A Toast to the Class of 2014

Full disclosure: In a desire to shrink my carbon footprint, I am making a concerted effort to recycle...my best blog post material.

You see, sometimes the message just can't get any better, and thus, to amend a statement or modify a phrase would betray the original sentiment. And sometimes, the original was...well...in the Queen's English...utter crap, making revision essential to my credibility with readership, which should eclipse 25 any day now. Of course, one must be able to discern which content needs revised versus retained, and I fully expect to have that mastered before pigs fly over a frozen hell.

Last year, I wrote a post for the Class of 2013, thinking it would become an annual tradition in which I shared all the wisdom gained across the last year, but in re-reading last year's message, I've realized one of two things. Either I peaked in the wisdom department at 36, or I got the message pretty right the first time. I'm honestly not sure which is more accurate--probably a little of both--but as my father never used to say, "If it ain't broke, maybe tweak it just a little."

So here is my mostly recycled, slightly revised, but still just as heart felt message to the Class of 2014 on the eve of their graduation from college...

As an educator, I grow older each year, and yet, my charges remain stuck in time, forever 18-22. You see, when this college thing works as it should, students eventually graduate...hopefully in 4 years, maybe 5 years time (no shame, victory lappers). And for me, there's something incredibly satisfying in shepherding a student from orientation to graduation. You are optimally positioned to witness the growth, achievements, and victories of the students you have grown to know and love...which makes these final days of the academic year a touch bittersweet.

Corbin Burns & Me
- Senior Party -

A couple of years ago, I became the Dean of Students at Birmingham-Southern College, a small, private, liberal arts institution in Birmingham, Alabama. It's been a wonderful environment to call home, and I have grown to adore the students with whom I am privileged to work. At BSC, we have several great senior traditions--Bell Ringing on the last day of class, Senior Party on the Academic Quad, the Capping Ceremony, and of course, Graduation. 

At my Alma mater, we have a tradition called The Last Great Reception in which a faculty member offers a toast to the graduating class. It's a powerful, touching, and slightly rowdy tradition (that's what happens when you give booze to the parents of graduating seniors), but it's made me reflect on what I would say to a group of graduating seniors if I had my time at the podium.

So instead of a mic, I have my blog, and from my luminescent podium, I have some things to share with you, the Class of 2014--those I have grown to love in my current role and those I will forever hold dear even though I am no longer present in their daily lives.

Austin Fann & Haley Williams
- Senior Party -

Some of my words will be practical and some philosophical, but all of them are heartfelt:

You...are...precious. I don't mean that in a "condescending, creepy Uncle Ben, everybody gets a trophy" kind of way. I mean that in the "you are a gift to this world, don't let anyone tell you otherwise" kind of way. Surround yourself with people who believe in you and acknowledge your awesomeness. Abandon those who make you feel "less than" for embracing your, well, you-ness. Tell that self-defeating voice in your head to stuff it. Replace that voice with mine, and you'll always know that you are cherished by many.

You...are...fallible. What?! Seems a bit contradictory juxtaposed to my last statement. It's not. Mistakes don't make a person any less worthy of appreciation and respect. Own your mistakes, learn from them, and help them make you an even better version of yourself. When I am at my strongest and most confident, I have great comfort in acknowledging my faults, and quite frankly, I like the flawed version of myself much better than the mask of perfection I sometimes try to hide behind.

On Love. Love and be loved by a partner who makes you whole, but also, makes you someone who can stand alone. Wow, another contradiction! I say, nay, my friends...or maybe it's just that love is the perfect contradiction. My wife and I value our independence, and yet we enjoy life much better as a pair. We allow each other to be our authentic selves even when that authenticity creates conflict. We compromise daily without compromising ourselves. And the end result? A blessed union that is my greatest source of strength. I hope that you find your own perfect contradiction in time.

