Peggy’s Pointers

I tell people that I was raised in a storm cellar.  I was born and raised in a small Northeast Texas town. Growing up in the mid-50s, every spring we had horrific electrical storms.

My grandmother, mother and our bulldog, Judy, were all terrified of storms. When storms would roll in, my Papa would go out in the back yard and watch it.  He would decide when the time was right for us to go to the storm cellar.

As is the normal event of things, storms always seemed to come in the night. When I was 10 years old, my mom worked out of town and I lived with my grandparents.  That particular year, we had quite a few electrical storms that spring.  Consequently, it seemed like we spent lots of time underground.

When the storm would start to move in, my grandparents would get up, get fully dressed and start trying to get me up too.  Since I wasn’t too concerned about our pending plight, I would “play-like” I was asleep.  Of course, it’s very difficult to continue to sleep when every few minutes Momma Riddle comes in my room in a flutter, saying, “Get up, the storm is coming.”  I roll over, mumble and cover my head.

A few minutes would go by and here she comes again, “Peggy, get up and get dressed. We’ve got to go to the storm cellar.”  I pulled my pillow over my head and think to myself if I lay perfectly still she will think I’m really asleep.

The final straw came when, she walked in my bedroom, yanked the cover off me, hollered in a shrill voice, “Peggy Frances, get up! We’ve got to go!  We’re going to get blown away!”

She would always use those same words, “We’re going to get blown away!” Looking back, I can see that she clearly believed that if we didn’t get in the storm cellar, we would truly get blown away.

Storm cellars are usually located only a few feet from the house.  In our case, we didn’t have one. Yep, we had to walk 2 houses down the street to the Madison family’s cellar.  As a matter of fact, many people that lived close by would also go there when bad storms would move in.

I remember one particular time when Papa didn’t quite get his analysis correct as to the timing to head to Madison’s place.  I don’t recall if I was the hold-up because they couldn’t get me out of the bed or what.  However, here we go, Momma Riddle, Papa, me and the bulldog, Judy.

It is pitch dark, raining hard, lightning is striking all around us and thundering to-beat-the-band.  The wind is howling as trees are thrashing around and limbs snapping off.  As we make our way down the street, there are times when the lightning is so brilliant that it lights up the entire neighborhood as if we are walking in broad daylight.

As we inch our way around to the back of the Madison home to the cellar, we sort of move as one unit all three of us huddling together.  When we get to the cellar, Papa gives the door a yank a couple of times but the wind is so strong, it’s not opening.

At this point, I’m thinking, Momma Riddle might be right; we are going to get blown away after all.  Finally, someone inside pushed up the door a bit and Papa is able to raise it enough for us to climb in.

Judy darts in first, followed by me, and my grandparents.  As I peer in, my eyes adjusting to a dim light shining from the back of the cellar.  I see the faces of our neighbors staring back at us.  People are sitting on benches.  People are standing everywhere.  The place is full of people.  There are so many folks that the only place for us to sit is, stooped over, on the stairs.

This underground structure is huge.  At least to this 10-year old, it appears to be massive.  It is a two-room semi-submerged structure made of 4-inch thick concrete walls.  The front room has a concrete floor, however, the backroom has a dirt floor.  That backroom has shelves lining the walls It is sultry and damp.  It is musty and smelt of dirt and onions.

Onions?  Yes, back then, folks used their storm cellars for food storage.  Along the back side of the unit, there are shelves filled with onions, potatoes, and jars of home-canned vegetables.

The storm continues to howl and howl outside for most of the night.  I don’t know how long we are there with 30 some-odd other people but it seems like forever.  I am so very tired.  I just want to go home, get in my warm feather bed, cover my head and go back to sleep.

We sit there to what seemed like hours until the storm finally subsides and we make our way back home.  It is still sprinkling rain but at least the lightning and thunder have moved on further east from us.

Crawling back into the bed, I immediately go to sleep for a very short time when my grandmother starts calling me to get up again.  This time her calls are for me to get up and ready for school.  I am so very tired and it is extremely difficult to concentrate at school as all I want is to lay down for a nap.

