Emerson College fraternity members raise money for one brother’s gender reassignment surgery

Regardless of your opinion about the subject of this news item, I think we can agree that this is very much NOT the action of a "frat boy" stereotyped fraternity chapter.

Emerson College fraternity members raise money for one brother’s gender reassignment surgery

By Martin Finucane, Globe Staff

Members of an Emerson College fraternity are raising money so one of the fraternity brothers who is transitioning to become a man can get gender reassignment surgery, a college official said.

Donnie Collins, class of 2015, was denied insurance coverage this month to remove breast tissue and restructure his chest, said Jason Meier, director of student activities at Emerson.

Collins is now being helped out by fellow members of Phi Alpha Tau, “guys in the fraternity who care deeply about one of their brothers,” Meier said.

As of this evening, they had raised $11,455, Meier said. That was above the brothers’ goal of $8,100.

“They’re doing whatever they can do to help him out,” Meier said. “One of the things we are always talking about at Emerson is being a caring and just community. And the brothers of Phi Alpha Tau recognized this and, in turn, cared about him and accepted him as who he is.”

Collins was born female, but has presented himself as a male since he began attending Emerson, Meier said. He has been undergoing hormone treatments for 14 months. When he joined the fraternity, the brothers knew he was transgender, Meier said.

The pride inside

The pride inside | The Quinnipiac Chronicle:

"Imagine being in a room with almost 100 other students. You’re sweating profusely. You’re shaking convulsively. You’re breathing heavily. You’re about to stand up and admit something that has haunted you your entire life, something that may instantly cast you out.

Madeline Hardy | The Quinnipiac Chronicle

Michael Castro’s courage inspired other men in his 

fraternity to come out.

The day had finally come. Michael Castro, a Quinnipiac senior, walked into his weekly Sigma Phi Epsilon chapter meeting with deep-seated confidence. But on the inside, Castro was anything but calm. Through sweat and bated breath, Castro stood up in front of his 90 brothers and revealed the secret he had buried deep down for years:


“I have something to say. I don’t want any of you to think of me any differently. I’m still the same person. I cherish all of your friendships, and I don’t wanna lose anyone through saying this, but I’m gay.”"

'via Blog this'

'Last Lecture' professor dies at 47

Randy Pausch was not a SigEp, and we missed a good guy there. A professor of Computer Science at Carnegie-Mellon, his "Last Lecture" video and book (the book is listed in the "S&P Recommends" section) were a source of inspiration for many students and teachers - and even those in the 'real world.' Professor Pausch died early Friday at his home in Virginia.

Pausch was diagnosed with incurable pancreatic cancer in September 2006. His popular last lecture at Carnegie Mellon in September 2007 garnered international attention and was viewed by millions on the Internet.

In it, Pausch celebrated living the life he had always dreamed of instead of concentrating on impending death.

"The lecture was for my kids, but if others are finding value in it, that is wonderful," Pausch wrote on his Web site. "But rest assured; I'm hardly unique."
[...]
At Carnegie Mellon, he was a professor of computer science, human-computer interaction and design, and was recognized as a pioneer of virtual reality research. On campus, he became known for his flamboyance and showmanship as a teacher and mentor.

The speech last fall was part of a series Carnegie Mellon called "The Last Lecture," where professors were asked to think about what matters to them most and give a hypothetical final talk. The name of the lecture series was changed to "Journeys" before Pausch spoke, something he joked about in his lecture.

"I thought, damn, I finally nailed the venue and they renamed it," he said.

He told the packed auditorium he fulfilled almost all his childhood dreams -- being in zero gravity, writing an article in the World Book Encyclopedia and working with the Walt Disney Co.

The one that eluded him? Playing in the National Football League.

"If I don't seem as depressed or morose as I should be, sorry to disappoint you," Pausch said.
[...]
"I mean I don't know how to not have fun. I'm dying and I'm having fun. And I'm going to keep having fun every day I have left. Because there's no other way to play it," he said in his Carnegie Mellon lecture. "You just have to decide if you're a Tigger or an Eeyore. I think I'm clear where I stand on the great Tigger/Eeyore debate. Never lose the childlike wonder. It's just too important. It's what drives us."

Well, said. Many of us, myself included, spend far too much time being Eeyore. I think I'll try to be more Tigger from now on.

Oh, yeah, here is the Lecture Video:


'Last Lecture' professor dies at 47 - CNN.com

Inspiration, Diligence, Honor

Yeah, this is another non-fraternity piece, but please read it anyway - because it is a damn good story, it is recent, and it's about a basketball star at my school.

Chris Lofton has beaten the odds his entire life.

Click picture to enlarge with caption

One of the most prolific 3-point shooters in college basketball history, Lofton can still recite all of the things he supposedly wouldn't or couldn't do when he came out of Maysville, Ky., four years ago.

