The Day the FLOTUS came to town.

I thought the traffic would be disastrous. So in efforts to prevent any road rage that might sour my gleeful demeanor, I arrived in Corvallis, OR on Saturday, the day before Michelle Obama was scheduled to speak at OSU's 143rd commencement. Surely families would be smothering the town, getting their last minute beaver gear, toasting at watering holes over the sons and daughters that they weren't quite sure were going to make it this year. I envisioned men in dark suits staggered in no apparent pattern around the perimeter of campus occasionally having an intense discussion with their cuff links.

This is not at all the Oregon State campus I was welcomed with.

I cruise into town barely having to stop at any lights. Surely, this was just luck and when I would arrive at the bookstore parking lot, good luck Teela. Again to my surprise, I have a variety of vacant parking spots to choose from and much more shopping elbow room than anticipated. I gather a few shirts for the family and myself and walk through the halls of the Memorial Union to which the bookstore is adjoined. I always loved this place. It had been a meeting spot for lunch, a nap area between classes and a place to have a beverage before battle of the bands. As I walk out the front doors onto the impressive marble staircase, I stare at an empty campus; less than maybe 5 people were scattered across the quad. I almost felt like I had the campus all to myself and this made me weepy.

This was the place where my entire friend community lived within a 2 mile radius of, yet none of them were here anymore. In this beautiful space is where our lives intersected on the various pathways of the quad during the busiest of passing times. In these crossroads we'd hug, share our rage on another dramatic episode with the man or lady of our lives, or high five on a test we knew we had just aced. Then we'd head over to Monroe to discuss the most intricate of party [I mean study] plans for the weekend. The memories are so present as I stand on the MU staircase, but when I open my dampened eyes, none of my faces surround me. The bittersweetness of visiting a town where you have walked mostly every square foot of but you don't reside in any longer...and neither do most of your friends. I remember that it's 2012 and we all graduated from undergraduate six years ago and my other friends from my graduate program, four years ago.

Fast forward 24 hours. It's FLOTUS day. Or for the 4,500ish men and women in black robes and caps with hanging tassels, graduation day...where the First Lady of the United States will deliver their commencement address. Lucky SOB's. 

We find ourselves in our seats about 3 1/2 hours before Mrs. Obama is scheduled to take center stage. Having decent seats is important to us and although we have been lavishing in all shades of excitement all day, sitting down and seeing the podium in place, the thousands of chairs lined up on the field at Reser stadium, and knowing we'd be sharing a common environment with the FLOTUS in a matter of hours is the feeling of feelings. 

Then, 8 cars come cruising in on 35th and into the parking lot. Lights flashing. Corvallis PD. Unmarked suburbans. Motorcycle PD. She is in there somewhere. I pinch/hit Hether on her leg which is currently suffering the wrath of a forming sunburn. She knows how I get when I'm excited, so all is forgiven.

After the bagpipes have played [LOVE bagpipes], the graduates have filed in, and the star-spangled banner has been sung, I fix my eyes on the only entrance it seemed plausible for Michelle to emerge from. And then I see President [of OSU] Ray walking beside a tall beautiful Black woman. It's our First Lady. Erin, Hether and I are on our feet before the announcer can finish the introduction. She is here.

[Far Right, you can see Michelle waving as she enters.]

Her message focuses on living a rich life regardless of the amount of money you may have in your bank account or wallet. Specifically, she emphasizes the importance of (1) Focusing on what you have rather than what you don't, (2) Defining success on your own terms, not others, and finally (3) Being present in the lives of our family and friends. 

While I know the graduates will take something away from the First Lady's speech, I feel overwhelmed with inspiration having been a few years removed from college and having a little of this "real world" experience. In the array of bouquets, cards and checks, what gift the graduates have not yet received is that of hindsight.

I strongly recommend you take 22 minutes to watch her speech in full [, but one of my favorite passages comes from the end of her address where she stresses the important of her 3rd point:

"It means being truly present in the lives of the people you care about. Liking them on Facebook doesn't count. Nor does following them on Twitter. What counts is making the time to be there in person, because I can promise you years from now you will not remember the texts you've exchanged with your friends here at OSU. But you will remember how they cheered you on at your game, right? You will remember how they brought you chocolate and spent hours comforting you after your boyfriend or girlfriend dumped you. What jerks. You will remember all the hours spent diligently studying at the library; that one is for the parents. But seriously, those are the memories you will carry with you through life. Those are the experiences that make you who you are."

