Yang Girly Girl

August 15, 2008

Dear Ron:

We lost you yesterday. We didn’t misplace you, you just disappeared. Just like that.

Obviously, this is hard to negotiate and seems rather unacceptable. I’ve often wondered why it is that some people can get in auto accidents and walk away from them when they shouldn’t, and some people who should survive, don’t. You didn’t and I’m not sure how to handle it.

You and Karen made an impact on the Las Vegas community in ways you both can’t begin to understand. Your love for helping others to reach their potential is nothing short of amazing. How do you exemplify this day after day in your quest for excellence? There’s Toastmasters, the National Speakers Association, Sweet Adelines, your kids, and grandkids….ad infinitum.

Do you know you affected my life that way? Ron, I remember when you first spoke to me about competing in Toastmasters contests. You said, “I think you really have some potential. People really like you.” Ouch…that kind of hurt, but I wasn’t offended. I’m happy for any compliment, even that one.

Later on, I realized one thing you fought hard against was bias during competition. You believed in fairness and authenticity, and yes, I know that you went to more Toastmasters contests than anyone on the face of the earth, I think, and therefore became the self-appointed expert at what it took to win. When you won the Mentor of Year award for District 33, it was no surprise…to anyone.

I often think your years as a Wall Street Analyst gave you the ability to gather information, assess its value, and find trends, commonalities, and anomalies. You approached this understanding from a diagnostic perspective, and that’s the reason I chose you and Karen to be my coaches. You worked with me on the quality of content, and Karen worked with me on expressing myself and my voice. Together, you were dynamite.

One thing I always appreciated about you was your candor. I know you never pulled any punches with me, and, while that may be a trait that some people find offensive, it helped me grow in ways I never thought I could as a speaker. The back-handed compliment you gave me early on became, “You know, I think you can win because you’re a good speaker.” I believed you. I believed in myself.

We became friends over the last few years because it’s hard for me not love people like you who care so much about excellence. You were always the first to point out your own flaws to help me overcome mine. That’s mentorship. That’s leadership. That’s friendship.

I must say that your quirkiness, your idiosyncrasies, and your amazing ability to filibuster qualified you for the Senate; I suppose that’s what made Ron Lewison unique, and there certainly isn’t anyone like you. I’m sure you were aware that you made some people mad, you made some people cry, you made a lot of people laugh, but you never let others opinions stop you from helping anyone that wanted your style of coaching, anytime.

I still can’t believe you didn’t let it stop you from being one of my “Out of Sync” boys at the Division D contest last year. You make a great back-up dancer. I loved it when you put on dark sunglasses, and undulated quite out of sync when the music started. I knew I could count on you.

There’s something I never told you. There was creative genius in you that you may not thought was fully appreciated. You were wrong. You projected that genius through your coaching and mentoring, although you always proclaimed that Karen was far more talented. It made me smile every time praised her. I think a woman can ask no more from a man than when he publicly exclaims her attributes with genuine admiration and respect.

I’ll miss your sardonic attitude. I’ll miss your self-effacing humor. I’ll miss your never ending drive toward fairness and logic in the Toastmaster community, but that’s the thing about people like you who make sustaining contributions. Someone will pick up the baton and continue the journey. Remember when you and I talked about Kaizen? It’s the Japanese word for growth and slow continuous improvement throughout every aspect of an organization.

It’s plain to see that you incorporated this philosophy in every aspect of your life; your magnificent life, full of love, devotion, outstanding legacies and strength.

Here we are again. I’ve learned today that it’s important to tell the people you care about how much you care and appreciate them, but not as though imminent doom is waiting in the wings offstage ready to squelch their existence. That would be obsequious and you’d hate that.

It’s about telling everyone how you remember them now. It’s about eulogizing them when you’re looking into their eyes and telling them exactly how they have affected your life and the lives of others, and praising them behind their backs. This embarrasses most people and they have a hard time hearing how great they are, but we need to do it anyway. The one thing we all live for is to make a difference, and when we know we have, somehow, it drives us to do more, and to do it better. That serves all humanity.

You coached me in so many ways and you didn’t know it. You did it through example…about how to be a devoted parent, spouse, friend, and mentor.

I’ll miss you, Ron in ways I can’t articulate. Somehow, I think you’ll find your way to that International Stage and know what it’s like firsthand to raise that 1^st place trophy. Somehow, I don’t think you will stop coaching us on what it takes to win speech contests, or how to succeed as a professional speaker. We just have to listen with our hearts. I wish I had another chance to tell you that I’ll never forget what you did for me.

Maybe this is that chance.