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Teacher tells graduates: “You are not special.”

There are some messages that need to be said, and some that people don’t want to hear. Often, a single message is both. When Wellesley High School English teacher David McCullough stepped up to the mic to deliver the commencement address to the Class of 2012, he delivered one of those messages. He told them:

“You are not special. You are not exceptional.”

McCullough tells students: "You are not special."

There are some messages that need to be said, and some that people don’t want to hear. Often, a single message is both. When Wellesley High School English teacher David McCullough stepped up to the mic to deliver the commencement address to the Class of 2012, he delivered one of those messages. He told them:

“You are not special. You are not exceptional.”

With his reading glasses and his slightly unkempt hair, he looked every bit the part of English teacher and strikingly resonated the message he was about to deliver. He told the students, “…your ceremonial costume… shapeless, uniform, one-size-fits-all. Whether male or female, tall or short, scholar or slacker, spray-tanned prom queen or intergalactic X-Box assassin, each of you is dressed, you’ll notice, exactly the same. And your diploma… but for your name, exactly the same.

All of this is as it should be, because none of you is special.”

Now, before you begin leaping to conclusions and shouting things like “how dare he tell my little pumpkin that she is anything less than amazing!” allow me to add some additional context. McCullough continued:

“The empirical evidence is everywhere, numbers even an English teacher can’t ignore. Newton, Natick, Needham, that has to be two thousand high school graduates right there, give or take, and that’s just the neighborhood numbers. Across the country no fewer than 3.2 million seniors are graduating about now from more than 37,000 high schools. That’s 37,000 valedictorians… 37,000 class presidents… 92,000 harmonizing altos… 340,000 swaggering jocks… 2,185,967 pairs of Uggs. But why limit ourselves to high school? After all, you’re leaving it. So think about this: even if you’re one in a million, on a planet of 6.8 billion that means there are nearly 7,000 people just like you.”

He wasn’t beating them up to be mean or belittling. The truth is he was a teacher, through and through and to the end. Though they sat before him at commencement, the end of one era and the beginning of the next, he was taking one final moment to teach:

“As you commence, then, and before you scatter to the winds, I urge you to do whatever you do for no reason other than you love it and believe in its importance.”

“Resist the easy comforts of complacency, the specious glitter of materialism, the narcotic paralysis of self-satisfaction. Be worthy of your advantages. Read as a nourishing staple of life. Develop and protect a moral sensibility and demonstrate the character to apply it. Dream big. Work hard. Think for yourself. Love everything you love, everyone you love, with all your might.”

“The fulfilling life, the distinctive life, the relevant life, is an achievement, not something that will fall into your lap because you’re a nice person or mommy ordered it from the caterer. You’ll note the founding fathers took pains to secure your inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness–quite an active verb, “pursuit”–which leaves, I should think, little time for lying around watching parrots rollerskate on Youtube. The first President Roosevelt, the old rough rider, advocated the strenuous life. Mr. Thoreau wanted to drive life into a corner, to live deep and suck out all the marrow. The poet Mary Oliver tells us to row, row into the swirl and roil. Don’t wait for inspiration or passion to find you. Get up, get out, explore, find it yourself, and grab hold with both hands.”

Like accolades ought to be, the fulfilled life is a consequence, a gratifying byproduct. It’s what happens when you’re thinking about more important things. Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you. Go to Paris to be in Paris, not to cross it off your list and congratulate yourself for being worldly. Exercise free will and creative, independent thought not for the satisfactions they will bring you, but for the good they will do others, the rest of the 6.8 billion–and those who will follow them. And then you too will discover the great and curious truth of the human experience is that selflessness is the best thing you can do for yourself. The sweetest joys of life, then, come only with the recognition that you’re not special.

Because everyone is.

Congratulations. Good luck. Make for yourselves, please, for your sake and for ours, extraordinary lives.

Personally, I can think of no better message to deliver to our kids, at commencement and minute-by-minute as they work through school to reach that milestone. You see, part of the problem– maybe the biggest part– is us. Parents of our generation are creating such coddling environments that our kids have very little self-sufficiency. McCullough says that, “we Americans, to our detriment, come to love accolades more than genuine achievement. We have come to see them as the point — and we’re happy to compromise standards, or ignore reality, if we suspect that’s the quickest way, or only way, to have something to put on the mantelpiece, something to pose with, crow about, something with which to leverage ourselves into a better spot on the social totem pole.” He’s right. And when he points this out to the graduating class he places the blame exactly where it belongs: with us.

