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.