After all this time, why do I still do Toastmasters?
So I can when I must.
Recently a close friend of mine died very suddenly and unexpectedly. The next evening I was scheduled to speak as well as perform the President and VPE roles at one of my clubs. Preparation and experience allowed me to fulfill my commitments even though I was completely scattered and distracted. When I needed to, I could.
Just three days later, I spoke at my friend's funeral. I needed to do it for myself as much as for him, and I needed to do it as well as I could. From speeches and evaluations, I had learned a lot about myself. I knew I was skilled at speaking off the cuff when I was focused, and I was absolutely not focused. I knew that I was significantly better when I was prepared, so I needed to prepare. I knew that I had to be ready to adjust to time, that my preparation time was limited, and there were things I needed to say.
As it turned out, I didn't get a chance to even start preparing until the night before. I spent several hours writing, in some cases thinking hard about the exact words to use. I had to use all my speech-writing skills from many speech projects across many manuals: how to say it, organize the speech (which I went for stream-of-consciousness since that was how I was thinking), the touching story, inspire the audience, make them laugh, and speaking in praise.
Once I found out about how much time I had to work with, I realized I would have to skip most of what I wrote, so I had to cull my script to less than half of what I had prepared. Thankfully, I had anticipated this so I knew what to cut and what to keep. Given the grief I was feeling, I knew the best I could do was read what I had written and focus on my vocal variety, which is quite hard to do when your eyes are clouded by tears and your voice is breaking.
I do not consider my writing or my presentation to be masterpieces. In fact, they were both very rough, however they were also very emotionally intense, and they were full of deep meaning. I could not have done either without my experience in Toastmasters. When I needed to, I could.
That is why I still do Toastmasters, even after all this time.
David,
When you were asked “What happens when you miss a saving throw?”, that was not a request for a demonstration!
You and I are alike in so many ways, including a very geeky and twisted sense of humor. That’s why I thought you’d get a kick out of that joke. But don’t kick with your left leg; it might fly off and hit someone in the face -- again!
How ridiculous was it that the government told you that your condition was only temporary? It was fun how you kept wondering aloud when your leg was going to grow back. You opened that into an entire speech of pun-laden self-deprecating humor that inspired us all.
I want to thank you again. When Susan and I started our new Toastmasters club, you jumped in -- or should I say hopped in? -- eager to participate, and you took on the role of President and helped our baby to grow. Thank you so much for helping to bring our dream to fruition.
David, do you remember when we first met at Buca di Beppo’s over here in Maitland. It was just a simple social gathering, and as usual my wife, Susan, and I were talking about hypnosis and giving small demonstrations. That caught your attention and you pulled up a chair. Your passion and fascination with hypnosis equaled to my own, and that was only the first of many.
Turns out you like comic books and Dungeons & Dragons and computer games. So do I! We both have strange views on life, on spirituality, and on relationships -- and our views were the same! We are both protectors of those we loved and rescuers of those we thought we could help. We both seek to make others’ lives better.
Now that I have met your family, I understand better why we are so much alike. We had the same energy and personalities around us growing up. We were both the eldest child, both eager for respect and responsibility, both bullied by peers, and both of us determined to make our own way. That we picked up the same interests meant we learned the same information, we identified with the same subcultures -- and we both had the same competitive streak.
Admit it, David, you loved finding someone who could match you in board games, but you were so frustrated that for that first month or two, you couldn’t beat me! So frustrated, in fact, that when you finally won your first game against me, you actually jumped up, yelling and cheering and GLOATING! I wish I had recorded that, because I must say, David, you sure know how to gloat!
I remember how often you talked about Lu and how dear she was to you. When I met her, I learned why. I wish she could be here, and so does she, but she did ask me to share her tribute.