“You’ve been pampered, cosseted, doted upon, helmeted, bubble-wrapped. Yes, capable adults with other things to do have held you, kissed you, fed you, wiped your mouth, wiped your bottom, trained you, taught you, tutored you, coached you, listened to you, counseled you, encouraged you, consoled you and encouraged you again. You’ve been nudged, cajoled, wheedled and implored. You’ve been feted and fawned over and called sweetie pie. Yes, you have. And, certainly, we’ve been to your games, your plays, your recitals, your science fairs. Absolutely, smiles ignite when you walk into a room, and hundreds gasp with delight at your every tweet. Why, maybe you’ve even had your picture in the Townsman! And now you’ve conquered high school… and, indisputably, here we all have gathered for you, the pride and joy of this fine community, the first to emerge from that magnificent new building…

But do not get the idea you’re anything special. Because you’re not.”

I admire him for his insight. I applaud him for his courage. I will honor him by doing all I can to remember these words with each interaction with kids, both mine and others, to encourage them to live their lives not to garnish the accolades, but the for sake of actually living their lives. I will encourage them, at all times, to “climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you.”

I’ve presented you with the Cliff Notes version. For the full effect, watch David McCullough deliver the address himself:

Find great wines that match your personal palette preferences

I’ve got a friend that knows wine. Todd reads magazines like Wine Spectator, seems to always know which wineries are crafting the best product, and has a knack for recognizing great value. He’s a very handy guy to have around.

The problem, of course, is that he’s not always around. Not only that, while he has a great feel for what he likes, but may not have the same knack for me. Or you.

I like wine, but I don’t read the magazines and I’m not overly concerned with what’s hot or what the “proper pairings” might be. In fact, I’ve learned that I prefer red over white regardless of what I’m eating. And I’m just comfortable enough not to care much what anyone else thinks of my preferences. I would, however, like to know more about what I’m drinking and it would be great if I could find great wines– even great values – without investing a lot of time or effort. Come to think of it, I’d love to have a personal sommelier who could match wines to my palatte and preferences.

Wouldn’t you know? Someone else had a similar idea and Club W was the result. Club W is an “online community of wine enthusiasts committed to taking the hassle, guesswork and pretentiousness out of enjoying a great bottle of wine at a reasonable price.” They believe (and I wholeheartedly agree) that wine shouldn’t be about being told what to drink, but should instead be all about discovering what you like.

Club W achieves this with their unique palette profile. By asking a series of questions about food and spice preferences (“How do you like your coffee?”, “How do you feel about salt?”, “Do you like blackberries, blueberries and raspberries?” etc.), they can better match wine suggestions with your palette.

The wines themselves are chosen by the five curators, each boasting an impressive pedigreé. There are four sommeliers (including Brian Smith, an Advanced Sommelier with the Court of Master Sommeliers) and Andrew Freeman, owner of a restaurant and hospitality PR firm. Each of them bring a unique background and a singular passion to their work: to deliver great wines directly to your door.

Club W is organized like a traditional club. Each month, they select and source 12 of the coolest small batch wines from around the world. Members can choose from these, or have them selected for you based on your palette profile. The minimum monthly order is three bottles for $39. Additional bottles are just $13 and all orders ship for free. You can cancel or skip an order at any time, and nothing ships without your prior approval.

The bottles they sell typically retail for between $15 and $20 (sometimes much more). According to Club W, A bottle of wine in a retail store has been marked up twice before you buy it: first by a distributor and then again by the retailer. When you buy wine through Club W you are actually purchasing directly from the wine maker or the importer, which helps them deliver the same bottle for less.

Club W believes that learning about wine should be fun, interesting, and easy; not overbearing and pretentious. To help, they produce a short video for every wine they select featuring one of the curators discussing tasting notes, background information such as the producer’s story, and an explanation of the growing regions or a short primer on the varietal. Each video is light and upbeat (like the descriptions of the wine itself) and aims to explain things in terms anyone can understand. Even better, each bottle you receive contains a quick-response (QR) code that will take you directly to the video when you scan it with your smartphone.

