Michele Woodward

Powerful Coaching. Powerful Results.

sacrifice

On Memorial Day

By Leave a Comment

 

 

photo credit: James Tourtellotte

As difficult as my working life has been at times, one thing is true: I’ve never had to face enemy fire.

I’ve never had to quickly assess the risk threat and ask my people to advance into certain combat – and possible death.

I’ve never been far from home, hungry and exhausted, in a strange land with a different language and differing customs carrying an eighty pound pack through sandstorms,  snowstorms, rainstorms over mountains, through rivers, in jungles.

I haven’t been on a small boat in a big ocean, looking for the incoming weaponry that could sink my vessel.

I’ve not been in an airplane, tracing a safe route through enemy flak.

No, I’ve not been tested in these ways.

And so today and every day I honor those who served and those who gave their lives in service to their country.

It’s awe-inspiring and humbling to consider the men and the women who simply saw a need and filled it. Who went above and beyond not only because they could but because – in one split second – they knew they had to do something to save the lives of others.

I’m especially moved by those who never expected to be in combat but found themselves there. The nurses, the quartermasters, the cooks – those people who stepped up when duty called, and did what needed to be done.

Some of these people, in fact, lie in the Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington Cemetery – their names are not known but their heroism is never forgotten.

All soldiers, sailors, airmen, Marines, Coast Guardsmen – they are valuable beyond measure, and stand shoulder to shoulder in a line of service which leads from our nation’s earliest days directly to today.

At the Gettysburg battlefield over 150 years ago, President Abraham Lincoln said:

The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Today, I honor the last full measure of devotion of so many. Those honored dead who bravely did what so many of us have not done.

It is to them this day is dedicated, with respect and honor for their great sacrifice and the great sacrifice of the families they left behind.

 

photo credit: James Tourtellotte

 

 

Where Poppies Grow

By Leave a Comment

 

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

“In Flanders Fields” by Lt. Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)

***

Originally today was set aside for the world to remember the Great War – World War I – the “war to end all wars”. In that conflict, 70 million served in the first truly global war. Put into context, the entire world population at that time was just 1.86 billion – so the Great War touched cities, towns, villages and families around the world.

The theme that emerged after that war was one of disillusionment, and a passing of a way of life. The calm and order of the Victorian Age had shifted into uncertainty, chaos and loss of life on a scale never seen before. And you can sense that in McCrae’s poem – the loss of life, and of potential. The loss of a certain kind of innocence.

McCrae, who died of pneumonia while commanding a Canadian hospital during wartime service in France, made a plea in his poem to those left behind – don’t forget those who died. Keep faith with them, and with their sacrifice. Make it not in vain.

Today, in America, we remember veterans from all wars, and thank them for their service to the country and to the ideals of democracy and freedom which we hold dear.

About eight weeks ago, I stood at the podium in the auditorium of the Women in Military Service for America Memorial at Arlington National Cemetery. The audience was made up nearly 200 military women – Army colonels, Navy commanders, Air Force captains. Marine majors and Coast Guard chief petty officers. Each of them women. All who had served their nation in war time.

It was inspiring, and completely humbling.

That day, I laid out a strategy to help military women moving from active service back into civilian life find the right kind of work. The women are undertaking that challenge with all the courage, focus and bravery that they undertook their missions while they served. And quite a few of the women in the audience continue to serve in active duty and in the reserves.

I admire the hell out of them.

And right now, I’m working with the non-profit AcademyWomen to provide coaching to their members in transition to civilian life. We’ll have an announcement on that shortly.

I have a deep and personal commitment to help veterans find the best possible work situations for themselves. I want to help them find the right fit based on their own particular strengths, goals, values and priorities. I pledge to keep the faith with them, and with their fallen comrades, by helping – using what I know how to do best – to make their lives going forward a little bit easier. Happier. More fulfilled.

It’s what I have to offer. And somehow even that doesn’t see like enough.

Today, as we pause on the eleventh day of the eleventh month and reflect on the sacrifice of veterans, let’s all pledge to do what we can to reach out to veterans and let them know – in tangible and practical ways, like jobs and homes – that we have not dropped the torch, and we will continue to hold it high. In remembrance, in appreciation and in deep commitment to future we all share.

(photo credit: James Tourtellotte)

We’re All In This Together

By Leave a Comment



Double bubble, toil and trouble. Anger, maybe even rage, disbelief, uncertainty, anxiety — there’s a potent brew boiling around our country today, and I want to understand it.

From what I’ve gathered, the question is: If you run a multi-billion dollar company into the ground, and threaten the financial well-being of the entire global community, should you be given multi-million dollar bonuses?