She's right. As I stood on the steps of the Memorial Union the previous day, I had only remembered that I signed up for Facebook while living in a tiny ladybug infested dorm room on the top of Bloss Hall with my best friend. I don't remember who liked my status or who friended me on the internet, but I remember walking to classes together, having lunch picnics and sunbathing in that quad on sunny days. I also remember how my usually quick-footed self took slower steps in the fall time when the trees engulfed the campus in an array of stunning orange and yellows. I remembered Thursday walks home where we'd cut through campus with our fourth meal of Pita Pit in hand. But most of all that real space symbolized to me my many friendships that were formed on this campus and how strong they continue to be. They are who I focus on having and they are who who support me when I am defining and redefining what success means for me. 

With my deepest gratitude, thank you Michelle for visiting. Thank you for your words. Thank you for inspiring our community. Thank you for keeping it real.

 

Welcome to Beaver nation, Mrs. Obama. We are thrilled to have you.

What do I know?

I'm standing in my kitchen with a butter knife, carefully scraping the icing that says "28" off of my Helen Bernhard's Birthday cake. Not for vanity, but because I am sharing my cake with one of my classes tomorrow and I never reveal my age to my students. They can guess, but I will never tell. If I'm still teaching at 35, then I might tell them when they ask [which they always do], "I am 35." But 28 somehow seems too young to be doing what I'm doing. I have students on the heels of my age and some that surpass it. Since we equate wisdom and knowledge with the years we have existed according to the calendar, part of me feels not worthy of having my job. It's funny to realize the dissonance between what you know and what other people's perceptions might be of what it is you know. Especially when it comes to age.


"I didn't know any better, I was young."
"Oh, she'll grow out of it."


I'm sure I will refute some of what I think I know now by 35. Or by 29. Better yet, in 6 months. A lot can happen in that time. And when we get busy and sidetracked by life, it's not until we're flipping the calendar to the next month that we realize it's time for yet another BDay. 


Why is it that as we make our ascent up the age ladder, we find that the time it takes us to reach the next rung seems to be much less than the journey to the previous? 

Where will this next year take us? I hope that I find myself with two of my gal pals at the base of the falls of Niagara (or on a hire wire crossing over it?). And who knows where else. If I know anything for sure, I know that plans [for the most part] are pretty much moot. Even with this knowledge, I'm still working on accepting that. How do I know this? Oh, because I've had plans. I had a life written out on a sheet of 8 1/2 x 11 inch college ruled notebook paper that I later converted into a word document. Some of those things indeed did come true, some I'm still working on and I'm certain others are just that... "plans." They look good on paper but may have no place in my story. 


Some lofty plans of the past:


1st grade teacher: And what are your plans for the summer Teela?
1st grade Teela: Hmm...I think I'll write a novel.

I did write some tales that summer, but none that you'll find on the shelves of Powell's or Elliott Bay Books. These are kept hidden in a number of shoe boxes underneath my bed [well now you know the hiding place] for the purposes of memory lane and to not lose sight of my imagination. I find that as we get further away from the ground and the higher up we climb, we become more fearful of the fall we might take. We feel that we have more to lose, more people to let down or disappoint, and that it will be harder to get back up.

What I know at 28 is that these are merely stumbles. If you are lucky enough to have family and friends with unapologetic love for you, it's not so bad to fall. 


And if you're really lucky when you find yourself flat on your back, there will be friendly arms extended down towards you to help you back up but with the expectation you'll choose a different path next time. They have confidence in you.


And if you are ridiculously lucky, you'll have the voice of your beautiful niece in your ear carefully negotiating her sounds and where exactly her tongue placement should be on back of her front teeth to make the sounds "T-T."

What I certainly don't know are the many ways I will be fascinated by her tomorrow and the day after. And the year after that.  

From her I also know that age doesn't necessarily mean wisdom. I know people 50 times her age that she is much smarter than. [True story]

What I also know? These stiletto's have a lot of cobblestone roads and city sidewalks to stomp through. Anticipating the journey, sore feet and all.