Club W says their mission is to transform choosing wine into an “ongoing conversation between our curators and your personal tastes,” all with the goal of making choosing wine as simple and pleasurable as drinking it. Judging by the first shipment I received, I’d say they’re on the right track.

[Note: Of the three wines in the first shipment, I’d rate two of them as perfectly matched to our preferences. The third was pretty close, just a little too much blackberry for me. The second shipment is on its way… Can’t wait! If you’re looking for something a little different, give ClubW a try and let me know what you think.]

Sweet deal: Ari from Club W commented yesterday and has offered all of you a coupon worth $19 off your first order! Just send an email to Ari and use the subject line: Cota Coupon to get the code. Enjoy!

Why the tornado damage may linger forever

HENRYVILLE, IN - MARCH 04: Lori Hall searches...

HENRYVILLE, IN - MARCH 04: Lori Hall searches for items to salvage in the home of her aunt and uncle after it was destroyed by Friday's EF-4 tornado March 4, 2012 in Henryville, Indiana. At least 37 deaths have been reported from the storm, 4 in Henryville, which ravaged parts of Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky, Alabama and Georgia. (Image credit: Getty Images via @daylife)

The recent tornado outbreak in southern Indiana was a tragedy in every sense and we may feel the effects long after the clean up is complete.

Rolling through on March 2, these storms spawned a category 4 monster that knocked over buildings, uprooted trees, and killed at least thirteen people. Clark County Sheriff Department Maj. Chuck Adams, while referring to the small town of Marysville, said it was “completely gone.”

The photos and videos are shocking and the stories are very sad. But, like always, Hoosiers rise to challenge in every way. Donations and support moved in quickly to help alleviate the suffering. Gov. Daniels has requested federal disaster aid to help rebuild.

They don’t need clothing or household items at this point, but the Red Cross is encouraging people who want to help to make a financial donation. You can help those affected by disasters like the Midwest tornadoes and storms, as well as countless crises at home and around the world, by making a donation to support American Red Cross Disaster Relief. Consider making a donation today by visiting www.redcross.org, calling 1-800-RED CROSS (1-800-733-2767) or texting the word REDCROSS to 90999 to make a $10 donation.

Contributions may also be sent to your local Red Cross chapter or to the:

American Red Cross
P.O. Box 37243
Washington, DC 20013

Your help enables the Red Cross to prepare for and provide shelter, food, emotional support and other assistance in response to disasters.

Unfortunately, even after the initial shock wears off and the rebuilding is complete, the financial impact on the communities will linger. I haven’t seen any statistics, but I’m wondering how many businesses will be shuttered due to an inability to recover from lost time, inadequate resources, or disruption in vital services. History shows that even minor disruptions can damage a business indelibly: more than 85% of businesses that suffer an unplanned outage don’t survive.

While we will never be able to foresee disasters, both big and small, we can anticipate and plan for them. There are great resources available online to help you devise a disaster recovery/business continuity plan for your business. Try reading this Wikipedia article for an overview of the topic. You can also get a free trial of an online software product to help you create your own plan from Survivor or Statistic.

This is one of those things that never seems to be the highest priority, but it can truly be the difference in the survival of a business. If you own or run a business, you really need to look into putting a plan together soon.

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Sea turtle nests protected by state and federal law

English: Legal posting related to sea turtles ...

Image via Wikipedia

There are signs common in Florida and other coastal areas warning of potential fines and imprisonment for various offenses related to endangered sea turtles and their nests. The provisions are fairly specific yet wide-ranging.

Florida state law provides protection against taking, possessing, disturbing, mutilating, destroying or causing to be destroyed, selling or offering for sale, transferring, molesting, or harassing any marine turtle or its nest or eggs at any time.

Federal law provides even greater protection (and criminal penalties as severe as $100,000 and a year in prison) if you “take, harass, harm, pursue, hunt, shoot, wound, kill, trap, or capture any marine turtle, turtle nest, and/or eggs, or attempt to engage in any such conduct.”

