My Toastmasters Icebreaker Speech

Tonight I delivered a real speech, for the first time in my entire life. As a new Toastmaster, your first speech is called the Icebreaker...for obvious reasons. The goal of the speech is to give your audience a sense of who you are, and to get your first taste of delivering a speech in front of an audience. This is a perfect topic for one's first speech, as what topic do you know better than yourself?

For me, the most difficult part was deciding what approach to take. For a while, I thought about talking about being raised by a single mom, and that there can actually be benefits to it, such as gaining a self-reliant and independent nature. But I rejected that idea as too serious, and also dangerously likely to skirt too close to emotional territory that might make it difficult for me to maintain my composure.

Like the topic I finally settled on, when I came up with the idea for my speech, it instantly felt like the right approach. I decided to talk about how my four different surnames have framed the stages of my life. And it worked like a charm. It wrote easily, although wound up at ten minutes on my first practice, so I had to trim it down considerably. In some places, I had to "murder my darlings" ...a writer's expression meaning you have to edit out some of your favourite parts.

I didn't think I'd be too nervous about delivering the speech. And, in fact, I wasn't. Beforehand. I started out well, hardly referring to my notes at all (I was VERY proud of myself about that). I made lots of eye contact. I kept my vocal expression varied and bright. But about halfway through, I started noticing I was feeling nervous. I could tell that I wasn't breathing properly and started shaking a little. But I soldiered on and finished the speech...well within my time limit of 7 minutes, and headed back to my seat with the applause of the audience bouying me up.

LOL...but when I got to my seat, my legs almost collapsed under me as I sat down. Oh MAN...I was shaking like a leaf!!! I haven't trembled that badly since...geeze... I don't know! I told the guy next to me how shaky I was and he said he couldn't even tell, so that was good.

And you know what?? I tied for first place!! Yahoooooo!!!

Not only that, but tonight I was formally inducted as a member of Toastmasters International. They gave me a certificate and a nice little lapel pin (which I must remember to keep in my purse and wear at every opportunity).

So...you wanna "hear" my speech? Here it is...the mostly unedited version before I murdered my darlings. I wish I could have had it video-taped...but at least I'll always have the words.

TOASTMASTERS ICEBREAKER SPEECH
Patti Moran, October 7, 2008

BY ANY OTHER NAME

How many people in this room have ever changed their last name?

Some of the women will have changed their name through marriage. Most of the men will never change their names and go through their entire lives with the same last name. I’ve always envied that. Why? Because I’ve had FOUR LAST NAMES!

I’ve never changed my first or middle names though. I’m quite attached to those. My mother chose them for me. Mum named me Patti, even though she hates the name Patricia. So I’m a Patti, not a Patricia. I’ve been called Patti, Patsy, Pat, Pats, Trish, Patrish, Patricia, Trisha, Patti-cake, Patti-pie, Patti-poo, Sweets, Doll, Honey, hun, baby-cakes and, quite recently, do-do-head. (I drove all the way to Kanata last Wednesday for a meeting that isn't until tomorrow!)

When I was born, my full name was Patti Elaine White. White was my father’s name, of course. That was the typical thing to do back in 1959.

But when I was six, my parents got divorced and I became the original Latch-key Kid. My dad moved away and my mother took several jobs to support us. She had an occasional date on those rare evenings when she didn’t have to work. Practical woman that she is, she decided to save time and energy by marrying her boss, Jack Sherman.

So there we were, my little brother and I, with an absent father, a mother with a different name, and a step-father. Who had a step-father in 1965? None of the other kids I knew, that’s for sure.

By the time I went away to college I was thoroughly confused about who I was and what I should call myself. So one evening, probably suffering a double whammy of Teen angst and PMS, I phoned my step-dad and asked him to adopt me, and before the semester was out, I became Patti Sherman. When I went back to school in January, my photography teacher started calling me Tank.

Becoming a Sherman was the turning point from childhood to young adulthood. I spent the next 13 years as a Sherman, completing college, becoming a professional graphic designer, and looking for that very elusive thing called a long-term relationship. It didn’t take long, and when I was 23, I met the man who was to become my husband. Philip Gregson.

Having had a rather unconventional family life up to that point, I threw myself into marriage and my new family with gusto, right down to taking my husband’s last name. So, now I was Patti Gregson. I was delighted to be part of a large, traditional family with in-laws I loved, lots of new brothers to hang out with and, eventually, lots of nephews and nieces.

Sadly, the marriage didn’t stick. So, we got divorced and I started thinking about names again. For the first time, I had to decide for myself what my new name would be.

When I’m writing a new story or starting on a novel idea, the hardest part for me is not the writing. The hardest part by far is coming up with names for all my characters. So you can imagine my plight when it came to settling on a name for myself! Because I can assure you, I am NEVER changing my name again. I don’t care if I marry a Rockefeller.

The problem percolated in my mind for weeks and months. Potential names were everywhere. I could choose a name that fit my profession. What about a name that suits my personality? Or maybe just a name that would look great on a book jacket!

In my desperation, I even considered legally changing my name to my paternal grandmother’s maiden name. Her name was Nancy Cake. I could quite legitimately have called myself Patti Cake.

Ah, but I’m not that brave. I didn’t want to have to deal with the skeptical looks at the OHIP office or the badly controlled smirks when I told my colleagues I’d changed my name to Patti Cake. So I kept looking.

Something had clicked though, when I considered my grandmother’s maiden name. Why not choose a name from my own family’s history? Pilgrim was another one I liked. The Pilgrims are close cousins with the Cakes out in King’s Point, Newfoundland. I liked thinking of myself as a Pilgrim. I’d journeyed to BC with no job or home waiting for me, and journeyed back again with no possessions to my name but what I could fit in my Pontiac. But “Patti Pilgrim” was just too cutesy.

And then one evening as I sat at my computer thinking of something else entirely, it finally hit me. I almost cried from the perfection of it and I knew the moment it occurred to me that it would become my permanent, never-to-be-changed-for-any-reason new last name.

Moran.

It’s my mother’s maiden name, and the name of the people who helped her raise me after my parents’ divorce. It’s a name that has rung in my ears from the day I was born. So many of the people I love bear that name. I feel that it's my true name.

And it’s the name I will proudly wear as I move forward into this next phase of my life, in which I intend to find my true calling, my true love and my true self.