This year during Lent, I experienced the biblical story of the miracle of the loaves and fishes. I am delighted to revisit that story with you. As it’s often told, Jesus was preaching to a crowd of several thousand throughout the day, and it was time for people to eat.

As evening approached, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.” Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.”

“We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish,” they answered.

“Bring them here to me,” he said. And he directed the people to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over...(Matthew 14:13 21, NIV)

This story was relayed to me as a child as a miracle of Christ’s power to multiply the loaves and fishes. As an adult, I gained a deeper interpretation. The miracle performed in the hearts and minds of those gathered there was to adopt a generosity mindset instead of a scarcity mindset.

Once the crowd saw that one young man humbly shared his fish and loaves, others were likewise inspired to share what they had. And it was more than enough! That’s the miracle I witnessed this year during Lent.

It all started when my friend Alison reached out to ask if we had any discarded clothing from my daughter, Roma. Alison’s handyman has three little girls who have very little. Perhaps the girls could benefit from these hand-me-downs. But I had just taken so much clothing to Goodwill a few weeks earlier. So I sent one text to the parents of other fourth graders at my daughter’s school. Did anyone else have girls’ clothing collected during their spring cleaning?

I was overwhelmed with their response. We ended up with an entire carload of clothes. Roma and one of her church friends dutifully sorted, folded, and put into new boxes for this family. Each of the three girls received one very large box of school clothing and play clothes. I had the privilege of delivering them and witnessing their bright smiles at this unexpected generosity. And much like the Biblical story, we still had unopened bags and boxes of gently worn clothing, ready for another life.

This year my church, Unity San Francisco, has been sponsoring the Rita da Cascia Community, a women’s shelter in San Francisco for women and their children, impacted by chronic illness and homelessness. There are very few shelters of this kind, especially that can welcome women to live there with their children.

I asked my husband, Ken, who serves as senior minister at Unity SF, if there might be some way that we could make the remainder of the clothing available to the families in the shelter. He thought this was a remarkable idea, and we decided to throw an Easter egg hunt for the children along with a free store for the mothers, using the remaining clothing.

Since we had not collected much for little boys in our first effort, I put out a second ask. This time, I also included an announcement on Next Door. Again we were overwhelmed with the generosity of our friends and neighbors. My daughter’s school even gave us their unclaimed “Lost and Found” items, which we washed, folded, and included. After we sorted and folded all the new donations, we had seven tables and one rack full of clothing, shoes and accessories.

After Palm Sunday services, caring church volunteers spread everything out. It was a delight watching members of our church revel in the lovely bounty. Our free store will open on Good Friday to those families to help themselves. What remains will find its way to another charity that can ensure the clothes find children who will benefit.

The miracle, of course, was not the multiplication of clothes gathered from the first request. The miracle is how easy for people to be generous when they are just given an opportunity.

Happy Easter, everyone.

If there’s one thing the isolation of COVID taught me, it’s the value of gathering once again with others. Not only is it exhilarating to be with others to enjoy a meal, conversation, or film, it’s actually healthier for us at an individual and national level. This blew me away.

Ongoing research by Harvard’s Robert Putnam, author of the groundbreaking book Bowling Alone, not only shows a precipitous decline in Americans “joining” clubs and organizations, but also a marked health benefit for those who do.

“Your chances of dying within the next year are cut in half by joining one group!” Putnam proclaims in the 2024 film, Join or Die, updating his research from 2000.

I remember in 2000 when Putnam’s book first came out, chronicling the collapse of community in America. Alarmed by his findings, I even wrote and taught about it a few times. But then I moved on. I forgot the impact that his work had on me. With the rise of the Internet and social media in the quarter century since his book was first published, these trends have only worsened. The gap has widened.

But the trends can be reversed.

In my own life, joining with others at my church, TED events, and MEA workshops, seminars and gatherings has reinforced for me the value of communal experiences. I came to MEA, the worlds first midlife wisdom school, when online courses were all that was possible, but I’ve flourished now that I can attend in person workshops and alumni gatherings.

Yes, I admit, I’m an extrovert and thrive on being with others, but even introverts have shared with me the value they find in being a part of something larger than themselves, even if they approach gatherings with a different set of tools than I. We all draw value when we are with others, enjoying shared experience, expanding our horizons.

Somewhat ironically the four SF Bay Area MEA chapter leaders and I met resistance as we planned a screening of the documentary, Join or Die, which updates Putnam’s work in a provocative new way. This award-winning film is available on Netflix, and some told us “I can just watch it on my own for free.” Yet, the point is that we want to have a communal experience and learn from one another before, during, and after the screening. We’ve even arranged a brief interview with two startup founders, Saum Gupta and Colton Heward-Mills, who have created BuildIRL, specifically to empower others to found thriving clubs that meet IRL (In Real Life).

So…if you’re in the Bay Area, come join us on Friday, March 28, register at this link. The $25 fee covers the price of the film screening and the refreshments. If that price is an impediment, drop me an email. We have funds to cover your ticket costs.

If you’re not in the Bay Area, I invite you to organize your own viewing party. Then discuss, as we will, “Where can I put my time or talent to use? What can I join?”

Our health and that of our nation depend on it.