Obviously, marine turtles are still on the endangered species list, so they are afforded these protections. We can all easily endorse such a law, recognizing the inherent value of the life of a sea turtle — even realizing that the life in the eggs is something that should be given the same level of protection.

Remembering Mary Card Harbaugh

It took a little convincing to get Mary to run her first mini-Marathon. She had the normal anxieties any of us would about running 13 miles. She wasn’t sure she could do it, probably wasn’t looking forward to all the training. To help convince her, Lori Danielson began rattling off all the benefits they would get: “It’ll be fun! It will be such a great accomplishment! We’ll get in shape!” Mary was unmoved. “We’ll be in an elite group,” she continued, “we’ll make some new friends!” Finally, Mary said, “Lori, I have enough friends!” This was ridiculous, obviously. For Mary, there was no such thing as enough friends. In fact, she was simply incapable of not making friends, no matter where she was or what she was doing. She did run the Mini that year. And, of course, she did make new friends; some of whom are probably here today.

It is simple to see how she made and kept friends so easily. She was the kind of person that exhibited all of the qualities that drew people to her and made them want to stay. Even if you’d just met her, you couldn’t help but think you’d known her a long time and start looking forward to seeing her again. Mary was always willing to step out, have fun, make everyone feel welcome while still maintaining a strong sense of her own personality and always being her own person.

She probably laughed more than anyone else I’ve ever known. She found true joy and mirth everywhere she looked. She was so full of life and had a sense of humor so self-effacing it was disarming. I’m sure that most of you know one or two embarrassing stories about her. And if you think back to where you heard them, it probably leads directly to the source that knew best: Mary herself. Things that most of us might try to hide – truly embarrassing moments – Mary would openly share, especially if the story would make you laugh and give her a reason to laugh right along with you. She was very serious about living, but she didn’t take herself too seriously.

Nikki was telling me recently about their frequent trips up to Rockville for the Covered Bridge Festival. They loved to peruse the booths there, not to buy anything, but to figure out how the craftsmen where making their goods so they could copy them. During one of those trips, they got to talking about how smart they were to have left the kids at home, especially while they watched others less clever than themselves pushing strollers around in fields that were becoming muddy and difficult. This went on to the point that it became the theme of the day: “look how free we are without our strollers, look at all these other silly people who didn’t plan ahead!” Until they got to the bottom of a particularly steep hill, covered with mud and gravel, and saw a woman struggling to push her husband’s wheelchair. Without a word, Mary walked up behind and pushed him up the hill. Someone needed help and Mary gave it. Her generous, caring, giving spirit on perfect display.

We have lost one of the truly great ones. The world has lost a shining example of a beautiful soul. All of us have lost a dear friend, a loving daughter, a loyal sister, a proud and adoring mother; a committed, tolerant, and devoted wife. A true soulmate.

Our hearts are broken.

I don’t pretend to know why God feels he needs Mary more than Sam, Jack, Lucy and Maggie do. More than Joel does. It is beyond our comprehension. Our hearts are broken, but our Faith is not, because Mary’s wasn’t. Mother Teresa famously said, “I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish he didn’t trust me so much.” He apparently thought a great deal of Mary, too, because he certainly gave her more than most of us could handle, and she carried that cross without complaint.

We watched her fight with the spirit of a warrior; the heart of a Mother. She gave it everything she had and, in the end, succumbed to one of our greatest fears. But she fought the good fight, she maintained hope throughout. She never gave up, she never felt sorry for herself, and she never  stopped thinking of other people.

Earlier this Summer, when Mary was having a particularly difficult time with her chemotherapy, Joe brought her over to St. Vincent’s for an appointment. I happened to arrive at the hospital at roughly the same time. Just looking at her, it was obvious that she was struggling. I stupidly asked – like we all seem to do – “How are you doing, Mary?” She smiled and said, “I have a headache, I’m dizzy, I’m nauseated, my whole body hurts, blah, blah, blah… I have cancer.” Her simple statement of fact carried no illusions or speculation; just the truth. Such was her character, that even when she felt as bad as she could, she was courageous, light-hearted, and generous.