Or, maybe the question is: Why should people who live within their means have to foot the bill for people who spent money they didn’t have on stuff they didn’t need?

Or could be the question really be: Are we all in this together, or what?

Back in 2004, I had the opportunity to organize President Reagan’s State Funeral. As the funeral procession snaked its way from the hilltop National Cathedral through the city to Andrews Air Force Base, I saw people of all colors and stripes thronging the streets. Hands over hearts, paying respects — didn’t matter if they wore a pin-striped suit up in Northwest DC, or cutoffs and tube tops down in Southeast — people turned out that summer day to honor a man some of them never even agreed with.

I distinctly remember thinking: people wanted to belong to something.

We had felt it before, on September 12, 2001. Remember that day? After the immediate shock and horror and loss, people were really nice to one another. We made eye contact. We held doors open. We talked with strangers. We even let people go in front of us in traffic. We were experiencing something big, and scary, and unexpected — but we were experiencing it together.

For a period of time our country really was a kinder, gentler place.

My seventh grade daughter is studying World War II in social studies. She asked, “What was the war like for our family?” I told her about all my uncles that served, and how five of her great-grandmother’s brothers had served at the same time. I told her about Gold Star Mothers. I told her how people saved bacon grease and salvaged scrap metal to help the war effort. I told her about rationing and about Rosie the Riveter.

I told her how everyone worked together, united in common purpose to make it through a very difficult time.

How to describe the feeling when the light bulb goes off? Pop! – it hit me: the problem today is that some of us are sacrificing — we’ve made cuts in our spending, we’re living below our means, we’re responsible with our lives — and some are not. The bonus-paying bankrupt companies and the bonus-receiving misguided executives? The foreclosure flippers? Doesn’t appear that they are sacrificing, or are making plans any time soon to change their frame of reference.

It’s a scary time and we’re simply not in this together. And that bothers us.

Because when times are tough, the American people want to belong to something bigger than themselves, like the war effort in World War II. We want our sacrifices to be worth something. We want to share the uncertainty and worry. We want to save bacon grease and send it where it can best be used. We will use ration cards.

But we want rationing to be fair. And we want to save our bacon grease for a purpose, not just to serve some public relations ploy designed by politicians and spinmeisters.

Let me tell you, the politician who taps into this national zeitgeist will find himself, or herself, riding the crest of a new wave of American political life.

But until that Mayor or Senator or Governor or Congressman wakes up and sees that business-as-usual is no longer the way business is being done; until that politician realizes that greed is no longer the driver of anything worth having; until that politican understands that the American people are smarter and more resilient than they’re given credit for — there’s only one thing for you and me to do.

We’ll do it ourselves. We will lead our leaders. We’ll say no to pork-barrel spending and yes to spending that creates jobs and opportunities, or helps the most vulnerable among us. We will create our own sense of purpose and involve our community, by simple things like having potluck suppers with the neighbors, or cleaning up a local creek, or working in a community kitchen, or donating to micro-finance efforts to help people start businesses.

If belonging is what we want, belonging is what we will create. We’ll be in this together. And when we step up and show the way, believe me, our leaders will just have one choice to make: follow, or get out of the way.

That’s what I understand. How about you?

The Sacrifice of Veterans

By Leave a Comment



Living in the Washington, DC area as I do, I’m surrounded by icons of our nation’s history. Nearly every day I cross the Potomac River and am greeted by the majestic Lincoln Memorial, with the Washington Monument obelisk just behind it, the stately Jefferson Memorial off to the right. Out of habit I look to the Capitol Dome — if it’s lit, I know that Congress is in session. The Iwo Jima Memorial is a favorite — my father’s apartment has overlooked it for at least twenty years — and each of the sculpted men straining to plant the flag is like an old friend.

Whenever I see these monuments I try not to take them for granted. I try to remember that I feel lucky and blessed to live in this country. Every once in a while, I am reminded that not all the monuments in this town are so easily seen.

A few years ago, I took my kids to lunch at a McDonald’s near their school. We pulled in and noticed a van unloading some young men in hospital scrubs. This being a big city, we didn’t pay too much attention. I did notice that the guys were young, scrubbed, with short haircuts — and giddy like kids.

It wasn’t until we were inside, in line, that I could read one of the young men’s t-shirt. It said: “Don’t touch me here — bullet hole.” And, “Please don’t hug me — broken rib!” He had circled areas and notes all over his front, and his back. All four of the young men had similar markings on their shirts, and pants.

That’s when I realized — these were wounded soldiers. Recovering soldiers. Not much older than my son. Happy as all get out to be away from Walter Reed Army Hospital for just a few minutes. Happy to just be standing there, ordinary guys, ordering a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese and fries.