This entire year living with my grandparents there is a multitude of times that we make that trek back down the street in the middle of the night to Madison’s storm cellar.

After that one event, I guess Papa decided it is time that he built us our own storm cellar.  He marked off a spot out in our yard that was approximately 5-ft wide by 6-ft long, clear of any trees and to my best estimate 20 ft from our back door.

He starts digging out the dirt with a shovel.  He works out there every evening, digging a little deeper each time until he has hulled out that 5 x 6 foot area and about 6 feet deep.  Next, he starts laying in some 1×4 pieces of lumber on the floor and built up a frame on the 4 walls, filling in the walls with the 1x4s.

Finally, he built a top frame and covers it with sheet metal.  He hones out 4-5 steps for us to be able to get down inside. He either makes or buys a couple pallets that he puts down on the floor and made a couple of wooden benches to sit on.  Finally, he makes a door frame covering it also with sheet metal and attaches it.

I have no idea how long it took Papa to accomplish this feat.  However, we can now say we have our very own Riddle storm cellar.

Soon another storm begins to brew in the west. Momma Riddle wakes me in the middle of the night telling me to get up and get dressed because a storm is brewing.  I struggle to extricate myself out of the bed, put my clothes on and out the door we go with Judy, the bulldog, to our very own new storm cellar.

I am sort of excited because I’ve watched Papa build this cellar with his bare hands.  Furthermore, I’m thinking that we don’t have to dodge lightning running down the street anymore.

Since Papa hasn’t strung an electrical line to our cellar, he has his oil-lantern in tow to light the way. As he opens the door for us to enter, we are faced with massive spider webs across the doorway.  Of course, Judy has no problem being the first one down in this dungeon-like hole in the ground.  I’m supposed to be the next one in and I’m balking at the idea of going in there with spiders.

Papa waves his arm across the webs so we can all pile in there.  As I gingerly sat down on one of the benches, I’m obviously thinking about where the spiders are that created those webs.

Old Judy immediately crawls under a bench panting and shaking with ever clap of lightning and thunder.  Poor old thing, she is about 7 years at this time. She is a Boxer-English bulldog mix. We got her when she was 2.  She had experienced some traumatic incident in her earlier life that made her terrified of the sound of thunder, firecrackers or guns.  She would go into fits of panting and trembling and trying to hide under the bed.

When she got to be about 10 years old, we finally had to get the vet to prescribe something that would semi-sedate her at New Year’s Eve and Fourth of July because she would be in such a panic.

So, here we are in our new storm cellar.  It is raining and lightning and thundering.  Two things started to happen.  First, water began to slowly seep in from around the roof and roll down the wooden walls.

I’m sitting there thinking about those spiders and my mind is also thinking about the fact that snakes live in the ground and there just might be some coming in through those cracks.

Next, the pungent smell of kerosene being emitted from Papa’s lantern begins to fill the room.  I seemed to remember that he might have installed some type of pipe in the roof of the cellar that would let in the fresh air.  The only problem is there are 3 people and a dog vying for oxygen to breathe yet we are inhaling kerosene fumes.  We all are coughing.

It becomes apparent even to this 10-year old that we have a matter of whether we get blown away in the storm by going back to the house, drown underground in this hole or be asphyxiated by kerosene fumes.

So out we come–all except Judy.  She would not budge from under the bench.  I call her.  Momma Riddle calls her promising a cheese treat which was her favorite. Papa tries to coax her out.  She continues to huddle there, panting and trembling.

Momma Riddle and I run back to the house, dodging lightning and rain pelting our backs.  Finally, Papa picks Judy up–all 40 pounds of her and carries her to the back porch.

My grandmother is still so very certain that we are going to get blown away she turns on every light in the house.  She does not want me to get back in bed but to sit up in the living room with her and Papa.  At some point, I lay down on the sofa and went back to sleep.

The next thing I know, I awake to the smell of frying bacon, fresh-brewed coffee Momma Riddle is in the kitchen banging pans.  It is just another day in my young life spending the night in a storm cellar.

