On Gratitude: Phoebe Speaks

 Writing from a small bed in Freeport, Maine, where Bill, Liam and I are holed up in the midst of a wild, wild weekend of graduation ceremonies:

Everyone loves a grateful person. Conversely, people who act as if the world owes them something just for drawing breath are somewhat less popular, unless they're really good looking or rich and thus somehow mysteriously entitled to respect and admiration by the masses. It's hard to know where gratitude comes from. A certain amount can be instilled ("Say thank you to the nice lady, honey.") But the feeling of gratitude isn't something you parrot out when commanded. You have to feel it deep inside, and then it comes out in intangible ways.

I've never understood people who don't thank waiters, public servants, or anyone who helps them, be it their friends, their parents or their friends' parents. Somebody holds a door for you or cooks you a meal, you acknowledge that. You single them out for thanks.  So I guess, in this house, there has been an expectation of gratitude and acknowledgement for kindnesses large and small instilled from an early age. Again, intangible, but there. It's a culture. Still, when your kids get past the age where you can hiss, "Say thank you!" you hold your breath and hope they remember, and you take them aside and set them straight if they fail to show gratitude. But you can't make them feel it unless they feel it. I am happy to report that both Phoebe and Liam feel and show gratitude in eloquent and sensitive ways. If gratitude be a measure of a person, they are both tall.

So it was with great anticipation that we learned that Phoebe, among all the students receiving scholarships from Bowdoin College, had been asked to prepare a speech thanking the donors to Bowdoin scholarships at a luncheon late last week. When she was home for spring break, she'd riffled through my closets as she often does, and she picked out two cocktail dresses, both in Bowdoin black and white, that she thought might work.  I was bemused to see this long-stemmed lovely wearing my clothes! Who wore it better? The redhead!! But even better than that, she gave her speech to me right there in my studio, because I had long since committed to a keynote for the Biggest Week in American Birding that very same day! Bowdoin offered to fly us both out to see her speak, but only Bill was able to take them up on it. Sigh. He had a marvelous time, and he said he'd never felt more proud in his life.

Through the magic of live streaming and the kindness of Bowdoin staff, I was able to race back from the Magee Marsh boardwalk, which had been crawling with warblers, to my room at Maumee Bay Hotel and watch President Clayton Rose introduce my daughter. Then I watched her take the podium. What a thrill that was! My heart overflowed. I have always told her she is a natural writer; that whatever she does in life, her attention to the craft of writing and storytelling will carry her through and set her apart.

So I sat there, my faithful iPhone running, making a video of the whole thing, intending only to send it to my brother and sisters and aunt and a dear friend or two, and it occurred to me that you might like to see and hear her speak, too.


 And here's the speech. You'll see the back of Bill's head, and he gets up at the end and hugs her. It's pretty sweet.




 I guess what I love most about it, aside from the deep breath she takes as she begins, is that she is so aware that she is both blessed and lucky to have been raised to aspire to more. Her empathy for her high school classmates comes through loud and clear. So does her self-awareness, her sense of where she fits in the rarefied atmosphere she has been privileged to breathe. It's a delicate line she walks in this speech, and I think she toes it like a pro. Being able to get up and do that--to make people feel something-- is a tremendous gift in itself. Anyway, enough of my blabbin'. Enjoy the speech.

The quiet and completely self-effacing hero of this madcap weekend in Brunswick, Maine, when both our children graduate, is Liam. He is skipping his own high school graduation back in Marietta to support his sister, to dwell in the reflected glory of her honors-festooned graduation ceremonies. He made Dean's List at Washington State Community College, where he's taken the last two years' worth of his courses, readying himself for fall admission to West Virginia University. He won't get to march with his class at Marietta High School, but not a peep of complaint from him as he holds his weary, exhausted, much celebrated sister close here in Maine. I have never been more proud of both of them.