Just a few weeks ago, I was shopping for groceries and noticed a woman — model tall, polished ponytail, a little bit younger than me, Ingrid Bergman cheekbones. That alone would have caused me to notice her. But she was wearing a runner’s prosthesis on her right leg, and her left leg was pockmarked by small, healing wounds from her ankle to the hem of her runner’s shorts. Shrapnel wounds, I guessed. I weighed the idea that it could have been a car accident. But the way she carried herself? Like a soldier. That’s when I knew how she’d been hurt.

For a moment, I didn’t know how to manage my own feelings. I wanted to offer to push her cart because that wasn’t easy for her, or to pay for her groceries, or at least tell her I appreciated her sacrifice.

Because I haven’t sacrificed very much during this war, to be honest. Unlike my grandmother, I haven’t had to do without, save ration coupons, worry about loved ones serving. No, I’ve had it pretty easy.

And this woman in the grocery store — she lost that leg doing something I did not do. She served and she sacrificed. I followed her for a few minutes, wondering if I should say something, wondering if she wanted to talk about it. Wondering if calling attention to her would be the right thing or the wrong thing to do.

In the end, I did nothing. Nothing more than say a silent, grateful prayer for her and her family. With hopes that her external and internal wounds will heal.

On this Veteran’s Day, let’s remember the men and women of the past who have served our country since the Revolutionary War, but let’s take special note — and special care — of those who are serving today.

Their sacrifice is its own towering monument to our country. And for that, I am grateful.

We Are Virginia Tech

By Leave a Comment

Virginia Tech

I am an alumna of Virginia Tech. Class of ’82. When it came time to apply to college, I had no idea about safety schools or applying to a bunch… frankly, I had no clue about college admissions and I didn’t work the system. I applied to Tech, William & Mary and UVa. I was accepted at the first two and waitlisted at the third.

But I chose Tech because of the campus. The majority of the buildings are constructed of “Hokie Stone”, a gray-blue granite quarried locally. I was utterly smitten with Hokie Stone. On pretty days, the stone reflected the breathtaking blue of the mountain sky. On gray days, the stone embodied the resolute, iron-strong values of the university.

And I came to love the school’s Latin motto “Ut Prosim”, “That I might serve.”

I’ve been thinking a lot about Ut Prosim as the stories around the Blacksburg tragedy began to unfold. I was reminded of Ut Prosim as I heard the story of the Eagle Scout, shot through the upper thigh, bleeding from a wound to his femoral artery. This young man made a makeshift tourniquet and stopped the bleeding. Then, he moved around to his wounded and dying classmates, administering what first aid he could. Ut Prosim.

I thought Ut Prosim when I watched Tech President and alumni Charlie Steger conduct press briefing after press briefing, always clear, always calm, always thoughtful. I can only imagine what his presence meant to the students and parents he undoubtedly met with privately. His strong leadership and consistent commitment to openness and candor set the tone for the Virginia Tech emergency services team as well as the administration. Ut Prosim.

But nowhere was Ut Prosim more evident than in the heroism of Liviu Librescu, a 76 year old professor and Holocaust survivor who used his own body to block the door of his classroom to the shooter. I imagine Professor Librescu knew exactly the pain of losing dear ones to violence. I think he knew the sweetness of living life after having survived catastrophe. I can almost hear him urging his students out the window, “Go, go!”, urgency in his voice, as he gave his life so others would live. Ut Prosim.

Renowned poet Nikki Giovanni came to Virginia Tech in 1987, after I left. I recall seeing news about her appointment and being proud of my alma mater for inviting a poet of her reputation and stature to the community – a community better known for its engineering and architecture than its poetry.

In lyric remarks at the Convocation, Nikki Giovanni used the phrase “We are Virginia Tech” to punctuate her prose poem. It was inspiring. It was encompassing. It was what we needed to hear.

We are Virginia Tech. And now you are Virginia Tech. We are Ut Prosim. And you are Ut Prosim, too. Finding ways to serve – ways both big and small, heroic and humdrum – is incumbent upon all of us. It’s how we can honor those who have fallen, and begin to reach out to those in our community who need our help.

Poet Nikki Giovanni said it best:

“We are Virginia Tech.

The Hokie Nation embraces our own and reaches out with open heart and hands to those who offer their hearts and minds. We are strong, and brave, and innocent, and unafraid. We are better than we think and not quite what we want to be. We are alive to the imaginations and the possibilities. We will continue to invent the future through our blood and tears and through all our sadness.

We are the Hokies.

We will prevail.

We will prevail.

We will prevail.

We are Virginia Tech.”