After a recent presentation, a member of the audience asked
me how my career as a State of Arkansas employee had led me to be a
storyteller. I laughed at that thought, because as I explained, the
storytelling definitely came before the “day job”. We don’t often take a look
back at what shaped who we are. Why do some things seem to come easier to us
than they do to others?
Some of my lack of hesitation in getting up to speak may be
genetic. Mom was president of her high school
class, and a chief rabble rouser for her professional women’s sorority. Dad led defensive driving courses as part of
his career as a State Trooper. He was the one who advised me that when speaking
before a crowd, you should imagine that they are all sitting there in
underclothes, making you the most “put together” and prepared person in the
room. I actually never practiced that, for fear of breaking into laughter.
Looking back, it seems that I had plenty of practice on the
“stage”. Sunday school and Bible School programs started very early. In elementary school, our teachers constantly
gave us opportunities to sing, or even to memorize lines. I believe my first
speaking part was as a forlorn, rejected Christmas tree.
In Junior High, our choir director had bigger ambitions,
with a presentation of “Sadie Shaw from Arkansas”, and then a series of Gilbert
and Sullivan operettas. My role as Katisha in the Mikado required a three hour
trip to the beauty salon for a huge, jet-black beehive hairdo, complete with
knitting needles spiked through it. I remember being required to wear this look
to school on the day of the opening performance. The eight-grader playing Yum
Yum endured a similar trial, so we sought each other for sympathetic hugs in
the hallway as our friends passed by, barely concealing their snickers.
As a young teen, I joined Sing Out, a division of the Up
with People franchise, which involved providing entertainment for civic groups
and youth gatherings. We excelled in upbeat music with some “groovy”
choreography that would have made the Brady Bunch envious.
High School brought classes in Public Speaking and Drama,
and my sister and I participated in summer theater. One production of “The
Bells are Ringing” cast us as part of a chorus line for “The Midas Touch”. High
kicks and poo-poo-pe-doos were performed in sparkling gold tights and spray
painted tennis shoes. The next year, the show was Finian’s Rainbow, which
included a number called “The Begat”. On
Broadway and in the movie, this one was performed by minstrels in top hats and
tails. Our version featured the same Midas Touch girls, dressed in black
instead of gold. During that next school year, one of my friends and I reprised
the routine for drama tournaments, and won awards for our fancy footwork .
Understandably, by the time I was grown and married, I was
no longer timid about speaking, singing or dancing in front of others. What
could possibly be more embarrassing than what I had already experienced? This
naturally led to being a Cub Scout leader, Roundtable Commissioner, and Mother
Nature at Cub Scout Day Camp.
The younger the audience, of course, the easier it was to
perform. Young campers loved the tales that were told while walking down a
wooded path. The older boys came up with ways to participate. One of their
favorite routines involved me telling the Cubs that they should be very quiet,
because they might hear a baby deer calling to its mother. Then, the hidden Boy
Scout would shout “Hey Mom!” Shy and timid were not words used to describe
those young men.
As Roundtable chair, I dealt with adults. It was a little
harder to convince them to put their inhibitions aside for a silly song, but
leading by example, it could be accomplished. At a rather serious banquet on
the last night I was serving as commissioner, I couldn’t resist an audience
participation song. Entitled “Man With a Head Like a Ping Pong Ball” (to the
tune of the William Tell Overture) this one was particularly appropriate when
performed by gentlemen with very little hair. Keeping my composure while
leading that one from the front of the room was not easy.
This relative ease helped when my role at work became that
of trainer. I was able to put my students at ease while discussing topics that
were very difficult for them to grasp. It’s always easier to learn if the
teacher seems to be comfortable with the topic.
So, now I enjoy each opportunity I get to tell a story,
whether in writing, or in person. I have been doing this longer than I have
been a column writer, or a state employee. I do it because I love it, because
it is a big part of who I am. Thanks for being such a great audience.
