Chillin' in Reynoldsville; yesterday's talk

(746 words)

I’m no longer surprised when one of my talks is a big success.

I am, however, becoming increasingly surprised I’m not booked each and every day now through 2020. That’s how well it’s going.

Take yesterday. 

I was the speaker for about 60 friendlies at a fundraiser for the Reynoldsville Public Library, nestled between Punxsutawney and Dubois where my Mom was raised and where I have splendid memories of heirloom family gatherings back before all our families seemed to detonate.

I was a bit nervous because Mom was a popular Punxsutawney High School Chucks cheerleader, class of ’50. I was worried some old-timer would come up say he remembered feeling her up back behind the bleachers.

If it happened, the elderly grabbers were too polite to point it out.

But nothing could have ruined the day.

Here’s how the organizer introduced me:

“I heard Chris give the fall keynote to 250 attendees at the Pennsylvania Library Association annual conference. It was my 8th conference and the only one I’ve been to where everyone left happy. He had all 250 people laughing. I remember how odd this was because I swore there about 100 people in that room who’d never laughed once in their entire lives”

It’s nearly impossible to fail after such a warm introduction.

Plus — and this was a first —  everyone who was there had already read and enjoyed “Use All The Crayons!” The books came with the $25 tickets.

I remember after one particularly raucous laugh looking out at the audience and thinking, “Well, you’ve always wanted to crowd surf. Now’s the time.”

The line to have me scribble in their books lasted a full 30 minutes until all’d said hello.

All told, I’d sold 72 books, albeit 60 of them had been ordered through a local book store.

Kiss all those bucks goodbye!

That’s being petty, of course.

It was a fantastic day.

I learned all over again just how much that silly little book means to so many people.

I hugged people who recalled my mother and grandfather. The happenstance of their upbringing led the locals to treat me like good-hearted people instinctively treat kin.

I swear, I could have weened my way to about a dozen freebie dinners.

Instead, I settled for the free auto mechanic.

This was a surprise.

One sweet woman in line said she so loved my book she wanted to do me an unusual favor.

I was about to tell her I was happily married man and would need a video deposition assuring future magistrates of her discretion when she said she was going to have her husband/mechanic fix my broken car.

See, I’d casually mentioned during my speech my AC was busted.

Everyone gasped. It was like the April Fool’s Day when I told my bar buddies the doctor said I had to quit drinking.

Truly, I was blown away by her spontaneous gesture. Afterwards, I followed her home, met her wonderful husband, and engaged in friendly chat for an hour while he checked it out (he couldn’t fix it, but told me how and saved me hundreds of dollars in diagnostics).

While he was under the hood, Darlene told me about the troubles she’s had the last year. A debilitating neurological condition has baffled experts, nearly cost her her job and her very ability to function in any setting where electronics are present.

I said, yeah, but your car air conditioner works, doesn’t it?

I’m joking. I didn’t say that.

I made so many new friends yesterday but, of course, she’s the one I’ll remember most.

Despite her challenges, she is pure sunshine. She is cheerful, persistent, buoyant and convinced better days are ahead.

In fact, they are. She said she’s enjoying dramatic improvements.

I waved goodbye through the car’s down window (they’re always down these days). Darlene yelled, “God bless you!”

Oh, He already has.

It would be so simple if our lives followed perfectly straight paths. I’m sure Darlene and Dewy wish theirs had.

My path sometimes surges forward one day and drops precipitously the next. It zigs, it zags and often without warning seems to veer into whole other dimensions.

My journey is patiently teaching me that while I’m far from a success I am a man who is bound to enjoy many soulful successes.

And, who knows?

Maybe one day I’ll become more of a traditional success.

That would be cool.

Even with all the windows rolled up.

Related …

No AC making me cool

Heat wave screams for “cool” clothes

On hottest day of the year, a toast to ice

I cure hangovers

Lego: Seemed like the sun was shining just for me

Rev. Rodell today addressing teacher retirees

(676 words)

I’ll be speaking in about four hours to 50 members of the retired Westmoreland County teachers association happy the whole time they aren’t the retired Allegheny County teachers association.

I’d hate the thought of Mr. Hardoby or one of my other old grade school teachers interrupting my presentation to heckle.

It’d be ruinous to be segueing into a poignant story about my grandfather and having old man Hardoby mock, “The farmer’s in the booger barn! The farmer’s in the booger barn!”

It’s what he’d yell whenever he’d bust me or one of the second grade boys picking our noses.

I had mostly good relations with my teachers. I think it’s cause I played a lot of hookie.

Teachers expressed their gratitude by passing me when even when I didn’t deserve it. They moved me around just to get me out of their hair.

As a student, I was never gifted.

More like re-gifted.

This is the third time in 10 months the meeting organizer’s hired me to uplift and entertain one of her groups.

