Sunday, October 17, 2010

Cancel, Cancel Give Me A Cure


Because I am 51% Italian, I have it down to science how to play martyr. How do I calculate this? Well, in spite of my Irish sounding name, I did have a mother who happened to be 100% Italian. Since she was much heavier than than my father, I think her portion of me tossed her portion of me closer to the 51% mark. 
Anyway, I have been working really diligently at getting the creativity group off of the ground. I did the first two introductory presentations, but then lined up some speakers for diversity. Who would want to hear me twice a month? I don't even like listening to my own thoughts that often, but necessity rules. 


After wracking my brain, the invitation to be a speaker went out to a few well placed people. They accepted, but one of them heard about who the potential others were and wanted to be first. Then there is the date dance, because it is his birthday. Big whoop, but okay, fine! A little rearranging on my part, a few e-mails, the gracious others move their dates and we have it settled. 
There was hesitation on my part about actually putting names on the new advertising fliers fearing someone would bale at the last minute. Then it seemed that if their name and association were printed and plastered around the city, they would be too intimidated to pull the chicken routine. 
Today, this afternoon as a matter of fact, I received an SMS from this Tuesday's speaker. He may be coming down with strep throat, so thinks it is best to cancel. Hell, I think I may be coming down with a cold sore or worse a panic attack, but as the saying goes "The show must go on." There were times when I was teaching college in CA when I taught with laryngitis. It was inhibiting, but I did it anyway. I sincerely believe he did not think the attendance was worth his time. 

There was a time when Ron and I first met, there was something I had to do that I really dreaded. It seemed like I would have rather been mud wrestling with hippos than do what I had to do. Ron said to me "It is only one hour out of the rest of your life." That convinced me I could get through it. Afterward, I mentally thanked Ron for saying what he did. Those words have resonated repeatedly in my mind ever since, but now I think "Damn, at my age that one hour may not be part of an enormous group of others. The hell with that crap."


A student sent this video to me. When people tell me now, I am going to go Panda on their ass. FYI, some subscribers do not receive the video in their e-mail. If you want to see it, sorry, but you will have to come here to the blog to view.


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