The Art of the Speech

The Art of the Speech

I’m not good with speeches. I’ve had to make them in the past and I agonize over every word, and usually make sure to have every word written down. At least then I could practice, make adjustments, get used to what I’m going to say. You know the drill.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

I recently decided to say a few words at an event we had to attend. The hostess knew what I was going to talk about and was completely in favor of it. I planned it out—several times—in the shower. It was perfect. Then again, maybe not…

Other people had said a few words, and I got up to add mine. It didn’t go well. Actually, it went off the rails fairly quickly. You know how you can feel when something has gone wrong and try to fix it midstream? That didn’t work either; in fact, I think I insulted a number of people in the room, and made myself sound like a snob. They also had no idea that I stood up and moved away from the table I was sitting at because the woman next to me, who can be a bit clueless, had already hit me twice with her elbow in passing, and the only place I could go was into the lap of the woman next to me (who I’ve known for a really long time and I suspect still didn’t want me to sit on her). It was very distracting, and a bit scary. Nor could anyone know that I knew I was being stupid but couldn’t get out of it. They just thought of me as a snob—I could see it on their faces.

Learning From a Eulogy

Next time, I’m going to take the advice I heard in the eulogy Andrew Cuomo gave for his father Mario. It was a great speech and made me cry. Andrew spoke from prepared notes; something he apparently doesn’t usually do because he wants to be able to adjust “on the fly” to the reactions. That day was different. In part, he talked about how Mario always spoke from the speech he had written earlier, not changing a thing. He had read that Winston Churchill always did that because you shouldn’t react to others; you should just say what you want to say and let them react to you. At the end of the eulogy Andrew acknowledged his father as well by pointing out that he had written his speech down—and stuck to it. He had learned that from his father.

I’m happy to learn from Mario, and Winston.

After the Fact

And by the way, I did send an apology to the hostess, who also knew things had gone off the rails. She was gracious enough to understand, because she knew what I was trying to say. But we did agree that I will never stand up like that again without written aids. It just becomes a mess—and the reactions can be even worse. Hopefully, others will forgive me.