To David, from Lu
The phrase “gentle giant” gets overused a lot, but it often seemed to me like it was invented just for you. You were the most kind-spirited, gentle, protective, goofy, geeky, amiable man I've ever met. Intensely curious about the world, always ready to believe the best about people, and almost impossible to persuade otherwise. You weren't ambitious in traditional ways. Your aspirations were to spend time doing the things you were passionate about, and to make the people you loved as happy as possible. You were passionate about so many things, and yet I never got tired of seeing you snicker and rub your hands together when something got you especially tickled. Or how you were consistently hilarious, but couldn't actually tell a joke. And how you knew you didn't have the greatest voice in the world, but sang in the car at the top of your lungs, anyway.
You always wanted to be responsible, self-sufficient, truthful, and understanding. You weren't always successful—who is?--but you were almost always motivated by concern and affection. We had plenty of rough times: you were stubborn and impulsive, and I am volatile and sharp-tongued, but your default mode was always “We can work this out.” I think the angriest you ever got at me was that one time, when I kicked your ass at Munchkin, but your real, lasting anger was against those who, in your opinion, wronged anyone you cared about.
Thank you for all the people in my life because of you. Thank you for your sometimes irritating persistence at perceiving me as the person I have the potential to be, instead of the flawed person that I am. Thank you for your strength and dedication in keeping us connected across the distance. You had room in your heart for everyone, and yet you made me feel like that heart was all mine. The memory and example of that strength, that dedication, and that open heart is what will have to keep all of us strong, now that you are out of our reach.
Susan and me and our five children love playing Dungeons & Dragons, and it was so entertaining how excited you got arranging and conducting a campaign for us. Your D&D withdrawal must have been pretty bad, but you certainly made sure to get your fix! And what wonderful storytelling skills you used, grandiose and entertaining, better than any movie, TV show, computer game, or book. Do you know how much the kids loved playing? When they arrived for summer break, they kept asking “When is Shadow coming?” “When is Shadow coming?” It’s so funny how they know you as Shadow-Dragon better than as David, but their clamoring was so persistent that Susan asked them, “Did you come here to see me or to see Shadow?”
You gave us each heroic feats to be proud of: Eric as the mage Menregan dissolving trolls in orbs of acid. Emma as the pixie Terra Rose who immolated the petrifying cocaktrices. Myself as the dominating cleric Kor who smote the evil demons invading the orphanage. Richard as the martial artist monk Riceak who crushed the treacherous insectoid Kimiko with his bare hands. Susan as the awful good paladin Alaethia Dawn who with one blow felled the evil cult’s leader by cleaving her in half. Tristan as the formidable ranger Tholoman whose arrows rip out goblin hearts at 100 yards. And then Phillip as the impulsive rogue Raloff who oh so stealthily fumbled into exposing the sneak attack!
By the way, Shadow, the first question from the kids when we told them of your passing was how were we going to play Dungeons & Dragons now. I should smite you with your own leg for that! I mean, it’s got to be at least a +2 butt-kicking weapon, right? I know, you should send us on a quest to find the Bigby’s Authoritative Foot spell. You might as well get something out of it for yourself!
David, I will be forever grateful that you were there when my life fell apart. You became the anchor to hold me down, the shield to protect Susan, and the true friend and confidant that we both needed. In my darkest hour, you stayed with me, talking, listening, and understanding. When the swords of deceit sought to harm me, you had my back. When the swords threatened you, you recognized the traitors for the cowards they were. You did not fight for justice, you sought to protect. As I wandered the incredibly difficult road out of the dark lands, you were there for me when I stumbled. You had been on this road before. You had been to that black place before. You had been betrayed before. You knew the burden I bore, and you helped me bear that burden.
That, David, is your noblest quality: you will bear any burden for the ones you love. Then there is your pride, you do not wish to burden anyone else -- even though we all have burdens to bear, and we all have burdens to share. I am grateful that I could help you with your burdens, too.
It was July, 2011 when you fell ill and ended up in the hospital. When I realized you had no one you could call on for help or even for company, I said to Susan “That’s not right! The hospital is only 3 miles away. We can keep him company!” And Susan and my son, Richard, and I did just that. We brought Settlers of Catan, and we discovered another shared passion: board games!
