We Must Remember Phyllis Beck

We Must Remember Phyllis Beck
By Monette Benoit

Copyright by Monette Benoit, All Rights Reserved.


Phyllis Beck will always have a special place within my heart, my world.
Phyllis and my brother, Captain Kevin Drue Donnelly, met online in 1998 when each sought answers to their hepatitis C diagnosis.

Phyllis and Kevin forged a wonderful friendship based on respect and integrity.
They created a team with mutual goals and a desire to seek answers to help others on this path.

I am just a sibling. Phyllis helped me when I most needed her help, so I could move forward in my world - to honor the work Kevin had created alone - and working with Phyllis Beck.

Kevin learned (and documented) he was gifted the hepatitis C virus from military vaccinations.
My father now has the virus from a hospital blood transfusion.

Phyllis helped me, as a sibling and a daughter, to digest this information. Phyllis returned every e-mail, every phone call. She truly cared.

Kevin's medical and scientific research was an asset and combined with Phyllis Beck's nursing and research skills, each was detail oriented to the max.

Each had a gift for seeking answers and for finding wisdom in bleak moments - often with a smile and a determined resolve.

I first heard about Phyllis Beck from my youngest brother prior to his death.
I learned how special Phyllis was after Kevin's death.

Phyllis Beck, in Oregon, was the last person within the hepatitis C community to speak to my brother the night of his death August 5th, 2000.

They were working to fulfill Phyllis Beck's goal toward creating information for prisoners and an online forum for prisoners and their families.
After Kevin's funeral, I learned Kevin and Phyllis spoke that evening and were focused on creating a venue for Dr. Ben Cecil, a veteran, to assist in this specific goal.

After Kevin's sudden death, I stood tall and faced the wind to listen, if I could, per my brother's request.
When I learned Phyllis had spoken to my brother that evening, I reached out to Phyllis to help me with answers and questions as they arose.

Phyllis Beck rose to the occasion.
She honored my brother Captain Kevin Drue Donnelly sharing, with me, his work, his world - personal and professional. I learned they truly did have a special friendship.

When Kevin's widow, Justine Velocchi Lomonte Donnelly, a veteran and nurse, refused to share Kevin's research, his address book or any information, Phyllis Beck stepped forward for the hepatitis C community.

Phyllis phoned the number she had phoned so often to speak with Kevin and phoned Kevin's widow. Phyllis politely, respectfully spoke to Michelle Lomonte, stepdaughter, and Tina, widow. Each request by Phyllis Beck was refused.

Phyllis was a trained nurse. While requesting Kevin's work, she listened - at length- to members within Kevin's residence immediately following his death - to honor Kevin and to pursue the goal Kevin had asked of Phyllis prior to his death.

Kevin had asked Phyllis (and a handful of close friends) to ask for Kevin's work, his research -- to ensure the hepatitis community did have information from Kevin's research, his address book.

Once her request was refused, Phyllis phoned Kevin's residence and offered to purchase the information related specifically to Kevin's work (which he had dedicated the last 2+ years of his life). That offer was refused, too, by Kevin's widow.

Professionals, veterans and patients have deliberately documented that Kevin's work would have helped the entire hepatitis C community.

Due to the refusal to share any - any - of Kevin's research and hepatitis information, Phyllis and I continued to chat.

Perhaps had the information been shared, we might have parted paths, gone our separate way.

Phyllis' respect for Kevin and her devoted integrity to her path, kept Phyllis focused.
And she shared many details from her world and Kevin's personal world with me.
(She knew the brand of cigarettes Kevin smoked and how much coffee he drank each day -- a true friend.)

In short, I became her friend. I learned about Phyllis, her family, her work and enjoyed listening to her laughter. I will always remember Phyllis Beck's laughter.

Phyllis also shared a song Kevin used to sing to her. Kevin loved to sing and to whistle.

