Public speaking club

Caution: This might make you want to join Toastmasters. Or borrow my yarn coat for a costume.

Tuesday night I went to a Halloween party hosted by a remarkably tall woman—I’d guess she’s a fabulous 6’3” without the heels she often wears. Said remarkable woman is a friend from my Toastmasters public speaking group, and she adores Halloween.

Below is footage of just some of Julie’s Halloween adoration, and I would request a moment of appreciation for people who go all out. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Costumes at our potluck party were encouraged, and believe it or not—I suggest you do—every last person was dressed up. Julie made a fabulous Cruella de Vil, complete with Dalmatian puppies stuffed in her pockets. Fake puppies, in case that concerned any of you. We had an impressive Mad Hatter and White Rabbit, Wilson Wilson complete with his own fence, Max from The Grinch, and Buddy the Elf, to name just a few.

Here is me in costume, with another friend from the group who has become a dear local author buddy:

The fabulous Karin McLean and me, plus another view of The Coat from several years ago.

This dazzling yarn coat which my sister refers to as “AWFUL SWEATER COSTUME” is a gift. As in, it was an actual gift, and it remains a gift in my life. On the obviously handmade lining of the obviously handmade coat, there’s this note:

Before I die, I want to know about Edna and Margaret and their friendship. Or I’ll write a story about them and this coat and the wonders it’s done in the world. If you happen to come across an Edna and Margaret combination, please let me know in case they are the Edna and Margaret. Thank you for your

The possibilities of costumes for this coat are far-ranging, and wearing it as NOT a costume is too. This particular Halloween party night, though, I wore it as a costume—a 70s shag carpet. Suggestions for future costumes included Oscar the Grouch, Big Bird, a turkey, and a ball of yarn.

So there we were, dressed up, meeting the significant others of those who brought them, eating each other’s food. Not the food off their plates as that would be rude, but the foods we all brought to contribute. Am I the only one for whom potlucks sometimes feel like very risky ventures? I doubt it. There’s no telling how other people keep house or their standards for food handling. But we suspend our OCD, and hope for the best. I had to do very little of either at this event since everything was yummy and safe.

It wasn’t just the non-sketchiness of this potluck which was remarkable. Our Toastmasters group in general is remarkable. We are a VERY eclectic group of people who should maybe not “fit” so well. No one could look at our group and say “Ah, yes, I see exactly how this group all fits together.” Anyone claiming that it makes PERFECT sense that we are friends enough to party together would be off their rocker.

On paper, the range of personalities and ages and professions and life experiences of the group blending like they do is something really to be written about. Hence this essay. But just because we blend, genuinely like each other, and welcome new people most weeks doesn’t mean people don’t sometimes say weird things there. In the spirit of full disclosure, and at risk of my Toastmaster friends reading this, sometimes people say or do things that make me squirm. To quote my then four-year-old niece, sometimes I can “feel a little strange about {it}.”

But every single Tuesday, I’m glad I went to the meeting. There are the hugs you absolutely WILL get from Jill. Her influence is rubbing off, with more and more of us hug each other without second thought. Sometimes people bring treats to share. We all take turns filling meeting roles and giving prepared and extemporaneous (NO NOTICE) timed speeches.

There’s lots of friendly and sometimes-but-not-always helpful commentary from the peanut gallery (all of us). We laugh often. And sometimes we cry. Yes, actual tears. Sometimes people cry in front of the group because they’re nervous about public speaking but are doing the dang thing anyway. Or they share something poignant about their sojourn in life, and it MOVES THE REST OF US.

What I experience in this Toastmasters group has similarities to the experiences I’ve had in my church groups, the improv group I was part of in North Carolina, and sort of what I experience on TV/film sets. In all these settings, very little external unites us—not fashion, not status, not socioeconomic similarities, not hobbies, not social graces. What unites in settings like this is all internal: commitments to something bigger than self, going out of your comfort zone and doing things you may not always feel like doing, being engaged in living, and doing all of it with other people.

At Toastmasters—I think I’m qualified to speak about the ENTIRE organization as I’ve attended scores of meetings at clubs in California and North Carolina and now Utah—we’re all there to personally develop, which is a lot different than to self help. Self-help, which as you know, I’ve largely quit, seems to involve a lot of consumption and self-focus. Personal development on the other hand cannot actually be done internally; it always involves other people and getting out into the world. It’s fun to make emphatic claims you can’t substantiate and haven’t thought through for longer than 10 seconds.

In fact, that’s a big reason we’re all at Toastmasters—to connect with people who aren’t just like us, to make new friends, to learn new skills from the curriculum and each other, and to become more comfortable finding and using our voices to share our stories and ideas and experiences.

This perhaps reads like a promotional piece for Halloween potlucks, gifts of yarn coats, and Toastmasters International. Sorry about that! But, on that note, if anyone from Toastmasters is reading, please know that if you want to sponsor this piece, I remain very much in the market for patron situations. Thank you for your consideration!

While convincing all my dear readers to join Toastmasters wasn’t exactly the point, it may be your takeaway. You’ll probably be really glad you did, and several weeks from now could have you celebrating a holiday with your new favorite eclectic friends you didn’t even know you’d make.

But Toastmasters or not, I double-dog dare you to officially join some club or group or congregation where the people are guaranteed to be at least some different from you. Get really involved—like, all the way involved. Let people be weird. Let yourself be weird. Like it. Accept the hugs. Go to the parties. You’ll be glad you did, as I know I am for every group I’ve become part of.

And if you need to borrow Margaret’s yarn coat for an occasion in your new club, just let me know. I’d be glad to send it your way.

Questions:

1. Do you agree with my quick take on personal development vs self-help?

2. Any guesses on the nature of the relationship between Margaret and Edna and how this coat came to be for sale at a thrift store in Montana?

Isn’t life cool and aren’t people interesting? See you in the next one…

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