"Too short. Too slow. Not quick enough. Couldn't dribble well enough. Couldn't play defense," Lofton rolls off with his easy smile.

When it came time to pick a college, despite earning the prestigious Mr. Basketball honor in the state of Kentucky, Lofton was spurned by the two basketball powerhouses in that state -- Kentucky and Louisville.

Undaunted, Lofton headed south and carved out a record-setting career at Tennessee -- one that helped put the Vols back on the basketball map. The 6-foot-2 guard, who looks about as unassuming on the court as the team equipment manager until you see him shoot the ball, was in many ways the face of the Vols' renaissance in men's hoops. They won a school-record 31 games this past season, vaulted to No. 1 in the polls for the first time in school history and made their second straight Sweet 16 appearance.

It was truly a memorable career, one that Tennessee coach Bruce Pearl guarantees will someday lead to the retiring of Lofton's No. 5 jersey.

But Lofton's greatest conquest came off the court.

He beat cancer.

The three-time All-American, in an exclusive interview with ESPN.com, revealed for the first time publicly that he played his senior season at Tennessee after undergoing surgery to remove a cancerous tumor from one of his testicles in March 2007.

That's right. He played his senior year for a team that had a #1 ranking - and was a star player - while dealing with the effects of cancer surgery and chemotherapy. And almost no one knew about it.

Amazingly, Lofton went through the entire ordeal -- the surgery, radiation treatments, recovery and excruciating emotional distress -- with very few people knowing.

It's the way he wanted it. An intensely private person, he internalized everything and was hell-bent on nobody being able to make excuses for him.

Chris Lofton considered redshirting his senior season but returned for Tennessee's first No. 1 ranking and an upset of then-No. 1 Memphis.
[...]
It was a very tight circle of people who knew. That circle included Lofton's parents, the Tennessee coaches and medical staff and a handful of others.

The only teammate Lofton told was fellow senior guard Jordan Howell, and that was late in the season. Lofton and Howell roomed together on the road.
[...]
"It's the hardest thing I've ever had to go through, but I know now there's nothing out there I can't overcome," Lofton said. "I wanted to deal with it on my terms because I didn't want it being a distraction for our team. I knew if it came out, everything would change. I didn't want it that way."

Read the whole story at the link - you will be inspired:
ESPN - Tennessee's Lofton quietly faced and beat cancer - Men's College Basketball

Georgia Sig Ep Writes War Journal for Daughter

Update: To read an excerpt or purchase the book - go to www.bartnewman.com

Soldier's words from Iraq can inspire us all
By Gracie Bonds Staples
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Bart Newman knew he might not come back to his wife and little girl.

He remembered the journal his wife, Julie, had given him the day he pulled out of Fort Bragg, N.C., headed for war in Baghdad.

Bart Newman turned his journal of things he wanted his daughter to know, in case he didn't make it home from Iraq, into a book.

---

Bart Newman, 32, reads passages from his Iraq journal to his daughter Kate at their Marietta home.

"Record some thoughts while in Iraq," she scribbled inside the cover. "Some day, I suppose we will look back on this year and wonder how we made it."

She quoted a favorite Bible passage: "Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are washing away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary but what is unseen is eternal."

She ended with, "I love you and count the days until we are together again."

Newman had volunteered for this war. He knew the danger involved but had looked forward to military service since his senior year in high school, when he was awarded an appointment to the U.S. Air Force Academy. Two weeks before he was scheduled to report, Newman was medically discharged because of childhood asthma. He headed to the University of Georgia instead.

The Woodward Academy grad excelled at UGA. He served as president of the student government association, was a founding father of the Georgia Delta chapter of Sigma Phi Epsilon and a member of two SEC Championship tennis teams.

He was in his second year of law school when the World Trade Center collapsed on the day we simply refer to now as 9/11.

When the army started recruiting, Bart Newman saw a chance to do what he always wanted.

The army disqualified him too, but this time he wouldn't take no for an answer. He sought a waiver and got it.

It was the summer of 2003. America had been in Iraq four months.

On February 3, 2005, Bart Newman headed for Baghdad.

His job was to advise the command on legal issues and attend daily briefings on the state of the war.

At the end of each of those briefings, the chaplain introduced "The Hero of the Day," a fallen soldier. That part always held Bart Newman's attention.

Day after day, month after month, the men's stories haunted Newman. He was a husband and father just like many of them. They hadn't gotten out alive. Maybe he wouldn't either.

He thought about his 18-month-old daughter, Kate, and what he would say to her about life if he didn't come home to say it.

Bart Newman had a lot to say about God; about choosing a husband and about what she might do with her life.

