Showing posts with label Flashback Friday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Flashback Friday. Show all posts

Friday, January 21, 2011

Day 20: Flashback Friday: Failure to Fail

Today was a rough week, folks. It was bound to happen sooner or later. The euphoric high I was experiencing earlier in the trial started to wear off as the general stress from work, schedules, responsibilities and budget piled back on after the holiday season ended.

A few nights ago, I had a beer and a smoke. Actually, I had three smokes.


The next day I got up, put it behind me, and got right back on track. I haven't had another beer or smoke since.


But it reminded me of an experience I had a few years ago when I was working with the Miracle League to create a fundraising video for their annual gala. That same year, I was asked to be the keynote speaker at the induction ceremony for the Beta Club -- an organization at James River, devoted primarily to community service. In my talk I told the story of the Miracle League video.


While I was clearing out files (read: procrastinating) I found the talk I gave that night in April. I re-read it, and I remembered that I have tripped and stumbled before.


Not failed. I haven't failed. But I stumbled. I'll grant you stumbled. But it won't stop me from seeing this through.


Instead of telling some mortally embarassing story from my past to prepare and invigorate me for the weekend, I've decided to reprint the talk here, to remind myself that its okay to stumble. Real success is when you get back up.


***************************************************************************



Good evening parents, colleagues, Mr. Principal and Beta club members and inductees.



It is a privilege for me to be here, amongst students who choose to find ways to improve their community.



I want to speak briefly about my history with service, because I went to a high school similar to this one – except that it was all girls, only had 400 students and we all wore uniforms that made us look like elves. It was a Catholic school and while community service was not required, it was expected that we would all contribute to school-wide service events and seek opportunities to give back to the community on our own time. And we did, mostly because it was a part of our school culture, and that is very much what I see here. At Anonymous High School, there are constantly capstone projects in the works, Do-Something events in action, and members of PEACE club picking bottles out of the trash for recycling. But probably the greatest testament to the community service culture of AHS is the fact (and as the yearbook advisor responsible for taking all the club pictures, I can tell you this is a fact) that Beta Club, a service organization, is the largest club on the AHS campus.



My experience in high school has made me a person who feels a sense of civic engagement – a sense that I belong to the community in which I live – and so I feel responsible to help its members. Because of my high school experience, service is a lifestyle, not just a part of my life.



I want to tell you about my most recent experience with service, because I learned SOO much.



My future father in law, Marty, got involved a while back with an organization called the Miracle League. They build baseball fields with a special kind of smooth turf. The purpose of these fields is to allow children who use walkers or wheelchairs or even crutches or braces an opportunity to play baseball.



Marty was the contractor on the field and my fiancĂ© put in countless hours towards its completion. However, at this time I was not involved at all. When it came time to raise money for a second field, the organization decided to throw a giant auction and gala – and they wanted a video to play at the event.



Marty volunteered me. He is not computer savvy, so he confused my offer to make a powerpoint, with an offer to make a video. He is not aware there is a difference.



He volunteers me. Me! Me who has no idea how to make a video. Yearbooks, sure. Newspapers, absolutely. I even know how to use photoshop to make you look 10 lbs lighter and 10 years younger. But a video? That’s a different story altogether.



I didn’t even own a video camera.



But I said yes anyway, because not knowing how you are going to accomplish a goal shouldn’t prevent you from trying to achieve it.



I procured a video camera and I conned my fiance into being my videographer, and we visited kids who played on the team to speak with them about how playing baseball has affected them.



I met Chase, a thirteen-year-old who is completely paranoid about getting lost around high school next year, who hits the ball well over the heads of every kid on the field, and who has spina biffada.



I met Daniel, a sixteen-year-old who is completely bored by math class, thinks his Miracle League buddy is cute, believes that through prayer all things are possible and has cerebral palsey.