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JD Schramm writes, speaks, teaches, and coaches on a wide range of communication topics. He’s been an avid member of the MEA community since taking his first course, Navigating Transitions, in the winter of 2021. He and his husband, Ken Daigle, co-taught Roadmap to Your Soul’s Expression, in Baja with Chip Conley in 2023. In 2024, he was part of the “Rohring Elders” cohort who benefited from learning together, quite literally, at the feet of Richard Rohr. You can read more about his midlife metamorphosis here.

Last night I witnessed Allison Kluger’s Last Lecture at Stanford’s Graduate School of Business. It’s a privilege indeed to see the impact that one person has had, in a relatively short period of time (by academic standards). She was not only “beloved” by the students observing her Zoom Chat chock full of life lessons, but she was respected for the strong communicator and mentor she is for so many of us. She blended her personal narrative, her classroom experience, and her media expertise into a power-packed hour of inspiration. As one of her colleagues for years I could not help but feel pride in seeing how great her reach and impact has become at Stanford since her pivot into teaching at the university level.

And in a word…it was authentic. She never sugar-coated the hard truths. She shared candidly her own career missteps, even laughing at herself hosting a home shopping channel segment. Allison demonstrated her truth “acting just like the leader she wants to be” or better “the leader she is.”

When she defined her own super powers and then asked us to craft ours it was easy. I was her entrance ramp into her teaching career and could say:

As she wrapped up last night’s talk she was enthusiastic about the students who would graduate shortly into a unknown world trying to itself graduate from COVID. She led to a clear set of takeaways, each a pearl of wisdom from a gem of a teacher, mentor, and colleague:

I share her optimism about the graduates who heard her last night. If they only take one or two of these lessons, our world will be a better place. As for me, I’m inspired to opt in fully to my own life. Thanks Allison.

My husband and I sat on the couch glued to the TV except for my run to Starbucks at 6:00 AM and his transport of our 2 and 5 year olds to daycare at 8:30 AM. While much will be written about the history and impact of the 59th inauguration of a US President, I saw it as a powerful demonstration of essential principles of leadership communication for change. Not only can future administrations learn from the example, but leaders of enterprises and organizations from all sectors can apply what the new administration created and delivered for a global audience.

Quick Primer on the Illuminate Model

My hands-down favorite model of communicating through a change comes from Nancy Duarte and Patti Sanchez’s 2016 book, Illuminate: Ignite Change through speeches, stories, ceremonies, and symbols.

Briefly Duarte and Sanchez provide a clear, iterative model of change based on the “S” curve of the product life cycle. They map a narrative arc to these five phases and provide examples of how to use speeches, stories, ceremonies and symbols at each phase of the venture. They describe a leader as a torchbearer, lighting the way for others to follow from a dream, to the leap, through fight and climb, then ultimately to arrive. The final phase then gives way to (re)dream for the next vision.

We can look at the inauguration as a threshold between arrival and (re)dream. Certainly the 2020 campaign was a hard fight and climb from the moment President Biden “leapt” into the race on April 25, 2019. Biden tirelessly campaigned through the fight and climb of the democratic primary, and then the scathing general election. This phase was drawn out even further by sixty court challenges of the results. But, if only for a day, Biden and Harris, were able to briefly enjoy “arriving” before (re)dreaming what’s next 100 days, the first term, the mid-terms. You choose.

While the entire inauguration was a ceremony, within it there were embedded clear examples of smaller ceremonies. We heard traditional speeches and stories, but also stirring songs and compelling poetry. Throughout the events we saw an array of symbols. In fact, the full inaugural period provided a rich case study of the Illuminate model for other leaders to adapt for their own change initiatives.

Speeches that inspire

Before looking at Joe Biden’s speech I’d prefer start with what many may not think of as speeches. He carefully chose Jesuit Fr. Leo J. O’Donovan, III, to deliver the opening invocation and Rev. Dr. Silvester S. Beaman, of the AME church in Wilmington for the closing benediction. These spiritual leaders, both friends of President Biden for decades, spanned his Roman Catholic roots and his commitment to racial justice. The pledge of allegiance led by Firefighter Andrea Hall was both spoken, and delivered in American Sign Language, a compelling and inclusive choice for words many Americans memorized as children and recite by rote without much thought. Her ASL interpretation brought a dynamic new element to the pledge for me.

We witnessed three superstars perform songs: Lady Gaga, Jennifer Lopez , and Garth Brooks. Each relied on their distinctive style and approach, but were accompanied by the traditional Marine band, a fitting mix of new and old. Yet it was 22 year old Amanda Gorman whose original poem, “The Hill We Climb” left the most indelible impact on millions of us.

Chills ran up my spine listening to her original poetry within the ceremony. The entire text provides a brilliant narrative and the stunned live audience never once dared break her cadence with applause. Including references to the musical Hamilton and ties all the way back to George Washington she used her moment in the sun to remind us that the world we leave to our children needs to be better than we found it, not worse. Later I learned that the section including the phrase: “while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated” was written late on the night of January 6 after the riots at the very Capitol where she now stood.

