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By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
When I mow the yard, I think. And I think. And I think. Between the repetitive movement across the grass and the loud noise from the mower, there is not much else to do. It’s not like I can call up a neighbor and engage in a pleasant conversation about how his grass is growing. So, I think. The problem is, I can think myself into a stressful state of mind if I’m not careful. And this is the problem with overthinking. It can take us to a place where we might not need to go. Now don’t get me wrong. I suspect most of us are proud of our place at the top of the animal hierarchy and attribute most of our success to the ability to think. I’m sure the lowly beetle who mechanically goes about his daily tasks would love to have our gray matter and might just take issue with the fact that we’re not better at managing the thinking process. It’s like the line in Spiderman, “With great power comes great responsibility.” But let’s get back to my yard. The last time I mowed, I kept replaying in my head a conversation I recently had with a friend. Now, before I tell you what I said, let me give you some context about my particular style of communicating with others. I’m a big believer in asking questions to expand my understanding of people, situations, and the world in general. I learned this technique during my social work training when our professors repeatedly encouraged it. They taught us to explore another person’s experience rather than assuming that we know where the individual is coming from. So, whenever someone has a different life experience than me (which is, by the way, always), I tend to ask questions about their experience. Over the years, I’ve had candid conversations about sexual orientation, race, religion, politics, and even the highly controversial debate on whether to mow one’s yard horizontally or diagonally—all because I was willing to ask. And surprisingly, no one has ever hit me! Instead, I think it helped me build better relationships and a greater understanding of others. Now, back to conversation I was replaying in my head as I mowed. My friend is Korean and I was curious about something I had read about status and hierarchy in Asian cultures. Specifically, I wanted to know if it was taboo to challenge authority. I had recently been involved in a situation where I suspected this might have happened and wanted my friend’s perspective. For what it’s worth, I did mention that I realized this was a generalization but was curious what he thought. He gave me several different insights that all made good sense. So, I thanked him for his input and then asked him whether he mowed his yard horizontally or diagonally. He seemed perplexed by the new line of questioning. As I headed home that day, I began to wonder if I had inadvertently offended him by asking a potentially stereotypical question. I had explained to him questions like this are my way of gaining a better understanding of others as well as to explore my own biases. He seemed to appreciate my explanation but later, I worried that he was just being nice. So, as I criss-crossed my yard a few days later, I kept thinking about the conversation and ultimately convinced myself that he thought I was a rude. Then, a couple of days after that, the news media reported several incidences of violence against Asian American people and I was sure my questions now had the potential of being both terribly untimely and outright offensive. After not being able to get this off my mind, I finally followed up with my friend to see if he thought my questions were insensitive. He said he was surprised that I would even think that. He said that he appreciated the questions and further, that he had enjoyed our conversation. Go figure. So, the worry bouncing around in my head was way off base. I had created a problem that did not exist. And the culprit was the the solitary act of mowing. OK, the real problem was my thinking. By creating an issue that wasn’t an issue, I worked myself into a frenzy. But it doesn’t have to be this way. Luckily, we can rein in the thinking process the same way we use a bag to catch the grass when we mow. However, before we can address the problem we must first notice that it’s happening. You see, our reality at any given moment may not resemble the thinking that’s going on in our head. For example, if someone waves at you in a crowded mall and you have no idea who they are, you can easily spend the next hour searching Facebook or scrolling through your address book trying to figure out who the heck it was. But what if they were waving to someone behind you? Your mind created a problem that did not really exist and you lost an hour of your life dealing with it. I think the most reasonable way to handle our mind’s overactive imagination is to do one of two things. First, we can confirm our suspicions by asking, exploring, and seeking validation of the thinking. This will either confirm or deny our worries. The second way to handle it is to acknowledge that it’s happening but not allow ourselves to be drawn down the rabbit hole of worry. So, if I was worried that I had offended my friend, I could have asked him in the moment. Or, I could recognize my mind’s tendency to create stress while simultaneously recognizing that I had approached him in a sincere and respectful way, and therefore, he was not likely bothered by it. Either of these techniques would have made my mowing experience so much more relaxing. So, is this mind taming thing simple to do? Not really. In fact, as you can see, I’ve struggled with it as recently as my last yard mowing experience. Achieving an awareness of how our mind works and mastering the process to manage it can take years of practice. But just like life, and mowing our yards for that matter, it’s an ongoing work in progress. And just in case you’re wondering, I alternate the direction of my mower each week making sure to cover diagonal, vertical, and horizontal directions. I know, it’s brilliant! Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success!
