Reading the tips and sample speeches at the Six Minutes blog prompted me to share the text of my Ice Breaker (first Toastmasters speech, from 2007) here.
[Opening]
Imagine that you’re at a social event, and you’re coming over to join the group of people where I am standing. The small talk has already progressed from the “What do you do for a living?” questions to the “Do you have kids (or pets)?” questions. On my turn, I reply,
“Yes, I have two daughters; here’s their pictures…”
“Really? … You don’t look old enough to have kids who are —”
“— So I’ve been told.”
[Body]
For all of my adult life, I’ve heard that “you don’t look old enough…” statement. But I’ve never really understood it. How old is “old enough,” and what does it look like? Was I supposed to have my first gray hair and then my first child?
Toddlers (just babes)
No, my wife didn’t “rob the cradle,” the next question often asked of me. I was 20 and my wife was 23 when we got married in college; she graduated, and then our first daughter was born.
In any prior generation, that might have been considered a late start. Back then, young women immediately got married and had kids; young men finished their apprenticeships and started working to support their new families.
I started working full time while finishing my Computer Science degree; in fact, I started the very day our eldest was born. The (IBM) PC had just been born as well, and with it a baby boom of start-up companies demanding my skills even before graduation.
Most start-ups fail – and apparently I worked for all of them. Our second daughter arrived the very day I was scheduled to start at yet another company.
Most of the people in the PC business were young like me. I grew a mustache to help me look a little older than my team members, all of them pimply-faced geeks. They told me, “You don’t look old enough to have kids already.” (I don’t think they had landed their first date yet.)
Tweens (golden age)
My daughters grew, and played, and developed distinctive personalities and talents.
The elder daughter was logical, creative, and loved music (like her parents), exhibiting early abilities on the piano. The younger daughter was shy (like I was at that age), but she was also stubborn and prone to fits. She later expressed her creative energies through gymnastics and girls choir.
We attended their teacher conferences, their Little League games, their recitals – along with other people who, I suppose from my perspective, looked too old to have school children.
Also around that time, we joined a young church.
The church grew, and we served in various capacities. My wife founded and directed the Preschool. I taught adult Bible study, joined Church Council, and even served one term as President. But I don’t think anyone ever said, at least to me, “You don’t look old enough to be Council President.”
Teens (growth and retreat)
As I said before, most start-ups fail; and this church was no exception. After years of financial problems and pastoral changes, we decided to close its doors.
The software industry grew, and then faltered as well. I started a consulting business to more easily jump from project to project, and I added a goatee to give me that “learned” look. My skills evolved from programming to design: I believe technology should make sense to its users.
My younger daughter grew. She came out of her shell and on to the stage, a place I wished for but never felt comfortable in. (In high school I had taken up pantomime since it meant I never had to speak!)
My elder daughter grew, and then faltered too. She became a “troubled teen” , declaring her rebellion with black clothes, black makeup, and the anguished strains of Nirvana blasting from her room. By the time she grew out of it and headed off to college, our older and wiser friends in Marriage Encounter might have told me, “Yep, you do look old and weary enough to have survived a teenager.”
College (maturity)
Eventually I became an employee again, for one of my start-up clients (after it failed to fail). Over the past 10 years I helped launch two of the most significant new products in the mobile communications business. (They’re probably on your phone.)
With both daughters off to school, I went back to college myself. UW’s Evening MBA program is populated with full-time employees looking for a transition to a better career. A few even had children. But, still, I heard: “You’re a student here. You couldn’t possibly have your kids in college too!”
Today (fly, be free)
Today, finally, enough hairs have congregated on my face to form a beard. You think it would have halted that oft-heard refrain.
Today, the elder daughter is a Project Editor for a local book publisher. The younger is plying her trade as an (underpaid) actor on local stages and for artistic non-profits.
“You have a 25-year-old daughter?!?” I was asked just last month.
Today – what do you know – the nest is empty but my wife and I are still young enough to enjoy ourselves. We go to restaurants with linen and candles on the table, the kind that even serves wine. (I don’t get carded every time.) We go out to movies and plays whenever we feel like it, no babysitter required. We talk about vacation homes, not retirement homes; sports cars, not wheelchairs; and long bike rides on the Burke-Gilman Trail, not the long down-hill path to the grave.
[Conclusion]
I don’t doubt that, someday, someone will say, “You don’t look old enough to be a grandfather.” My daughters assure me, however, that it will not happen for many years.
Having heard this response for so long, I’ve come to expect it. When the time comes that it isn’t said to me any longer, I suppose they will be tacitly agreeing, “Yeah – you do look like you have kids that old!”