Papa did make some corrections to his storm cellar design.  However, as I got to be older, I would tell them, “Just go without me and let the storm blow me away. I’m too tired.”

They finally stopped going because they couldn’t get me to get up in the middle of the night.  They certainly were not going to leave me alone either.

I will report that I have asked many of our older family members about this theory of us getting blown away in a storm and to my knowledge that has never happened.  I did find out a few years ago from my grandmother’s niece that great grandmother Cochran was terrified of storms.

Thank God that the generational curse was never passed down to me.

Peggy P. Edge © 2015

What exactly are you trying to accomplish with your 30-second commercial or elevator speech?  You are attempting to paint a verbal picture in the minds of those in the room so they clearly and concisely know what you do and exactly how they can help you.

As the president of a business-to-business networking organization for 4 years, I had the opportunity to travel between 7 chapters to train and mentor chapter leaders as well as members on the fine art of networking.

Networking is a “learned skill-set” and with just a few pointers, you can reap maximum results the next time that you attend an event, go to a trade show or visit your local chamber mixer.

What I would see is two basic issues:

1. The attendees didn’t have a plan. They simply showed up week after week but really had no idea why they were there.
2. They thought about their 30-second commercial or elevator speech as they were getting out of their chair or even worst, when they opened their mouth.

The core to getting the most out of your networking activities is your 30-second commercial.  The whole point to a good commercial is to educate those folks around you so that they can help you grow your business.

Consequently, your commercial absolutely must be compact and convey a concise message that is powerful enough for others to want to get to know you better.

Here are a few of Peggy’s Pointers that you can use to spiffy up your elevator speech:

–Talk about only 1 product or service at a time.

–Create several different version of your commercial.

–Make it interesting or engaging by starting with a question to get the audience attention.

–Include some areas of specialization or certification that you or your company holds.

–Practice, practice, practice using a timer and mirror.

Let me know how you use some of these ideas the next time you go to a networking event.

Peggy P. Edge (c) 2015

Every one of you are experts at something.  Think about this for a minute.  There are a variety of things that you know-that-you-know deep down in your gut.  Several years ago I was asked at a seminar to write down 3 things that I could teach someone else how to do or I could develop a presentation covering 15-30-45-60 minutes.

Most folks would immediately write down something pertaining to their current job.  However, this speaker instructed us to think outside of our jobs.  For example, do you play an instrument?  Are you a master gardener?  Are you a skilled golfer or seamstress?  Do you know how to bake and decorate a scrumptious cake?

This story touched my heart today when I saw it on Facebook.  This just proves what I have said for years…You are never too old to learn something new but more importantly, you are never too old to go for your dreams!

95 year old Anthony Brutto will receive his college degree next week from West Virginia University! He is doing this after having started to college 75 years ago!  WAY-TO-GO!!!

Whatever you set your heart, mind and soul to do you can accomplish it.  It’s like how to eat an elephant…one small bite at a time.

http://abcnews.go.com/Lifestyle/75-years-enrolling-94-year-set-graduate-west/story?id=30937399&cid=fb_wn_sf

Yesterday, I received this Certificate of Appreciate for my participation last month in the 50 Plus Women2Work: Ready, Set Employed event which was made possible through the cooperation of Dallas County Community college District-Richland and the US Department of Labor Women’s Bureau.

Thank you for the opportunity to be a part of this dynamic experience.

Certificate of Appreciation

What an exciting treat to received this signed poster today from the young ladies at Christie Elementary School, Plano ISD, from when I spoke to their class a couple of months ago on “What’s New in Packaging?”PISD Gadgert Girls Poster 2-2015

Many of my colleagues know me as an industrial packaging specialist.  However, when I started doing public speaking, many of my connections didn’t know about my expertise as a business networking expert, sales trainer or leader.  To build my speaking business, the one thing that I did was to write.

What areas of expertise do you have?  Many times, we have talents that have nothing to do with what we do for a living.