I met their parents, who were so grateful to have a place to go every week in the fall, where they could feel less alone, less isolated in their struggle to retrofit their homes for wheelchairs or fight with school systems to ensure their students were being placed in the proper classes.



We stayed with these families for hours, talking well after the camera was turned off, and I went home absolutely certain that this video had to be good. It had to do these kids justice, and convince the moneybags at this gala to support this cause.



I was so siked. I was fired up with passion for the cause and these kids, and this video was going to be so great, dag nab it!



But so help me I just couldn’t get the footage off that camera.



Then, I got the footage off the camera, but not the sound.



Then I got the footage and sound off, but it wasn’t editable so I couldn’t cut out the stuff I didn’t need.



Then I got it off, but everyone’s head looked like a giant pixel, like in an old school video game.



Then, I bought some magical $100 cable which the Best Buy guy swore would work, and it did, so things were looking up.



But, as it turned out Microsoft really does create some crummy products, so the first round of video looked like my dog made it.



I actually told my fiance that we should give the dog a go at it, because we were totally botching the job. The dog declined.



I took the crummy video to the final planning meeting just five days before the gala. I showed up late, and everyone was anxiously waiting to see THE VIDEO. I showed it. It concluded.



Dead silence. One kid in the front row must have felt bad and he started to clap.



No one joined him.



It was so bad – you couldn’t hear what anyone was saying, the film quality was horrible, the transitions were choppy, the list goes on.



Because all the passion in the world won’t guarantee success, but does guarantee that you will work to the bone until you find a solution.



So I went back to the drawing board. Actually, I went to Office Depot. And I dropped a couple hundred on some decent quality video editing software and I STARTED FROM SCRATCH.



I don’t know how I came in to work everyday and didn’t fall asleep at a computer, because I stayed up until 2am every night from that Tuesday until the gala on Saturday working on that video. When I wasn’t working on it, I was thinking about it. I was agonizing over its length, the songs in the background, the quality of the footage, whether I had enough people in it.



Because if you are going to do something for someone else, do it right. Do it the absolute best you possibly can.



On the day of the gala, I was totally wiped out – physically and emotionally. When I showed that video, I cried – maybe because it was really touching or maybe because I was just so relieved that I did what I said I would do.



And then, I looked around. I wasn’t the only one crying. Suddenly it dawned on me – IT WAS GOOD! It wasn’t some shoddy video created by a random company – it made people feel something.



We raised almost 40,000 dollars that night. And that is not solely because of my video, but the point is – I was a part of it. And that felt so good.



No one knows I made that video. Well, you all do now, but I was not mentioned in the program. My name didn’t roll down the credits. If the video had been horrible, that might have been a blessing. But that’s not the point – see the point is that I never ever did it for the kudos and compliments. I never even imagined I would warrant any. I just did it because I knew those kids needed a voice, and I wanted to be that for them.



They were there that night. They all hugged me and we danced until their parents took them home to bed. When people at the gala asked me how I knew the kids, I just said, “We’re friends.” Because I think were are.



And that is the power of service. It prompts change in all those touched by it.



So as you start thinking about ways you can earn your Beta Club hours, I want to remind you of what I learned through this experience:



Be brave and take on big goals, even if you don’t know how you’ll get to them. You can always develop a plan.



If you are going to do something, do it the very best you can – not simply the best you know how. Learn more, find help and do it even better.



Finally, stay open to change as you work with others, because sometimes the changes within yourself are every bit as meaningful as the changes you make in your community.



Thank you and good night.



Friday, January 7, 2011

Day 6: Flashback Friday!


So this blog will have a **NEW FEATURE** called "Flashback Friday" in which I reminisce about something incredibly stoopid I did when I was smoking and drinking like a world champion. Ideally, I will recall said stupidity, feel something akin to disgust over my ridiculousness, and feel renewed in my commitment to quit smokes and drinks.


Right before the weekend when all I want to do is chain smoke while sucking down beers.


