This is the first time in more than four decades, I won’t be able to wish my dear friend and lifelong mentor, Happy Birthday. Sadly, Michael “Mike” Lackey, 77, died on July 3, 2025. If you read his online obituary, Michael Lackey Obituary (2025) – Lima, OH – The Lima News it details his noteworthy career as an award-winning journalist. Still, it doesn’t mention the fact, he forever changed a life. Mine.
Truthfully, I wanted to write, “A Tribute to Mike Lackey” column years ago. When I asked his permission, he erupted into laughter, finding the idea hilariously funny. Ever the newspaperman, he turned serious and said something like, “They won’t publish that kind of column, until I’m dead.” As usual, he was right.
Mike Lackey spent almost four decades keeping his west central Ohio community informed. He first joined the staff of The Lima News in 1972 as a sportswriter. Originally, a Dayton native, he graduated from Kettering Fairmont West High School and then Earlham College.
By the time I met him in the late 1970s, he was the assistant city editor at Lima News. I was in my early twenties working dead end jobs trying to pay my apartment’s rent. Depressed and broke, I had been forced to quit The University of Akron in my junior year and come home to Lima.
As a teenager, my battle with depression began. While a 16-year-old junior at Lima Central Catholic High School, a near fatal suicide attempt landed me in the local psychiatric ward followed by commitment to Toledo State Mental Hospital. Eventually, self-medicating ongoing emotional struggles led to addiction.
Mental Health was in the infancy stages and individuals like myself, were frequently either ostracized or demonized. Despite this, I desperately wanted to become a journalist. Although the stigma surrounding mental health issues was rapidly closing the door to my professional opportunities. Almost miraculously, when I could no longer bear my hopeless circumstances, I met Mike Lackey.
About the same time, I was fortunate to enroll in Bluffton College with a goal of completing my degree. Under the direction of the late Dr. Lawrence Templin at Bluffton, Mike Lackey, by then city editor, took me on as an intern for the 1981/1982 academic year. He was aware of my past but gave me the opportunity anyway. As with all cub reporters, the veteran editor painstakingly and with impeccable integrity taught me the “nuts and bolts” of reporting.
Mike’s disability was more obvious than mine. He was born with cerebral palsy. He struggled to walk unassisted, fighting confinement in a wheelchair. I learned to fight for a better future by watching him valiantly defy his own physical limitations. Through his steadfast example, he taught me to never use a personal disability as an excuse. Rather the talented wordsmith relied on his brilliant mind to forge his path in journalism.
While he was an incredible editor, he was also a gifted writer. He returned to his craft full-time becoming well known as the Lima News columnist for decades. Inevitably, a wheelchair did become part of Mike’s reality, so did numerous statewide Associated Press Awards, along with the respect of countless community leaders.
Mike Lackey believed in me, when no one else did, not even myself. I often wonder how many other aspiring journalists this natural mentor inspired. In 2008, the award-winning writer was forced to retire prematurely after a daunting battle with Guillain-Barre syndrome. The disease caused him to have an extended stay in a nursing facility.
But in traditional Lackey style, he fought his way back, later writing the 2013 award-winning book, “Spitballing: The Baseball Days of Long Bob Ewing” about a former Cincinnati Reds player. Mike’s true love was Reds baseball. Winning or losing, he was a faithful fan.
As for faithful, following my internship, Mike Lackey remained a mentor and friend for the rest of his life. For decades, he would edit books or articles I wrote, refusing payment other than a Kewpee double cheeseburger. He beamed with pride, when I finally won my own 2014 Ohio Associated Press award.
The veteran newspaperman took a chance on me as a young woman struggling to overcome the societal stigma regarding mental health/addiction. This helped me fulfill my dream of becoming a journalist and provided the incentive for learning to live in recovery one day at a time. If you want to honor his legacy, you could give someone like me an opportunity.
In the end, my heart is filled with gratitude to God and also profound grief. I’m beyond grateful God gave me the gift of Michael Lackey as a lifelong mentor and friend. The grief is knowing, I will always miss him more than words can express.
Of course, the missing is worse on special days, like his birthday. So, “Happy Birthday, Michael! I couldn’t let the day go by without letting the world know how you forever changed a life. Mine.
Christina Ryan Claypool is a Chicken Soup for the Soup and Guideposts book contributor and author of the inspirational, “Secrets of the Pastor’s Wife: A Novel.” Contact her through her website at www.christinaryanclaypool.com.
