By Kaffie White McCullough ’67

You have no idea how many times I pictured this in my mind … standing at this podium … looking out at all of you. I had no idea how I’d feel. I knew I’d be nervous, grateful, and humble, but no amount of imagining actually prepares you for the reality of the moment. 

I sat down and wrote this speech in March, and the main part of it has stayed the same, with only minor additions/deletions since them. But I have rewritten this beginning a gazillion times – never quite being sure how I wanted to start. So all I want to say by way of a beginning is this: Please listen to this with your heart. You’ve heard about what I’ve done – now I want you to hear about how I got to where I could do it. It’s my heart’s journey – and maybe it’s your heart’s journey too.

First, there some people in particular that I want to thank. To begin with … Carol Voorhees, and the Award Committee … you know, when I left the Alumnae [Association] Board, I wanted to be on the Award Committee … and in fact thought that I might be doing that. But then I got a call from Nell Mohn saying that they already had a couple of people from my “vintage” and that they needed broader representation on the committee. Having headed up the Nominating Committee, I knew they did try to do that, so I swallowed my disappointment, and said that I totally understood. 

Little did I know that another reason I couldn’t go on the committee was that they were still “investigating” me. Carol did an amazing job of vetting me. My friends in Atlanta all wanted to meet her because they felt they were already friends with her, after the contact across the years. So thank you, Carol, and everyone on the Award Committee. You do so much for Wells – you do it quietly and in secret – and very few know the amazing number of hours you spend so that Wells can honor its awardees.

I also want to thank all my friends and family who traveled here to stand with me as I receive this honor. There was a time in my life when I thought that I should walk life’s journey stalwart and strong, and that if I needed support that somehow it was a sign of weakness. I found out, though, that I could only walk life’s journey with the help of those whom I loved and who loved me and that, far from being a sign of weakness, this was just another form of strength. So to my husband, sons, family and friends – thank you. You should be on this stage with me, because I couldn’t have done it without each and every one of you.

Finally I want to thank you, Lisa, for standing firm and leading us during this difficult time of change for Wells. I’m going to be talking about wake-up calls this morning – and Wells has had a wake-up call – we’re in it. I hope we’re waking up – waking up to what’s important to us … waking up to what we learn from this … waking up to what new aspects of Wells will be the traditions of tomorrow … waking up to what old traditions we need to grieve and let go of. Wake-up calls are challenges, and you, Lisa, have stood at the front line and taken the hits – for us – and for Wells. I know that at times, in the still moments of the night, you must have questioned and agonized – and then in the morning you got up and moved us forward. As one alumna, who has survived many wake-up calls, I thank you.

So … wake-up calls and what we do with them … that’s my topic. I define wake-up calls as those events in our lives when we are forced, by circumstances usually outside of us, to re-evaluate where we are and what we’re doing. They change the way we see our world – and ultimately the way we see ourselves. Most, though not all, are painful – and require us to dig down deep and find our own source of strength. 

Before I talk more about wake-up calls, though, I need to put what I’m saying in the context of what I believe. I believe that there really is no such thing as absolute reality, unaffected by the perspective that we, the observer, bring to the picture … that we all interpret what we experience through our own filters and that “objective” reality doesn’t really exist. I believe that we are all searching and that each of our experiences is a part of that search. With each experience, we either choose a deeper awareness of what life for us is all about or we choose to stay stuck at the same level of awareness, and then struggle with feelings of anger, bitterness, disillusionment, and disappointment as the happiness we think of as our right always seems just beyond our grasp. I believe that life is more than just a journey … it is a pilgrimage to our own spiritual center. In this context, wake-up calls are both the stoplights and the route markers on this pilgrimage.

I’ve had a number of wake-up calls and I want to share them with you. I think sometimes we don’t talk about the most important things, and put out into the world that everything is fine – and life is just perfect. It was that stance that kept me from coming back to Wells for many years after I graduated, because my life was a struggle – I was barely keeping my nose out of the water that threatened to drown me – and I certainly couldn’t come back here and pretend that my life was perfect. So I cut myself off from a source of strength at a time when I most needed it. But … I’m getting ahead of myself.

My first wake-up call came here at Wells – and was the only one that wasn’t painful. I come from a family where reason and logic rule supreme. As the only daughter, with three brothers, my parents let us all know how important education was – that it was the foundation for everything – and that science was the cornerstone of that foundation. So I entered Wells expecting to major in science or math and by the end of my sophomore year had fulfilled every single distribution requirement in the science and math area and declared Chemistry as my major. 

