[unabashedly uncorked: your daily dose of EPH]

To the Ghosts of My Boyfriends Past,

Wait- isn’t this a little strange? Fear not, dear readers, as I promise this will be good. 

[and when I mentioned ‘the ones without names’ that would be in reference to this post]

To my high-school sweetheart [if I can even call him that]: thank you for teaching me that I’m not destined to spend the rest of my life as the wife of a hunter, fisherman or game-keeper. While Blake does own one single solitary pair of camo shorts, I’m just fine with the fact that he doesn’t don army fatigues and climb onto [into?] a tree stand in the woods at the crack of dawn every Saturday morning to sit in silence and stalk innocent pray.

[closes book on that chapter]

And my college boyfriend: Yeah, the one that had the occasional illicit flings with other ladies who weren’t me. I won’t even go there…

And the boyfriend when I took my first leap into the professional world: while Green Acres was an amusing television show, it’s not one that I care to lead IRL. Overalls and softball games are not a good look for me. Thank you for realizing that what we had would never work… and for letting me go.

And- but of course- to the few others sprinkled in here and there but that commanded so little of my time that I can’t refer to you in any other term than my “flavor of the week”: thanks for teaching me that a phone call on ‘your terms’, a date over Taco Bell, and sleeping outside my [locked] bedroom door in a drunken stupor isn’t acceptable behavior.

But- most importantly- thank you all so, so much for teaching me what’s worth fighting for. That when you find “it” [real, true, everlasting love] you should hold on with all your might. That my prince charming might leave the kitchen cabinets opened from time to time but that he has so many other qualities that I love beyond measure…

Thank you all for teaching me what true love does [and doesn’t] look like.

EWPH

stepping into the ‘real world’

lessons in life and business

stong, direct, sincere

[a haiku to Laurie Jo LaFollette, my first boss in the working world]

To my [freshman year] Public Speaking Professor:

I find it comical that I don’t remember your name. Perhaps it’s the fact that my brain was so engaged in absorbing all your teachings. Or maybe it was the traumatic events that preceded the final months in your classroom. However, the fact that I remember you were a HUGE Carolina fan and that you left teaching to get your doctorate in Speech Pathology following the end of year 2002.

I remember standing up before those 35 upperclassmen [how was I actually able to get into that class to begin with?] with my knobby knees practically knocking and a reverberation in my voice. I stammered on about something I don’t quite remember, you kindly critiqued me with the up-most constructive criticism, and I returned to my freezing plastic seat [with it’s attached desk] thrilled that it was over.

Each time I presented, I grew as a speaker. For some, you video taped their performance. For me you removed the podium so I couldn’t shield myself from the crowd.

You can’t hide yourself behind that thing, Elizabeth. Don’t be concerned with them- I promise they won’t bite.

You told me to stop talking with my hands, to hold focus on a specific subject and to s.l.o.w. d.o.w.n. my words.

I talked about Grace Kelly and my fascination with her life, I gave a speech on my favorite food [way back then- mac and cheese- hello dorm living], and I filled the crowd in on my lifelong idol, my cousin Jane.

and then the unthinkable happened

I was scheduled to give a lecture. I don’t remember the exact subject, or how many minutes I was set to talk. I, thankfully, was prepared and had written my script over Spring Break while I was at home. The evening before a huge speech, I lost a best friend.

I resorted to the only thing I knew I could do. Oh- I do remember your name now! Dave Smith! I called every David, Dave and D. Smith in the phone book trying to tell you that I wasn’t going to be able to speak in the morning. My soul was crushed and I had to get home. But alas, I couldn’t get a hold of any Dave, David or D. Smith. 

I showed up the next morning looking something like a horror story. Bags under my eyes, red stained cheeks from the tears. I’m surprised I actually got dressed in a somewhat logical manner. You took one look at me and pulled me out of class to ask what was wrong.

I fell apart; could hardly get my words out. You took my script out of my shaking hands, gave me a hug and told me you would give my speech for me that day. You sent me home with orders to miss as many classes as I needed so that I might properly grieve my friend. 

On that morning in April, Dave Smith, you taught me true kindness.

You would be proud of me. I still talk with my hands and chuckle each time I hear the clank of my bracelets while leading a lecture or seminar. For my southern counterparts, I’m certain I still talk much too fast. But I’m no longer scared of a throng of people. With your help, I found confidence in my voice and a trust for the kindness of strangers.

For that, Mr. Dr. Smith, I’m eternally grateful.

Elizabeth

[this is a public service announcement]

well, not exactly; more like a curiosity poll and an FYI all rolled into one, seemingly rambling blog post

I digress…

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. For much of the Western World, Lent also brings with it fasting or giving up certain types of luxury as a form of penitence. Without getting too religious on you all, my beliefs are such that I participate in the Lenten season.

This year, instead of “giving up” something I adore [ice cream, shopping, booze] I have decided that I’m going to write. For the 40 days preceding Easter, I’m going to write a letter [note, poem, song, haiku] to someone or something that’s had a life changing, positive impact on who I am as a person. I’ll put those letters on here for you all to read [just in case you’re curious]. Some of these notes will be personal and have the name withheld for privacy, while others may be comical, funny and even light hearted. Come on- life isn’t always meant to be so serious!

Because truth be told, after these 40 days have come and gone [quickly as we all know they will], I’d rather leave a written impact to someone that may [or may not] stumble upon my words and know how much they have meant to me.

…after all, I don’t know anyone that doesn’t have “MAKE AN IMPACT” on their bucket list.

What are you all giving up for Lent?