When you got out of the hospital, you weren’t allowed to drive. You had daily follow-up appointments by the hospital, and you lived a good 30-40 minutes away by car. I told you use our guest room, we can easily get you to your appointments. You protested. What a strange power struggle we had then. Both of us gentle and generous healers by nature, and both of us headstrong. In the end I had to make the argument clear: you can’t drive, and you don’t have anyone else you can depend on to drive you, so you’re staying here until the doctor says you are ready. What can I say, you didn’t have a leg to stand on! I am so glad you did stay, David. You were never a burden in any way, and we got to know each other quite well.
I just saw yesterday a status you had put on Facebook a couple years ago. It said: “Iron Man 2 this Saturday. I would drive a steamroller through a field of babies to get to that movie.” It reminded me of when you and Susan and I went to “The Avengers” marathon opening day. Six movies IN A ROW. My butt was numb midway through the third movie. By the end I was jacked up on caffeine and popcorn. It was a comic book geekfest. No wonder we had such a blast!
Over the past 7 weeks, you chose to spend a lot of your free time with me and my family. You ran me and Susan and the kids through a couple D&D campaign adventures, you came over several times to play board games, you helped my other Toastmasters club with it’s speech contest, you came to see Richard’s basketball team win the championship game, and you made a detour simply to help me move a television. I also helped you move into your new apartment thereby getting the most intense workout I’ve had in years. You took me and Kelly to your mom’s favorite Chinese restaurant, and Richard and I had the privilege to accompany you to visit your dad for the day. You told me how excited you were to be starting another D&D campaign with your coworkers. You were finally settling in to your apartment.
I also experienced watching football with you for the first time. We watched the last couple Florida Gators games, both of us being alumni and all. I have to say, though, giving you and your competitive streak a football game to watch is a transformative experience. Our gentle giant morphs into hyperpsychosadist. Out come screams of “Maim him!”, “Kill him!”, “Punish him for every inch!” all shouted with a sinister grin, furrowed brow, and squinting eyes that makes your face glow like the evil scientist who finally stands triumphant.
We are so much alike, you and I. We both are avid about hypnosis, about Toastmasters, about comic books and board games and role playing games. We are both healers and rescuers and protectors. We have carried each others burdens and cheered each other to success. We have learned how similarly we each perceive relationships, love, and life.
And now, my dear friend, your life has reached its end. Too suddenly. Too young. Too many questions. You, Sir, have left us a rather large conundrum. A large crimsonconundrum.
David, I am the lucky one here today. I got to spend the last six weekends with you, and I have enjoyed every one. These past two weekends, you were clearly more happy, relaxed, and content than I had ever seen you.
So many of your friends and family here are grieving. So many of us are shocked, scared, and angry. I am sure you are saying over and over “I’m so sorry.” So, David, let me give you a piece of your own advice:
You aren’t sorry.....you are awesome!
It is because you are awesome that we suffer. It is because you are awesome that we are here. It is because you are awesome that our lives are so much better for having been touched by you.
It was two weeks ago you told me you got gut checked by a quote: "you can measure the qualities of a man by how he treats someone who can offer him nothing" By that measure, Sir, you are the supreme, top-notch, penultimate, super-charged, and (of course) giant-sized hunk of man.
David, it was just three weeks ago that you told me I was your best friend.
I am proud to call you friend. I am honored and humbled to be called your friend. For all the long talks, for all the fun games, and for all the good and bad times, I love you, I miss you, and I thank you.
Now, Shadow-Dragon, leap to both feet and take flight. Speed across the sky. Soar to the highest heights. Drink in the warmth of the sun. Spread your wings and cast your shadow across the land. Ascend to the stars and let your heart and soul shine, brighter than all the heavens. Shine as a harbinger of hope. Shine as a beacon of love. Shine that none of us need fear the shadows ever again.