Live your passion. I say two things to every incoming class. One, you have the potential to be world-changers in ways both big and small. Two, "Figure out what you care about and live a life that shows it" (John Hoyt). Okay, I also say, "Claim your education," but I digress. As you graduate, I reiterate these statements again, and I hope you find a way to take your knowledge, tools, and talents to engage in truly fulfilling work. I was a gift to find that in my work with you, and it is work I was born to do.

Contribute to the dialogue; not the cacophony. As of late, it appears that we have elected to eschew intellectual discourse for commentary that preys upon our basest fears...reduced to meme form. We live in a complex world with complex problems, and we owe it to each other to educate ourselves, seek out alternative perspectives, and find solutions based in reality rather than screaming from the sidelines of the far left or far right. That, my friends, is your education in action.

Robert Potts, Megan Kopkin, Jenny Lewis,
Victor Griffin, Maulin Shah, & Claire McIlwraith
- Honor Council Seniors -

It's been a blessing to be a part of the last few years of your life, but I can take little credit in the people you've become. I was simply a witness to it, and as one who really paid attention, know that you have much to be proud of on this day before your special day. You have grown into the world-changers I knew you would become.

So as your time here comes to a close and you step onto a different, far bigger stage, know that I remain in the audience, still in awe of your talents, and cheering you on just as I've always been.

Cheers, Class of 2014. Your time has come.

Twin Weddings

From this moment forward...as in the actual moment I wrote this, not the actual moment you read this (catch up already)...or is it the moment I clicked publish...oh, whatever...from this moment forward, 2014 will forever be known as the Year of the Sibling Wedding. You see, two of my three sisters got married this year, and thus, it only feels right to commemorate these occasions with some sort of obnoxious brotherly declaration.

Of course, going 3 for 3 would have been the actual definition of epic, but to do so would have required Texas to enact progressive legislation or the Supreme Court to acknowledge certain civil liberties are being denied to a subset of humanity, but you know, the world apparently needs more time to get its s*** together so "epic" will have to wait. Plus, the bachelorette sister just embarked on a pretty new relationship so the chances of a wedding hat trick were slim to none. At best, I've simply facilitated an awkward conversation for the newbie couple...my bad...that's on me.

Josh & Becca

The elder twin by minutes, Becca, got married this past January, electing to elope to Vegas. There was some discussion about having the wedding in Houston but conflicting family schedules and other unnecessary complications led Becca and Josh to do their own thing on their own terms (which is, frankly, how it should be). I'm not sure if they gambled while there, but if they did, no matter how much Josh lost...he won big in my opinion.

Sara & Me
(I'm the one not in a dress)

The younger twin, Sara, got married this past weekend in an intimate ceremony under a tree near their home. I had the privilege of walking Sara down the aisle (grass) before giving her away (being allowed to return to the crowd) at the altar (tree). It was a beautifully brief ceremony, which is essential for an outdoor wedding in Houston. The pastor did an especially nice job of acknowledging those who presence we missed dearly on this special day--both George's and our dad chief among those missed. That night, we enjoyed dinner at a great local restaurant, where a sign congratulated "Greg & Sarah" on their marriage. I quickly made sure the host corrected the misspelling of my sister's name, completing ignoring the slight to my new brother-in-law. Oops.

Sara & George

So cheers to Becca & Josh and cheers to Sara and Greg...I mean, George...dang it! May your marriage be as charmed as your wedding day and your lives together as sweet as...well...your brother.

With love,

Ben

Remembering Ma-Ma

My apologies, folks. I realize my recent posts have been a bit heavy as of late and that trend unfortunately will continue in this post.

Ma-Ma and Sara

Sara's grandmother, affectionately known as Ma-Ma (though each grandchild spelled her moniker a bit differently), passed away last weekend after a recent and rapid decline in health. All of this was a bit of surprise since Ma-Ma, despite her 84 years, was probably in better health than the rest of us. The last time she'd been in the hospital was 1959--a time when doctor's probably still smoked during surgery.

