WPSU's This I Believe

I believe in licking the slug.

The time I licked a slug has become a story I tell over and over again to my friends. Even though we laugh about it, it’s actually become my guiding life philosophy, which is: if you’re curious about something, find out. If you want to try something, do it. Licking the slug taught me that curiosity is one of the best traits humanity has, and we should use it to its full potential.

I believe in nursery rhymes.

In my hand I hold a box of Clairol Root Touch-up in Black, chanced upon while cleaning my dresser drawers. I check the expiry date—it is still valid. And it is calling my name.

I look in the mirror, I take a deep breath.

This is—or was—my “just-in-case box,” to be used in-between salon visits in case I was invited to a party, had an important work meeting, or had to travel unexpectedly. In a mere 10 minutes, it would mask the unsightly roots I could not bear for anyone to see. It remains unopened, though, because I stopped coloring my hair about a year ago.

I believe in feeling nervous.

I love every sensation. From the way my heart trembles deep in my chest, to the twisting dance my stomach does inside my body, and even the unsteady wobble of my legs underneath me. In a way, it’s comforting. It’s the purest form of living. You’re narrowly focused but see your entire environment in stunning clarity. In every breath you inhale all the world’s oxygen, and yet it’s never enough. You’re driven toward the completion of one goal, one task. Nervousness is a unique state of being, one that I’ve learned to appreciate.

I believe in being in the right place at the right time.

Several years ago, my husband and I were traveling through Italy and stopped in Venice for a couple of days. Anyone who’s ever been to Venice knows about the maze-like streets and how easy it is to get lost. On this particular day, we were on a crowded narrow street consulting our map when I happened to look up and see a 4-year-old Asian girl wearing a red dress coming toward us on the other side of the street. As she looked around bewilderedly, I knew this little girl was lost.
 

I believe in the telephone. 

I believe in abandoned buildings.

The first thing you need to know about me is that I am a terrible driver. If I drive past something that I think is interesting, I will turn my eyes away from the road and look at that thing for a potentially dangerous amount of time. I'll be like, “Oo, look at that field!” Or, “Oo, look at that sunset!” And passengers in the car will be like, “No, look at the road!” And eventually I will, but I will always look at an old abandoned building.

I believe in black clouds. 

I believe in being true to yourself.

I’ve spent my entire life as a younger sister. My older sister was the tall one, the academically gifted one, and the soccer prodigy. People saw me as a smaller, lesser-than version of my sister. Everyone loved her and I wanted to be her. Without realizing it, I constantly put myself in her shadow. I allowed my identity to be connected to hers. I was comfortable there.

I believe immigrants make America great.

I believe in staying young.

I believe in getting in the zone.

I believe in good parenting.

Since before I can remember, my cousin, Chase, has lived with my family. Our birthdays are twelve days apart and we have always been inseparable. We went to school together, had joint birthday parties, and basically lived our lives as twins. Although his last name isn’t Fleece, he did not know a life apart from me and my siblings.

I believe in Bunco.

As a trailing spouse, I’ve lived in Italy, France, Germany, Spain, Morocco, Boston, New York City, and Jacksonville, North Carolina. What’s a trailing spouse? Well, I followed my husband around the world for his career. We took our possessions, worked, traveled, and had children in these places. While it sounds exciting, when we arrived in a new city or country, I felt apprehensive about meeting new people. But through a game called Bunco, I was able to make life-long friends and gain valuable knowledge about the local community.

I believe in empathy.

Part of empathy is understanding that every life we meet goes beyond the small part we see. One day, seven years ago, my family and I learned this life lesson together while on a family walk. To everyone outside, it looked like we were on an idyllic family stroll. In truth, we were walking to the hospital where we would learn whether I could survive my brain cancer. Just like the people who saw us, we too had no idea about the invisible struggles anyone else on the sidewalk faced. This experience has helped us have empathy for others.

I believe in running.

If you asked me how I felt about running five years ago, I would have laughed at you. My feelings about running? Pure, undeniable disgust. Coupled with my asthma and general lack of motivation, I considered running as one of my worst enemies.

“For all of you out there, there’s an old cliché: Go out on a limb—that’s where all the fruit is.”

I listened to Colin Cowherd say this years ago, right after he left ESPN to work at Fox Sports. As an aspiring sports broadcaster, I’ve always loved watching Cowherd, but I never bought that dumb saying. However, it’s turned out to be a saying that’s defined much of my life.

I believe in movie theaters.

The first time I went to a movie theater, I was about 6 years old. My parents took my brothers and me to the Rowland Theater in Philipsburg to see the original Disney version of 101 Dalmatians – it was around 1969.

I believe in mental health awareness.

I believe that one cannot be physically healthy without being mentally healthy. Mental health has always been something I take very seriously. One’s emotions and mental stability can change their whole life, for better or for worse. And in doing that, it can change the lives of individuals around them.

I believe in party dresses.

My mother and I both use clothes to make a statement.

For 26 years, my mother, Margaret Simmons, worked as a high school home ec teacher. She can sew anything:  business suits, wedding dresses. She must have altered a hundred prom dresses over the years for her students who were not conventionally sized.

I believe in Jeopardy. Growing up, my family had a dinnertime routine. No matter what food we were eating or who was sitting around the kitchen table that night, we would always watch Jeopardy! at 7 o’clock. As Alex Trebek read the questions (or, as they’re known in Jeopardy terms, answers), we ate leftover lasagna and tried to remember facts about world geography and Shakespeare. The first person to shout out the correct answer was the winner.

I cry every day. My tears are tears of anguish but also tears of the most intense joy.

I believe in thank you notes. I believe in sending them and in receiving them. Absolutely for gifts – every gift REQUIRES written acknowledgement – but also for random acts of kindness or thoughtful behavior and for hospitality.

Ask anyone, “Hey, how are you doing?” and they will most likely respond, “Busy. I am SOOO busy. There is just too much going on.”

People are busy. Everyone is busy. 

Work. Play. Shopping. Recreation. Family. Cooking. Errands. Laundry. School. Housework. 

Social commitments. Yard work. Commuting. Volunteering.

I don’t know the type of person I would be if I were an only child, and honestly I don’t even want to imagine that version of myself. My older sister Isabel has taught me so much in my brief 19 years, both through her successes and her (occasional) mistakes. 

We weren’t the best of friends as children; my mom always tells me she was legitimately worried we would hurt each other in one of our epic brawls. My dad even started calling family game night “family fight night” because they would usually end with Isabel and me being sent to our rooms. 

I believe in the kindness of people. 

Many people have been kind to me here in State College over the past three months.

What would you wish for if you are going to stay in a foreign country for the first time by yourself? For me, I wanted to adapt to the new life as soon as possible and make some friends. 

Fortunately, I did that because of the kindness people offered to me.

The first day I arrived, my Chinese roommates, who I didn’t know before, asked whether I’d like to join their weekend trip to Cleveland.

I believe in high heels.

I can still remember prancing around the living room of my childhood apartment in my mother’s white satin stiletto sling backs. They were a gift from my father and she wore them for special occasions. When my mother took an afternoon nap, I quietly removed the shoes from their box, slid them over my small feet and stepped out across the parquet floor. I felt great. I couldn’t wait to grow up and wear heels every single day.

I believe in bravery, not perfection.

When I was growing up, I learned how to be brave at the lake in New Hampshire my family visited every summer. I would jump off swings, rocks and boats, soaking myself in the murky water. My siblings would watch in awe. I was the daredevil, the center of attention—and I loved it. At the lake, I possessed a kingdom of my own, and I determined that I would conquer the world.

I believe in storytelling and bringing attention to those who live outside the limelight.

In the summer of 2017, I collaborated with my great-aunt and godmother, Marie-Edith Douillard, who has lived in Paris for 40 years and works for a human rights organization called Amnesty International. She introduced me to two refugees and helped me create a short documentary that has since been successful at various international film festivals.

I believe in board games.

As a kid, I started with the basics like chess, Othello and Monopoly. As I got a little older, games like Stratego, Risk and Mastermind were added to my collection.

This essay originally aired on April 26, 2018.

I believe we must remember the past so it doesn’t repeat itself.