As we worked to move forward, one day Phyllis phoned and sang their song to me, laughing.
She shared how she and Kevin used to giggle in their light moments. Then they would focus back on their target -- helping others. I treasure that sharing knowing how hard each worked to assist veterans, their families and prisoners. Phyllis Beck focused on information and treatment for veterans and prisoners with hep C.

Two years to the night of my brother Kevin's death, when I learned Phyllis Beck's goal with the online prisoner forum was not yet fulfilled, I came in overhand, as Kevin and Phyllis would have wanted.

August 5th, 2002, in Memory of Captain Kevin Drue Donnelly, Dr. Ben Cecil went online with Phyllis Beck to answer questions from prisoners and their families relating to hepatitis C and multiple issues.

We need to remember this dedicated lady.

We need to know Phyllis labored and laughed and achieved goals many only dream about -- all to help others to find answers to the hepatitis island where many find themselves upon diagnosis.

When I learned Phyllis Beck had died, it was after I reached out to Phyllis to help me with a request. A hospitalized man needed help. I e-mailed Phyllis as I had for eight years.

I reached up to Phyllis Beck - again.

It seemed odd to not receive an e-mail, "Hey, HOW are YOU?" included with her reply.
But this time there was silence. Then I received an e-mail from a member of Phyllis Beck's family sharing she died March 21, 2008.

Tears filled my eyes; I did not know she was ill. I did not know.

After communicating, sharing, laughing and listening for eights years since Kevin Drue Donnelly's death, I did not know.

And I felt pain not knowing Phyllis Beck was so ill.

Head bowed, I immediately prayed for Phyllis and felt a warm feeling. In my heart, as close as Kevin and Phyllis were to each other in their commitment to helping others, I believe Kevin met Phyllis when she arrived in heaven.
I have learned: this group sticks together, and it is to comfort and to help each other.

Phyllis Beck, you were so wise.
Thank you for teaching me, for laughing with me, for singing 'your' song and for the personal moments we privately shared.
I have so much information, knowledge - personal and professional - because you shared - and you cared so much.

May God Bless you and all those who now follow in your footsteps, Phyllis.

"Why? Because I gave my brother my Word."

Phyllis Beck would want me to write that Kevin Drue Donnelly is the author of "The Panama Story" - a gifted novel on the true origins of hepatitis and virus testing - combined with a novel setting by Kevin to keep the readers interested. This free story is posted: http://www.geocities.com/hepvet/PanamaTitle.html

I know Phyllis enjoyed Kevin's story, written one chapter a night, many moons ago.
Kevin's web site, Veterans Helping Veterans, http://www.geocities.com/hepvet/index.html, is now run by LeighAnn Vogel and may be referenced for multiple facts and details for veterans and their families: http://www.geocities.com/hepvet/

We are where we are now because of our ability to look back and to embrace each other.

Please share this posting with others. Please remember Phyllis Beck.

You are at peace now, my friend.

Your work is done. And we will miss you and your laughter, Phyllis Beck.

Much love, much respect,
Monette Benoit
Kevin's Sister
Monette@CRRbooks.com and www.ARTCS.com

About the Author:

Monette Benoit, B.B.A., CCR, CRI, CPE, is a JCR Contributing Editor for the National Court Reporters Association, NCRA. She is the author of multiple books to include the national and state RPR, RMR, RDR, CSR ‘Written Knowledge Exam’ Textbook, Workbook, a companion Study Guide, ‘The CRRT WKT’ CD Software Program, Advanced SAT, LSAT, GRE, Real-Time Vocabulary Workbook and ‘CATapult’ Dictionary CD Software Program series.

Books, CDs, private tutoring, mentoring services and articles may be referenced http://www.crrbooks.com/

Monette is an experienced consultant, instructor, real-time court reporter, tutor, life coach, CART provider, columnist.

She teaches, tutors and coaches home-study students, college students, court reporters and professionals. Monette speaks to groups at state, national and international conventions about motivation, technology, expanding skills and Deaf, Oral Deaf, Hard of Hearing.

