Dueling or Complementing Graduation Speeches?

A couple posts back, I posted my 26 sentence graduation speech spontaneously written in response to my summer writing instructor's suggestion. Another student read hers to the class and I was intrigued by the similariies. We are quite different: I drive a car, she bicycles; I am a retired techie, she is a teacher; we differ in gender and age; she is young enough, probably, to be my granddaughter. Our speeches, however, though differing significantly in word choice, strike a remarkably similar tone. Or so it seems to me. Thoughts?

Mine ABC's of Advice		Katie Murphy-Olsen's A-Z Advice to a Graduate
Always be open to new ideas. Be able to create your own situation, your own story. Centaurs don’t actually exist, but serve useful roles in fiction. Dinosaurs were the stars of Jurassic Park. Every one of you has what you need to be successful in this world. Decide who you want to be/what your person is. Every time you have opportunity, chase your passion. Fight the tendency to give in. Give your best in all circumstances. Have open eyes and ears and being. Illuminate life for others. Judge others not. Kick yourself in the backside when tempted to give up. Live for the moment. Miss no opportunities to be kind. Neglect no one. Oppose the idea that there are groups, us and them. Promote unity in everything. Quit doing things and being with people who suck your energy. Rather, Spend time with people and doing things that give you energy. Together, with and in community, support and build up one another. Unite your skills and your people. Victimize nobody. Whenever you have a win, celebrate it, no matter how small the win. X – let it mark the spot you want to stand, and then stand there. Y are you waiting for my permission to start? Zoom out, now, and get going on your life!		Addressing this group is an honor. Believe in yourself as much as I believe in you. Can you see your beautiful future? Dangle in the unknown-- in your academics, in your life, in your past. Energy will carry your spirit to places you will find peace. Friends--you and me--now will find places in your heart. Growth mindset verses fixed mindset--grow! Heavens are looking at you. Heavens will your way. I believe in you. Just remember you cheerleaders. Kindness and love will be your guides. Learning it will be hard. Learning what you have done was hard. Learning and learning from from your strength. Motivation will follow and push you. Neither right here or over there, we are in there. Obtuse and acute are triangles of learning, balances and degrees. Power and persistence and passion fit together in different ways for different reasons; each is needed, each is hope and each can be influential. Quietness will be helpful. Roughly figure out who you are and be mindful of growth. Study (the world). Sit (patiently). Secure (good people to you). Tenacity will be a good partner. Understand you don't understand everything. Voice your opinion with grace. Why? How? Xenophobia will be all around. You are you. Zigzag until you find what you're looking for.

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Growing a Friendship

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Loretta is a woman fifteen years my senior, old enough to be a grandmother, though not mine. Always single, she spent her early adulthood as a member of Chicago’s Sisters of St Casmir. Formally released from vows she came to the Twin Cities in the early 1970’s. She became an Oblate of St Benedict’s Monastery in St Joseph, Minnesota in the late 1990’s.

My wife Ellie and I became Oblates of that same Monastery in 2004.

Our lives’ paths intersected.

We had seen Loretta at St Benedict’s, but had spent no time with her. She presented a talk about Christian Icons; neither of us spoke to her afterward.

The three of us attended the Monastic Institute of 2006. Loretta was the only familiar oblate that Ellie and I saw there; we gravitated to her. She engaged us. Lunch, dinner, breaks. Not all, but many. We enjoyed her.

After the Institute, Ellie and I spoke about it and about Loretta. “I would like to get together with her occasionally just to pray,” we said, virtually simultaneously. And we looked at each other as if, “Why didn’t you tell me?” … “Well I just did!”

Suffice to say that each of us quit the large and distant Oblate Group we were part of, and started our own group, adding another member and meeting monthly.

We saw Loretta beyond meetings; we’d pick her up for Mass, perhaps, and then eat someplace before taking her home. We’d usually go in for a cup of coffee and a cookie or some popcorn, or some ice cream. What friends do.

We marveled at who she is: Theology Master’s; voracious reader; lifelong provider of adult religious education. She absorbed training organically and integrated it. It seeps out her pores when she converses. Say anything about Church, she’ll provide insight … without proselytizing. Mention the Cathedral in St Paul, for example. She’d acknowledge it, speak about the pastor, and tell you that the architect was Emmanuel Masqueray. She would add, “Oh, and Emmanuel designed the Basilica of St Mary in downtown Minneapolis. We are so fortunate to have two churches designed by this world class architect within practically a stone’s throw of one another. They’re unique; the imprint of the architect is in the domes.” I admired how she integrated her learning. Were she male, I’d call her a Renaissance Man.

Our friendship deepened. We’d go to our meetings at St Benedict’s together. We’d usually go to weekend Mass together, and eat afterward. She knew of and introduced us to bohemian restaurants. Loretta taught us about attending summer parish festivals. We attended spiritual enrichment opportunities. In 2007 we joined a tour to Italy.

We were personally compatible, but each of us knew that our individual commitment to God and the development of our spirituality bonded us. That colored everything we did.

Cancer struck Loretta in 2011. We promised we’d be there, whatever, whenever. She had surgery. Some cancer remained. Her oncologist: “This is not curable.” So began chemo and radiation. Ellie took her; Loretta amazed everyone. None of the horrible treatment reactions was hers, not even nausea. Frequently, her first comment after treatment: “I’m starving!”

We hosted an open house for Loretta’s eightieth birthday that year. Eighty or so people came through our small home. Among the benefits: meeting many that Loretta had spoken so fondly of.

Loretta’s cancer slowly began winning; more pain, sleep, meds, less ability to manage. Ellie helped out, occasionally stayed overnight. In late December, 2014 Ellie moved in full time; Loretta enrolled in home hospice care in January.

Ellie and Loretta frequently attend daily Mass. We still go to weekend Mass, frequently stopping to eat. Even when hurting, which is usually, Loretta intends to live through the pain. We all know, live with, and do the best we can with that.

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Some Things are Not About Gender

As I mentioned, there is a decidedly liberal slant to most people attending Convergence.  This is especially true of the outspoken people there, like the people hosting panels.  I mention this because I again heard a ridiculous statement that I would like to respond to.

"'I have a boyfriend' is the easiest way to get a man to leave you alone. Because he respects another man more than you."

This seems to be a complete failure of imagination on the part of the people who believe this.  The man is obviously respecting the choice you already committed to vs a choice he sees as pending.  Having chosen from among the candidates is completely different than having eliminated a candidate from a pending choice.

Is it wrong for him to persist?  Should he respect her initial rejection?  Both of these questions are irreverent when determining the difference between these two situations.  This statement claims the difference is gender, and it just isn't.

To illustrate this point, I'd like you to imagine two scenarios.

In the first, person A is sitting at a small table in a cafe.  Person B approaches person A, and says, "May I sit in this empty seat?  There are no open tables."  For some reason person A does not want person B sharing the table, and says, "No."  Person B persists, "Are you sure?  I'd really like to sit here."

Now how big of jerk is person B?  It may have been more polite to take "No" for an answer, but it's not so unreasonable to ask a second time about a seat that seems to be available.

Now imagine person A said, "No, I came a with another person, and that person will be back any minute.  That seat is taken."  Person B persists.

Now how big of a jerk is B?  B is asking for a seat that is not available, and B knows it.  Can everyone see the difference?

ABC’s of Advice

My summer session writing instructor gave us an exercise to write either a 26-word or 26-sentence speech to give to a graduating class. The words or sentences were to begin with the letters of the alphabet, A through Z, in order. And then she gave us 10 or 15 minutes to write the speech. "Go," she said. I finished, and think there is some good advice here ( it's unretouched ). What do you think?

Always be open to new ideas.
Be able to create your own situation, your own story.
Centaurs don’t actually exist, but serve useful roles in fiction.
Dinosaurs were the stars of Jurassic Park.
Every one of you has what you need to be successful in this world.
Decide who you want to be/what your person is.
Every time you have opportunity, chase your passion.
Fight the tendency to give in.
Give your best in all circumstances.
Have open eyes and ears and being.
Illuminate life for others.
Judge others not.
Kick yourself in the backside when tempted to give up.
Live for the moment.
Miss no opportunities to be kind.
Neglect no one.
Oppose the idea that there are groups, us and them.
Promote unity in everything.
Quit doing things and being with people who suck your energy.
Rather,
Spend time with people and doing things that give you energy.
Together, with and in community, support and build up one another.
Unite your skills and your people.
Victimize nobody.
Whenever you have a win, celebrate it, no matter how small the win.
X – let it mark the spot you want to stand, and then stand there.
Y are you waiting for my permission to start?
Zoom out, now, and get going on your life!

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To the Diet... or How to Feed Myself - #5

Last year, as I approached Convergence, I made a plan for a diet.  I did some experimenting, and I did some research.  I found myself to be about 43 pounds overweight.  Then as soon as Convergence had ended, I committed.  I lost about 30 pounds.

Then a month long vacation happened.  Some may say I slipped, but I had never intended to remain on my diet during that vacation.  When it ended I'd gained almost 10 pounds back, and since then I made it about an even 10.  That means I'm currently about half way between my starting weight, and my ideal weight.  I think you could describe me as "chubby" again.

Last week when this Convergence ended I recommitted.  Last time I did lose 30 pounds, and this time I only have 20ish to lose.  The truth is, I won't know what my ideal weight is until I approach it.

The diet hasn't changed.  I still mostly just count calories.  I try to run a 1,000 calorie deficit a day.  I almost always come up short, but almost always run some deficit.  The surprising thing is, it was only really tough for a day or two.  It helped that I've been eating fairly reasonably since my vacation, even if I wasn't actually counting calories.

You can expect an update in 10 pounds.

My Student Office

"Gotta learn to type!"

Growing up, I lived with my family in a two-story light-brown brick bungalow; the roof line ran side to side when viewed from the street.

The house had a dormer on the left. The characteristic A-frame roofline was on the right, and sported a high, narrow window. Behind this window was a room still holding a warm place in my heart.

It was small, five feet deep. It was twelve feet wide from the floor up to a height of about four feet, at which height the sloping roof imposed itself on the room. The ceiling of this room followed the slope of the A-frame roofline. The walls and ceiling were paneled with cedar. Entry to this room was in the middle of the wall opposite the window; it came from the bedroom that I shared with my brother.

Dad mounted a flat door, the exact depth of the room, against the sidewalls on each side of the room, at desk height. This created a simple desk on each side. A typing table and a manual, upright, Underwood typewriter were at the left side of the desk on the left. This was my side of the room. My brohter's was the other. This room was my sanctuary; I loved going there to do both high-school and college schoolwork.

This was my space; my brother had the desk on the right. Dad used a card table in my parents' bedroom when needed. Only I used my space. I was able to light it and populate it with whatever I wished. When my brother was not there, which was mostly, I could also be loud. I talked to myself when typing, reading difficult passages, and struggling with schoolwork problems. When I was alone, talking to myself, "myself" was the only person to even hear me speak.

Because of the two doors between it and the rest of the house, my parents could have a noisy gathering and I would have been well insulated from its noise.

I learned to type in this room. Dad was a high-school office skills teacher
( typing, bookkeeping, shorthand ) and knew that one learned to type by, well, by typing. The instructor provided initial guidance; the typing books had help with that plus exercises. Dad provided the initial guidance, books, typing paper, plus the typing table and typewriter. It was up to me to practice.

I was thirteen. I knew knowing typing would be valuable, my maturity made that motivation to learn, and the environment made it easy. I still remember, though, practicing typing when my friends were playing wiffle ball, or something. I could watch them. My maturity level was adequate to keep me at the typing table, but inadequate to tell my friends I was learning to type. I don't remember what I told them, but it was not, "Gotta learn to type."

At about this time, Dad made me aware of "Gregg Notehand," aimed at students. It was a much simplified version of Gregg Shorthand. Dad believed, correctly, that I would want to learn it to navigate high-school and college lectures. This was also learned by doing. After initial guidance from Dad, one would build skill by doing a book's exercises. This was another perfect application for my "office," as I had begun calling it.

Today, when visiting friends with children of school age I have frequently been struck by what the kids go through to do homework. They drag their school-work, from wherever they left it when getting home, to the kitchen table, but not until dinner is over and the table cleared and if the table won't be used for something else. Then they get their work out and do it in front of whomever happens to be watching. And I remember my office, going there anytime I wanted, doing virtually whatever I wanted, having to worry about neither getting in someone's way nor someone getting in my way.

That incredible gift warms my heart still.

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Back to Reality

Today I reentered reality after Convergence.  Not only did I spend four days there, but this year I volunteered for 25 hours.  It was actually considered 45 because you can double the hours put in during setup.  That doesn't exactly guarantee me a hotel room at the convention next year, but it is more likely, and I did get a t-shirt.  But how did the rest of the convention go?

It ran smoothly.  This is my fourth year attending, and the first without a major snafu.  I think this year the staff operating it shifted their focus from making it bigger and better to making what they have work.  It makes total sense considering they really can't hold more people than they have now.

I found the panels and guests of honor to be a little less compelling than before.  There were also several more political panels than before.  That's definitely a down side for me, since I am more conservative, and the majority of guests and panelists are very liberal.  This wouldn't stop me from attending in the future, because you can have a lot of fun at the convention without ever going to a panel.

Gaming is getting huge there.  They had a ton of demo copies of every board game you've ever heard of lent by local game stores.  I got roped into an RPG at one point that ended up lasting six hours.  It was my first RPG, and it wasn't that great.  I could clearly see the problems though, and could see myself enjoying the right RGP with the right group in the future.

The rest was the same as my previous years, which is awesome.  Many people there were dressed as their favorite characters from all over the sci-fi and fantasy spectrum.  Many were under dressed as them.  As always, it was just fun hanging out with people interested in the same things I am.

A Renaissance Man Wannabe?

“For our next writing exercise, I’d like you to write, ‘I am from … ‘ and finish with whatever comes into your head. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. No editing, just write. And we’ll do it for ten minutes. Everyone ready? Go.”

I wrote, “I am from the land of Renaissance Men.” I so wanted that to be true.

That land is where man … men … males … are Renaissance Men. What is a Renaissance Man? He, per Webster’s, is “a man who is interested in and knows a lot about many things.” In my view, he’s a man of letters, a man who’s had a liberal education. A man who’s studied English, History, literature, Philosophy, Theology perhaps, maybe a foreign language, Art. And me? I earned a Bachelor’s degree in Engineering and a Master’s degree in Science.

I immersed myself in college; I loved the math, the science, the various analyses. It helped that I sort of knew what I would be doing upon graduation, as back in those days companies were coming to the Engineering Schools to recruit graduating seniors. I graduated, went to work as an engineer, and got my employer-sponsored Master’s degree during my first two years of employment.

I soon began realizing that other people knew things that I barely knew about. I include my wife at the time, a teacher, in the group of people who knew these things. She and the friends we met through her would casually mention, for example, ideas about life in a contemporary novel that were present in a movie we’d seen. I would have missed the idea in the movie, and failed to know of the novel. Or they would comment on some cultural phenomenon and speak at length about George Orwell’s predicting such a thing in his book, “Animal Farm.” I had read the book but noticed neither the phenomenon’s prediction nor its actual occurrence.

Let me be clear. This was done in everyday conversation. They were not pretentious in any way. The phenomena were real, the authors and their books were real, and these friends ( and my wife, don’t forget ) inhabited this foreign ( to me ) world.

Several brutal realizations occurred. I knew of neither the books nor the authors on one of those “twenty-five books every well-educated person should have read” lists. While I learned about engineering, those in the school of liberal arts learned basic things in a broader array of studies.  While I learned what was needed to work as an engineer, they learned things that would help them make a go at life. I didn’t notice what was going on culturally at the same level of detail, awareness, and evaluation that these liberal-arts educated people did. I noticed that the management people in my engineering environment seemed to have at least one foot in that foreign world. I knew I had missed something important.

So what did I do? I did what any sane person in my situation would have done. I panicked.

I began reading authors like Kurt Vonnegut and Carl Reiner. I began feeding my soul by reading some of John Powell and, later, Thomas Merton. I became interested in Gestalt psychology and took a two year intensive training program in Gestalt Methods. Much, much later I began taking voice lessons.

I have learned lots of things beyond my field. I am older now, and I believe this is a factor, but I believe there is more. My conscious efforts to learn have expanded my knowledge and interests as I had hoped. I doubt, however, that I will ever make up for failing to study this material when in college.

I recently picked up a book titled, “25 Books Every Christian Should Read.” I have read a few of them, I think I have read another one or two, and I recognize most of the authors and many of the titles.  This is progress.

I have to admit that, just perhaps, I am not really from the land of Renaissance Men but am only determined one day to be.

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