Living And Learning. At the outset of my speaking career I learned that being able to find and distill wisdom from one's own life is the key to becoming a great speaker. One of the country’s top humorists and a personal friend, Grady Jim Robinson, told me that the gift of all great speakers is that they are able to glean learning and wisdom from their own journey through life. It is this learning that forms the bricks and mortar of all great speeches. By sharing his or her personal stories, a speaker can make a difference in someone else's life. A speaker’s true brilliance comes through when he or she is able to translate their life's learning into a meaningful message that every listener in the audience can relate to. Having this special talent, is one of the primary reasons Bill Cosby, Art Linkletter, Nido Quebein, and Les Brown have been greatly admired as entertaining speakers.

While you may not be a professional speaker, it seems to me there is enormous value in thinking of your life’s journey as a journey of learning. I've always thought of living and learning as being inseparable. You can't have one without the other. Think for a moment. What would you say or do If you were suddenly called upon to give the most important speech of your life?From where would you draw you stories? What have been the sources of your life’s learning? What relationships have had the greatest influence upon your life?

My Learning Story. For me, there have been many learning experiences, but one stands out more today than at any other in my life. It began on July 14, 1970 and was actually the beginning of a series of experiences. This was the day our daughter, Gail, was born. She was our second child and she held the distinction of being the first little girl to enter my previously male dominated life. Having grown up in a family of 5 brothers and no sisters, Gail was really a big deal for me. She was so special I felt I had to come up with my own special nickname for my incredibly awesome daughter. I don’t really remember when it started, but I began calling her "Worlds." It just sounded right and I felt good saying it. The nickname "Worlds" stuck. Calling Gail "Worlds" was my way of saying, "You are the World's most beautiful daughter." It became our secret term of endearment.

To understand what all this was about you had to know Gail. From the time she was born she was special. Aside from being cute as the dickens, she was a smart, fun loving and a precocious child. Growing up, she always had a big light bulb smile that lit up wherever she went. As a teenager she was curious, smart, funny and she liked being with her Daddy.

Given my past and the lack of female siblings in my life, getting the hang of things with Gail was, initially, a little intimidating. Like many men of my generation (baby boomers) I had always thought of little girls as nice to have around but they were, for the most part, mom's little buddy. I mean what could they do? They can’t play sports. They don’t appreciate a good joke and they don’t usually like hanging out with their dad and their brother. I was locked in the stone ages.

Learning Hits High Gear. It was at this point that my learning began. As soon as her little feet hit the ground Gail began the systematic destruction of all of dad’s stereotypical notions about girls and young women. As a toddler she kept up with both Dad and her big brother. As a youngster, she shagged fly balls, kept up and was never afraid to try something new. As she grew older, my son and I agreed that Gail would never be left behind just because she was a girl. As a teenager she was a great softball and basketball player, a bundle of laughs and on top of all of that she grew into a beautiful young woman. She became her mom’s best friend and a close confidant to her dad and her brother.

As Gail reached adulthood the pace of my learning quickened. During our often spirited conversations, she would vigorously debate my point of view on music, current dress, popular events and political correctness. Gail’s probing and sometimes even provocative way of asking questions would often lead me to a more sensitive and tolerant view of the younger generation. In retrospect, I now see that she softened my hard positions to better fit the times we were living in. The world always seemed a little less complex and more hopeful when viewed through the filter she provided. While we didn’t always agree, I was frequently challenged to see the world from a different perspective. I was learning and I didn’t realize it at the time.