With possibly a throwback to the 1960 JFK inaugural Gorman posed the powerful question to us all: “so while once we asked ‘how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?’ now we assert ‘how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?’” (A dear colleague informed me this figure of speech is known as a chiasmus.) Then, reflecting the encouraging speeches advocated in Illuminate this young torchbearer closed with:

“The new dawn blooms as we free it. For there is always light. If only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.” National Youth Poet Laureate Amanda Gorman

This prophetic poet, the youngest person to have ever participated in an inauguration, shined a light on the next part of the journey ahead for the leaders on the platform, and for all of us.

Stories that inform

Within President Biden’s 21 minute speech I fully expected some classic “stories from Joe” that we came to see on the campaign trail and as vice president. However, he provided only small narratives to support his points. Relying on the story of Abraham Lincoln’s signing of the emancipation proclamation some 158 Januaries earlier where he said, “My whole soul is in it.” Biden called back to this moment and committed that, like his predecessor, saying “Today, my whole soul is in this.”

The 46th president was very efficient with his use of language striking a remarkable balance between plainspoken conversation and soaring rhetoric. Without being adversarial, he acknowledged the challenges we face as a nation and the triumph his election and inauguration signal indicating we are entering “the winter of peril and infinite possibilities.” The line, “Democracy has prevailed” may be the best synthesis of his message. He actually spent more time addressing those who did not support him than he did those who helped elect him. At one point requesting:

“Hear me out as we move forward.Take a measure of me and my heart. If you still disagree, so be it. That’s democracy… Yet hear me clearly — disagreement must not lead to disunion.” President Joe Biden

Yet he punctuated his speech with brief stories of his own parents and our national history. He gave only a one line mention of the January 6 riots at the Capitol, but shared a story of another incident I had not known before when he said: “Here we stand where 108 years ago at another inaugural thousands of protesters tried to block brave women marching for the right to vote. And today we mark the swearing in of the first woman in American history, elected to national office, Vice President Kamala Harris. Don’t tell me things can’t change.” He showed that stories do not have to be long and complex, but that a strong narrative style can permeate the entire speech.

Ceremonies that illustrate

From the evening before and throughout the entire day of the inauguration we saw a historic ceremony punctuated by smaller ceremonial elements: Biden departing from Wilmington, inviting fellow leaders to join him for a private Mass at St. Matthew’s Cathedral, visiting Arlington National Cemetery to lay a wreath at the tomb of the unknown soldier with his predecessors Obama, Bush, and Clinton. Yet two rituals in particular underscored the message of his new presidency in graphic ways. Both were primarily silent. On Tuesday evening he and Vice President Harris (and their spouses) held a vigil for the 400,000 Americans who’ve died in the past year due to COVID-19. Between sundown and dusk the two couples faced the reflecting pool nearly alone taking in the lights commemorating those we’ve lost to the disease.

And while Biden’s immediate predecessor chose not to attend the inauguration, Vice President Pence did so. Once the inauguration formally ended on the West Steps of the U. S. Capitol, a small cadre of house and senate leaders from both parties reassembled on the East Steps. Then, from the center doors, appeared the now former Vice President Pence and current Vice President Harris. Along with their spouses they descended the steps together before bidding each other what appeared to be a gracious and warm farewell. This simple ceremonial act, for me, carried so much meaning. It hearkened back to previous inaugurations and a spirit of collegiality that so many believe has been missing. In its warmth and simplicity it illustrated what’s possible again for our nation.

Symbols that illuminate

My entire piece could have only covered the rich number of symbols in today’s event. As a presidential trivia buff since the age of four, when my dad took me to Eisenhower’s funeral, I’ve always been drawn to the rituals and symbols that accompany our democratically elected leaders. I did not dare touch my iPhone during the ceremony, but I did search the phrase “Inauguration Bibles” as soon as it ended. I learned that Biden’s was an 1893 family bible that he’s used in every swearing in throughout his long political career. Harris was loaned a bible that once belonged to the late Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall. The two share Howard University as their Alma Mater, but also being “firsts” as African Americans in public service at a national level.

But the hopeful symbols that highlighted the current pandemic were particularly effective in supporting the message of optimism within a crushing crisis. 400 lanterns were lit the evening before on the now closed national mall each signifying 1,000 lives lost to COVID-19. By day you could see 200,000 US flags where audience members would have stood during any other year. As Patti Sanchez shared with me: “all of those glowing lanterns and fluttering flags symbolizing the people who were absent but not forgotten and whose dreams our new leaders promise to honor and champion.”

And symbols can be combined with all of the other elements in the toolkit. For example Amanda Gorman wore a ring with a caged bird, a gift from Oprah Winfrey for the occasion, to symbolize Maya Angelou who delivered her poem, On the Pulse of the Morning, in 1993 at Bill Clinton’s inauguration. I suspect there are scores if not hundreds of similar symbols and stories for many of the public servants and performers at the inauguration.

And even small acts like “elbow bumps” between leaders or the meticulous sanitizing of the lectern between each speaker symbolized the behavior the new administration will expect of all citizens as the pandemic enters its second year. Ken and I searched in the crowd and never once found an attendee without a mask. It was both sobering and refreshing to see such a consistent, symbolic, yet very real image of role modeling for us all.