My junior year I took Arthur Bellinzoni’s course, “Quest for the Historic Jesus,” and the bells of my first wake-up call began gloriously ringing. I loved it. It grabbed me in a way that no other educational experience had to that point. It engaged my whole being. I began to look at education differently – to see that it could both excite and engage – and that science was not the only cornerstone. I’ll never forget the phone call home to tell my parents that I was changing my major – from Chemistry to History & Philosophy of Religion. There was dead silence on the other end of the phone. Finally my father spoke up and quietly asked, “What are you going to do with it?” I don’t remember anything else about that phone call – but I did change my major. Actually, my senior year, I declared a double major and Wells, in allowing that, provided the basis for my most profound learning. As I combined what looked on the surface to be two opposite disciplines I found that instead of being opposites – science and religion – ultimately connect. Physics, at its most highly theoretical, was spirituality in a different language. My first wake-up call – at Wells – was the awakening of my mind to the exciting connection of disparate ideas. My pilgrimage had begun – but my spiritual center was still far away.

I married in December of my senior year to Bruce – whom I’d met during a Wells/Williams choir tour my sophomore year. We had dated for two years – and then got a bit ahead of ourselves, and instead of marrying right after graduation as we planned – we needed to do that earlier so that my wedding dress would fit properly. I didn’t stay awake after that first wake-up call and I entered my adult life almost in lockstep with the script that a woman at that time followed. I had a husband who was in medical school, on target to become a doctor. I had a son and was a science teacher at a private school. Husband, child, teacher … the stereotypical female of the late ’60s and early ’70s.

We had another son during Bruce’s internship in Greenwich, Conn. I wasn’t working at that time, and the next wake-up call was ringing so softly that I didn’t hear it – or, more accurately, chose to ignore it. A few years later, Bruce was in private practice in ear, nose and throat surgery in Rome, N.Y. Our kids by this time were about 8 and 10. I knew something wasn’t right in my marriage – but living by the “rule” that I had to figure things out by myself – and to ask for help was a sign of weakness – I kept doggedly trying to keep my family afloat. You see, Bruce by this time was an addicted physician – and though I didn’t really know what was happening I knew that something was way wrong. 

The wake-up call was an unavoidable, strident clanging when I arrived home one night from a meeting, and found Bruce in our downstairs family room having just injected himself with Demerol. I couldn’t ignore this wake-up call. What followed was a couple of years of trying to keep the family intact, get Bruce into treatment, stay sane, and try to provide my sons with a sense of safety and security when I felt none of that myself. How to answer the questions of my sons – the oldest, Michael, asking “What’s wrong, Mommy, your eyes are scared?” and the youngest, Brian, asking “If Daddy loves us, why does he do this?” Wake-up calls, remember, turn your world upside down. My world went from being a safe place, where I trusted everyone, to being unsafe, where no one could be trusted … and yet I still wanted to teach my sons that the world was good and life was a wonderful journey. 

It was during this period of 10 to 12 years in total that I initially withdrew – didn’t come back for reunions – didn’t do anything except try to survive. It is also the time that I learned how to use friends and family for support. Desperation drove me to the profound lesson of how connection to others builds strength when we don’t have it ourselves. I discovered that just about everyone walks around every day in their own private hells and none of us ever talk about it … so I started talking. Where my first wake-up call – at Wells – was the awakening of my mind to the exciting connection of seemingly disparate ideas, my second wake-up call – during the struggles of my first marriage – was the awakening of my heart to the compassionate connection with others. My pilgrimage was continuing and I was closer to my spiritual center – sensing that connection was an important piece of spirituality.

Ultimately, my marriage to Bruce didn’t survive – though I tried and tried to make it so – and I started down life’s path on my own for really the first time. Even though I never would have chosen the lessons that I had had, I realized that I liked the “me” that had emerged. I had woken up in so many ways – in my mind and in my heart – and I felt more “me” than ever before.

I began my second career as a psychotherapist, after getting a master’s degree in the only science course that I hadn’t taken at Wells – psychology. I ultimately met my second husband, Bob, who has taught me all of my real lessons about love, and I began again to reconnect with Wells. My life was full – not without struggles – but struggles that I could handle within the contexts of the lessons I’d learned with my first two wake-up calls. Even Bruce’s eventual suicide, which crashed into my new world five years after our divorce, wasn’t my third wake-up call. Though incredibly painful, most of my anguish was for my children –  because once again they had to make sense of something that made no sense, and I had to witness their struggle and feel helpless to remove their pain and confusion. 

Despite these crises, my life was moving on in an incredibly positive direction. I was back involved with Wells, and when I turned 50 I was ready to be more “out there” in the second half of my life than I had been in the first half. I had begun meditating as part of my spiritual life and I tried to be open to whatever the universe had for me. Little did I know what that openness was going to bring me. The idea for GOAL grew out of a conversation that I had with a colleague in the parking lot of our offices. The end result happened by putting one foot in front of the other, getting other committed, wonderful women to help, and always seeing the vision as a reality. Part of the awareness that I had gained with my first two wake-up calls was that I could trust that all I needed or wanted was there, if I stayed open – and just kept taking the next right step.

