I have long been reluctant to write Andy’s story because even now, many years later, I still find aspects of it disquieting. When he was an infant, Andy ‘s mother asked a friend to look after him a few hours while she went to a medical appointment. She never returned. The woman in whose home he had been left was willing to keep him, but her husband resisted strenuously, until he learned the government would be generous financially. The family’s young twins, Timmy and Jimmy, were ecstatic.

Andy came to think of the twins as his brothers, and called the parents Mom and Dad. He had a family. After a few years though, he became aware that his father’s voice acquired an impatient edge when he spoke to him. Sometimes after a difficult day at the mill where he worked, his dad locked him in a closet for hours. Andy often hid under his bed when his father returned from work. He began feeling anxious about his place in the family.

When Andy was 8, his father kept him busy with cutting grass, washing the car and much more. Andy loved Timmy and Jimmy and his mother and, although he didn’t feel safe around his father, he
desperately sought to retain his place in the family. He had no one else.

A major crises changed his life during a gathering of the extended family at their home. Andy and his brothers had cleaned their shared room, brushed Molly the family’s collie, and waited excitedly for guests to arrive. When everyone was there, a neighbour came to take family photos. The three boys knelt on the grass in the front row, Molly wedged between them. There had already been several clicks of the camera when the boys’ father demanded very sternly, “Andy, get out of the picture! You’re not part of the family!” Startled and frightened, Andy looked to his father. His father again said very loudly, “Andy, I told you to get out of the picture!” Andy looked at his mother for support, but she turned away, wiping tears. The twins were sobbing. Only Uncle Ben, black sheep of the family, objected. Andy’s father said, “Be quiet, Ben. You’re on my turf.”

Andy rose slowly, looked helplessly back at his family, then shuffled disconsolately down the driveway, not knowing where he was going. On the street he continued walking, feeling rejected and crying bitterly, quite certain he’d never be permitted to return.

After about ten minutes a rusty Volkswagen van pulled up alongside him and the passenger door opened. “Want a ride Andy?” Uncle Ben asked. “I’m done with that family thing.” Andy had met this uncle only once. The man was unpopular with the family because in his twenties he had been a hippie with long hair, scraggly beard, and a liking for marijuana. Even now, although at least 60, his hair still hung down to his shoulders and the beard had seen few razors. Andy wiped away the tears and gratefully got into the van. After a few questions, Uncle Ben said, “Why don’t you come live with me? I rent an old house on a couple of acres. I could use some company and a little help around the place.”

Uncle Ben taught Andy to ride a horse and catch fish in the river. He also instructed him in basic meal preparation. Often they hiked in the mountains.

Late in the afternoon on Fridays they went to a local Cafe. Uncle Ben drank black coffee and Andy ordered a root beer. If a long distance trucker was having dinner, they sometimes asked if they could join him. Usually the trucker welcomed company and sometimes asked Andy about his life. If Andy talked about his father ordering him to get out of the picture, almost without exception the trucker would be touched emotionally.

Andy was grateful to Uncle Ben, but sorely missed his brothers and mother. On his seventeenth birthday Uncle Ben said, “It’s a special day. I’ll buy you dinner in the cafe today.” Later that afternoon they were about to give the waitress their order when two young men entered the cafe, smiling broadly. “Hello Andy,” one said. “I’m Jim and this is Tim. Uncle Ben invited us to your birthday.” Stunned, Andy rose and was warmly embraced by each brother. He looked at Uncle Ben and said, “if you hadn’t rescued me that day, this would never have happened.”

“I’d lost all sense of purpose until you came into my life,” Uncle Ben said. “I’d call it a big win-win.”

Most of us at some time will encounter a disruptive force or event that changes the course of our lives. I’ve watched individuals lose courage and falter under the battering of adverse circumstances. I’ve seen others get up, dust themselves off and look around to find solutions or new opportunities. When an onslaught comes, often it’s the thoughts we entertain that determine whether we go down for the count, or rise and fight another round.

Some years ago I lost a challenging, invigorating job to an individual with a more prestigious degree. After floundering a few months, I realized I needed to re-invent myself to avoid sinking into an emotional abyss. I’d have to develop new thinking and new skills. Dealing with a significant health issue at the same time wasn’t going to make this easy.

I began contemplating joining a Toastmasters club. It was a chilling thought and I wrestled with the fear for several months. Like a lot of people, I was more afraid of public speaking than of dying. Eventually, with great trepidation, I attended a meeting of Langley Township Toastmasters and signed up. They were a sophisticated bunch, including several department heads. I was unemployed, and not feeling successful. Fortunately they were gracious and welcoming.

I was given the introductory manual and began preparing to deliver my Icebreaker speech. I learned that speeches, and all other roles, were timed and evaluated. Speech evaluators were encouraged to employ the “sandwich technique.” This consisted of positive observations, then a suggestion for improvement, followed by one or more positives. The Grammarian reported on use of crutch words like “you know,” “uhm.” “ahh,” and “I mean.” At no time were all my deficiencies mentioned, for which I was enormously grateful.

Toastmasters takes members through a series of manuals, each designed to develop skills such as organizing a speech, using vocal variety, and working with props. I learned about the value of humour, anecdotes, startling facts and inspirational quotes.

Over time, with the helpful advice of evaluators, counsel from my mentor and performing various club roles, my knees quaked less frequently. Like many novice Toastmasters, I began by memorizing my speeches. I knew this could be hazardous because I might lose my way. This did happen about three sentences into my tenth speech, “Inspire your Audience.” Mortified, I said, “If no one objects, I’ll start over.” They had all experienced embarrassment while speaking and no one objected.

Even before my tenth speech I had felt a desire to step farther into the vast, frightening unknown of public speaking. To this end I entered two contests, and lost in both. Then, after completing the first manual, I entered the annual Toastmasters speech contest at the club level. I surprised myself and the club by winning. This qualified me for the area contest. My mentor, a successful engineer and a Distinqished Toastmaster (DTM) told me, “With that speech you might win the area contest.” I wondered if he meant “if you win it will be because you’ve written a strong speech, not because of your speaking ability.”

My speech enabled me to win at the area level and the division level. In the province wide District Contest, I didn’t even place. This was a disappointment, but also a reminder that I still had a lot to learn if I wanted to speak at that level. It was my writing, not my speaking skills, that had taken me this far.

Looking back now, I realize that the Toastmasters teaching and experience provided a much needed boost in confidence. I began participating in community issues. If no one was willing to lead, I volunteered. And if no one was willing to speak to the media, I did. One day an Abbotsford councillor asked if I’d deliver the morning commentary on CBC radio. She had approached a respected community leader but he had declined. I felt it was a great opportunity to present a much needed environmental message to a wide audience. CBC sent me a cheque for one hundred dollars for delivering a message I considered important.

At this time when Canada is under threat from COVID 19, many of us are wondering what the future holds. No one can answer this question, but when onslaughts come we can view them as opportunities to broaden the horizons of our thinking, be more adventurous and even take a few risks.