As a communications coach and educator I devoured the day as a rich demonstration of all that I strive to teach the leaders with whom I interact. Capturing my experience and applying it to Duarte and Sanchez Illuminate framework served to underscore the enduring power of their work. They write:

Leaders always see a better future before anyone else does. Their challenge is to inspire people to go after it. That takes creativity, tenacity, and very thoughtful communication. Nancy Duarte & Patti Sanchez

Regardless of your party affiliation I hope you can see the intentional quality of the speeches, ceremonies, stories, and symbols of our national transition of power today. Few of us will ever face the daunting challenges the new administration must address, but we can all learn from the 59th inauguration as we ignite change in our own organizations and communities.

For nearly two decades JD Schramm has taught communication to the next generation of leaders from Stanford, Columbia, and NYU. In 2020 Wiley published his first book, Communicate with Mastery: speak with conviction and write for impact. He’s currently an independent communication coach and trainer working with a wide range of firms. His proteges have spoken at TED, Davos, the Aspen Ideas Festival, South by Southwest, and beyond. The challenging events of this past year now have him discerning what his next chapter may be professionally. He and his husband, the Rev. Ken Daigle, live in San Francisco with their three children. He can be reached by email at jd@jdschramm.com.

“Things aren’t always as they seem,” I’ve often been told. Meeting a fantastic little lady in Paris, Illinois brought this point home to me.

“Grandma” is the only name I learned to call her. Perhaps it is only fitting, as love is at the essence of that title, and love is at the essence of this woman.

For more than fifty years she taught third graders in the heart of Illinois. Generations of men and women owe their knowledge of the basics to this woman. I never had the privilege of observing her in the classroom, but it is evident she was successful by the way she treats children with love and adoration now that she’s retired.

A few years ago Grandma suffered a severe stroke. It “robbed” her of some of her faculties. She has almost no memory whatsoever. It’s impossible for her to recall her daughter’s name, the grade in school she taught, or her husband’s birthday. I am told she could cook a seven course meal and have it all come out at not only the same time, but also the right time. Today she is unable to cook even a can of Campbell’s soup.

Her vocabulary and attention span have been reduced to that of a third grader or less. Her husband shoulders full responsibility for all the couple’s basic needs. All too many people look on and remark “What a pity. That poor old woman.”

Unfortunately these astute observers to not take time to get to know the real Grandma. The Grandma I met and have now come to adore exudes all that love is meant to be. She is incurably happy, blind to the depressing problems that face our society. Her laughter and smile contribute to her beauty, and she receives her energy from small children.

While dining out one Saturday afternoon, she continually was interrupting her meal to wink or wave or pat a small child nearby. At least once, in true miracle fashion, she calmed a screaming baby merely by her warm smile and friendly touch.

After just a brief observation I was in awe. She had not been stripped of a single faculty. Rather she had kept only the important ones: childhood, humor, laughter, and above all love.

It’s not a pity — it’s a blessing in disguise. If only we all could age so gracefully!

By JD Schramm

Most of us will not likely participate in a presidential (or VP) debate, but all of us can learn from the best (and worst) practices we witnessed in the first debate between President Trump and former Vice President Biden and only debate between Vice President Pence and Senator Kamala Harris. Without taking sides (or sharing my own views on the race) I wanted to call out some of the lessons that can benefit all leaders.

Prepare fully — while the campaigns varied in their preparation tactics, all four candidates understood the weight of the debate. It’s crucial to invest time in advance for a high stakes conversation or presentation. One of my favorite simple, yet elegant, tools for this preparation is to consider the AIM triangle developed by Russell and Munter. First, consider your audience (primary and secondary) and your intent (as a result of this conversation what do you want them to do) before finally moving to message (what’s the memorable content you want to deliver to cause the audience to take the action you desire). Each candidate appeared to be tackling a different audience, and neither seemed to consider his opponent to be the audience. Trump appeared to focus on reaching his base with an intent of securing their support and driving turnout. Biden seemed to be trying to reach undecided voters with a direct appeal to examine the differences between the two men and then vote for him. While pundits and voters may disagree about the success of either candidates’ strategy, it’s clear both tried to achieve their strategic goals in front of a national audience.

The two VP candidates had the benefit of seeing the impact of their respective leaders’ performances and the accompanying punditry. Both seemed to adhere to the first rule of VP debates, “do no harm” to the ticket. Both, in my view, also seemed to focus on the primary audience of uncommitted voters, but the clear secondary audience of one: the top of their respective tickets. Both were clear to quote, restate, and extend positions their nominees took (or tried to take) in the first debate.

Expect and address interruptions — was evident across both evenings. While Trump and Pence have been most widely criticized for interrupting, Biden and Harris exhibited the same behavior. In our meetings it may not be as egregious as we saw in these two televised debates, but undoubtedly it will still occur. Leaders have a choice of trying to continue on without acknowledging the interruption (Biden tried this a few times), directly challenging the interrupter (all did this on occasion), or scolding your opponent (as Harris attempted several times). No strategy is perfect, but if we guide ourselves back to our core message and try our best to not get adversarial we may stand the best chance of being heard out. Several studies dating back to 1975 show that women are more likely to be interrupted by men in the US. This played out particularly in the VP debate where both the moderator and one of the nominees were women and experienced interruptions by Vice President Pence. While one can prepare for these interruptions, it may also be useful to consider the “long game” that leaders who consistently interrupt others create a reputation for themselves. While it may not lose a debate or an election, it may have longer term negative impacts inside regular working groups or employee circles.