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By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
When I was a kid, I remember riding in the car with my dad when we came upon an accident. A pickup truck had stalled on the railroad tracks as a train was approaching. Luckily the driver got out before the train hit the truck. Unfortunately, however, a dog had been chasing the truck and was killed by the train. I’ll never forget how bad I felt for the dog and thinking that if the dog had focused on the train instead of the truck, it might have survived. When I started my social work career in 1986, I worked for a large hospice organization in Northern Virginia. One of the greatest lessons I learned from my patients was also about focus. The insight came from the people who said, “I wish I’d done this a few years ago” or “I should have done that when I was younger” or “Why didn’t I retire earlier?” These patients had come to the conclusion that they had not set their priorities properly and that perhaps, their focus had been on the wrong things. Additionally, they knew that as they approached the end of their lives, they were unable to do much about it. When we’re young, most of us think we know how our lives will play out. Some of us might even have a specific plan with goals we want to achieve. And yet, as we get older and gain the gift of hindsight, we realize that we may not have ended up where we thought we would. Early in my speaking career, I attended a conference of the National Speakers Association and was talking with my friend and colleague Carl Hammerchlag. Carl is a talented speaker and brilliant psychiatrist. At one point during the conversation, I asked him, “How do I know if I’m where I’m supposed to be at any particular point in my life?” Without missing a beat, Carl said, “If you’re always worried about where you should be, you’ll never be.” At the time, I wanted a more concrete answer. I was looking for a tool, like a tape measure, that would show me how much I had veered off my path. Or perhaps, I thought, there was a mathematical formula I could employ which would calculate if my x+y had not equaled z. But the idea that I should “just be” seemed, well, kinda nuts. I couldn’t wrap my simple-minded brain around the concept. In time, though, I started hearing comments like this with a different perspective. I realized that his suggestion was about being true to the moment rather than focusing on some ideal that may or may not be appropriate for me. He actually gave me a true gift that day and I’ll be forever grateful. One of my favorite books is by Jon Kabat-Zinn and it’s called, Wherever You Go, There You Are. It’s a book about mindfulness and as the title suggests, we really are always where we should be—the word “should,” by the way, does not suggest a judgment but instead, a simple acknowledgement of what is. So, if we assume that we are where we’re supposed to be at any point in our lives, then what can we do to make the most of those moments? I think it boils down to two critical pursuits: deepening our relationships and serving others. Let me explain. When I look back on the vast majority of hospice patients I visited, the conversations focused primarily on the people in their lives. Many times, they discussed the relationships that were most important to them. Sometimes, they talked about a challenging relationship that needed to be mended. And occasionally, they focused on a severely damaged relationship that could never be healed. The people were a key element in these patients’ journeys and even though they enjoyed other important experiences, the emphasis kept returning to the relationships. That taught me the value of the connections in our lives and how we need to enrich them whenever possible. Beyond the need for nurturing our relationships, I believe we also need to serve. When we serve, we get out of our self-centeredness and pursue an other-centered activity. When I worked as a social worker, I regularly encountered people who were in situations far less fortunate than mine. However, when I transitioned to my speaking career, I spent most of my time in hotels, airports, and conference centers. I no longer encountered the same types of people and I felt that I had lost a personal connection to the disadvantaged individuals I had known in my social work role. As I got older, I realized what I was missing and decided to find a way to not only recapture my role of serving others but to understand, in a more direct way, their needs. Today, I am a volunteer ambulance driver and I cut wood for those without heat. As a result, I regularly come in contact with people who may struggle to pay bills, to put food on their tables, or to address their healthcare needs. I am so grateful for this newfound, yet familiar, opportunity to build relationships and to serve. We live in a culture where power and celebrity are revered. This misdirection of priorities can entice us to pursue fame and fortune rather than human connection. During this home-bounded-ness time of the Coronavirus, we’ve seen many examples of the need for human connection. Additionally, we’ve become more appreciative of those who are taking serious risks to serve others. Ultimately, I believe life is all about other people— to deepen relationships and to serve those in need. When we do this, from wherever we are at the time, we will be exactly where we are supposed to be. And then, when we get to the end of our lives, we will be able to look back with both satisfaction and gratitude. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
My dad, Connie Culberson, was a semi-professional softball player who got his nickname from the professional baseball player Connie Mack. Coincidentally, they also shared their given first name of Cornelius. If you ever met my dad, you would have encountered a man who was respectful and dignified but who also had a great sense of humor. In public, he always handled himself with restraint and I never saw him lose his cool. I once asked my dad if he had any funny stories from his past that might make for a good addition to one of my books. He gave it some thought and sent me an experience which he wrote down word for word. But first, let me give you a little background information. After graduating from college in 1949, my dad became the Executive Assistant to the President at his alma mater, Emory & Henry College. He was responsible for many aspects of the college’s operations including recruitment, alumni relations, buildings and grounds, and other duties as assigned. One year, he actually helped raise funds for the marching band. As he went door-to-door asking for donations, he had quite an encounter with one elderly member of our community. Here is my dad’s description of that experience: I greeted the man at the door by saying, “Good morning sir, I’m Connie Culberson and I am soliciting funds for the Emory and Henry College Marching Band Uniform Procurement Fund.” The man replied, “Eh? I didn’t hear you.” A bit louder, I said, “My name is Connie Culberson and I am soliciting funds for the Emory and Henry College Marching Band Uniform Procurement Fund.” “I’m sorry, you’ll have to speak up.” Even louder, I said, “I’m Connie Culberson and I am soliciting funds for the Emory and Henry College Marching Band Uniform Procurement Fund.” “I’m sorry son, I just can’t hear you.” Irritated, I simply put my hands up, walked off the porch, and headed down the sidewalk. When I got to the end of the walk, I kicked the man’s gate open. The man yelled, “Don’t you kick my gate.” In a low voice, I mumbled, “To hell with your gate.” The man responded, “And to hell with the Emory and Henry College Marching Band Uniform Procurement Fund.” Just thinking about this story makes me laugh. I mean, I only heard my dad curse once in my entire life. It happened when I dropped a log on his foot and his reaction seemed perfectly appropriate for the situation. Beyond that, however, he never showed this type of frustration in front of others. So it’s hilarious to me that he not only cursed but