He told his baby girl to make Jesus the center of her life because there was nothing more important than figuring out where she'd spend eternity when she died.

He told her about his relationship with her mother, Jules, as he calls her; that he believed we could have marriages of passion, devotion and love if we'd only see our relationship with our spouse the way God does and not the way the world does; and instead of asking what she would do with her life, ask herself "how will eternity be different because of me?"

The God that Bart Newman hoped Kate would one day believe in was the same one at the center of his prayers. "Protect me and if I don't come home, protect my wife and daughter."

Months later in January 2006, Bart Newman returned to his family in Fort Bragg and eventually to Marietta, where they live.

In a large law office conference room overlooking downtown Atlanta, he talked recently about Jules, Kate, his 14-month-old son, Luke, a third child due in May and the journal he kept while in Iraq. He has since turned the journal into a book, "Because of Baghdad: What a father would say about life if he didn't come home to say it."

It's dedicated to Kate, Luke and the children he might have in the future but any one of us would be better for reading it.

Soldier's words from Iraq can inspire us all | ajc.com

One year later, beating the odds

Mike Mimloe has had a rough year. A near-fatal heart attack - at age 20 - followed by months of recovery and rehabilitation was not what he expected in his sophomore year of college.

Michael Milmoe with his sister, Meaghan. The heart attack victim, now 21, beat expectations. (MILMOE FAMILY)

A year ago, on a beautiful September day, Michael Milmoe of Dedham was playing flag football with friends on the campus of the University of Vermont. Milmoe had just turned 20 and was happy to be back at UVM for his sophomore year. He'd had a great first year: he was a dean's list student and had pledged a fraternity.

In the football huddle, he suddenly collapsed, staggered to his feet and collapsed again. Friends ran for help. Both on the field and in the hospital emergency room, he was resuscitated a total of 17 times. He'd been oxygen-deprived for so long that he had suffered neurological damage. Tests revealed no reason for the heart attack. The chaplain gave him final sacraments. At Brigham and Women's Hospital, a doctor told Kathy and Jim Milmoe that their son had a 1-in-100 chance of returning to normalcy.

Mike Milmoe might just be that one. After months in the Brigham and then Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital, he is now at Crotched Mountain, a rehab center in Greenfield, N.H. Gone is the wheelchair; he is now able to use a walker. Thanks to intensive therapy, his speech is also coming along. He has learned to use eating utensils and a toothbrush. His long-term memory is good; short-term needs work. His vision remains problematic: so far, he can see only vague colors and shapes.

Mike has had some great support for friends, family, and Sig Ep brothers.

The Milmoes have been overwhelmed with the support they've received. The first day they brought Michael to Crotched Mountain, they left briefly to eat at a nearby restaurant. A woman they knew slightly from Dedham happened to be there, and offered to let them stay in her Greenfield cabin anytime they came up. St. Mary's Parish held a prayer service that drew nearly 500. People have cut their grass, brought food, cleaned the refrigerator, done the laundry. Mike's fraternity, Sigma Phi Epsilon, sold rubber bracelets with "Milmoe" printed on them and raised $8,000.

Here is hoping that Mike continues to make progress and is soon able to tell his chapter "Thanks" in person.

One year later, beating the odds - The Boston Globe

Life Story: Attitude helped man overcome cancer

This is an inspirational story of perseverance, refusal to be dismayed, and active brotherhood. I wish I had known Jason. He sounds like a great friend and brother.

Disease didn't stop man from living a full life
By Barbara D. Jones - For The Sun News

Jason S. McMahon was diagnosed with cancer at age 17 and for the next 21 years never allowed the cancer to prevent his enjoyment of each day.
[...]
The son of Diana McMahon Thomson and the late Michael McMahon, Jason McMahon was born June 18, 1969, in St. Louis. He died May 10.
[...]
Phillip Reed and McMahon were fraternity brothers in Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity at USC-Coastal and remained good friends for the following 18 years.

"As you get older your friends drift apart and from college we all move away," Reed said. "He and I always kept in touch, and he would be the first one to pick the phone up and call me and say 'Let's meet somewhere.'"

Reed said he knew McMahon had cancer, but that McMahon never wanted to discuss it. Instead they would meet in Myrtle Beach, Las Vegas, in North Carolina to go surfing, and other locations to spend time together.

"There's a song called, 'Live Life Like There's no Tomorrow,' and that's about how he did," Reed said. "I think he knew he only had a certain amount of time left, and he didn't want to tell anybody about it.

"I played golf with him two weeks before he passed away, and he beat me in golf," Reed said. "That just shows you the will he had to live, to play 18 holes of golf. I miss him very much."

Contact freelance writer BARBARA D. JONES at barbdjones@sc.rr.com or 272-7383.