Look directly at your camera — particularly in these days of endless Zoom meetings, it’s crucial to know precisely where your camera is, and to look directly at the camera from time to time. Biden accomplished this connection on a handful of occasions, while Trump mostly looked at the moderator or his opponent. My clients and students know my favorite trick for this…a pair of craft store “googly eyes” mounted on either side of my camera. These remind me to look at the camera, and not at the images of those in the video conference with me. Whatever technique you use, remember direct eye contact is gold and makes a clear impression on those you are addressing.

Have a sustained and consistent message — we can recall the chorus of a song, because we hear it multiple times. Trump clearly wanted to paint Biden as a long-term politician who has been ineffective throughout his career. On six different occasions he said some version of “for 47 years you’ve done nothing.” The most memorable was probably the line where he compared his own tenure with the former Vice President’s. “Hey, Joe, let me just tell you, Joe. In 47 months, I’ve done more than you’ve done in 47 years.” Both the alliteration and repetition made this particular moment sticky for his audience. From the Biden side it does not appear a single, repeated, phrase arose as vividly. Again, reviewing the transcript, he did mention the word “vote” at least 28 times, and, depending on how you count it, invited viewers to vote up to as many as 17 times. So that, in my view, may be his most enduring message. Consider again, if Biden’s primary audience were undecided voters this appeal may align directly with his strategy. The VP candidates picked up on these messages, but not to the same extent. Senator Harris carried the “please vote” torch on a couple of different occasions and Pence also had two references to Vice President Biden’s 47 years of public service.

Smiles can carry great weight — even more than smirks or scowls. My dad used to always tell me “you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.” It’s particularly hard to divorce partisan punditry from the facts on this issue, but Biden was seen smiling broadly several times, telegraphing the “happy warrior” image which has been part of his hallmark reputation. Conversely, it appears the only smiles the audience saw from Trump were smirks accompanying particularly caustic interjections. Ideally none of our business meetings will be as acrimonious as the debate, but we’d all do well to “talk less, smile more” as the line from Hamilton encourages. When conversations begin to edge toward conflict, look at your own image on Zoom and ensure you are portraying an image of warmth and openness. Even simply saying “I’m glad we can be so candid with each other” or “I don’t enjoy these arguments, but I appreciate how it lets us get the issues out so we can resolve them.” The Pence/Harris debate saw a mix of smiles and lip-pursing from the vice president and a consistent smile (as noted above) from Senator Harris when she was most annoyed.

Try listening to make your point — While not possible for Biden or Trump in this setting, all of us can recall times in meetings where we knew we should have listened more, and more effectively. Instead of lobbing a sharp reply try asking a simple open-ended question (without anger on our face) to diffuse a potentially hostile discussion. “Wow. Tell me more about that? Is there a customer experience you can share with us so we understand this better?” Come at disagreements with a goal of genuine curiosity, not a desire to win the battle and you may be surprised at the outcome. Many times our colleagues may just need to be heard. As Thomas Friedman recently wrote: “It’s important what you learn when you listen. It’s even more important what you say when you listen.”

Shouting rarely works — particularly in the long-term. We witnessed both presidential candidates raising their voices to be heard. As parents and managers alike know, shouting may have some short-term benefit, but in the long-term it paints us a yeller, not a leader. When we build our reputation as a screamer, fewer people want to work with us and ultimately work for us. As the adage goes, people don’t leave bad companies, they leave bad bosses. Shouting down your colleagues may “win” a single argument, but with each subsequent encounter we reinforce our lack of collaboration and respect. If we lose our tempers, the medium may become the message, and we’ve lost control of our message.

You cannot NOT communicate — these debates are particularly challenging because, like many of our Zoom calls, the candidates were never “off stage.” In fact the non-verbal communication offered while listening to their opponents was often more telling than their words. Several analysts, for example, have noted that Senator Harris continually smiled when she was upset, ensuring that a frown or scowl never appeared. As Robin Givhan noted in the Washington Post “…studiously refraining from frowning or giving the impression that she was angry because being angry and Black is treading into treacherous water in our culture of inequality.”

Perhaps no moment across either of the two debates captured the public’s attention and commentary than the fly that landed on VP Pence’s head remaining for several minutes. Others have had fun at Mike Pence’s expense on this, so I won’t pile on more. The incident however powerfully reinforces that you are truly never “off stage” in moments like this. His body language, or lack thereof, became more of the story than the policies and positions that night.

After reviewing scores of “morning after” analyses from both sides of the political spectrum one thing is clear: the chaos and lack of decorum in the first debate was challenging to watch, but the lack of drama and surprise in the second was equally uninteresting. Some are calling for improved moderation, stronger rules, or even cancellation of the next two presidential debates. A number of polls reported that the first debate may have actually driven some viewers to not want to vote at all, the exact opposite outcome either campaign desires. As leaders, we can find value in the remaining debates if we look for what to emulate, and what to avoid, in our own communications whether online or in person.