If this dear woman worked for, say, Coca-Cola I’d be one of the busiest and best compensated speakers in America.

Oh, well. Gotta start somewhere. Today that means Ferrante’s Lakeview Banquet Facility near Greensburg. 

So right now I’m trying to fulfill my senseless need to blog and weigh which lines are too ribald for a group of retiree teachers.

Should I tell off-color jokes? Swear? Titillate?

Oh, hell, yes!

They’ll get the full funny. That means I’ll start off by insinuating I’m a dickhead.

That’s the unspoken punchline about one of the opening remarks that declares “Use All The Crayons!” asks all the important questions.

Why are we here? Where do we go when we die? What is the meaning of life?

That puts everyone practically to sleep, which is just where I want them to be when I blast them with an electrifying jolt of off-color humor.

“And it also asks questions more important to me like, “If fans of the Grateful Dead are called Deadheads, what does that make those of us who revere the novel ‘Moby-Dick?’”

I didn’t tell that one last time I was at Lakeview for reasons that will be immediately apparent.

A local church was having an anniversary gala and asked me to come enjoy service with them followed by lunch and a series of devotional speakers capped by me. All told, my involvement lasted 6 hours.

It was the most time I’d spent with my head bowed since that day at the intramural softball fields at Ohio University when my contact lenses popped out.

The people there — about 125 — were all so nice, so good, so reverent. Of course, I felt out of place.

Plus, Val was there right beside me on the dais and that always makes me incredibly nervous. She’s never done it and likely never will, but I have tremendous fear she’ll begin to refute with family facts all the times I say, gee, being broke for long years at a stretch ain’t so bad.

So I had that going on to my right.

On my left were church hierarchy that included the pastor and the all-high bishop for the entire district.

So when I jokingly told the story about how I make my life more colorful by pretending to be a Reverend to get the clergy discount, I smiled over at him seeking jocular reassurance.

There was none.

In fact, the guy was glowering, like he was going to take a holy phone and text Lucifer a four-word directive: “Prepare for Chris Rodell.”

He looked truly pissed.

I don’t know what the big deal was.

I wouldn’t care if a bishop wanted to pretend he was a blogger.

So I’m looking forward to being back at Lakeview and am confident it’ll go well.

How could it go otherwise?

At the very least a lot of retired educators will say they’d been entertained by maybe the world’s No. 1 fan of the book “Moby-Dick.”

Related . . .

Fraudulent address labels paying off for Rev. Rodell

The Rabbi is in (my fourth post ever ’08!)

I cure hangovers

My compliments: My day with the PR&LA

On the road again: My day-long tour of western Pa. Rotarian groups

Greatest American speeches & why mine's better

(931 words)

My darling little 9th grader flattered me by asking me to name which great American speech she should analyze for a class assignment.

I was very pleased.

I register near zero on the provider scale, but she knows she can count on me for intellectual heft. She always sees me reading thick history books, hears me at dinner weighing in on current events and understands the importance of when I talk to her about pivotal moments from our nation’s past.

I revel in the past because I know it enriches the present and presages the future.

She said everyone in class is leaning towards either Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address or the equally monumental MLK “I Have a Dream.”

Both worthy choices, I said, but both are the kind that would cause a fatigued teacher to begin wishing he could master the art of sleeping with his eyes open.

Been there, done that.

What you want, I said, is something that hasn’t been done to death. Lincoln’s 2nd Inaugural — “With malice toward none” — is great for analysis. He delivered it as the Civil War was concluding and chose gracious benevolence over vindictiveness. Plus, in the audience were John Wilkes Booth and five other men who were conspiring to kill him in just five weeks.

MLK’s Selma speech still resonates as a clarion call for dignity and fairness.

Off the top of my head, I mentioned Ronald Reagan’s healing speech that followed the Space Shuttle disaster, FDR’s stirring “Infamy” speech, and George W. Bush’s inspired summons from atop the Twin Towers rubble.

In the end, she opted for President Obama’s great “Amazing Grace” speech following the Charleston church massacre (my contemporary take linked below).

For analytic purposes, it’s fertile ground. 

It’s our first black president giving a healing speech about racial violence in the cradle of the Confederacy. It involves the risky use of song.

But for me, the most interesting aspect of the speech is the silence.

The speech includes nearly 30 seconds where the speaker is speechless. In those seconds, he says “Amazing Grace,” twice, quietly, his eyes downcast. Then he is still and silent for an interminable 14 seconds before haltingly breaking into the world’s most famous and most sung song.

It’s utterly euphoric.

Of course, humility prevented me from advising my daughter about analyzing what to me is now the greatest speech ever delivered.

It was her daddy at State College.

I appreciate how many of you, my friends, are truly rooting for me to succeed.

At something.

Anything!

Especially my darling wife, who right now is hoping I’ll succeed at things like raking leaves.

