Remembering Megan – The Cauldron
It’s August 2019. I walk into The Cauldron’s office for our first layout meeting feeling anxious. There’s a voice hovering over my shoulder, whispering, “I’m a stranger here, I’m the old guy (29 at the time), I don’t belong.” I’d never met anyone on our staff except our Editor-in-Chief. Those first day jitters, the dread over answering, “Tell us about yourself!” in front of the class; it never truly goes away.
Then walks in Megan, with her bubbly personality, trademark white crocs and quirky sense of humor. The energy was contagious, her sense of sarcasm forcing you to up your game so you weren’t left in the dust. The balance of warmth and humor, so rare in somebody so young. I was immediately in awe. She was, and remains to this day, the most interesting person I’ve ever met. I’ve never met the Dos Equis guy, but I think Megan would’ve given him a run for his money.
Megan was our managing editor, but there aren’t enough superlatives to describe her actual role on our staff. She was our energy. Our conspiracy theory-loving, self-deprecating colleague, who would check in with us individually unbeknownst to the others. A goofy friend one minute, a protective mother figure the next. She was our eyes and ears on campus, as she had more roles than Tim Misny has billboards.
She was the glue that bonded our room of quiet, introverted personalities. Her quirks, like her genuine love of crocs (you’re right Megan, they’re fabulous), her energy fueled by hot dogs and a passion for social injustice. Megan felt like a sitcom character come to life.
She was someone who wouldn’t hesitate to share the embarrassing stories that the rest of us would rather keep to ourselves. On our April 13, 2020 print edition of The Cauldron, in which the editors all wrote about how we were managing the excruciating whole month of a pandemic (at the time), she wrote, “My boyfriend ghosted me, so I am thinking of this quarantine as the ideal timing to slowly change my Netflix and Hulu passwords since he’s in the middle of watching “Tiger King” and “Rick & Morty” on my accounts. I am thriving once again. Dare I say this might even be my peak?”
“Sarcasm is my only defense so I’m glad it made ya chuckle!” Megan would say.
In November of 2019, the Cauldron staff went to Washington D.C. for a college journalism conference. Crammed into our rental van, driving on the darkest roads known to mankind en route to D.C., we listened to the Washington Nationals win the World Series. Megan and I realized that they would be having the parade during our stay there. Both avid baseball fans, we planned to have a day out on the town. We bought cheap knock-off championship gear on the street from questionable vendors, disguised ourselves as locals and basked in a shower of red confetti while trumpets played in the background. We shouted at former Cleveland shortstop Asdrubal Cabrera, who was on one of the floats, trying and failing to get his attention. We talked about relationships, stomach problems and life. We went to a Washington Wizards game, ate hot dogs and almost got mugged due to my directional inadequacies; all staples in a proper get-to-know-you experience.
The circumstances of her death are tragic and shocking, yet not surprising. There will be more angry men that obtain firearms, legally or otherwise. There will be more innocent women like Megan that are just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s the reality of living in America in 2024. This wasn’t a gang-riddled community nor a Las Vegas nightclub at 3 a.m.. This was a Taco Bell drive thru in Stow, Ohio at 7 p.m. on a Wednesday night. Megan joins a long list that grows by the minute. But she was, and always will be, so much more than a statistic.
In her time in college, Megan could be seen around campus more than the mascot itself. A dedicated student, Megan was as involved in Cleveland State University as a student could possibly be, having poured eight years of herself into the college. She obtained her MBA in May, made Dean’s List six times and the President’s List once. She was the Homecoming Queen in 2021. She was a founding member and president of the Alpha Sigma Alpha Sorority. She was the managing editor for The Cauldron. She was a student orientation manager. In addition to being hilarious and selfless, she was fierce: “Not to be dramatic but I only got sued by one bar during undergrad,” reads the caption? on one of her Instagram posts.
She also wasn’t afraid to stick her neck out on behalf of somebody else without as loud of a voice. Savannah Lewis, former news editor for The Cauldron during Megan’s tenure with the paper, remembered her as a source of comfort:
“She made world-crushing moments move on with a joke and a red=lipped smile,” Lewis said. “She offered her shoulder (and her grammar expertise) to anyone who needed it, and she taught me three important lessons: make sure to wear comfortable shoes, red lipstick is always fashionable if it’s worn with a smile, and through all the bad in this world, choose to be kind every time.”
Unlike the rest of the staff, Megan was not a journalism major. She did this just for kicks, and she was good at it. She knew AP Style. Why? I don’t even know. Her role as managing editor was broad. Occasionally, she would write when we were short-staffed. Had she wanted to, she’d have made an incredible reporter. Or journalist. Or anything, probably.
The world changed in 2020 for many people. She reached out to me shortly after my breakup to check in. We joked and exchanged memes, which is practically therapy, just cheaper. She was the kind of person that looked out for everybody.
“One time during the virtual part of the pandemic, Megan knew how unwell I was coping with everything, and we took a walk together to the pier,” shared Gwen Bueche, Megan’s former co-worker and friend. “I got to do something in person with my friend, and just have a normal conversation and forget the current stresses of the world. And it meant so much to me. Megan did little things like that that had an awfully big impact on the people around her. My life was certainly better because she was a part of it.”
To the college students reading this, I hope you have a Megan in your life. Somebody that can make you laugh long into the late nights where you’re cramming for an exam or writing up against a deadline. Somebody that will bridge the gaps in a group of strangers and turn them into friends with their extroverted, quirky sense of humor and kindness. Somebody that will stick up for you when your back is up against a wall because they have a passion for helping others. Somebody that you will think of whenever you see the green CSU lights on the top of Rhodes Tower whenever you drive by the city, even if it has been years since you spoke. For me, that was Megan and those late nights working on the newspaper. For a time, that will take on a new meaning. Maybe forever. Probably forever. But I don’t want to remember Megan like that. I’m trying. We all are. I’m hopeful that one day, those memories will be a source of comfort.
There is a GoFundMe set up for Megan, setting up scholarships in her name, a tribute she would be proud of. To date, it has raised $21,681, but it is nowhere near enough. The impact that Megan had as a student can never be measured in dollars. Nor words, though I certainly tried, though the try itself is a failure by definition, as Megan cannot be captured in a bottle. Megan was a larger-than-life personality whose impact will resonate with all who have met her. She was the main character in every room she was in, a ray of optimism in an unforgiving world, and a source of inspiration for everybody lucky enough to be graced by her presence. That is how I’ll remember her.
On March 1, 2020, our staff met in-person for the final time. On that day, Megan wrote THIS article, which is worth a full read. We were in a bind, in need of an article with our deadline inching closer by the tick of the clock. Coming from somebody else, these words may seem cheesy, but Megan was proud to be cheesy in an upbeat, 2000s rom-com type of way:
“To overcome adversities, you must prevail in spite of the cards you are dealt with,” wrote Megan. “At times, it may seem so overwhelming that you question how you are going to handle this — but remember that you are a strong person and you would not be put into situations that you could not handle.”
The Cauldron and Cleveland State University mourn the loss of Megan Keleman, a CSU alumna who recently obtained her master’s in business administration. Having served as managing editor for The Cauldron in her undergraduate years, Megan will always be remembered. | Photo Credit: Stow Police Department