Page 26 - Voices-2022-02

GLEANINGS FROM THE GROVE
End of an Era
Paul C. Fanning, DTM
I moved from Eastern Oregon back to Western
Oregon in 2013. Having been a Toastmaster
I had earned my Competent Communicator
education award, participated in speech contests,
and been an active member of my Club. My
second act upon moving was to find another
Toastmaster Club, hopefully one that was as
fun and supportive as my now “old” Club had
been. I used the handy tool on the Toastmasters
website called “Find A Club” and located one
in downtown Hillsboro, which at that time was
within walking distance of where I lived.
Armed with my workbooks, CC award
certificate, and membership card, I trekked
to Main Street and walked up to the realty
office which hosted the noon-time meeting.
I must admit that I was a little nervous. My
previous experience in Toastmasters was one
thing, as I was familiar with all my now former
Toastmasters, knowing their speech styles,
humor, and progress, and of course, they knew
mine as well. They knew my quirks, my penchant
for historical speeches, my sense of humor, and
my speech delivery method.
Poised with my hand on the door, I pushed it
and. . . it was locked! Frantically looking around
the glass doors and looking into the office before
me, I finally noticed the little note on the door
proclaiming, “We’re meeting at the Chamber of
26 ONE COMMUNITY
Commerce today.” Sadly, the chamber
office was many miles away, and by
the time I would have figured out the
bus schedule, it would have been over.
All my confidence, sense of joy, and
excitement vanished in a brief second.
Maybe this was not the Club for me.
Perhaps staying in Toastmasters just was not
meant to be. Dejected, I consoled myself with
cruising the antique malls nearby and munching
on lunch by myself. So much for my introduction
to the “Downtown Lunchbunch” Toastmasters.
However, I happily returned the next week
and found no darkened office nor locked doors.
Inside, I was greeted by the president of the Club,
shown the boardroom where the meetings were
held, and introduced to the most eclectic bunch
of Toastmasters that I had ever met. (Yes, it is true.
Eastern Oregon may ring with “Let’er Buck,” but it
is a little more sheltered than the Portland Metro
Area.) There were nurses, entrepreneurs, real
estate agents, and the fire-brand of a president,
Bob Rollinger, who all greeted me and the other
guest, a police officer from Portland. It turned
out that this Club had just chartered with their
requisite 20 members, and I would be member
number 21 and Dean the policeman would be
22. I was encouraged by a lady who said she was
from the “District,” whatever that was. I was not