Despite herself being a non-smoker, Ma-Ma was diagnosed with lung cancer about a month ago. Over the
course of the last week, we went from a manageable diagnosis with years of life left, to 3-5 months, then 1-2 weeks, and finally 1-2 days. Thankfully, all of Ma-Ma's sons made it to Tyler to say their final goodbyes, but none of us were ready to receive the 3 a.m. call that shared the news of her passing. It was sad. It was abrupt. But it was merciful.

While I didn't have a lifetime with Ma-Ma, I've been around the Holland family for over 16 years, and when you've spent that many years in regular contact with a person, your spouse's grandmother soon becomes your own. Ma-Ma will be missed by many, and she will definitely be missed by me.

Ma-Ma was a strong, independent woman. A woman who spoke her mind often, recorded her thoughts always, and lived her life fiercely...without regret. She was warm, loving, and the leader of the Holland clan. Her role will never be filled; we will simply compensate for her absence in our lives and in our hearts.

There is much about Ma-Ma that could be said, but I wanted to hit a few highlights as I mentally (and blogally) celebrate her life.

Better than Fiction
Ma-Ma was one half of a great love story--one that caters to the hopeless romantic in me. Ma-Ma and Pap-Pa met in 2nd grade, and as legend has it, Pap-Pa came home that night and told his parents that he'd met the girl he was going to marry. I'm sure his parents rolled their eyes at little Casanova Claude, but Pap-Pa spoke truth that day--a truth reflected in 66 years of marriage. A love story born in the 2nd grade...you can't write a better, more heartwarming tale.

Breakfast Revelations
Whenever we were in town, I loved partaking of the weekly Saturday morning breakfasts that Ma-Ma would fix...not simply for the eggs, grits, and toast (though they were excellent)...but rather for the revelations that would come to pass when Sara's uncles joined the meal. You see, four Holland boys managed to create a lot of havoc in their younger years--not felony-level havoc but a fair amount of butt-whoopin' level destruction. Following breakfast, my FIL and his brothers would recount the missteps of their youth with Ma-Ma enjoying the tales in a way that only time and distance permits....except in a few rare instances when a tale would be told that Ma-Ma had never heard before. The combined look of shock and concern, paired with a clear desire to ground one or more of the middle-aged children sitting at the table, was absolutely priceless. In fact, these moments inspired a previous post.

A Final Hug
While I have always felt connected to the Holland family, nothing made me feel more embraced than an actual embrace from Ma-Ma. Ma-Ma used to remark that I gave the best hugs, and I always looked forward to our customary greeting whether it had been 3 months or 3 days since we last saw each other. I'll admit...the amount of pride I took in that compliment was both sizable and absurd, but for me, in that compliment, I read a deeper message--I was a member of the family, I was worthy of her granddaughter, and I was, in Ma-Ma's eyes, a good soul. So in the flurry of doctors and bad news that washed over our Easter weekend visit, I am so thankful that Ma-Ma requested a hug shortly after we arrived at the hospital. Little did I know that it would be our last, but in that final hug, I tried to say what words could not express--a deep appreciation for loving so generously, a futile hope for a miracle recovery, and a promise to be the husband, uncle, and son that I am capable of being.

I'm not sure there is much else to be said on the matter...other than thanks for putting up with somber Ben as of late. While the content has been sad, my heart is light. I have been blessed with wonderful people in my life, and I am thankful for the time I've had with them...even though it's felt fleeting at times.

Thanks for reading, my friends.

Good morning, Baltimore!

Last month, as my students departed for Spring Break, I boarded a plane for Baltimore so that I could join my fellow student affairs professionals at NASPA. NASPA is a professional association whose initials stand for the National Association of Student Personnel Administrators, which references terminology that became passé in the late 80s (though my Masters Degree, which was awarded in 2002, uses equally dated language). Weirdly, NASPA's byline now references "Student Affairs Administrators in Higher Education" with no mention of the acronym's meaning. Why is all of this important? It's not...it's simply another moment in which I take a hard left turn away from the point of my post, but now you know about NASPA soooo...you're welcome.

