L. S. Kreeba, Write On

SPEECHless.

The first thing that amazes you about a high school speech tournament is that the kids are so dressed up. You just don’t picture high schoolers that way these days. Suits, ties, shiny shoes.

The second surprise is that anyone can find the room they are supposed to be in. I feel like we’ve earned a piece of cheese or a tidbit of fresh fish every time we work out the maze and end up in the right room.

But the third thing is that beyond what you might imagine, this building reeks of energy, adrenaline, triumph, disappointment, nerves of steel, and sheer exhaustion. High stakes performances punctuated by card games, idle chatter, tense anticipation, roaring laughter, and big sighs.

Tammy and I have a vested interest in this tournament, since our daughter Sheila participates. She’s a senior, she’s doing well, and she has introduced us to a whole new world. But even if you don’t have a child to proudly support, this is fascinating stuff. In fact, the first round we attend doesn’t include Sheila at all. One by one, complete strangers walk in to do Extemporaneous speeches.

In random drawings, the contestants have pulled a question out of a hat, taken 30-60 minutes to prepare, and are now telling us how to address issues as complex as dealing with gangs in prisons and countering cyberwarfare advances in China. The two best contenders do so for 6-7 minutes without notes, clearly and coherently, absolutely putting to shame the adults we’ve known who cannot discuss an issue without resorting to anger, foul language, and personal attacks.

And then our hearts break for the guy who walks in, sighs deeply, says a few things about Hugo Chavez’s presidency in Venezuela, asks if he can be excused, and walks out, shoulders slumped. Outside the room he says to someone, “Aw man, I think I just went thirty seconds.” “Thirty seconds over the limit?” they ask. “No. Thirty seconds.” Still, he tried, and for that we’re proud of him.

Two of the best in the state are from North Platte. I hope they stay here, or come back soon after getting their degrees! When we congratulate one on his speech, he says, “I just hope I beat Kirsten (sp?) Block.” Apparently she is from Gothenburg, feared and revered. But instead of smash-mouthing her and making excuses, they push, push, push to beat her. We love that about these kids.

The day goes quickly. Persuasive speeches written by the contestants (our Sheila is one of the top contenders in Nebraska as she makes the case for “cooperation” being a more proactive approach than “tolerance”), highly synchronized teams performing Oral Interpretation of Drama, over-the-top individuals doing Comedy in all sorts of weird accents and facial expressions that exhaust us, and Duets that are so funny we just want to roll on the floor and hold our stomachs.

They take this stuff seriously, even when it’s funny. As we race through the halls logging hundreds of aerobic points in search of rooms, we see a pretty young lady in a suit speaking earnestly and gesturing convincingly to a fire extinguisher. Others just amble along the halls talking to no one but themselves in British, German, Bavarian or Australian accents, their voices alternating between soprano and bass.

For lunch we brave the cafeteria and feel like we’ve just landed in a refugee camp with a soup kitchen. Bags, spare clothes and junk food litter the landscape. Props are propped here and there—a mannequin dressed in an evening gown, a giant roll of duct tape, easels and poster boards. Students flop where they can, some eating, some sleeping, some laughing, some consoling, some sending and receiving text messages from friends on the other side of the dining room, as if it just requires, like, too much energy to walk over and talk to each other.

When it’s all over, we join everyone for the awards ceremony, which is quite interesting in its own way. For one thing, there are lots of kids who “place,” so for each event there can be a bit of a line on stage.  As each name is read, working from bottom to top, we collectively give one loud clap until the final announcement: “And the champion for this event is….” when the room erupts into thunderous applause and cheers and students all over the auditorium leap to their feet. That has to feel good. We are so proud of how often our North Platte students are right up there at or near the top, as if we’d coached them ourselves.

Special honors are given to the foreign exchange students who have competed. “Yeah,” I think to myself, “they deserve special honors.” I try to imagine myself competing in any foreign language that I know, and decide that I probably wouldn’t. But here they are, diving right in and even placing in some cases. Amazing. Our own speech team includes Huan He, born in China and raised in the U.S. “The Asian,” his teammates affectionately call him. As in, “We’re not competing in this round, we just came to babysit The Asian.” He's not an exchange student, and he clearly needs no babysitting—he shows up frequently on stage to accept top honors in his events. In fact, Sheila informs us, he has placed in every one of his events every time.