JD Schramm, author of Communicate with Mastery: speak with conviction and write for impact, is a free-lance coach and communication consultant based in Silicon Valley. For over 13 years he served on the faculty at Stanford’s Graduate School of Business where he created a number of highly sought-out elective courses in communication. To contact him visit www.jdschramm.com.

[From July of 1986 to June of 1987 I had the privilege of traveling in Cast D of Up With People. While on the road I captured my impressions in an occasional column in the weekly newspaper of my hometown, the Ellis County Star. The paper is now defunct, but I’ve revived each of my columns and will drop them here on Medium every month or so as our cast prepares for our 35th reunion in July of 2021 (Depending on COVID of course.) For me, and I hope others, it’s a vivid and optimistic lens through which to view the world once again. I’ve chosen to not edit the columns so that my 22 year old self comes through. Enjoy!]

Dateline: the world

Wilkommen. For the next year through this column I will seek to provide you with an interesting view of our country and world as seen through the eyes of a traveler.

Let me quickly distinguish between a tourist and a traveler. Through my participation with Up With People, an international educational and cultural program, I will be touring all over the world.

However, in the more than 80 communities I visit I will be staying in the homes of local host families. Therefore, the view of the world that I offer here will be influenced by the people who open their homes to our cast, provide for us, and support our journeys around the globe.

Our tour will take us off the beaten path into the homes which lie beyond the glitter of travel posters.

I invite you to share in my journey through this weekly column. While I have expectations of gaining insights into other cultures, broadening my view of world issues, and growing in my own talents and abilities, I also hope to share my observations and insights with the people of Northwest Kansas through this column.

Growing up in Ellis County, the heritage of our area has helped to shape me in many ways. As I take a part of Northwest Kansas with me throughout the world, I am also hoping to bring a part of other worlds back home to you.

As a member of a cast of 110 young people from 17 countries, we will set out from Tucson trained to perform a professional two-hour show, and do all that we can to fulfill Up With People’s mission: “To encourage understanding among people of all nations through an international educational and cultural program involving young men and women, from many countries, who travel for a year and learn from the people and places they visit while staging a musical show.”

Welcome into this year-long journey. Learn with me, grow with me, laugh with me, cry with me. I cannot guarantee you’ll agree with all that I see and share, but I can offer you my unique perspective on all that I visit.

Welcome to my world, our world, for a year.

Staging in Arizona

Arizona is not a lackluster state. Certainly the stereotypical tall cacti dot the landscape throughout this area, but in contrast to the striking beauty of the Sonoran Desert stand several small mountain ranges which encircle the city of Tucson.

Daily we rehearse at the Canyon Del Oro High School nestled right up next to the Santa Catalina range on the northwest side of the city. This high school, a complex of several well-equipped, modern buildings situated around a plush grassy area, (a rarity itself in this area), with benches and picnic tables, seems more like a country club than a senior high school.

The splendor of the mountain range behind the high school was purely breathtaking during our first couple of days here. Students, especially from the Midwestern states, could not believe the view.

By our second week at “CDO,” blocking rehearsals, makeup workshops, and promotion seminars filled our time and thoughts. As this happened, somehow the mountains behind the school seemed to lose some of their lustre.

Of course their grandeur was as inspiring as the day we arrived; only our impressions of the scenery had been dimmed by the preoccupations of our hectic days.

For the next year, our cast will be confronted with new scenery like the Santa Catalina Mountains on the average of every three days. It will not be difficult for us to find stimulation in the appreciation of our ever-changing environments. As we venture out of our safe homes into the uncertainty of more than 80 host families’ homes, the excitement of these new faces, new situations and new atmospheres will serve to bring us the grandeur of the Catalina Mountains each day.

The challenge for us all is to seek out things around us to provide this freshness each day. Even without traveling to new areas on a weekly basis we all can build appreciation of our worlds through a heightened awareness of that which is around us.

Remember your own “Catalina Mountain Range” and celebrate each day with the freshness it deserves, and you deserve.

Sean was surrounded by his folks and siblings: Erin, Collin, Patrick…their kids and grandkids. The entire McGinnis-Staab family had a rich tradition of wedding celebrations. I grew up in this Volga-German community but was always an outsider since my heritage was German-Irish and we had moved here when I was three I wasn’t “a native.” While I loved the culture, food, and festivities of my hometown, I knew I was always “adjacent” not “a part”.

Our families lived near each other for several years and I counted Sean as my oldest friend: I was five and he was four when we met and over the next five decades had reconnected in several different cities, often by coincidence. We sustained a friendship even though we’d both moved away from our hometown. When Sean’s remarkable artistic wood block invitation (shown above) arrived from Paris to my home in San Francisco, I was thrilled but unsure I could make the trek back to my hometown of Hays Kansas. Sean has lived in France for decades now and was married there over the summer but was coming back for a reception to celebrate the milestone. It was not an ideal time to leave my own family for a weekend (and I could not afford another trip with all three of my own kids.) So I hesitated for a while, but finally a few days before, worked it out to attend and used frequent flyer tickets to book my flight.