After four days in Baltimore during which I ate crab cakes at almost every meal (left turn), I arrived back home in Birmingham and began to reflect on my latest conference experience. My affinity for this conference has grown over the years, and this year's felt particularly special.

Me, Pete Neville, David Tuttle, & Raphael Moffett
(photo credit - some patron whose meal was interrupted)

First of all, it allowed me to reconnect with former colleagues who are near and dear to my heart. When you've worked in a profession for fifteen years, you're bound to make some significant connections. Counting my current boss, I had five supervisors present in the same location, which I can only imagine led to a gathering over drinks to compare notes such as these:

Does he still use 50 words when 5 will do?

Does he use the phrase "okey-dokey" when he's ready to get off the phone?

Does he leave his clothes all over the bedroom floor? (Wait, how did my wife join this confab?)

Is he still so insecure that he fabricates an imaginary "Council of Former Bosses" to discuss his annoying habits? (Whoa, my psyche just went meta...)

But really, it was great to reconnect with former colleagues who mean a great deal to me personally and professionally...even if they are meeting behind my back in my imagination. An especially touching moment occurred when my first boss, David Tuttle, tweeted a picture of me as I presented during a session. He remarked knowing me as a student and now a Dean of Students, which made him #proud...and made me #verklempt. (Blog amongst yourselves.)

Additionally, NASPA is a time to reconnect with my doctoral cohort--a community of friends who've become more like family over the years. We've celebrated marriages, births, and promotions, supported each other through illness, divorce, and loss, and journeyed through every major doctoral milestone together. And now that we're finished with coursework, our weekly WebEx visits and summer trips to Fort Collins have come to an end, which makes reunions like these all the more important.

Colorado State University Doctoral Cohort
College & University Leadership Program

Our Program Chair, Linda Kuk, received an award this year for outstanding contributions to higher education--well-deserved recognition for an outstanding professional and dedicated professor. Our program could have no better champion, and we could have no stronger advocate.

And of course, NASPA is a chance to recharge, reflect, and rethink all that we do on each of our campuses. I spent much of the conference attending sessions on proactively addressing and effectively responding to incidents of campus violence, but I did take the time to take in a session just for me called "Blogging Bravely."

It was amazing, and it really connected with the kind of blogger I want to be (when I'm not taking months long writing hiatuses). For me, blogging bravely means stepping beyond my personal stories (that comes easy for me) and speaking out when I feel compelled to share.

It may be messy, it will likely be difficult, and my charming wit won't always fend off criticism, but that doesn't mean my voice should be diminished. Much of what I will post may simply be for me, but that's okay, I'm choosing to engage the world...and blog bravely.

Mourning the Loss of Grief

It's not lost on me. The redundancy of this title. A repetition of synonyms that describe one's reality when a loved one is no longer with us. However, sequenced as they are above, those words portray a very different reality--one that is simultaneously disconcerting and comforting. A reality that I can only describe as a conflicted sense of melancholy...recognizing that the pain of loss is no longer with me; not palpably at least.

Today marks the 3 year anniversary of my father's passing, and while his absence still touches my life in significant ways, those moments rarely carry the weight of loss that they once did. And for some reason, the healing that evolution represents feels a bit like betrayal, and I find myself wishing that loss would feel like...loss...rather than acceptance.

I've come to describe my dad as a man who never aspired for greatness; simply goodness. Those words are not intended as a slight but rather a deeply felt compliment. In my mind, goodness is the more selfless endeavor...a life's journey filled with humility, compassion, and service to others. I didn't fully appreciate this part of my father until now, but in some ways, that makes sense.

It's hard to truly reflect on the essence of someone's life when they're busy living it. It's difficult to fully embrace what makes them special...until you notice its absence.

My father was full of goodness...and that is what made him great.