Monette Benoit, B.B.A., Certified Court Reporter, Certified Reporting Instructor, Certified Program Evaluator, Paralegal, may be reached at: http://www.crrbooks.com/ http://www.catapultdix.com/ and http://www.artcs.com/

She’s the CARTographer; She Does CARTography!

She’s the CARTographer; She Does CARTography!
By Monette Benoit

Copyright by Monette Benoit, All Rights Reserved.

Arriving home Christmas evening, we received the call that a friend’s father had died. “The wake is tomorrow. Could you attend?” While my family checked funeral attire, I pulled the obituary for specifics. I had first met the deceased gentleman and family 25 years ago.

The next evening, we walked into the crowded funeral parlor. The main lobby split off into a separate room, which then extended to a smaller room. Immediate family members and the casket were in this smallest room.

We were hugged by people we had not seen in a long time. People approached saying, “Hey, I know you.” I giggled each time. I spoke to an “ex” who attended; we caught up on events, families. Soon the “ex” said, “I really should be going – you know.” I giggled. Yes, I knew.

The man who died had a wonderful family. His 92-year old mother was in the smallest room with his widow, children, grandchildren, friends and co-workers. People approached to view photographs, then spoke to the family to say good-bye before departing the wake. Alone for a moment, I sat in the chair by the door. (As court reporters we are trained to be master observers.)

Multiple mini-groups gathered. People were consoling family, politely bumping into others within this smallest room. Men and women held hands and offered tissues. My husband spoke to a small group. I saw a woman gesture –– and then stop her gesture with her other arm. I smiled. (My February 2007 column “CART, Signs and The Library,” describes a typical day in my world.) She looked familiar. I hoped I was not staring.

My husband called me over, and I stepped forward in one step. After introductions I said softly, “It’s been a while; I believe we know each other.” She laughed; again I saw a hand and wrist gesture.

I asked, “Are you a sign interpreter?” As we stood together, she turned her head. And when she turned, I saw her profile –– at the same angle I remember as I CARTed her work and projected realtime voiced text to large screens. We had worked multiple large events together.

I softly asked, “You’re the sign interpreter who drove the crappy car and lived in the country, aren’t you?”

She shrieked, “YES! I can’t believe you remember that! I did drive a crappy car. You’re the CARTographer!” She launched into my lungs; she threw herself at me in a long-lost friendship hug. She screamed into my right ear, “You’re Moe-net!”

While gripped in this realtime hug two feet from my left elbow was the open casket of the man whose funeral we were attending. I winced, frowned and looked to the adult children.

The person who invited us froze, then said to his grandmother, mother and the rest of his family: “It’s okay, everybody. They’re old friends who just found each other! That’s why they’re hugging, laughing.” A long silence, a pause, hung in the air. My head down, still gripped in this realtime hug, I peeked over to the 92-year old mother, widow, his family.

Soon, in unison, a collective sigh, “oh,” floated from each person. I heard, “They’re old friends” drift into the larger room and then lobby. Startled looks now were replaced with bright smiles. Large nods of approval were shared among this entire gathering.

My head still respectfully down, I looked to the interpreter softly saying, “You complained about your crappy car. I had to write the word ‘crappy’ on large screens a lot. I remember you.” (In 1993, I wrote “crap [delete space] y” and hoped initially it translated correctly. It did. Thank you, God.) She howled with laughter. Everyone, to include people, kneeling, praying at the casket, smiled.

I said softly, “This does seem surreal, doesn’t it?”

She said, “I never forgot you after all the jobs we worked together. Has it been 14 years? I always remember you as the CARTographer. You were the first.”

Still cautious of this event, where we were ––surrounded by large funeral wreaths, an open casket –– I smiled. She began introducing me to people saying, “She’s my friend, the CARTographer. She does CARTography.”

Each person smiled; some tilted their heads. I said not a word until the fourth introduction. I quietly asked, “May I?” Everyone nodded.

I softly said, “CART –– court reporting – like captioning --”

But the interpreter, “No, she’s the CARTographer. Trust me. I found my old friend. This is wonderful!” Head down, I watched the family. She and I exchanged private information and promised to keep in touch.

After the interpreter (ASL Master Level 5) departed, I stepped back to my chair and sat. I was watching the 92-year old mother. She sat alone. I stood, stepped to my right in one step; I put my hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at me. Slowly, I began to rub her shoulder, her back. Then I leaned over, and without a word, I hugged her.

She looked up to me saying, “I can’t see very well.” After a long pause with continued eye contact, I asked why not. She said, “I’ve cried so many tears today, my eyeglasses are filthy. I can’t see from all tears I’ve shed today.”

I raised my voice and called to her great-granddaughter, Kathy. Within seconds, I addressed the adult (whom I’ve known 18 years), “Here. These eyeglasses need to be washed. Do you want to do that for her?” Kathy took the glasses, ran off.

I looked back to the woman and softly said, “Oh, she’ll feel so good helping you. Now we just had to do that for her, didn’t we?” We both burst into loud laughter.

When the sparkling eyeglasses were returned, she beamed, “I can see now. I can see everyone and my son (in casket). Oh, I have lived to see so many miracles. Thank you. You’re the CARTographer, aren’t you?”

I looked to this sweet woman, “Yes, I am.” I added, “I’m also a court reporter.”

She said, “Oh, but this CARTography sounds so much more interesting. Thank you for coming to my son’s funeral and for bringing laughter. I’m so glad to meet you. And now I can see.”

The court reporter in me was proud and humbled to experience this event culminated by a 25-year friendship and my CART services 14 years ago into a special memory-moment (deaf phrase). That evening I chose to decline the opportunity to accurately define my CART description.

As I prepped to leave, a sibling I did not know approached to say good-bye. He looked tired and sad. He leaned on the doorframe saying to me, “I don’t have a brother any more.”

I gasped. Those were the exact words I said when I was told my brother was dead. (I had gasped and looked to my husband saying, “I don’t have a baby brother any more.” Kevin hated the word baby.)

Hesitating, I looked to the brother that evening. Everyone in the room had paused and waited. I slowly, softly - voice cracking, said, “The hardest part is learning to get past ‘I have’ to ‘I had.’ It’s the ‘a’ in each word,” and I paused.

As I paused, the brother of the deceased gentleman leaned over to rub my shoulder.

He said “I hear you’re the CARTographer. It’s like Camelot. Your work is CART-a-lot, right?”

I nodded while he rubbed my shoulders. When I glanced up, his eyes were red, moist; his mother’s eyes were crystal clear. She sparkled.

It is an honor to share what we do each day. I listened, laughed, hugged, rubbed shoulders and had my shoulders rubbed in consolation. That evening confirmed again how grateful I am for possibilities that appear each day, each evening within each gathering of people.

And now I ask you: “Can you see?”

Monette Benoit may be reached at: Tutoring@CRRbooks.com

About the Author:

Monette Benoit, B.B.A., CCR, CRI, CPE, is a JCR Contributing Editor for the National Court Reporters Association, NCRA. She is the author of multiple books to include the national and state "WKT" RPR, RMR, RDR, CSR ‘Written Knowledge Exam’ Textbook, Workbook, a companion Study Guide, ‘The CRRT WKT’ CD Software Program, Advanced SAT, LSAT, GRE, Real-Time Vocabulary Workbook and ‘CATapult’ Dictionary CD Software Program series.

Books, CDs, private tutoring, mentoring services and articles may be referenced http://www.crrbooks.com/

Monette is an experienced consultant, instructor, realtime court reporter, tutor, life coach, CART provider, columnist.

She teaches, tutors and coaches home-study students, college students, court reporters and professionals. Monette speaks to groups at state, national and international conventions about motivation, technology, expanding skills and Deaf, Oral Deaf, Hard of Hearing.

Monette Benoit, B.B.A., Certified Court Reporter, Certified Reporting Instructor, Certified Program Evaluator, Paralegal, may be reached at: http://www.crrbooks.com/ http://www.catapultdix.com/ and http://www.artcs.com/