Wednesday I was the keynote concluding speaker for the Pennsylvania Librarians Association. It was a 4-day affair at the Penn Stater Hotel & Conference Center in State College. There were 250 people there who were mostly tired of talkers and hoping for a lively lift.

Understand, this was just a month after a crucial failure to deliver before Virginia meeting planners in Richmond. I now know that was an aberration I can blame on logistics.

See, I’m still fairly new at this yapping gig. I still have what I call a set list of podium notes I rely on to key my talk, which I’m told comes across as so smooth its seems extemporaneous.

But it threw me in Richmond because there was no mic stand. Given the circumstances, I thought I should try and be Mick Jagger and just forego notes and prowl the stage.

It was a mistake. I foundered.

With this important engagement looming, I dwelt on the failure all month, even as I had two success, one of which included the same situation — no mic stand — that threw me in Richmond.

Maybe, I figured, I needed to really bomb once to understand the stakes, to keep me humble.

Although, if anyone who's read my blog will attest, I’m the most self-deprecating fool on the whole planet.

I really honed my speech in advance, and as I was warmly introduced by a man who is now a buddy and had loved the book, I had some butterflies, sure, but was feeling a confidence just shy of cocky.

I can’t tell you how well it went.

I think it’s because the focus is on the two attributes people everywhere are craving.

Humor and humanity.

I asked the organizer if there was anything I could change to make it better.

“Nothing. Don’t change a word. It’s the perfect keynote address and it’s something everyone should hear.”

She had tears in her eyes as she told me this.

I could sense it was going really well, but I had no idea how well I’d connected until the end.

The whooping ovation lasted more than 30 seconds.

I remember feeling a little startled and thinking, man, this must be what it feels like when you think launching a cult might be feasible.

I should be able to prove it, too. I hope. The camcorder was misplaced and is being mailed, and there’s no guarantee my friend managed to operate it properly. There never is.

It doesn’t matter.

I already have a bunch of great YouTubes and now have a host of prestigious and enthusiastic recommendations. I have two more high profile talks in the next month.

Best of all, I’m now supremely confident in my message and my ability to deliver it with compelling flair.

I now know I can find true success in a lucrative field full of exciting opportunities.

And I’m gonna seize every one of them.

I have a dream.

Related . . .

The prez, the killer and the origins of ‘Amazing Grace’

The deflating results of my ballyhooed Virginia talk

My Saturday speech a surprising sell-out

Mom’s coming to my Lebo book signing

Bar book signing Thursday

“Use All the Crayons!” A 10-star review

Bullies, my ‘stache & insane reaction to my speech

A 30-minute YouTube of my rousing comeback

(638 words)

The pundits are all filling out their scorecards about the winners and losers from yesterday’s big event.

The GOP presidential debate?

Nope.

I’m talking my Pittsburgh comeback special before the National Association of Consumer Credit Administrators conventioneers at the Sheraton Station Square. 

So who won? It was a tie.

Everybody won!

I call it my comeback special because that’s what historians called the August 5, 1968, NBC show that catapulted Elvis back to pop prominence. He’d been away for about five years making movies and boinking buxom Hollywood starlets.

Me? I’d been away six days moping about my colossal Richmond failure before dozens of important Virginia meeting planners.

So the only thing The King and I had in common was we were both all shook up.

What happened in Richmond had me rattled.

I’d asked for a traditional podium and mic stand — no powerpoint or other techie distractions — but wound up with a handheld mic.

Given the logistics, I eschewed the trusty podium and my notes and sort of wandered around the stage babbling.

(“Use All The Crayons!” colorful living tip of the day 313: “No matter what the situation, how dignified or refined, always without fail shout, ‘Gesundheit!’ anytime you hear someone use the word ‘eschew.’”)

So all week I wandered around in a funk wondering if I’d lost my mojo.

Turns out, I had not. I found it where it for me has always been.

Right there in the ‘burgh, baby.

This was the first keynote address I’d landed since becoming a partner with VisitPittsburgh.com

Partnering bestows me with contact info to every major convention coming to town.

The organizer said they usually don’t have speakers from outside the consumer credit field.

“We’ve tried it but it never works,” he said. “Our membership is very focused and every motivational speaker we've ever had has always failed to connect.”

I told him I was different. He wouldn’t pay a speaker’s fee, but did throw in a freebie night for me and the family at the Sheraton and said I could sell books at the end.

“But you probably won’t sell any,” he pessimistically added, saying his members are pragmatic and prone to thriftiness.

So with the previous week’s failure fresh on my mind and the the group’s mindset, I was very nervous as I approached the podium — and mic stand, thank you very much.

How did it go?

Everything about the day went exactly opposite of the week before.

At the end there was a huge ovation, the organizer came up, shook my hand and said, “Excellent!” A line to buy books began forming.