that he chose to share the story with me. It’s as if he knew I would appreciate that the humor trumped his concern for a dignified public image. I’ve been a full-time speaker for twenty-four years. In my world, a story can engage an audience while making a point without overwhelming them with too much data and information. But not everyone understands this concept. I often see industry experts who think their many charts, graphs, and bullet points will impress those listening to their presentation. While I appreciate that data is important, I believe a story is more memorable. A few years ago, I was helping a hospice CEO with his presentation skills. I chose to observe one of his presentations at the monthly new employee orientation. The challenge for this CEO was that he loved to use numbers to highlight the organization’s financial situation, service area, and patient demographics. What he failed to realize was that the people in his audience were mostly caregivers. They were less interested in the data and more interested in the stories behind the data. Whenever he launched into a discussion about the facts and figures, you could see these caregivers just glaze over. Essentially, his hospice presentation was dying onstage. And yes, it was ironic. Afterwards, I suggested that he try telling a couple of stories related to his own experience with hospice patients. He agreed to give it a try. So, the next time he delivered his orientation program, he talked about the impact of his first visit to a terminally ill patient’s home. At that instant, his presentation came alive and afterwards, several people came up to shake his hand. It was clear that he had made an impact on his audience with the story. Stories are a powerful way to communicate. They connect us with others on a very human level. One writer said that our stories evoke the stories in others. And interestingly, stories can actually tie together data in a much more compelling way than using a spreadsheet. So, when we think about how we communicate information to others, we should consider how a story here or there might get the point across more effectively. Earlier in this blog, I could have told you a lot of facts about my dad. The fact that he served in the army in World War II, or that he waited to attend college until he returned from the war, or that he was a member of a Rotary Club for more than fifty years. These facts would give you a sense of who he was but I suspect they wouldn’t engage you as much as one “hell” of-a-funny story of the time he was trying to raise money for that dang “Emory and Henry College Marching Band Uniform Procurement Fund.” That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
During December, the phrase “holiday spirit” comes up a lot. After a particularly challenging year, I’ve been thinking about how this phrase relates to the end of one year and the start of another. I mean, what is holiday spirit? And why is it limited to a few weeks between Thanksgiving and January 1st? I felt it was a good question that required a bit of scrooginizing to figure out (See what I did there?). First of all, the phrase “holiday spirit” means different things to different people. Traditionally, people who celebrate holidays like Christmas or Hanukkah may make a connection between a sense of spirit and their faith. For others, this phrase may relate to the impact of beautiful decorations and traditional music. For some, holiday spirit may be the feeling they get when they engage in gift giving. And for a few, it’s simply the warm sensation they experience after throwing back a cup of whiskey-spiked egg nog. That version of holiday spirit will definitely deck your halls! But rather than worrying about the origin of the phrase, I’m more interested in why we don’t embrace this spirit throughout the rest of the year. It reminds me of what our pastor once said during a Christmas Eve service. Standing in front of the largest crowd all year, he said, “You know, we’re here every week!” Holidays, like vacations, don’t happen every day. The infrequency makes them special. In fact, if you went on a vacation every day, it would get old fast. The “holiday spirit,” on the other hand, is something we could pursue every day. Here’s how… Celebration. One of the primary purposes of a holiday is to celebrate. We hold patriotic parades on the Fourth of July. We raise a glass of champagne to toast fresh starts on New Year’s Eve. And on Thanksgiving, we share our gratitude for football…well, and other things. But have you ever thought about celebrating the smaller experiences in life? I used to think we should celebrate Tuesdays because they only comes once a week. Seriously, though, Tuesday is the oddball of the week. Monday is dreaded, Wednesday is hump day, Thursday is almost Friday, Friday is TGIF, and Saturday and Sunday are the weekends. Tuesday has no identity. So maybe we should celebrate it more often. When we engage in a celebration, we stop our normal routine to acknowledge or revel in something extraordinary. Ironically, every minute we are alive is extraordinary. In fact, the alternative to being alive is not great at all. So, perhaps we should celebrate Tuesdays, or the completion of an important task, or eating healthier food, or the sight of a beautiful sunset. If we really pay attention, all of these smaller celebrations might have a greater impact on us than the tinsel and turkey that we celebrate once each year. Memories. It’s been said that the sense of smell is a powerful memory generator. When I think of the scent of a pine tree or the aroma of turkey cooking, it reminds me of my childhood holidays when everything seemed simpler and full of wonder. As kids, our primary responsibility was to eat food and open gifts. We didn’t have the stresses and responsibilities of adulthood. So, those memories warm our hearts. That’s probably why we retell so many family stories around the Thanksgiving table. As a former hospice social worker, I know that it’s important for us to remember. When we acknowledged our memories, without getting mired in them, we make the connection between our present and our past, thus experiencing the emotions that go with those connections. For instance, during the holidays, many families acknowledge someone who has died by lighting a candle or having an empty chair at the table. These rituals keep us connected to those loved ones who are no longer with us. Perhaps we should do this at other times throughout the year. Some days, we might want to sit down and take a moment to remember. The memory might be sad or it might be happy. By experiencing it, we bring it into our consciousness rather than burying it—which is a healthy thing to do. Connection. One of our favorite experiences during the holidays is to gather together as a group in order to, well, dive into tense social and political arguments. Seriously, the holidays can create stress because as the saying goes, “you can pick your friends but you can’t pick your family.” This is not necessarily a bad thing but sometimes there is a skirmish or two. The point of our gatherings, though, should be to enhance our human connectedness. Holidays might be the only time we get to spend with certain friends or loved ones and those connections are important for us to maintain. It turns out that close relationships are good for our well being. That’s one of the reasons I prefer Thanksgiving to Christmas. The goal of Thanksgiving is to gather together around a meal rather than focusing so much on gifts and decorations. When we spend quality time with one another, we actually receive a different kind of gift that will last a lifetime. And the best thing about human connections is that we don’t have to wait for the holidays to engage in them. If we make a point to nurture these relationships throughout the year, we create lasting bonds. Generosity. In my humble opinion, the best part of the holiday spirit is the generosity that occurs. Perhaps, in our attempt to enjoy our own celebrations, we become more aware of those who have less. Or perhaps during the process of buying gifts and food, it’s easy to get a little extra and give some of it away. Regardless of the reason, generosity flourishes during the holidays. And this is definitely something we can do all year long. What if we considered giving something away every week. Maybe, it’s some spare change. Maybe, it’s an article of clothing we no longer wear. Or maybe, it’s the gift of our time. By giving to others, we may make their journey a little easier while enriching our own lives as well. Bottom line, the holiday spirit can come from a celebration of memories, connections, and generosity. But why wait for the last few weeks of the year to enjoy it? If we consider celebrating all year long, we might just create a new tradition called the “everyday spirit.” Give it a shot. And in the meantime, happy holidays. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
As of June 2021, my upcoming speaking calendar is full for the first time since February 2020. OK, in February 2020, my calendar was not exactly full because most people don’t schedule conferences during the winter. So, let’s just say that my fall speaking calendar is full for the first time since COVID hit. I’m very grateful but also have some trepidation that I may have forgotten how to speak. My wife would disagree. The ironic thing about the last year is that despite all the bad things about it, many of us gained insights that might actually help us in life. For instance, we now know that no matter how much binge watching we do, there will always be more television shows to watch. We also discovered how hard it is to spend so much time with ourselves. Many of us finally understand the qualities about ourselves that annoy our significant others so much. And finally, we now realize that seeing the bottom half of someone’s face gives us a great deal of information about their emotional state of mind. It’s ironic that these valuable lessons came from such a difficult experience. Here are some other discoveries I made over the last year. I can’t see clearly now…even though the rain is gone. As a professional speaker, the amount of hot air I expel is significantly more than the average person. And wearing a mask just complicates the expulsion process—because, I wear glasses. No matter how many times I pinched my mask or adjusted my glasses, I was still in a fog. Once, while on a rescue squad call, I left the frigid outside temperature to go into an over-heated house. My glasses were so fogged up, I couldn’t see the patient who, by the way, was was lying on the floor right in front of me. Luckily, I did not step on him thus preserving the principle of “do no harm.” Virtual calls are miserable. As much as I loved not traveling, I did not love doing Zoom meetings or presentations. For one thing, while I got to stay home, I still had to dress nicely—at least from the waist up. We won’t even get into the waist down situation. Secondly, I did not like the experience of delivering hilariously funny lines during a virtual presentation and hearing nothing but the whir of my computer fan. Of course, some of my colleagues remind me that I’ve had the same experience with in-person presentations. So, there’s that. And lastly, when participating in a Zoom meeting where everyone is visible on the screen, I found it hard to always appear interested. Thankfully, I never dozed off. At least I don’t think I did. Face masks cause nose pimples. Disgusting, but good to know. Eating well is easier. As a speaker and a business traveler, I had grown accustomed to “easy” eating. In other words, when I traveled, it was always easier to grab an airport Cinnabon or slice of Sbarro pizza, hoping that there is nutritional value in the sugar and dough, than it was to find healthier food. But during the past year, I wasn’t traveling at all, so I found myself cooking healthy meals that were also quite tasty. Oh sure, I ate oatmeal cookies as fast as my wife could make them and I probably enjoyed wine a bit too much but overall, I ate better. As a result, my already stunning physique has become Fabio-esque (please understand the use of exaggeration for comedic effect). My knees have improved. In late 2019, both of my knees were achey and swollen. An MRI showed a torn meniscus in my right knee and we assumed the same was true for my left knee. So, I scheduled surgery for my right knee in late April of 2020. However, I had failed to take into consideration that my daughter was scheduled to get married in May of 2020 and I was expected to participate in the likely Tweet-able father-daughter dance. So, I decided to postpone the surgery. Then COVID hit, the wedding celebration was postponed, and if you can believe it, both of my knees improved. Apparently, inactivity agrees with me. Who knew? I’m grateful that I no longer need surgery but I’m a little perturbed about the unnecessary $1,200 MRI—even though the technician did comment on my Fabio-esque physique (please refer to the previous reference regarding exaggeration). Puzzle me this. Years ago, I read that doing word problems can help prevent dementia. I can’t remember where I read that (see what I did there?). But not long after that, I started dabbling in crossword puzzles. I discovered that the LA Times offers a free online puzzle every day. I haven’t missed a day since. I also got a large New York Times crossword puzzle book as a gift. I quickly realized that the New York Times designs its puzzles for Jeopardy contestants and Mensa members but not for Fabio-esque speakers like me. Let’s be honest, I have no idea what rivers dump into the Caspian Sea and I only know letters in the Greek alphabet when they spell out a fraternity name. And in case it’s not obvious, I shan’t be appearing on Jeopardy anytime soon. My reading skills have deteriorated. Even though my crossword puzzle skills have improved, my reading skills have tanked. I read an article that said that our attention span deteriorates as we get older. This is definitely true for me. I just can’t seem to focus like I used to. And now that I think about it, I can’t remember what else I was going to say about that. I can be inactive and lazy. I once told a friend that I was lazy. She said, “You speak, you travel, you write. There’s no way you’re lazy.” A few months later, after we had a number of conversations about new work ideas which I refused to pursue, she said, “OK, I get it now. You ARE lazy.” Oh, I can meet deadlines—as long as someone else sets them. But I have a terrible time setting my own deadlines. So, during the past year, when my workload lightened up and I didn’t have as many external deadlines, I found myself looking at my to-do list and saying, “I’ll work on that later. Now, where’s my crossword puzzle?” That being said, I do have a knack for rearranging the items on my to-do list so that their either in alphabetical or priority order. So, perhaps my strength is not in getting things done but in preparing to get things done. I’m content with me, myself, and I. Most people believe that speakers are extroverts. On personality inventories, I usually score high on the extrovert scale. And I do love being on a stage in front of thousands of people. But I also enjoy being by myself or alone with my wife. COVID made that happen. It also caused me to appreciate the value of being home. I know this drove many people crazy. And when I say “many people,” of course I’m referring to my wife. But for an introverted extrovert like me, it was Nirvana. Was the last year a challenge? Absolutely. But maybe, if we paid attention to how we handled it, we might just benefit from what we learned. I hope to see you in person soon. You’ll recognize me by my physique. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
I love music. In fact, I imagine a day in the future when my wife and I travel around the country in our RV attending music festivals and concerts. And while I enjoy music, I’m not an aficionado. Oh sure, I played a wicked baritone horn in high school. But I have no idea what type of guitar Jimi Hendrix played or what made Miles Davis so special. And I certainly can’t recite a single lyric from a Taylor Swift song. I’m sure Tim McGraw would shed a teardrop on his guitar if he heard that—so we’re probably never ever getting back together (look it up). Basically, I like music because something moves inside me when I listen to it. It’s not moving in a freaky way like the monster from Alien. Instead, it’s something more intangible that involves the senses, the soul, and the imagination. But for me, it’s not typically based on the lyrics. Recently, I was talking to a musician friend and admitted that I don’t always know the lyrics to songs. He assured me that this is not unusual because some folks are lyrics people and others are music people. I did not know this, and was relieved to know that it’s acceptable to be more engaged by the sounds in the music than the words of the song. This also explains why I’m terrible at understanding lyrics. For instance, in the Eagles hit “Hotel California,” I thought they were singing “once fell a police horse” but it’s actually “warm smell of colitas.” And in “I’d Really Love to See You Tonight,” an older song by England Dan and John Ford Coley, I heard the line “I’m not talking ‘bout movin in” as “I’m not talking ‘bout the linen” (Which might actually work too). And I’m really embarrassed to admit that I always thought Eric Clapton’s song, “After Midnight” was “Captain Midnight.” I guess I thought the song was about a cape-wearing, guitar-licking rock hero. So, I think it’s pretty clear that I don’t listen to music in the same way that many others do. Yet I am still drawn to the sound of music (cue Julie Andrews). Music speaks to each of us differently and in general, creative arts affect us in the way that brings meaning to us through beauty, insight, and a different view of the world. As I reflected on my own music preferences, I began to wonder how they evolved. For instance, I love the sound of John Legend’s voice and the feel of Aretha Franklin’s soulful sound. The harmonic groups like Crosby, Stills, and Nash, and The Band, became some of my favorite performers of all time. And I absolutely love the gritty country sound of Chris Stapleton. But why? While I did not grow up in a particularly musical home, I was exposed to some great music during my childhood. When I was a young, my mother listened to Mahalia Jackson, Nat King Cole, and Willie Nelson—such an eclectic trio! This music frequently played in the evenings, on weekends, or during the holidays with the likes of Johnny Mathis and Burl Ives. As I look back, I realize that the sounds I heard in my home led to an appreciation for artists like John Legend, Aretha Franklin, and Chris Stapleton. In addition to my mother’s music, I discovered my sister’s record collection that contained the soundtrack from Woodstock, Three Dog Night’s Greatest Hits, and the best of Seals and Crofts. These albums, which I played over and over, attracted me to beautiful harmonies and songs that spoke about social activism. Okay, so I did listen to some lyrics. In college I was exposed to 70’s and 80’s rock. As a kid from Appalachia, I learned about Lou Reed and David Bowie from my Long Island born college roommate. I did not know this music but got a regular dose as he would blast it through the speakers while he read Nietzsche. For the record, I probably couldn’t comprehend Nietzsche in dead silence. Steely Dan and Led Zeppelin became my all-time favorite rock groups after I was turned onto them from other college friends. The blend of blues, jazz, and rock truly lifted me up. As I got older, I learned to enjoy the complex sounds of Miles Davis and rediscovered the music of Joni Mitchell. And lest you think that my musical preferences only come from older artists, I also appreciate Billie Eilish, Post Malone, and Bruno Mars. So, what does this have to do with life, work, or anything, really? I think my music journey is symbolic of how we evolve through life. Who we are, as people, comes from the influences we’ve “heard” during our journey. We are the products of families, friends, and experiences. And the more we understand the value of these influences, the more we can tap into them to expand our view of the world. As a result of my mother’s exposing me to an eclectic music collection, I developed an eclectic taste for both music and people. I like the variety. Further, when I was in social work school, I visited a used record store in downtown Richmond, VA. There, I came across a recording of Martin Luther King Jr.’s funeral service. As I scanned the list of speakers and musicians, I saw that Mahalia Jackson had sung at the funeral. I immediately bought the album and almost wore it out listing to her vocals, the other speakers, and King’s “I Have a Dream” speech which was also included. Those words had a lasting effect on my work and how I view social justice. The songs from Woodstock and the use of music as a form of protest made me appreciate the social impact of art. It reminded me that we can use our “voices” to make a difference. I’m sure this influenced my decision to pursue a career in social work as well as using my voice in my career as a speaker and author. Finally, the country music that was such an integral part of the region where I grew up had such a down-to-earth approach to life. There is a humility in it that encouraged me to not get too full of myself no matter how attractive the bright lights of success might look. As I said, I love music. And while I may not always understand the chords being played or what lyrics are being sung, the music gets through to me in other ways. We are all products of what we’ve heard in our lives. If we can channel the good aspects of these influences into noble work, we can put out some beautiful music in the world. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
If you’ve read my blogs or seen me speak, you know that my life and work were highly influenced by the time I spent as a home care social worker at Hospice of Northern Virginia. The opportunity to sit by the bedside of someone at the end of their life was extraordinary and because of that experience, I’ve always looked at the world differently. You don’t have to explore much of my past to see how I became interested in hospice care. I grew up in a rural area and attended more than twenty funerals before heading off to college. That’s what we did in small towns where we knew most of the people in our community. A couple of those funerals occurred during my junior year in high school when five people in my school died of illnesses or accidents. For a school of 600, that was quite a high number. Ironically, later that summer, I got a job mowing cemeteries and tended to the graves of many people I had once known. It was a dead-end job, but someone had to do it (sorry). In graduate school, a childhood friend died in a car accident and my nephew died of cancer. It was at that point in my life I realized that while I had been exposed to death through different experiences, I didn’t really understand how to cope. So I did what any reasonable person would do, I read Elisabeth Kubler-Ross’s book, On Death and Dying, and got a job in hospice care. After a decade of working in a hospice environment and experiencing subsequent losses as I’ve gotten older, what I’ve learned is that most of us aren’t comfortable talking about death, dying, or grief. In fact, we even use different words to describe death. When someone dies, we say that they have passed, passed on, passed away, left us, lost their life, bit the bullet, kicked the bucket, paid the piper, cashed in their chips, or bit the dust—even though we all know they died. We seem not only uncomfortable with our own potential demise, we don’t particularly like it when others talks about the death of a loved one either. More than once, a grieving individual has told me that friends won’t even mention the deceased person’s name. Unfortunately, as a result of our own discomfort, we may miss the opportunity to comfort others. Yet, if we are open to the discussion, we may find that we benefit from the process as well. To achieve that, we must be comfortable with where these conversations might go. A few years ago, I was in Traverse City, MI for a speaking engagement. Rather than take a cab to a local restaurant, I decided to grab a quick meal at the hotel bar. After I ordered, a man sat down next to me and we started talking. I learned that he was a salesman attending a conference in the same hotel. He then asked what I did for a living. This is always an awkward moment for me because I never know how to describe what I do. I’m a speaker, author, and humorist but that sounds a bit pompous. Yet, I don’t want to take up too much time explaining the mechanics of it all. And often, I feel like people might look at me as if I’m Chris Farley’s motivational speaker character from Saturday Night Live. For the record, I currently live in a house by the woods—not in a van by the river. Nonetheless, I explained that I was a former hospice social worker turned speaker and humorist. He said, “Oh. I know about hospice. We used hospice for my dad…and my son.” My death antennae immediately went up. The man was about forty years old so having a father in hospice care was not that unusual. But, at his age, having a son who needed hospice care was both atypical and heartbreaking. I said, “I’m curious about your son. What happened?” He explained that two years earlier, his twelve year-old son had died of a glioblastoma (brain tumor). He showed me pictures of his son and explained the course of the illness. And while he was comfortable discussing the experience, he admitted that he was still struggling with the loss. I listened to his story and then shared some information about the benefits of bereavement groups and counseling. I explained how this kind of loss makes us feel out of sync with others because the rest of the world keeps on going while we feel stuck in an emotional abyss. That being said, I tried to reassure him that, based on my work with other bereaved individuals, his reactions were very normal. He seemed relieved to know that he wasn’t going crazy and even showed interest in joining a support group when he got back home. I was grateful that I could be of some assistance. The interesting thing about that conversation was that I felt I had been given a great gift—to be able to sit with this man as he described his discomfort. I didn’t have to take on his pain nor did I need to fix it. I simply needed to listen as he described the challenges he was experiencing. Obviously, as a hospice social worker, I was comfortable in this role. But personally, I could also relate to him because two of my family members had died of brain tumors. Ultimately, perhaps, the real connection we had was knowing that death is a universal human experience that we can all understand. As they say, none of us will get out of this world alive. It’s inevitable that we and the people around us will die. And while it’s not such a pleasant thing to discuss, those who have experienced a loss usually want to talk about it. We give people a great gift when we can get past our own discomfort and allow them to talk about what they are going through. In those moments true human connections occur. And that’s what life and depth are all about. Planning your next event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to schedule your ideal speaker and make your event a success! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
When I was a kid, one of my friends had just learned to use a lawn mower and was mowing his yard for the first time. I sat across the street and watched as he mowed a strip of yard, retraced his steps on that same strip, and then moved over to mow the next strip. It never occurred to him that he could actually mow in both directions. I remember laughing so hard, I almost watered my own yard, if you know what I mean. Mowing the yard is a solitary, somewhat mundane activity. It involves a repetitive process of back and forth while being hypnotized by the sound of the engine. When I mow my yard, I usually take advantage of the solitude by blasting 70’s music through my earbuds while pondering some ideological thesis or real-world dilemma. I wish I could report that I spend my deep-in-thought, back-and-forth time developing brilliant solutions for my life or business. Unfortunately, what usually happens is that I obsess about some inane experience that has irritated me until I’m totally stressed out by the time the yard is done. During my most recent mowing experience, my mind was focused on something more significant—the challenges we have been facing in our world over the past few months. As I’ve read the news, followed social media, and engaged in discussions with family, friends, and colleagues, I’ve been confronted with the same dilemma over and over. I keep wondering, “What can I say?” You see, I am a speaker and author. I use words to share stories, create new perspectives, and hopefully, generate a bit of laugher. My industry is full of thought leaders, authors, experts, and motivators. I feel like we’re the ones who are supposed to have all the answers to life’s most perplexing questions. And yet, I don’t know what to say. I have no clear-cut answers. In fact, I feel like all I have are questions. In response to the coronavirus or the racial divisiveness in our country, I watch newspeople, political insiders, and community leaders make comments such as, “all we need to do is ____” or “what they should have done is ____.” And while sometimes I might agree with the comment, I soon realize that if the solutions were that easy, the problems would have already been fixed. The issues are complex, the solutions are multifaceted, and no one has all the answers. Interestingly, during all this unrest, I have found myself aligning with people who see the world as I see it, and discounting anyone who offers an opposing position. For those with whom I disagree, I don’t have to hear more than a sound byte before I’ve already turned them off. As I consider my behavior, it occurs to me that perhaps I don’t have the only perspective on certain issues. That being said, since it is my perspective, I tend to hold to it firmly. What if I’m mowing my yard one strip at a time and not even aware that there is a more effective approach? Since my yard still gets mowed, I have no need to find another way. Shortly after my wife and I were married, I decided to install crown molding in my dining room. If you know anything about installing crown molding, you’re probably shaking your head in anticipatory amusement right now. At the time, I didn’t have a clue. But a friend of mine was a carpenter so I asked him to show me how to do it. Crown molding sits at a forty-five-degree angle, diagonally covering the edge between a ceiling and a wall. That’s pretty straightforward. But when you get to the inside corner of a room, you have to saw the wood at a unique angle and cut it backwards. Essentially, the process involves some sort of witchcraft and the molding was virtually impossible to cut using the amateur tools that I owned. On one corner, I cut twelve pieces of wood trying to fit two together neatly. Finally, I just installed them anyway and squirted tons of caulk into the huge gap where they didn’t fit together at all. But here’s the thing: my carpenter friend understood how to cut crown molding and could do it with his eyes closed. He could even explain it to me in simple terms. Yet, not one word he said led to any understanding on my part. There was a huge disconnect between his perspective and mine. This is what the world feels like to me today. There are a number of gaps in our understanding which leads to confusion, frustration, and anger. When we see a friend on Facebook write, “I don’t mean to be political but…,” we immediately cringe, knowing that it’s not going to turn out well. When we see a corporate executive or a government leader hurl accusations at an another leader, we shake our head and wonder, “What happened to courtesy and respect?” And when we see members of our communities threaten one another in the