“Do the 52” includes attending a high school speech tournament. The easiest to attend will be “Blue and Gold” at the N.P High School on Saturday, February 9 (go to www.plattepost.com, “Do the 52”, “Educational” for details a couple of days before the event). Expect to be entertained. And impressed. And proud.

Do the 52: African Children's Choir

A few weeks back someone asked us if we’d be willing to help host some children in the Africa Children’s Choir from Uganda and Kenya. We said yes, so Jackie, Sarah and Julian, 8 and 9 year olds, arrived Saturday afternoon with their chaperone.

Here is how we knew that we had just been drawn into what will end up being one of the great blessings of our lives: Tammy went to pick them up at the Berean church while I scrambled to put a new fan in the refrigerator (another story). When they got to our house, they said in unison to Tammy before getting out of the car, “Thank you, Auntie, for driving us here. May God bless you!” Tears filled her eyes.

Their presence is precious. “Yes, please.” “No thank you, Uncle.” “Thank you, Uncle and Auntie, for the dinner. May God bless you. May we be excused now?” Hugs before they go to bed, quiet, beautiful young prayers before they fall asleep, more hugs when they come up in the morning, shoes always lined up in a tidy row, immediate response when it’s time for a shower or bed, dancing in the living room.

Less than a year ago these were some of Africa’s worst off children. They are orphans or single parent kids plucked from slums, city streets, extreme poverty and despair. We were told not to ask about their families, nor their schools, because they have virtually had none. Out of a thousand applicants, they were “the 26 chosen ones.”

They are choir #30 after 25 years of this ministry. The first ones are now doctors, lawyers, computer scientists, chefs…. “Our” three girls want to be an astronaut, a designer and a musician. During their concert we heard from one former choir member who is now a young man recently graduated with a degree in business management. When they found him, he was a seven-year-old who had migrated by himself to the city because severe drought had decimated his village. He was scavenging the streets every day looking for scraps of food.

I’m having the hardest time getting my head around this. By grace, one child plucked out of a thousand equally needy ones. I’m elated for these, but what about the thousands of other seven-year-olds who are wandering the streets today scavenging for food? Tammy and Sheila and I agreed that the worst part of this whole thing would be selecting the 26. Reading off the final list. Seeing 26 children rejoice, and 974 go back to their slums. How could you keep doing that for 25 years? How do you focus yourself to keep doing something, even if you can’t do everything?

Perhaps the answer is that these will multiply the efforts. In another generation they will touch other children’s lives. Only 12 disciples changed the world. Perhaps the takeaway is that if I invest heavily in a few lives, that offers more to the world than scattering my efforts over too many. I don’t know, but somehow this will improve my own sense of “ministry.”

If you ever get a chance to hear them in concert, or to host a few of them, drop everything and do it. Or maybe not, but do something this year to impact a few lives deeply. Who knows but that in 25 years Jackie the fearless one will be lifting off for the moon, in a space suit designed by Sarah with the gorgeous smile, to the accompaniment of rousing music by Julian with the gentle spirit. We will weep openly, and remember the awesome privilege we had of having them at our table laughing, teasing, and quietly thanking God for the people who love them.

                They will each sign my “Do the 52” Passport in the space, “Invite someone from another country home for a meal.” When you Do the 52, expect to be touched. The points you get, will not really be the point.

Oh no! They Think I'm a Liberal!

Tammy was laughing last night. Again. She’d just had a conversation with someone who said he was really enjoying interacting with me in spite of the fact that he is very conservative.

“I think he was implying that you’re a liberal,” she laughed. “How funny is that?” Tammy has had ample opportunities to disagree with me about nearly everything. “In some ways,” she sort of sighed, “You’re the most ultra conservative person I know personally.” She loves me in spite of my views, not because of them.