He later said, “You sure proved me wrong. Before you spoke, I didn’t think you’d sell one book. How many did you sell"

I’d sold 21 hard copies and saw a big spike in Kindle sales.

But the bigger spike was in my restored confidence. Members from as far as Alaska and all the lower 48 gave me a good gush.

Best part?

I had it together enough I remembered to push the little red record button on my video camera.

I’ll be cutting this up for snazzier promos, but I’ve had interest from people who’ve said they want to see an uncut speech so here it is The YouTube link is right here. For some reason (and I’m in too big a hurry to fix right now), it seems to start at the 3 minute mark. Drag it back to the beginning for intro.

Some rough spots, yes, but I think it’s solid record of what an audience of about 80 initially indifferent strangers get when they hear me speak over dessert.

I’ll post a full review of all my YouTubers coming up.

But it was a great day. Thank you, NACCA members from all over America, for coming to Pittsburgh to make me feel like Elvis.

Thank you. Thank you, very much.

Related . . .

The deflating results of my ballyhooed Virginia talk

“Use All The Crayons!” YouTube promo

My book signing, a pit bull & a big bag of cash

I speak: some laugh, some cray, some snooze

Ukuleles, YouTube exposure & what Jim Krenn has to do with it

The UnProfessional: I’m on KDKA Saturday night

Telling Golden (Gate) travel stories to PA industry execs

(686 words)

It was 7 p.m. when I realized all I’d consumed the entire day were two bananas, two Jim Beams and about three-quarters of a Cohiba Robusto cigar.

I’d stumbled upon a very efficient way to secure a really strong buzz.

Monday’d been an unusual day. I left for Harrisburg at 9 a.m. I was due to speak before about 60 executives at the Pennsylvania Association of Travel & Tourism at 3:45 p.m.

They wanted to hear me tell them how they can get their great travel stories into major media outlets around the country.

Their interests had the potential of stalemating with mine because I was hoping that’s exactly what they’d tell me!

Luckily, I have a treasure chest of entertaining travel stories from the more than 20 years I’ve been more or less dabbling at the gig. I included some stories — not because they’re travel stories — but just because they exemplify the novelty afforded by being away.

Like our Golden Gate Bridge story.

It was 1996. Val and I were honeymooning in San Francisco and everywhere we went someone gave us a bottle of surplus champagne. It was wonderful.

We’d planned to stroll across The Golden Gate, but decided to spice things up. We took a bottle and a sleeve of cups to the very center of the fabled crossing.

Once there, I popped open the bubbly and announced, “Me and my sweetheart just got married! Who wants to join us in toasting our everlasting happiness?”

I encourage each of you to do this. You can even pretend. Nobody’ll know.

The reaction was wonderful. Dozens of smiling strangers soon surrounded us. I’ll bet three-quarters of them spoke with exotic foreign tongues. 

We basked in the international babble of all these friendly strangers wishing us well.

At least that’s what I think they were saying.

They may merely have been exuberantly thanking us for the free hootch.

I’ve always wanted to go back to that scenic spot and do the same thing all over again.

Only this time I wanted to do it with some great, big, hairy guy named Burt.

No offense to my darling wife, but I think the contrast would make a really great story. Nearly 20 years later, I’ll bet the reaction would be exactly the same. Not because times and opinions on gay marriage have changed so dramatically.

Just because I believe most people will put all their prejudices aside for good, free booze.

My talk was warmly received. I was very pleased.

A bunch of attendees tweeted their approval. One of my favorites: “@8Days2Amish, You are just like your stories — witty, down to earth, and unlike anything else!”

My twitter feed blushes.

I think the best reaction was from the meeting planner who’d invited me to speak in the first place.

I’d sent her a copy of my book last November when we’d begun corresponding. She didn’t read it until last week.

“I was coming back from a weeklong meeting in San Diego and I was just fried. I really needed something to help me unwind,” she said. “I had your book with me and I took it out. Pretty soon I was trying to stifle all my laughter so the other passengers wouldn’t think I was weird.”

This is a common reaction I’m forever struggling to get readers to overcome.

The custom when you’re on a plane and you’ve read something of mine that strikes  you as funny is to bolt to the front of the plane, wrestle the loud speaker system from the flight attendant and read the passage aloud into the microphone for all to hear.

The world needs more laughter.

I hope by her reaction she’ll believe the world needs more me.

She said she loves the book. She organizes meetings with deep-pocket clients all over the country. I need to figure a way to get on her short list of speakers she relies on anytime any client needs someone guaranteed to entertain and uplift.

It would mean a lot to me.

It’ll mean the world to Burt, too, I’m sure.

Related . . .

Travel stories: I have work to do

I speak: some laugh, some cry, some snooze

Bullies, my ‘stache & insane reaction to my speech

“Use All The Crayons!” A 10-star review

My Saturday speech: a surprising sell-out