midst of an unrelenting virus and continued racial and economic inequities, we must recognize a total lack of understanding. If we’re honest with ourselves, most of us hate to admit that we don’t understand something. I surely don’t want to be the guy who took twice as long to mow his yard because I didn’t understand how the process worked. That would be embarrassing. And I certainly don’t want to admit that I lack an understanding of my neighbor’s experience or whether health concerns supersede business concerns. I have always prided myself in being somewhat insightful and certainly empathic. However, if we as individuals, community members, and leaders want to create a better world for everyone, we must strive for greater understanding. Like I said earlier, I’ve been hesitant to say anything during this surreal time because I really didn’t know what to tell you. But I do believe in a process that was taught to me by my favorite social work professor who reminded us that we can never fully understand another person or their situation…but that we must try. So, maybe that’s what I can say. First and foremost, let’s try to understand those with whom we disagree, those who are not like us, and those ideas that seem complex. And perhaps when we sit down and explore the differences in our understanding, a light bulb will go off that reminds us that there are other ways of seeing the world than ours. And that’s what I was thinking about when I mowed my yard the other day—in both directions, by the way. As for the crown molding, I’ll leave that to the people who know more than me. Planning your virtual event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to book your healthcare speaker! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
Back in the late 1990’s and early 2000’s, I was experiencing volunteer-itis, a condition known as the swelling of volunteer activities. I served on four church committees, was an active member of a Rotary Club, and was heavily involved in a national association. I was a bit overextended even though I enjoyed the opportunity to serve. After six straight years of various church committees, I finally finished out my last term and was looking forward to fewer meetings on my calendar each month. About three months after my last assignment, I got a call from a man in our church. He wanted me to consider serving three more years on a different committee. In a calm Christian voice, I said, “Bill, put the phone down, slowly step away, and no one will get hurt.” We both had a good laugh. But in the back of mind, I couldn’t help but feel that the organization didn’t respect the fact that I had served my time, so to speak, and needed a break. Their approach felt somewhat discourteous as they tried to squeeze more blood from a lemon and rope me in again (I think I mixed up those metaphors). It reminds me of that famous line from The Godfather when Michael Corleone said, “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.” A contrast to requesting too much is no response at all. Several years ago, my wife and I wanted to volunteer for a local service organization. Being new to the area, we felt it would be a nice way to get involved in the community. On three separate occasions, we submitted the necessary paperwork expressing our interest in volunteering and listing the skills we could offer. Over a two-year period of time, we got no response from anyone in the organization. So, after hearing nothing, we pursued other opportunities. Then, about six months later, I got a call from someone in the very same hadn’t-followed-up organization who asked if I would be willing to redesign their website. Wait, what? This was not a skill that I had nor was it something I wanted to do. In my most respectful volunteer voice, I said, “What the heck is wrong with you people!” OK, I didn’t say that. Instead, I politely declined by indicating that my time was already committed to another project. Not only did their lack of follow-up lead to losing two new volunteers, it sent a discourteous message that we weren’t worth the effort. And when it comes to a lack of respect, you can see examples all over social media. Last year, a famous actor posted a photograph of her two young sons at the beach. Immediately, people attacked her parenting skills because the boys had long hair. She had simply shared a picture of two healthy, happy, long-haired boys enjoying the beach. And based on this, she was accused of neglect. I think the true crime was that those who judged her neglected to embrace an attitude of respect and courtesy. More recently, I watched a conversation unfold on Facebook that probably won’t surprise any of you. A colleague made a potentially offensive statement and then received several respectful counterarguments. Rather than simply acknowledging the different perspectives or offering his own respectful counterargument, this guy dug in his heels and continued to aggressively defend his position. His comments suggested that anyone who disagreed with him was wrong and his perspective was the only one that mattered. Well, as you can imagine, the conversation unraveled and the more he dug in, the worse it got. It was like hitting a tennis ball against a wall. No matter how clever you think you are, the wall will always win. Sadly, my colleague came across as quite insensitive as he posted more and more discourteous comments. These days, it seems that aggressively rude behavior is the norm. When it comes to a differences of opinions, the phrase, “You’re a ridiculous, uninformed idiot” is more common than, “Oh, thank you for that insight.” Why is it that we can’t respond to alternative perspectives with more courtesy? Do we think that we’re right and everyone else is wrong? Do we fear that understanding someone else’s view suggests that we’re giving credibility to a position we don’t support? Do we really believe that vinegar will attract more bees than honey? I was raised to respect people because we are all…well…people. Then, in social work school, I was taught to go a step further and to try to empathize with others—especially those whose experiences are different than mine. And even though there might be a voice in my head that occasionally says, “You’re a ridiculous, uninformed idiot,” I don’t say it out loud. Instead, I try to say, “Hmm, that’s interesting” while attempting to understand. Empathy is tough. However, if we can adjust our “knee-flexes” (those knee-jerk reflexes) and show a little courtesy, I wonder if we might just find that some of the friction gets smoothed out. In fact… I wonder what would happen if everyone agreed to respond to discourteousness with kindness and understanding? I wonder what would happen if we embraced the concept put forth by Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. who suggested that non-violence and love can be powerful weapons against intolerance? And I wonder what would happen if we used social media to build one another up rather than to tear each other down? Perhaps we can embrace the idea that we have a far greater chance of bridging gaps when we show courtesy and respect for each other. Then, maybe we can change the script to, “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in…for a hug.” Planning your virtual event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to book your healthcare speaker! By Ron Culberson. With a master’s degree in social work, Ron Culberson spent the first part of his career working in a large hospice organization as a clinical social worker, middle manager, and senior leader. As a speaker, humorist, and author of "Do it Well. Make it Fun.The Key to Success in Life, Death, and Almost Everything in Between", he has delivered more than 1,000 presentations to associations, government agencies, non-profit organizations, and corporations. His mission is to change the workplace culture so that organizations are more productive and staff are more content. He was also the 2012-2013 president of the National Speakers Association and is a recognized expert on the benefits of humor and laughter.