This isn’t the first time. One couple quit supporting the homeless shelter because of something Tammy wrote in her column, even though the column had nothing to do with me as Executive Director or the homeless. Maybe I was just too liberal for acknowledging her freedom to write whatever she chooses. Another woman refused to shake my hand when introduced to me by the former mayor. “I hate liberals,” she glared when I stuck out my hand and said, “Pleased to meet you.” My response of “Well, we might have a lot in common” didn’t help. “Sure doesn’t sound like it,” she answered.

All of which has made me wonder, what in the world is a liberal and how in the world did I get to be one? I attended one of the most theologically conservative Bible schools in the world, voted Republican every chance I had until I went Independent four years ago, was involved in the global Bible translation effort for 25 years, and have almost always used “liberal” in a derogatory way theologically, fiscally, socially and politically. I don’t anymore, having finally learned that most of the fundamental freedoms I enjoy were achieved by liberals including, oddly enough, Jesus himself (just ask the Pharisees!).

Maybe it’s that I work at a homeless shelter. Tammy speculates that anyone working in social services is automatically considered liberal. Well, that would be quite odd, because the Bible spends over 10% of its verses talking about reaching out to the poor, and I assume those who take the Bible seriously would be considered rather conservative.

Maybe it’s because of my views on social issues, but how would anyone know my views? It's not as though I put them on billboards. (Okay, for the record, I’m pro-choice before conception, pro-life after, and I believe pre-conception is where we can unite in our fight, since countries where education and contraception are widely available have a better record in reducing abortions than do countries that just make it illegal. I’m in favor of the death penalty, but am passionately against the horrifically unequal application of any penalty in our country based on race, class, whim, wallet, convenience, politics, or religion. I’m against teen sex, but am pretty convinced, based on numerous studies, that while abstinence works, abstinence only “programs” generally lead to more unplanned pregnancies instead of less sex. Etc. Etc.)

Maybe I’m perceived as a liberal because I’ve lived several places in the world and I see us as connected to each other globally. Maybe speaking several languages and enjoying people of whatever color or nationality equally is liberal? That would seem a little odd, since there are a bazillion people of other countries who are far more conservative than any of us are.

Or maybe it’s because I’ve been working to help build a new homeless shelter, as though putting people in a place where the plumbing actually works and giving each individual a better chance to re-build a life is liberal? Almost all of the early homeless shelters, adoption agencies and other social services in early America were founded and funded by conservative churches. I don’t assume that those involved with the Bridge of Hope Child Advocacy Center, for example, are liberals, even if there is a correlation between children who get abused and undereducated ending up as adults who are homeless. That’s statistical, not liberal. So efforts to prevent homelessness start with the community that allows so many of our children to be abused and undereducated. That’s just common sense to me, and I think both liberals and conservatives can enjoy a measure of common sense.

Or maybe it’s just because I see positive efforts at change as a good thing. I think it’s great that women got the vote, that slavery was outlawed, that America was founded, that other countries are participating in the global economy, that immigrants come in many colors and bring fresh new perspectives and energy (foreign nationals living here contributed to 25.6 percent of all U.S. international patent applications in 2006), that there are small groups of people in our community working creatively and energetically to make it a better place to live, that my choice of next president includes a woman American, an African American, a Mormon American, a trial lawyer American, a Baptist preacher American... (okay, so that was a bit redundant, but it just felt weird to only say "African American", as if he's the only American in the lot) and that none of those labels tell us much of anything about how well they would serve us as President. (Wow--try to diagram that sentence!)

Or maybe it’s something else entirely. Goodness knows everyone has a different definition of liberal and conservative. I just took four different online tests to see if I’m more liberal or conservative, and got four different results depending on the issues.

The only thing that saddens me about all of this is that labels lead to preconceptions. The person on the phone with Tammy gave the impression of being surprised to discover that he enjoys interacting with me. I’m sad that he  expected it to be any other way. Some of my best friends in North Platte are so different from me that one might wonder how we ever end up in the same room, laughing, talking, crying, sharing cookies and hot chocolate. Yes, shocking as it may seem, both far out liberals and whacked out conservatives love fresh chocolate chip cookies.

As the elections approach, I plan to attend campaign rallies of all parties and to talk to advocates of opposing positions. Please join me. Since the labels mean so little, that’s the only way I can imagine voting wisely on behalf of our grandchildren, or of being any good in this community.