58,261.

That’s the number of names listed on the Vietnam Memorial.  I have been to the memorial twice. Both times, I remember standing and reading the names, looking at the memorials that friends and relatives had left.  I remember thinking about the brothers, sisters, children, spouses….loved ones they left behind. I am fortunate.  I don’t know anyone who has died while serving the military.  For those who served, thank you.

51.

That’s the number of letters I have written to people that have made a difference in my life.

Like Joe Coursen. 
I don’t know a bunch about Joe.  He was my band director in High School.  Joe was a cigarette smoking, Bermuda shorts and black socks wearing, no nonsense kind of guy.  He also knew a hell of a lot about music.  I was in the marching band and concert band.  By the end of my freshman year, I decided I wanted to be a drum major. Usually, they are tall.  I wasn’t, in fact, I was 4’11’ and about 98lbs.  The buzby, (that tall fluffy hat band nerds wear) was bigger than me.  Anyway, when I tried out my sophomore year, for drum major, he didn’t blink.  Turns out, the unspoken rule was you wait until your junior year. I didn’t get the memo.  Joe told me what I needed to do for the try out, and afterwards, gave me really good feedback.

My junior year, I tried again, and made it. That’s when I really learned about leadership. I learned 2 big lessons.  Discipline and the consequences of making decisions.  Start time for practice was not a guideline. You were either in your spot, when he hopped on the hood of his Jeep, with his bullhorn and yelled ‘band, ten hut!’, or, you ran laps. He was teaching us time was important. He was teaching us that time was important, and how individual actions impact the group.  It matters if you were in your spot, especially if you were marching in a formation. Promptness made the difference between beauty or a banged up instrument.

I also learned that being a leader, was about making touch decisions.  I remember one of my friends, leaving skid marks outside of the field we practiced on.  I ended up having to tell Joe, and he supported me, when I had to discipline my friend. It was a tough decision. I remember it.  Joe had a choice, he could have done it, and let me off the hook, or he could teach me, and support me.  He choose the second and I never forgot that lesson. Sometimes, the right thing to do is the hardest thing to do.
Joe will never get his letter.  But an old high school friend helped me track down his daughter. I sent the letter to her, so she will know what a difference her dad made.

25.

The number of letters written by people hearing the story of Stitched.  Join the movement. Today. Write a letter.

Ms. Miller
Helping someone’s Voice be heard. Listening. Accountability

Ms. Miller made a difference in my life.  She probably didn’t know it at the time. But she did.  Charlene Miller was a teacher at Titusville High School.  She taught American Literature to 11th graders.  In 1978, the school began ‘testing’ kids to help sort the smart kids from the average kids. That’s what it felt like anyway, I’m sure it wasn’t the intent.  I don’t test well, and while most of my friends tested in the 4-5 classes, I was put in the 3 classes. Word on the street was, if you could get into Ms. Miller’s class, you had a better chance of getting to college.  My goal was college.
Schedules came out, and I didn’t get her class. It was for 4-5 students. I went and lobbied my case to the administration. I got the nope, can’t do it. I decided to go and talk to Ms. Miller.  I told her my story, and why I wanted to get into her class.  She listened, and after a long Ms. Miller moment, said “there’s one seat left in the back. Take it”.
As an adult, I can imagine what the next week was like in the teachers’ lounge for Ms. Miller.  I imagine she stood her ground, and wouldn’t budge until I was moved into her class. I imagine she called in a few chits. By the end of the week, she said, “it’s all taken care of”.

The story doesn’t end here. Remember, I am 16.  Like most teens, I was trying to fit in and figure stuff out. As if being 16 wasn’t enough, I was also figuring out why I was different. I was gay.  I think Ms. Miller knew that. And somehow knew I needed some support.

When it came time to choose an American author all the ‘cool ones’ were taken.  At the bottom of the list was Gertrude Stein, so I picked her. Ms. Miller said “I think you’ll enjoy her”.  I had no idea what that meant of course.  I produced about 400 note cards. Typed a 30 page paper with footnotes. That’s when I figured out Gertrude Stein was gay. I had a role model. Something there wasn’t very much of in 1978 in a small town in the south. Thanks to Ms. Miller.

It’s a great story. But look closer and here’s what you will see. I learned a lot from Ms. Miller.
• I learned that rules are made for natural disasters. The rest of the time, they are guidelines.
• I learned that helping people find a way to be heard takes some effort. You can’t speak for them, but you can help their voice be heard.
• I learned if you create an environment for someone to grow, with accountability and support, they will grow.

P.S.  I got into college.
P.S.S.  Who’s made a difference in your life?  Do they know?  Write them a letter….today.

Here’s the letter I would have sent her when she was alive…..

Dear Ms. Miller,                                         April 24, 2009
I’ve thought about you more I the last 2 months than I have in many years.  Somehow, I want to believe, you already know that.  In 1978, you made a profound difference in my life.  When I tried to get into your class, but was told no by administration, because it was a 4-5 class & I was a ‘3’ you listened. You told me to take the last seat in the room.  A week later, you said it was taken care of. In that moment, you taught me that helping people have a voice when no one is listening is important.  You taught me that rules are made for natural disasters and emergencies and the rest of the time, they are guidelines that help us use our brains to make decisions.  You taught me that when you create a big enough space, give someone support, and hold them accountable, great stuff can happen.  You did that for me.

1978 was also the year Harvey Milk was assassinated.  I didn’t know that though. It happened in California, and I was in Florida.  I found that out in 2009 when I saw the movie.  Milk would have, could have been a role model for me, but the internet was 15 years away. So, as luck would have it, I choose Gertrude Stein as the author I would research. I remember you saying something like “I think you will enjoy that one”, as if you knew.  After months of research, 400 note cards, and a 30 page typed term paper, I realized she was a lesbian, and so was I.  A successful author, hanging out with Hemingway, Picasso, Matisse, Wilder in France and changing the world.  Looking back, I now realize how important that was. It came at a time in my life when I was trying to figure out who I was, and why I felt so different than my friends.  Whether you knew it or not, you helped provide me with a role model, when I was struggling to figure out why I was so different.

30 years later, I hope you would be proud of the women I am today. Those moments helped shape who I am today, and are a tribute to you.  You made such a difference in my life.
Thank you Ms. Miller.

I’ve had a ‘real’ job since I was 15, when I went with my friend Jeanne and landed he dream job at Walt Disney World! (nope, I was not the Mouse…too tall.) Food Service. I worked at Coke Corner, slinging hot dogs. When I had the opportunity to leave my really good job at Best Buy, I had no idea how much of my identity was wrapped up in being a part of that community! You know the one….the “what do you do”…and the answer is ”I work for….”. 

The 1st couple of weeks were easy. I could answer the question, “I was 1 of 500 people that left Best Buy in the worst macro-economic times ever!” and people would just nod their heads. I imagine they were thinking “wow, I wish I had a vacation”.
Then, a couple of months went by.

Now, it was beyond the catching up on rest, calls, and projects you’ve ‘always wanted to do’ phase. So, I tried these out.

• “I’m the CEO of the house”
• “I’m writing a book”
• “I’m trying to figure it out”
• “I’m starting a revolution”
• “I’m running for office..nope, haven’t decided which one. Just office”

Then, I remembered, one of my fav books. The Art of Possibility. Chapter 1.  It’s all invented.  That means my identity is invented too. I remembered I was doing a LOT of things. They just didn’t fit in a box! Thank goodness!  I’ve been griping about putting people in boxes for years, and realized I put myself in one!

So, I tried this answer on for size.
“I’m picking up the kids, doing laundry, figuring out dinner, cleaning up cat puke, calling the plumbing guy, picking up dry cleaning, stopping for coffee, scheduling coffee, going to yoga, checking fights to Florida, sneaking in a run around the lake, volunteering on Move Across America day at my daughters’s school…oh, and writing a book, being a part of the solution…all before lunch.” 

What are you doing now?