Two punch lines walk into a bar. The bartender says, “What is this, a setup?” I don’t hear you laughing. Maybe you’re not laughing because the joke isn’t that funny (I doubt that, but perhaps). Maybe you’re not laughing because the joke is funny but the punchline is a bit obscure (i.e. using an old joke format to illustrate the basic structure of a joke). Or maybe we are too socially distanced for me to hear you ROFL-ing. Whatever the reason, this is a classic philosophical conundrum. If someone tells a funny joke but no one laughs, is it still funny? I think that in the midst of a worldwide pandemic, civil unrest, a devastated economy, and the questionable return of college football, we need to explore something on the lighter side of life. So, let’s walk into that proverbial bar together. Watch your head. Haha. I’ve observed comedy all of my life. When I was in high school, I saw David Letterman’s first performance on The Tonight Show. I was mesmerized by his uniquely quirky style of humor. I also saw Steve Martin’s live performance at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. He was my favorite comedian, and even though he left the stage halfway through his act due to heat exhaustion, I still felt I had gotten my money’s worth. And then a few years later, when my wife and I were courting, comedy clubs became a frequent date-night destination. More than once, our food was served just before the opening act and I had to avoid spewing chicken wings through my nose as we tried to eat during the show. To me, there is nothing more fulfilling than the laughter that follows a perfectly delivered punch line. Whether it’s Lily Tomlin, Dave Chappelle, Hannah Gadsby, or Nate Bargatze, I love the way comedians deliver material in their own personal way. For comics, performers, and even those of us who are humorous speakers, laughter is simply, “gold, Jerry, it’s gold.” (If I used footnotes in my blogs, this is where I would reference Kenny Bania, a character on several episodes of Seinfeld.) Today, however, the laughter is absent from most humor venues. When my wife and I saw Brian Regan several years ago, waves of laughter filled the sold-out theater. It was like, “Haaaaahhhhhhhaaahhhhhhhhh.” But last night, when we were alone in our den watching Dave Chappelle’s 2017 special, it was more like, “Ha…(silent dead space)..ha. Heh, that was hilarious.” The television performance was just as funny as the live performance but our in-home, socially-distanced, small-crowd reaction was not the same. And with just the two of us in the room, we were careful not to “overlaugh.” We all know someone who overlaughs and no matter how funny the joke is, the reaction is over the top and frankly, it’s just awkward. Speaking of television performances, have you seen any of the Saturday Night Live episodes done from cast members’ homes? The creativity of the bits and production techniques were brilliant. But there wasn’t any laughter. The comedy formulas were there, but the outcome was different. So, perhaps there is a critical third part to the old formula. There’s a setup, a punch line and, there’s laughter. Without the laughter, the rest of the process feels like it loses something. “Laughterlessness” has a direct impact on my work. As a speaker who is accustomed to generating a few guffaws at in-person events, I have resigned myself to the fact that most of my programs will be postponed until next year. However, I do have a few virtual programs on the calendar. For those, I’ll stand in front of my webcam and try to muster the same humorous delivery that I would normally generate in front of several hundred people during a live program. But it’s very different because I can’t draw off of the audience’s reaction. So, when I deliver a darn good bit of funny (which happens quite frequently I should add), there is no laughter. I immediately start to question my darn good bit of funny or wonder if the participants have actually left the room and just kept their computers logged on to make it appear that they are still there. It’s terrifying to think that no one laughed because, well, they were gone. But you know what? Having a virtual option for humor is still better than having no option at all. I am forever grateful to the clients who feel that my material does translate to a virtual environment. And I’m perfectly fine sitting in the den with my wife watching a hilarious comedy performance while trying not to overlaugh. But I do look forward to the day when we can once again sit with several hundred people and experience, “Haaaaahhhhhhhaaahhhhhhhhh.” Whether we laugh by ourselves, in the intimacy of an environment with our significant others, or with a small group of socially distanced friends, I think we need to keep laughing no matter what. Laughter helps us maintain our balance when our world feels like it’s about to tumble. Humor allows us to step back and brush off some of the anxious burdens we’ve been carrying during the past few months. And during that moment of levity, we lighten the heaviness around us. So, I would recommend that you find a regular reason to watch comedy, to read a funny book or article, or to listen to a humorous podcast. Get a regular dose of humor and let it ease the pressure. It’s healthy and we need it—now more than ever. And remember what Steve Martin said, “A day without sunshine is, you know, night.” Planning your virtual event? Get in touch with us at the Capitol City Speakers Bureau today to book your healthcare speaker! |
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