This week's memory takes us back to a time and a land far, far away -- back when I lived in Cambridge, MA and drove 35 minutes each way to Salem, NH to teach. (If you can believe this: That commute was actually better than the 50 minutes each way I drove when I lived in Dover, NH and commuted to Salem. This is why New England is weird. All those little states...)


Okay, so every morning I would wake up every morning at 5:15 am, make myself a pot of coffee, get dressed and watch the news, and drive to work while listening to NPR.


**** If you are my mother, you can stop there. That is all I did. There is no more to this post.****


The above is horseshit, but significantly less embarrassing than the truth:


Every morning, I would wake up late as shit -- thereby eliminating time to make coffee -- wear whatever was not on my floor, throw my wet hair in a pony tail while trying to remember where-in- the-name-of-all-that-is-holy I parked my car last night, haul-ass to the Dunkin Donuts drive through, get a coffee, and smoke three cigarettes on my way to work.


"Dunkin Donuts!" you cry! "Not Starbucks?!? You are a Starbucks loyalist!"


Um, only because the Dunkin Donuts ice coffee down here is inexplicably horrible. In New England it is made of Unicorn Milk and the Dust of Sacred Fairy Burial Grounds.


Anyway, on the way home, I would repeat the morning procedure -- except by then my hair would be dry.


Let's examine what I've just told you for a moment, shall we? I just said I purchased not one, but two Dunkin Donuts Medium Iced coffees with cream and sugar every day for 180 days (give or take the occasional sick/snow/fiercely-hungover-and-dry-heaving day) and smoked SIX cigarettes in the car alone.


I then got home, got on the phone and smoked another half a pack.


But let's just run the numbers on the commute alone: That's six cigarettes x 180 days = 1080 cigarettes. That's 54 packs of cigarettes at about $4.00 a pack.


PLUS the two iced coffees at approximately $2.50 apiece.


$900 on coffee. Nine. Hundred. Dollars.


Oh, and $216 on smokes. Just on the commute.


Allow me to serve these numbers up with a side of perspective: That total was about 10% of my bi-weekly take home.


Appalling.


But that's not even the story, folks! This is:


One morning I am running Especially Late. "Especially Late" means I will arrive to school and school will have started without me. "Especially Late" means I am drying my hair by smoking an extra cigarette and rolling down the windows more than usual.


"Especially Late" does NOT, however, mean skip the iced-coffee. Ooooh nooo. I got my iced-coffee.


Then I got on the highway.


Then I realized I was out of smokes.


Panic. Panicpanicpanicpanic. What to do? What to do...


You, sensible person, are wondering what the panic is all about. Legitimate pondering. You, sensible person, are clearly not addicted to cigarettes. You, also, would never do what I did:


I got off the highway and got the smokes. Yes, even though it would make me an additional 15 minutes late -- I thought it was worth it.


But how to explain the lateness? One cannot stroll into work a full 30 minutes late without some kind of excuse.


And I hear "I ran out of smokes" does not exactly suggest professionalism.


So I called school and told them I got pulled over.


Yeah! Because that's better.


W.T.F. ??


Yes, I said I got pulled over for speeding and that it made me late, and the receptionist chuckled and said she'd find coverage for my class and I took a giant sigh of relief full of nicotine and smoke and felt much, much better.


Until I actually got pulled over.


Karma is real, bitches. Real.


But wait. It gets better:


I got pulled over in front of the school.


Oh yes I did, and you know who saw it all go down?


Oh, right, um, everyone.


Cover: Blown. Self: Humbled. Employment Status: Surprisingly, still solid.


I owned up to what happened, and everyone thought it was pretty funny, and felt my real speeding ticket was sufficient punishment for conjuring up an imaginary one.


That pack of smokes cost me $78.50 (plus the increase in my insurance premium, as I assure you, that was not my first dance with the po-po -- click here for details) but I learned a valuable lesson that day:


Telling the truth is infinitely cheeper than lying.