And the first runner up is…

I grew up in a very small town in the Midwest. It had one traffic light. A state highway ran through the center of town, so I am pretty sure the only reason for the light was to slow down semi-trucks.  

As a child I climbed trees, played flashlight tag, dug roads for matchbox cars in flower beds, read books, taught school to my named stuffed animals, and talked to barbies.

There was a period of several years where my barbies were Miss Universe pageant contestants. Of course we started watching these on television at a very young age. Those pageants were a big deal when you only had three channels to choose from and traveling meant driving to the neighboring state to visit the Toledo Zoo. I recall being most interested in the fact that each contestant came from a different country. Their own language and their accented English was intriguing. And my favorite part of the pageant was the opening ceremony when they walked out in a “costume” befitting of their nation.

My Barbie Miss Universe pageants included the culturally relevant opening walk, evening gown, talent,  and the one question. “If you were rich, what would you do with your money?”, “Do you want to be president, why or why not?” and “If Martians landed on the earth, what would you do?” I was the emcee, as well as every pageant contestant, each with a different language and accent. At some point in this period of my life, my dad had brought home a cassette tape recorder, and I started documenting the pageants. “And the first runner up is…..” Can’t you feel the tension and excitement!

For me, these pageants were not about beauty or talent or competition. They were an introduction to a world outside of my one traffic light. It was my only exposure to a country other than my own until a sixth grade social studies project.  For that, I wrote a letter to the Norwegian Consulate and the Tourism Board. I was sent vacation brochures, cool trinkets, and was granted a pen pal, named Elisabeth, who lived in Oslo, Norway.

There is something about that innocence that I miss. Access to information is so simple now. All I have to do is ask any number of providers to show it to me or read it to me. It almost makes it feel like there aren’t many things left to really wonder about. I’m not going to google any data to support this assumption, but I am certain we use our imagination much less now. And we are often not looking at the right things at the right time. Sadly in the past ten years, I have had to remind a teenager or young adult in my presence to look up from the phone and look around.  Look at that mountain!  Look at the view from this bridge!  Look at that hawk soaring in front of us! Of course, I am occasionally guilty too.

And so, I vote for trying much harder at personal discovery and real life experience. In a small town with very little exposure to much else, those home grown beauty pageants were big for me. When I reflect on that now, I’m sure they were an early expression of my desire to travel and see what and who is out there. But at least now, I know firsthand what the Portuguese language sounds like. And I can assure you it was nothing like what I made up as a seven year old. I’ve touched the Berlin Wall; I’ve tasted hot wine in Prague; and I’ve taken in the scent of the Kalahari desert.  

Experience opens up our world. Travel. Love. Grief. Each are scary. Each have their own language. Each will allow us to grow in ways we would never believe. I wish for every human that they find both travel and love. Greif on the other hand, obviously, I don’t wish it on anyone. But, it just comes when it comes. It happens when a change occurs that we didn’t choose or want. That may be a job loss, a divorce, a financial set back, the death of a pet, or the death of a human. We don’t choose it, but thankfully, it does come with growth. It may not be clear at first how it will manifest or how long it will take to realize it. But if you can let it, growth will come.

So when you can, jump at those grand experiences beyond the reach of your fingertips or voice command. Go out and live it. Asking your device to show you a picture of the Rocky Mountains is definitely way down the runner up list. The winner is finding your way there and standing in awe.

*Follow me on Instagram @grieveinsideout for more on Grief Education and Support. Live workshops coming in April in Denver, Colorado and in May in Huntersville, NC.