I so wanted to see how Sean would interpret the traditional weddings of our childhood into his own celebration. There was much he kept: the crowd full of family covering the full spectrum of ages, music playing, alcohol flowing, and lots of laughter. Kids darted in and out of the legs of the adults as family and friends reconnected and hugged. He engaged a remarkable duo of women who catered the meal with the traditional Volga German Wedding Beef and Chicken Noodle dinner. Dessert was both wedding cake and Küche (a German coffee cake I’d not enjoyed in more then thirty years.)

But instead of the VFW hall he booked an art gallery, where his dad and my mom (both artists) had spent many years helping build the now fifty year old community arts council. Sean himself (also an artist) spent many hours there as a kid helping out and it was the logical place to celebrate his own wedding. He replaced the guest book with a parchment scroll containing an illustration of a tree where we each found a branch on which to sign our names. And Sean himself roamed the party with a retro Polaroid camera snapping two instant pictures of each guest, one as a favor to keep and another to mount in a scrapbook.

Sean had effectively blended the rituals of the weddings we knew as kids with new elements which held special meaning for him. And there was one more huge difference from the wedding celebrations we’d attended as children: Sean had married the man, not the woman, of his dreams. I’m not sure how many in his hundred plus crowd struggled with this aspect of the celebration, but certainly none showed it if they did.

As a kid who had struggled massively to navigate being gay in a close knit Roman Catholic small town that does not easily embrace gay relationships, it was enormous for me to attend and witness this celebration where it seemed completely normal that Sean now had a husband, Stephane. The applause when the couple kissed after the toast was long, extended, and genuine…forcing them to kiss not just once or twice, but three times. Maybe, just maybe, this reception on a hot Saturday night in August in Western Kansas was making a step towards all of us seeing “gay marriage” as simply “marriage.”

I said I wanted to walk alone with my thoughts, I just did not realize how many of my thoughts and memories would join me on the walk. I was both inspired by the life I have today and saddened by the friends (mostly men) I’ve lost to suicide over the years. After checking in for the walk I visited two of the booths sourcing rituals of the walk. First I decorated several luminaria sacks for the closing ceremony. Then I adorned myself with beads reflecting my relationship to the walk: a single green strand because I struggled personally, and a purple strand for each friend I’ve lost to suicide.

The longer I thought the longer my list became of the teachers, students, friends, ex-lovers, high school classmates, AA sponsees, and relatives I had lost.

Glen, Ryan, Dave, Frank, Ab, Lary, Jon, Alex, Brad, Joe, and Gibbs…

The list grew and my neck grew heavier with each additional string of beads. And I kept thinking, “Why me?” How is it I survived my attempt and others are gone. What is mine to do that I have been blessed with this second chance? Truly unanswerable questions but an opportunity for discernment as I walked along.

Our walk began just past sunset and we were in a rather tight crowd for a while. I began alongside a new friend who had organized an LGBTQ team. We discovered quickly friends we had in common (Edna) and experiences we shared (AIDS Bike Rides) and we held a simple steady pace; comfortable with both the silence and the conversation. At some point we broke off from each other without a goodbye, but knowing we’d connect again along the route. There were many tight-knit teams on the walk, often in solidarity for a lost loved one or volunteers or employees from the same organization. I drifted away from these groups to let them have their experience as I pursued my own solitary path along the same route.

But, as often happens in life when we have an agenda, around mile marker 11 or 12 my journey changed. It was nearly 2 AM, I think, and I came across a teenager and his mom. We chatted easily until he asked “So why are you walking?” I paused, then shared, I had an attempt almost 16 years ago; this seemed like a good way to honor that. Then he softly said “Yea, me too.” He and his mom were sharing the walk this night, but also clearly sharing the journey back from the attempt too. Neither of us pried more than that, there was no need to do so, but we had a kinship that transcended the differences between us. We both wore green beads. That’s all we needed to know. He carried a Polaroid camera around his neck (yes they still make them!) and shared some of the shots he had taken that night.

At the rest are around mile 13 I was done. Nobody would fault me for not finishing; my donors might not even need to know. But I was inspired by this young man and his mom. I told them I would finish the walk if they did. We agreed and recommitted; we pulled ourselves to our feet and kept moving forward. He began to set “mini goals” for the three of us. “No stopping until we cross Mason street.” Then as we neared that goal, “No stopping until we cross Taylor.” We laughed with each new goal we set and accomplished.

At mile 16 he snapped my picture; it was near the end, but the number marking both the miles we had walked, but also the years of my recovery, was more significant to me than the finish line.

At the end of the route he honored me with a Polaroid of me finishing that I will treasure forever. What had begun as a “solitary journey” was only possible to be completed when I sought and supported the help of others, namely him and his mom. The experience was an allegory for my own recovery from depression: I was trying (somewhat unsuccessfully) to manage life alone as I spiraled deeper into self-destruction. Only when I allowed others in was I able to walk slowly out of that dark place, often using “mini goals” to keep me on track. So too with the “Out of the Darkness” walk, I needed the companionship of others to succeed. I love it when lessons like this sneak up on me.

Epilogue

Two days after finishing the walk was Tuesday June 11, the anniversary of my attempt. This one simple text from my sister Kathy, who was a huge champion of my recovery and remains one of my closest friends, said it all.