Her great sense of humor was nearly always on display, and this humor and selflessness served her well, even when she had little reason to smile. A couple of weeks ago, Mary was in St. Vincent’s and she and Joel had been told there was really nothing left the doctor’s could do. The decision was made to transition from treatment to comfort care. One night, Mary was in bed and her sisters, Kitty, Jennifer and Melissa were all there in the room her. Worn out, she said to them, “Ok, I’m going to close my eyes now and just die.” The sisters said their goodbyes and she fell asleep… After sleeping for a short time, she woke up, looked around and said, “Well, I guess it’s not automatic!” This was classic Mary: always making light of a situation for the benefit others, always smiling, even in the face of her own death.

So our hearts are broken, and we mourn our loss, and we ask unanswerable questions. But we can’t let that be the end. We must work to find meaning in our loss, a new message of hope, a renewed devotion to live our lives to the best of our ability. To use the blessings and talents that God has given us for the greater good and to the very end. And in these efforts, we need to remember the gifts that Mary brought to us all: Her spirit. Her courage. Her joy. Her resilience. And her love.

William Penn wrote that “Death cannot kill what never dies, nor can spirits ever be divided that live and love in friendship.” So Mary will live on as we remember her, and I will remember Mary as a teenager at swim meets and football games and proms.

I will remember the way she gave her heart to all the children she served at Methodist, so many times becoming far more than a caregiver to them and their parents.

I will remember her as a radiant bride on her wedding day, having been preceded down the aisle by Stuart, one of those patients that became such an endearing part of her life.

I will remember the proud mother who literally beamed when she talked of her kids, and accepted any and all of their friends as her own. It’s no surprise to anyone who knew her that these young men escort her today. Two of her own, and six others that might as well have been.

I’ll remember her carefree laugh and her radiant smile, both of which were on full display so often and with equal intensity on the best of days, as well as the worst.

And I’ll always remember the way she said, “Joel!” when she was ever-so-slightly mortified by something he had said or done. (Which will be easy, because it was a lot.)

I will remember that she was a planner, a gatherer, a bit of a meddler. She loved being in the know, and knowing everything that was going on with everyone around her brought her distinct pleasure. Mary was definitely the type to set someone up on a blind date– not to be intrusive– but because she saw an opportunity for both of them to be happier. It’s an example of her continual focus on other people. Char and I were recipients of this kind of meddling, and I’m thankful for her persistence.

And I’ll remember Mary sitting in her chair by the fire, with a blanket and a book (and, normally, a child or a dog on her lap) watching the action around her, so happy that all those kids and all her friends felt so comfortable in her home.

I’ll remember her co-parenting with Char and Nikki, all while explaining how they were better together than with me or Bret or Joel.

I will remember how, when she hugged you, you knew she meant it.

But mostly, I’ll remember how much she loved Sam, Jack, Lucy and Margaret. How much she loved Joel. And her sisters, her Mom and Dad. Her nieces and nephews. And all of you. She had joy in her spirit and love in her heart that knew no bounds. Even now. She loves you still; and always will.

Sam, Jack, Lucy, and Maggie: We are all called to see the face of God in each other, and your Mom was great at it. I see her kind and generous spirit, and her irreverent sense of humor in all of you. I see her wonderful warmth in each of your smiles. Your Mom was one of a kind and irreplaceable, but she lives on in all of you, and you need only to turn to each other to see her again. But if you need more, all of us with you today – and many more that couldn’t be here – stand ready to help in any way we can, to show our support and love for you, in return for all the ways she gave her heart to us. Because we loved her greatly and love you as well.

As for the rest of us, we have work to do. We need to learn the lessons that Mary was teaching. We need to do everything we can to appreciate the standard she set and put it to work in our lives.

We need to be courageous in the face of things that are truly frightening.

We need to be kind and loving to the people around us who need it the most.

We need to open our hearts as well as our homes to the people we love.

We need to face each day with renewed hope and joy and a commitment to never waste another moment.

We need to take living less for granted.

We need to hug each other so there’s no doubt about how much we mean it.

And in the end, no matter how it comes or what it looks like, we need to keep the Faith that the hand of God is at work in our lives. And though we may not understand the events that unfold or the tragedy that befalls us, it is His plan, and His will, and our role is to make something remarkable come from whatever it may be.

That’s what Mary did, with every moment she was given, and it was an extraordinary blessing to have known her.