There were several other remarkable occurrences surrounding the event. When dressing the morning of the accident, my treasured angel pin, a gift from late Jewish Holocaust survivor, Elisabeth Sondheimer, seemed to sparkle warningly as it fell to my bedroom floor. 
Christina Ryan Claypool is an inspirational speaker, frequent Chicken Soup for the Soul book contributor, and author of the inspiring book club read, 
In my formative years before the advent of the Internet
For example, famed singer 
who he was. The talented performer was very polite, and I should have at least complimented him on his incredible voice. Thankfully, Bennett didn’t need my affirmation, because the test of time has proven his enduring talent. By 1986, with a new album and his son as manager, the Italian crooner was back on the map, and more Grammys would eventually follow.
After all, it’s been over four decades since that fated breakfast, and meeting the amazing performer was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’ve always regretted my omission of not expressing my gratitude to him for the importance of his musical contribution. Especially, when he was at the bottom of his game. The truth is, I was a troubled kid back then at the bottom of my game, too.
http://www.christinaryanclaypool.comChristina Ryan Claypool is an Amy and Ohio AP award-winning freelance journalist and speaker. She has been featured on CBN’s 700 Club and Joyce Meyer Ministries Enjoying Everyday Life TV show. Her inspirational novel, 
I never thought much about birds, certainly not Cardinals. Undoubtedly, the males with their brilliant red feathers are eye-catching. Yet not that long ago, I believed that collecting bird memorabilia was better left to those with little to do. Now a few Cardinal keepsakes have found their way into my home.
Not so much desiring material things, rather missing the everyday blessings that are easy to take for granted. Then there are folks who seem to be naturally thankful for everything. “Gratitude is inclusive,” writes the late author Brennan Manning. For example, in his book, “Ruthless Trust” Manning shares about an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, where a man named Tony once said, “If I had to choose among all the diseases that afflict human beings, I would choose mine [alcoholism], because I can do something about it.”
But two years ago in December, I saw Kaitlin’s winning smile again. Tragically, this time it was in an obituary photo. I learned her last name, and that this vibrant young lady with so much potential, didn’t have all the time in the world. At only 24, she had lost a battle to cancer. I was deeply saddened by the monumental loss of such a gentle soul for all her loved ones. For me, there had been no chance to say, “Good-bye,” or to express my appreciation.
At this point they can’t process a lot of phone calls or texts, except a few from very close friends and family members. If you know details about the death, don’t post anything on Facebook or send emails out to contact lists until the family is talking openly and publicly about it. Give the family time and space to process what just happened.Sit tight for a day or two. Do nothing but pray at this point. Close friends and clergy should come by the house during this time, of course, because their comforting presence is invaluable. (A nearby neighbor brought over warm soup and fresh fruit that first day. Another close friend brought a large salad–and another gave us a wad of cash.)
After a day or two, food in disposable containers, and practical items such as paper plates, toilet paper, tissues, and bottles of water are welcome and appreciated. The family is consumed with funeral and burial decisions, and the last thing on their mind is life’s basic necessities. If you are bringing food, consider foods that promote healing instead of foods that induce additional stress to their already fragile state of being. Examples would be vegetable or fruit platters, bean dips, and hearty vegetable and bean soups.
Eventually, after the funeral is over and life is a bit quieter for them, visit in-person–but call first. If they don’t answer the phone, take no offense. They may just need space at that moment . . . or they may be embarrassed how messy their house has become in the aftermath of the tragedy. They may want company on-down-the-road. Try again a week or two later. Extend a listening ear without asking a lot of questions. Silence is okay. Just sit with them in their grief. Your presence is invaluable.
On another note, if you or someone you love is contemplating suicide, please remember the devastation for those who love you is incomprehensible, instead please speak your a clergy or counselor or call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at at 1-800-273-TALK or visit their website at 
Most often when people die suddenly, it comes as a terrible shock to those left behind. There is no warning or opportunity to say “good-bye.” Yet occasionally, there seems to be a supernatural sense that one will soon be departing this world. For instance, on July 7, 2016, Sergeant Mike Smith was one of the five Dallas police officers who died in a brutal massacre. Fifty-five-year-old Smith had been part of the Dallas Police department for 28 years. Following the policeman’s death, his daughter Caroline made news nationwide when the nine-year-old courageously shared his special good-bye to her before leaving for work that day. “What if this is the last time you ever kiss me or hug me?” Sgt. Smith had asked Caroline.