Queer in Healthcare

When I learned I had landed a spot on television, representing my public health non profit, that would entail public speaking in an entrepreneurial reality competition, I got to work. I’ve consumed over 20 books, taken courses, gotten certifications, and joined Toastmasters International, all within the last 3 months. Last week, at my second meeting as a member and third meeting total, I delivered my Icebreaker speech. Shit or get off the pot, right? I had written it out and as I practiced, broke it down into smaller & smaller bullet points, that I’d stand, shaking, at the lectern looking at. Afterward, I made note of the evaluation on the back, folded it twice, and slipped it into the front of my planner.

All loose paper products that have strayed from where they were tucked and have chosen instead, the freedom of being shuffled around wildly, while I search for anything smaller than my phone, will eventually disintegrate or be dumped into the trash before the bag is donated. Most papers that are folded and tucked anywhere deemed “safe,” in my life, have already been consigned to a purgatory of their peers and will never again be unfolded and looked upon. That’s just how I live my life. Unless you’ve had to replace any of my vital documents, mind your business.

That afternoon, I sat at my neighborhood coffee shop, exploring physics for the first time in my 43 years, when something happened that I’m, only now, realizing the magnitude of serendipitous wonderment of. Levar Burton walked in. I could stop there, honesty, but if you know me at all, you know I won’t. Being one of only a few customers in the store, I decided to ask for a picture & autograph. I fangirl over this dude on LinkedIn, I had to! I asked the man with him first because I’d imagine there are many times he’d like to grab a coffee without anyone bothering him. Once I got the “go ahead,” I stood up.

I stood at the table I’d been working at and watched the manager show this living legend around the adorably decorated space (with gender neutral restrooms). I had already handed my phone off for the picture to be taken and realized I’d like something for him to sign. I ALWAYS have books with me and didn’t grab one. Instead, I reached into purgatory and pulled out the newest member, still cleanish and wrinkle freeish, along with a blue sparkly gel pen, from the collection of those that reside with freed papers, often coming uncapped to create their own masterpieces. I was standing at the table, watching Mr Burton and coffeehouse manager for enough time to be aware of my awkwardness. That self awareness usually doesn’t come until hindsight, then keeps me awake at night, years later; long after any other observer has dismissed the event from memory, if it had ever even had a place there to begin with.

When they were finished, Mr Burton politely asked her where the sugar was, but used the French or Icelandic word for sugar, turning in my direction to sweeten his coffee behind me. He took notice of me and I may have telepathically asked if he’d take a picture and sign my purse rubbish when he was done because I stood there confidently while he added the sucre to his drink. A large man, perhaps his security, asked, “Fan of Reading Rainbow?” 

The following will keep me up for the rest of my life. I stepped toward him and put a finger up, as if to say, “Hiya, pal! I’ve got a brilliant idea!” (I didn’t say that, it’s strictly for the visually white person body language that would accompany that phrase).What I did do, was take a deep, diaphragmatic breath in and belted,

“Take a look! It’s in a book! A reading rainbowww[vibrato]www!”

The look on his face prompted me to ask, “did I scare you?” while letting out an unfamiliar and really dorky laugh. His eyes told me that yes. Yes, I had scared him. Or I’d at least weirded him out enough that if he was, in fact, Levar Burton’s security guard, in that moment, he made the decision that the man he was responsible for protecting would have to fend for himself in this coffee shop. He uncomfortably half- mirrored my laugh while simultaneously staring wide-eyed at me and pivoting his body toward the exit. He stepped forward while turning his head to match his direction and was out of sight within seconds. Not yet self aware in this particular moment, I turned back to the man himself.

“Where’s your camera?” he asked, ushering me over to him and positioning us in the best natural lighting. It was almost like he’d done this before. We took a quick picture and I handed over my trash and abandoned, but sparkly orphan pen. “What’s your name?”

“Wendy! Wendy Wink!” In one of the more recent books I’d read, Dale Carnegie wrote:

“Remember that a person’s name is to that person, the sweetest and most important sound in any language.”

I’m almost certain that this is truer for me than most. You’ll always get my full name.

“I’ve read a lot of books!”

Well, there’s a whole lot more missed sleep. Even when he followed up with, “Oh yeah? What books?” I had nothing. No books existed in my mind just then. All: vanished. So I stood there in silence, thinking, ‘why are you testing me?!’ while in my hand I held my phone, containing hundreds of books across apps. 

There’s a pretty good chance Levar Burton did a kind thing and took a picture and signed trashed for someone he believes has quite a severe cognitive limitation, so that was nice of him, but we’d all expect it right? Looking at what this legendary human has accomplished, my cognitively sound mind is absolutely blown. Ready? He is the recipient of seven NAACP Awards, a Peabody Award, a Grammy Award for his spoken album, 15 Emmy Awards, A Lifetime Achievement Award for the progress he’s made with children’s literacy, the Fred Rogers Award, the Inamori Prize for Ethics (annual award to honor international leaders “whose actions and influence have greatly improved the condition of humankind”), a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, a Webby Award for his Podcast, along with the Ignyte Award for the same. The City of Sacramento dedicated LeVar Burton Park in his honor and President Bill Clinton appointed Burton as Commissioner of the National Commission on Libraries and Information Sciences. he won awards as the author of The Rhino Who Swallowed a Storm, A Kids Book About Imagination, and his book, Aftermath, was Grammy Nominated. His podcast, LeVar Burton Reads, has been downloaded more than 25 million times. He’s often a Keynote Speaker and teaches a Masterclass on The Power of Storytelling.

It was evening time by the time I returned home and I sat down with my things, as I still had hours of work to do. I shuffled through my bag to retrieve my MacBook, iPad, Rocketbook, folder, & planner. As I slid my planner from the bag, the blue sparkly writing on the straying tucked paper caught my eye. Relieved, I grabbed it. I read it over again.

“Wendy

Peace to you —

[Signature of LeVar Burton]”

Out of curiosity, I unfolded the formerly forsaken paper, once cast to ADHD purse purgatory . It was my Icebreaker speech. My very first, of hopefully many, public storytelling piece, about gratitude, had been signed signed by LeVar Burton. The story itself: how I found peace. I don’t know how, but I do believe that people cross our paths at specific times for specific reasons. In fact, I’m firm in the belief that everything has a reason. I think Mr Burton stepped swiftly into my path just to brush shoulders and whisper, “you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.” I wasn’t meant to respond. Thank goodness.