical. Without her, I don’t think I’d have has a solid foundation for becoming an architect.
Teachers like these make learning fun. They gave me the challenge and sense of support needed for me to start learning to explore this big, wonderful world. I thank my lucky stars to have known them.
My Kiddies
Jerry thought all the boys on my blog photos were *my* kids and I’d left them all home with Dave! Hee! Hee!
No, such is not the case. Dave and I have five wonderful *nephews*! We ourselves only have kats, not kids.
Here’s introducing the whole furry Chance family… we named them for Italian cities.
They are looking forward to seeing their mom (that’s me) in just three days!
