And therein lies the answer to the question “Why am I here when so many others have perished?” My book’s not over. In fact in the years since my attempt I’ve added numerous chapters “sobriety” “marriage” “children” “doctorate” and so much more. Perhaps it’s not mine to discern why I survived my dark night of the soul, it’s just mine to discern what’s the next right action and take that step. And to remember not to attempt the journey alone, but to look for the traveling companions who can support me as I support them.

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JD Schramm is a writer and educator currently teaching communication courses at Stanford’s Graduate School of Business. His 2011 TED Talk, Breaking the Silence for Suicide Attempt Survivors, has been viewed over 1.8 million times. He frequently speaks on the topic of his (slowly) forthcoming book: The Bridge Back to Life: one man’s journey from the edge of death to the center of life. He and his husband, Rev. Ken Daigle, have three active children and very busy lives. Readers can continue making donations to support JD’s 16.3 mile walk by visiting his donation page.

Precisely 44 years have spanned between my first trip to Chicago and my most recent trip to the Windy City. I vividly recall being here in 1974 when President Nixon resigned. My sister, mom, and I accompanied my dad to a conference at the University of Chicago. We did not see such an announcement from the White House during this trip when I brought my husband and daughter with me while I attended an academic conference of my own.

I love this Mark Twain quote which I saw several times this past week:

How prescient that quote remains for me as I think of all the ways I’ve engaged this novelty. In that first trip at age nine it was an adventure. Up until that trip all our family travel had been to see, well, more family; familiar places with familiar faces. This trip was a journey to the unknown. We stayed in a family apartment near the campus and while Dad studied fundraising strategies Mom took Julie and me to visit art museums and department stores. I distinctly remember an exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art featuring the work of Duane Hanson and his life-like human sculptures. Wishing to nurture my budding interest in architecture she even convinced the staff of the Frank Lloyd Wright Home and Studio to give us a tour; their website notes that it was not opened to the public until a year later in 1975. While I traveled a great deal as a child this trip stood out as a true adventure.

I returned in the early 80’s, unaccompanied, to participate in a national Boy Scout recognition where I added lunch at the top of the (then) Sears Tower, sailing on Lake Michigan, and seeing my first production of Fiddler on the Roof at the now defunct Candlelight Dinner Theater.

In 1990 I brought a handful of high school debate and forensic students to compete in the National Catholic Forensics Tournament and also introduced them to great jazz one night convincing a bouncer into letting me bring the with me into Kingston Mines to enjoy a few hours of music with the promise of no alcohol for any of us!

A few years later I spent several days here in a “career holding pattern” while a Kaplan exec tried to convince me to take a position in his division. I finally declined both the role and boss attaching myself to a more suitable mentor in Boston. That trip, however, is where I fell in love with the Chicago Art Institute making my first pilgrimage to see Seurat’s famous Sunday on La Grande Jatte. Naïve Kansas kid that I was I even let a cabby hold my luggage in the trunk of his taxi for three hours while I visited the museum. He promised to pick me up at 4:00 pm to take me to O’Hare. I had no record of him, the cab number, even the license plate as he drove off with my belongings. But sure enough at precisely 4, he was waiting when I emerged. A decade later another friend and I took a quick weekend trip to Chicago and visited the Seurat work again and also enjoyed a remarkable intimate production of the musical Sunday in the Park with George on Navy Pier at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater.

In 2009 I returned for the first time with my husband, Ken. The adventure of the city continued with our getting to see (and later meet) Patty LuPone at the Ravinia Music Festival while also seeing my first taping of NPR’s Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me.

And this week I’ve come full circle and have now introduced my own daughter to Chicago. Her interests (at three) are still emerging and I did my level best to honor those while sharing some of my own. We did a boat tour (one of her fascinations) and also stopped in at a reception at the Art Institute for Dad to view Seurat. We had recently read the remarkable children’s book Dot by Peter Reynolds and I was hoping to show her his pointillist style of painting just like the little girl in the book who drew nothing but dots.

But Seurat’s work did little to impress Roma, she was, however, transfixed by Degas’ Little Dancer. We returned to this one simple statue again and again. Once Roma even tried to mirror the young ballerina’s pose, which I later learned is fourth position.

Roma became sad that this dancer was encased in a protective box and could not be free to enjoy the world as Roma does. It deeply taxed my nascent parenting skills to try and explain this. Asking a security guard to help me explain it simply made matters worse. We finally had to tell the ballerina that Roma was sad so we’d need to leave her, but would come to visit again. Roma perked up when we got to the Crown Fountain’s “spitting faces” and was her giggly little self again by the time we reached the Ferris wheel and carousel at Navy Pier.

As I reflect on my scores of trips here over my lifetime I can see the truth of Twain’s statement yet the corollary also rings true for I am never the same either. Since I’ve never lived or studied in Chicago it has always been a short-term destination for a life in motion. I’ve seen it as a child, a teacher, a job-applicant, a mentor, a speaker, an academic, a consultant, a husband, an art lover, a theatergoer, and now most importantly as a dad. Neither Chicago nor I seem to be the same each time we encounter one another. I cannot wait to see what’s next as we continue to “outgrow prophesies” the world has for us both.