top of page
Why It Matters
We Owe Each Other Two Minutes
Every day, we encounter countless opportunities to connect. When we understand the value of these connections, we also understand that public speaking opportunities don't always come in the form of a big presentation or a powerful speech. We learn to appreciate the value of a two-minute conversation. The conversation that happens in line at the grocery store, during a quick run-in at the coffee shop, or at a social or professional function. As we gain confidence as authors and storytellers, we learn to climb out of our comfort zones in the day-to-day moments and interactions that help to shape and form our relationships.
Following are just a few examples of Why It Matters
A Simple Acknowledgment
A few years ago, my wife Pascale and I went to a celebration of life for one of her friends of many years. As the service was ending, the preacher asked if anyone would like to say a few words. Nobody got up. And then, my wife did. She had waited for family members to speak up, but they didn't. As she stood up, she said to me, "You're next to speak." I responded with, "I didn't know Darrell." Pascale did a marvelous job, and thus loosened up the large gathering.
I jumped up as she sat down, explaining that I was Pascale's husband, and that I had met Darrell only a couple of times. Pascale knew him well, and they were great friends. And I know why I was motivated to share with the folks who were gathered. Darrell loved Pascale's special recipe for chocolate mousse. Whenever I had walked into the dining room with Pascale as she carried his favorite treat, the way Darrell hugged her and expressed his gratitude over this special gift made her eyes sparkle with appreciation and friendship. Yes, I had known Darrell better than I had thought. "Darrell, thank you for making my wife happy on those many occasions." And "Darrell, I got up early on those special days to assist Pascale in the kitchen." As my thanks for helping out, I was allowed to lick the bowls.
I was prepared to give a talk. I didn't need to be prompted to get up to speak, but I knew I owed Darrell two minutes.
Before we knew it, others jumped up to say their piece. Pascale had led the way.
Embracing the Moment
My close friend David's son graduated from high school. Near the close of the ceremony, the school principal asked if any of the fathers would like to approach the podium to say a few words in celebration of their child's accomplishments in receiving a high school diploma. David walked onto the stage and proudly gave a huge compliment, followed by a few words in celebration of his son's graduation. Other fathers were hesitant to get in line to do the same thing David had done. But after David spoke, other fathers followed suit.
As David went back to his seat in the audience, his wife Cindy greeted him with a compliment, ensconced by a comment. "You couldn't have done that a year ago, David." "You have found your voice." David knew it mattered that he was able to say something thoughtful about his son, and he knew that he owed him two minutes.
He set the example for other fathers.
Missed Opportunity
My older son, Jeff and I were walking along the beach in Del Mar, California, holding hands as we usually did. He was six years old at the time. After several minutes, my son asked if he could stand on my shoulders. Of course I said, "Yes! But if you do, will you bend over and tell me everything that you see?"
We still walk on the beach, and recently, he offered some words of inspiration. "Dad, many years ago, you shared with me your dream. I would like to share with you something that is very important. Something that I have learned. Something that I see. You are making a great contribution by helping people to find their voices."
Jeff went on, "Everyone needs to be able to give a two-minute speech... at weddings, birthdays, funerals, etc." I was listening. "Dad, there is a message that needs to be communicated." I knew he was making a statement about everyone needing to find the courage to speak up. We all owe each other two minutes.
Just before Covid had us all in quarantine, Jeff lost his partner, Julie, of eight years. The last six years of their relationship, Julie had battled cancer. It had been more than two-and-a-half years since we'd lost Julie, when my son and I found ourselves once again reflecting on the beach. He shared with me what he had felt during those difficult times.
Jeff had arranged the celebration of life, and had asked several people to offer a two-minute tribute. I was at Julie's celebration, and I noted that those who we would naturally have expected to say something, didn't. Most people would rather be in the coffin than give a speech. But this doesn't make it right.
On our walk, my son continued to explain to me that he still remembers the missed opportunity to hear the words he would have loved to hear at the ceremony. After battling for so many years, he still feels today that he was never given the two minutes he was due for his partner, and for himself. He would love to have heard, "Jeff, thank you for being her rock."
We all owe each other two minutes, or we risk living with paralyzing regret.
A Chance to Shine
For many years, I envied people who could confidently rise to their feet and deliver a humorous toast at a wedding, or a heartfelt tribute at a funeral. I wondered whether they had prepared their remarks ahead of the event, or simply had the talent to make it all up on the spot upon standing to speak. I wondered how they had the courage to speak. I was reluctant to speak, and generally sat by quietly while others spoke eloquently. My envy of these people escalated in proportion to the approval reflected in the faces of those present at these events.
My regular participation in a speakers' club was the turning point for me. Week after week, I confronted my speech anxiety, and slowly improved my self-confidence. I was invited to attend the wedding of a relative, and there were many people in attendance at this festive event. When the time came to offer toasts, the best man inquired as to whether or not anyone was willing to offer something notable to the newlyweds. To my surprise, my hand was in the air immediately, and I was given the honor of briefly congratulating the bride and groom—even including a few, humorous family-related remarks. I spoke clearly, and with confidence.
This became a major turning point in my life.
bottom of page