A friendship that shaped everything.

Landry and Efoe became friends as children growing up in Togo, West Africa—but in many ways, their friendship began before they did.

Their fathers had been friends in college and carried that friendship into their professional lives. Both teachers, they shared opportunities with one another throughout the region and often pursued those opportunities together, even when they took them beyond the borders of Togo.

Eventually, the two families purchased plots of land catty-corner from one another. Their children grew up not simply as neighbors and friends, but almost as siblings.

Landry and Efoe's friendship would stretch across childhood, countries, and eventually continents.

What made that friendship lasting wasn't anything complicated. They looked out for one another—but if you asked Landry, he would tell you that Efoe had a particular way of looking out for him. It wasn't something reserved for Landry, either. It was simply who Efoe was with his friends: loyal, generous, willing to sacrifice, and always there when someone needed him.

Years later, that friendship would take on an even deeper meaning. It became a reminder of something at the heart of the Christian life: we are called to love one another not only in words, but through the way we live.

Long before MEK had a mission statement, that kind of love was already at the heart of its story.

Then came the news.

In 2008, life took them to new grounds. Efoe went to Senegal, and shortly after, Landry moved to the United States. When they said goodbye, he seemed healthy. Neither of them knew how much life was about to change.

Distance changed the rhythm of their friendship. Landry was adjusting to the fast pace of a new life in America, and they didn't keep in touch as often as they once had. But Efoe still had a way of showing up—even from across the ocean. He would send emails, often those familiar message chains filled with uplifting words and encouragement meant to be passed along to someone else.

Then, news came that Efoe had returned to Lomé because he was sick. One of the first signs was bleeding from his gums.

In March 2010, Efoe shared more about his diagnosis: a rare condition called idiopathic aplastic anemia, which affected his bone marrow's ability to produce the blood cells his body needed.

Landry knew his friend was seriously ill, but he also knew Efoe was expecting treatment. There was still reason to hope.

On May 6, 2010, Efoe died.

He was the first truly close friend Landry had ever lost.

A promise without a plan.

Landry mourned his friend the best way he knew how. But one part of the loss was especially difficult: knowing that whenever he returned home, Efoe would no longer be one of the people waiting there.

Life continued. And for the next decade, Landry threw himself into building a life and progressing professionally. But through it all, one conviction remained: somehow, he needed to honor his friend.

There was no business plan. No brand strategy. No clear vision of what it would become.

There was simply a desire to carry forward the memory of someone who had been extraordinarily good to his friends—someone so many people loved, trusted, and could count on.

Then, in 2020, the world slowed down.

The pandemic created space for Landry to recognize something he hadn't fully confronted: he had never really healed from losing Efoe.

By then, he was also in a different place in life. After years of working to move forward professionally, he finally had both the means and the time to take a first step toward remembering his friend in a tangible way.

He still didn't know exactly what it would become.

He just knew it was time to begin.

From his name came ours.

When Landry finally took that first step in 2020, he didn't have to search for a name.

MEK came from Efoe's initials—and the way he signed his name.

The earliest idea was simple: sell merchandise online and use a portion of the profits to support charities and meaningful causes. Landry even considered inviting some of the friends he and Efoe had shared to build it together.

But the idea kept evolving.

Through his career in experiential marketing, Landry had met talented artists, creators, and genuinely good people whose work deserved to be seen. MEK began to take shape as a platform that could help connect those people with opportunities and greater exposure.

In a way, that felt familiar.

Efoe hadn't only loved his friends well. He connected them. He brought people together. If a company was going to carry his name, perhaps it could carry something of that instinct too.

Still, the clearest part of MEK's identity had not yet emerged.

Then the mission became clearer.

The Catholic faith had always been part of Landry and Efoe's story. They both grew up Catholic. But after moving to the United States, Landry's own relationship with the faith went through seasons of distance.

Eventually, he found his way back.

What began as a return became something deeper—a renewed relationship with the faith, a growing desire to seek Christ, and, later, a life shared with his wife Mary C. as they grew together in practicing their Catholic faith.

As that part of Landry's life became clearer, so did the purpose of the company carrying his friend's name.

MEK could still create. It could still connect people. It could still give back. But those things no longer had to exist as separate ideas searching for a common purpose.

They could all point somewhere.

MEK would become a vehicle for bringing people closer to Christ, rooted unapologetically in the Catholic Church—the same faith in which Landry and Efoe had been raised.

The company had changed considerably from the idea that began in 2020. And it would continue to change.

The expression had evolved. The heart behind it hadn't.

The story is still being written.

Today, MEK creates Catholic goods, content, and experiences with a clearer purpose than when it began: to create opportunities for people to encounter Christ, live their faith more deeply, and carry it into everyday life.

What began as one man's desire to honor a friend has become something neither of them could have planned all those years ago.

And it is still becoming.

The products may change. The experiences may grow. The name people see may even evolve as the mission continues to take shape.

But some things are meant to remain.

To love people well.
To bring people together.
To give more than we take.
To use what we have to serve something greater than ourselves.
And, above all, to point people toward Christ.

MEK began because Landry wanted to make sure the memory of his friend didn't simply disappear with time.

Perhaps the best way to carry Efoe's legacy forward isn't simply to preserve his name.

It's to keep practicing the kind of love that made his name worth remembering.

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam!