Last night, I had the good fortune of breaking bread with one of my longest online acquaintances.
Do you know how CATHARTIC it is to mention blogger names in a conversation and the other person knows what the hell you're talking about? Eclectic and I mixed it up over buckets of alcohol, including a couple of three-olive martini nightcaps. I had to fight off no fewer than a half-dozen men who are obviously enamored with the woman and remain a. somewhat witty and b. functionally coherent. I don't remember much of how it turned out, except that I felt like Big Man on Campus because she was with ME, and could have continued long into the night had I not had a speech to prepare for in a few hours.
The small group of 400 turned into a 700+ crowd, and although I've spoken to larger groups and adore public speaking, it still took me aback.
It was a brutally busy week, so I did not have time to stop by many sites and flame you all as I had hoped. I think I only managed 1 or 2 comments the whole week, including this nonsense at Heather's site:
"totally unrelated, but i always thought that if i were to start a band i would name it 'The Whom.' Because then when people asked, 'Do you play for The Who?,' I could always answer, 'I think you mean to ask, 'Do I play for The WHOM?'."
Anyway, I'm sure no one is interested in the speeches I periodically give to my beloved AmeriCorps, but here is what I said today.
Shari, all I can say is it's a good thing you, I and Steve Perry do not live in the same town. I'm afraid it would turn out as tragic as the lyrics of Foolish Heart.
* * *
A Speech
Don Wise, who I feel like I've known for years and years, and who has graciously asked me so many times if I might be willing to participate in these AmeriCorps events, which, while I've never admitted before is one of the truly great honors I've experienced, having served as a Member to be given the opportunity to give back, asked me if I might also be willing at this Serves Institute to say a few words of final inspiration, and my first thoughts were, my God Don are you trying to get fired? Have you heard some of the things that I've said? Have you not seen the members walking out of my sessions in tears? How many consultants have you actually seen burned in effigy? But by then the medications kicked in and I was once again able to think rationally and answer his request with a resounding "YES I"LL BE THERE JUST NAME THE PLACE AND WHATEVER YOU DO DISREGARD THE PHOTOS IN THE POST OFFICE THAT LOOK LIKE ME." After all, big hair and glasses is a common look these days.
Apparently.
Work with me, people.
Besides, we should trust in Don’s wisdom. There’s a reason his nickname is Don Wise. Or is that his real name? I wonder what he’s hiding? Sadly, we may never know. But one thing I do know is that whatever his real name is, he asked me to say something inspiring, and last night over martinis, I started to think of what I might say in 4 hours , and I figured I might recycle some previous speech, because after all this is the Pac NW, and we're all about recycling ad nauseam, which kind of reminds me of how birds feed their young, though it is the rabbits who are the true masters at recycling, since they eat their food twice, and that's a good lesson that you can sometimes take recycling just a step too far and not even close to an excuse for allowing your children to put rabbit droppings in their mouth.
Lesson. Learned.
Still, I was all set to simply repeat the speech I gave at the AmeriCorps launch in Seattle, but apparently a couple of you were at that event, so instead of boring you with a repeat performance, I thought I might simply use the speech I gave two years ago, but apparently a bunch of you were at that Launch as well, and then I was like Don, my god, don't these people know they're allowed to eventually leave AmeriCorps, or is this some sort of Amway scheme, and he was like, why do you think I've asked you to motivate them.
Actually, he didn't really say that, but he did try to sell me some shampoo/toilet cleanser that I'd never heard of. And it tasted it good, too.
But the more I thought about it, AmeriCorps is sort of like a Pyramid scheme, you know, if you do things right. After all, what is a pyramid scheme except a way to fool others to do the work necessary to give you the lifestyle you so desperately desire? And the life you desperately desire looks like this: equal opportunities for all men and women irrespective of their backgrounds, quality education for all children regardless of their economic, physical or ethnic status, a clean environment, neighborhoods that care for residents, safe streets, consideration, thoughtfulness, understanding. This is the lifestyle you seek, and it's not something you can accomplish on your own. So you spend one year of your life trying to set an example for dozens, perhaps hundreds, sometimes thousands of other people who will carry out the work you've started. Who will eventually give you the life you want for yourself, for your family, for your friends.
That's a pyramid scheme, people. So be selfish and hoodwink as many fools into giving back to your community as you can. I hear there's a sucker born every minute.
That would make an awesome slogan for a pacifier company, by the way.
Okay, so many of you stopped me in the hallways in the last few days and thanked me for speaking about Barry Manilow and Journey at the Seattle Launch, and I haven't even gotten there yet, but don't stop believing, it's coming
But first I want to get back to this notion that in your final few months of service, you truly can leave your thumbprint on the credit side of the checkbook, evidence that you really did make a sacrifice for the betterment of society, an example of wholesome goodness that not even the best breakfast cereals can match, a shiny, obnoxious instance of righteousness that you can shove in your kid's face when he shows up with a mail-order bride he somehow acquired through his myspace account.
Okay, who am I kidding, we might as well speak about Journey and Barry Manilow now, cause I'm sure I've lost half of you, already. My god, Don, I'm so sorry. Or as the bloggers say, So PERIOD Very PERIOD Sorry PERIOD. WTF.
And you know what freaks me out more than anything about AmeriCorps members? It's not that they're willing to work full time for the same wages NEWSIES used to make before Black Tuesday, it's that they KNOW who Barry Manilow is! I've spent 10 years grooming and individualizing my gray hairs so that I can hang out respectfully with your supervisors and you blow all my preconceived notions out of the water by reciting word for word the lyrics to Mandy and Copacabana.
So I cornered a young fellow in the hall and he explained it thusly, 'AmeriCorps members know about Barry Manilow because he was featured on a television show called American Idol where amateur singers compete for national recognition, and I said, no, that’s Star Search, and he looked at me funny, and that’s kind of when he realized the last time I turned on a television set, MacGyver was the number one show, and I realized that slowly, but surely, I am drifting away from the youth of today, but when he started to point out there must be a generation gap between us, I wanted to argue that I’m not really that old, but by then it was time for my afternoon nap, and I hadn’t even taken my Metamucil.
And honestly, this isn't a speech about motivation, it's a plea of desperation, because I have children, and I so very badly want to walk the streets of my country at night and feel safe and feel proud and that means that I rely upon you for that to happen. I am the original progenitor of this pyramid scheme, and you are my investment. In your life, how many times have you had someone on their knees looking UP into your eyes for hope rather than trying to dictate where your path should lead, because I say this in all seriousness and humility, I'm am very selfishly relying upon each of you to make my world a better place. How many times have you had a supervisor or parental figure candidly admit that their hope lies in you? Because that's what I'm doing. As motivation, I imagine this might backfire, but all of you inspire me. All of you give me hope. This is a lesson that I have learned.
And I so very much love to share this lesson, because I was blessed as a child to have learned that those generations behind us often have as much to teach as we thought they might have to learn. Seeing the absolute brilliance of children sharing toys on the playground. Experiencing the fact that a child's close-up view of the world might just be simple enough to allow us to reach truth and meaning. Realizing that all of us have much to learn from each other, how dare I try to motivate you, you darling, darling people. I now count this among my earliest lessons, a nascent lesson, right behind 'squeezing is an inappropriate way to get someone's attention' and 'drinking from the pickle jar is only allowed when all the pickles are gone.'
It's a good lesson, nonetheless.
All of you are very much like children to me, that sense of innocent hope. Whether you are 18 or 80, you prove to me that in spite of all the commercial slogans I've heard, failure is a perfectly acceptable option, but giving up is not. All of you have faced hurdles in the past 9 months of service, but none of you have quit, because you know that no one likes a quitter. Except when it comes to smoking. Or you know, heavy drinking. Or anything you might call a vice. Well not ADvice. Advice is the only good vice. And I'm completely out. Sorry.
Okay focus Brandon, you're supposed to motivate them, not frighten them.
And don’t say that last part out loud.
Rest assured people, most of you will not turn into me.
But honestly, most of you have already turned into pretty good people.
I say this not only because not one of you has turned me over to the proper authorities.
I say this mostly because in those few instances when I've seen you in my sessions, in the hallways, yes, even in the processing room of the county jail, I've seen a reflection in your eyes of what once made me feel good about myself: that I held onto the childhood innocence that once impelled me to share my toys with the other kids in the sandbox, that now impels me to share my lessons with you, and that will one day impel me to share your story with my own children. I may have been awful at geometry, but I can assure you, that this is one pyramid that has come full circle. Thank you all for your commitment, you crazy, innocent people. Enjoy your last few months of service.