*Make a list of 3-4 topics that you are an expert at.  This can be either something that you are officially trained to do, certified or licensed, industry recognized as, talent or proficiency.  For example, Golf, SEO, sewing, play an instrument, wood working, etc.

*You can teach others to do.

*You can give a 10-45 minute talk or presentation about.

What’s next?

*Write a blog.

*Comment on other people’s writings in your area of expertise.

*Find articles on the internet and write a different viewpoint and post on LinkedIn, Facebook, Google+ or other media.

*Write white paper for publishing in an industry trade magazine.

 When you begin to write, we are not talking about creating a novel or dissertation.  Basic writing guidelines include:

*Blog – 250 minimum words, no more than 500.

*Magazine article – approximately 500 words.

*Book – less than 100 pages.

 The easiest point from A to B is to write and post on existing social media.  It’s free and it’s an introductory means of letting your connections know about your other expertise.

Peggy P. Edge © 2015

Peggy Edge presented “How to get Recognized as an Expert in Your Industry” yesterday at the Dallas Holistic Chamber of Commerce.  Great group of folks and enjoyed meeting every one of you.

Don’t forget to identify your passion and create a plan to start writing and speaking about it.  Everyone has a message or story that someone else needs to hear.

Kathy Rushmore Schlund “And you were fantastic, Peggy! Thank you for gracing us again with your humor, knowledge and care.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please place your electronic devices in silent mode during the meeting today.”

Is it acceptable to make a phone call; send or receive text; or read your email while meeting with a prospect or client?  The answer is NO!

I would venture to say that none of us would ever think about doing this in front of a client or prospect.   Yet week after week many of my fellow members of my networking group engage in some form of cell phone usage during our meeting.

Why, then, has it become acceptable to text and read email it at networking events?

In reality, this is not an acceptable business etiquette at all.   It is just plain rude, disrespectful and very unprofessional.

Think about this for a moment:

• People make decisions about us, as professionals, based upon how you show up and act.
• Your networking partners are the ones who are in a position to refer you to others.
• My time is just as valuable as yours.
• When you text or read mail during a meeting, you are saying to those around you that they are not important enough to deserve your undivided attention.

We must, therefore, respect our fellow networkers just as if we are sitting in front of our clients or prospects.  After all, our networking partners are the very ones who will recommend you to their client base.

Consequently, the exact same rules and protocol of acting and being professional must be adhered to no matter what type meeting you are attending.

At your next event, go prepared to do business, looking and acting the part of a professional and turn off the cell phone!

Engage and listen otherwise you might miss an opportunity to make a connection.

Peggy P. Edge (c) 2015

How do you identify and track your personal successes in life?  Recently, a couple of business associates and I were talking about success.  These questions came up:

*  When do you know you have arrived?

*  When do you believe deep inside that you are a success?

*  Why to we have a tendency to compare ourselves to others when it comes to success?

I decided to do a little research on success.  What I found was that most all of the articles only addressed big accomplishments in life.  The discussions primarily centered on global success in life—attaining accolades in our industry, financial security, having children, power and position.

My question is–What about the little things in life that we do every day which make up our overall personal success story?  Don’t they matter?  How can we identify and track our successes?

Personally, I believe that success is not only about the big promotion to the corner office or being recognized by our peers as a thought leader in our industry.  Instead, it is the sum of the parts—it’s the little activities that we do every day along with the big events that comprise our overall success.

In Eric Jensen’s book, “Little Book of Big Motivation,” he lays out some pointers on how to identify and track our successes.

*  Create a daily list of your victories.

*  Track your triumphs for at least one week.

*  Your list should be all-encompassing from all areas of your life.

*  Include every single accomplishment, no matter how seemingly insignificant.

I believe the key here is to chart the most minuscule detail because once we get to the end of the week and reflect on the totality of our achievements, we will even surprise ourselves.

Finally, create and develop our own measuring stick of success.  After all, your personal success in life is made up of our own actions.  Don’t be afraid to take credit for your achievements.  In other words, “Let your Little Shine—Don’t hide it under a Bushel.”

I am going to work on my own list.

Peggy P. Edge © 2015