So I was cranking along, having a ball, and making GOAL more of a reality each day. At the same time I was having a nagging, physical problem that kept reoccurring. I was approaching (or in) menopause, but certain slight physical symptoms would send me back to the gynecologist every six months or so. Various endometrial biopsies over this time showed nothing – but ultimately the doctor decided that I needed to have a D&C and be done with it. She scheduled it and told me at the end that everything looked normal. There had been a polyp she thought had been the source of my symptoms, and she had removed it. She said she’d get back to me once the pathology reports were in, but she was sure that all was now taken care of.

At the time, my office for GOAL was in our house – and I had stopped my private psychotherapy practice and was working for GOAL as a full-time executive director – from my home. Early one morning, as I was sitting at my computer working, the phone rang. I was very disciplined about working and wouldn’t answer the home phone if it rang – so I let the answering machine pick up. I half-heard my voice on the answering machine telling the caller to leave a message – and then I heard my gynecologist’s voice. I had a visceral reaction. I knew without even talking to her – that all was not good. And it wasn’t. That phone call wasn’t really my gynecologist – it was my third wake-up call.

I had cancer – uterine cancer. The good news was that, of all the forms of cancer, uterine is one of the best to have. I only had to have a hysterectomy. It had been caught so early that it was totally contained by my uterus – I didn’t need any chemo or any radiation. But for a period of three months, my world was definitely turned upside down. For the first time in my life, I faced my own death. I tried to stay positive but had times on my morning walk when, without even realizing it, my mind was planning my funeral – who I wanted to speak, what songs I wanted sung … and then I’d jerk myself back to my senses and know that I didn’t want to feed those fears. 

I took what I had learned in my second wake-up call and pulled in support from everywhere. Having been on the Alumnae [Association] Board, I was aware of WellsList and how Wells graduates were staying in touch. One of my first acts was to go online and tell everyone on WellsList that I needed them to all send healing energy and prayers my way. This was a far cry from the woman who wouldn’t go back to reunion to tell even her friends she needed support. Now I was asking people I didn’t even know to pray for me. After my surgery, as soon as I could sit at the computer I went online to update everyone on WellsList – only to find out that the bells had rung here on campus when my surgery had started. I sat at my computer and cried, my tears being a testament to the power of love that connects us all across miles and miles of distance.

The lesson of this third wake-up call was the most profound of all three. During this time my heart was full of love – for my husband, for my sons, for my family, for all my friends, for the world – nothing was more important than that love – and that they knew it. I found that I lived each day on a different spiritual plane – on a plane where judgments didn’t exist. You know how in a relationship there are daily occasions when you have a little annoyance with your partner or spouse, and you decide whether or not you want to bring it up. Those things just didn’t happen. My husband and I both noticed that the quality of our relationship was much different. I knew – with my heart – at that time how to live. I realized that judgments exist in my mind, and if I can live from my heart then judgments become a non-issue.

Unfortunately, once I got the all-clear, I found that judgments slowly crept back into my life. I began to live more from my mind and less from my heart. I could remember what my heart had felt like but I didn’t “feel” it. That’s the case even now … but it’s OK … I know … with my heart … not with my mind … what I’m aiming for – and I have flashes of it. I’m just not there on a daily, minute-to-minute basis. Where my first wake-up call – at Wells – was the awakening of my mind to the exciting connection of seemingly disparate ideas; and my second wake-up call – during the struggles of my first marriage – was the awakening of my heart to the compassionate connection with others; the third wake-up call – during my encounter with cancer – was the awakening of my soul to the spiritual connection of all human life through love. My pilgrimage had fast-forwarded me to my spiritual center, and I “knew” that at the center was a profound, all-encompassing, non-judgmental love.

My wake-up calls are what prepared me so that I could accomplish the work for which you honor me, all of which occurred between my second and third wake-up calls. It didn’t take a lot of time to actually start and build GOAL, but it took a lifetime to get me ready.

To conclude my thoughts on wake-up calls … I don’t believe that individuals are the only ones who get wake-up calls. I think our country got a wake-up call on Sept. 11. After that horrendous tragedy, our country and the world came together as never before. I’ll never forget being at a baseball game on Sept. 25, two weeks later, and singing “God Bless America” instead of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” during the seventh-inning stretch. The loving energy in that stadium was palpable. I felt connected to and loved everyone there. We were all fellow travelers trying to make sense of a world gone crazy. It was the same connection I felt when I had cancer – in love with the world and aware of its preciousness. I worry now though because I judge that we are more split in this country than ever before. We’ve somehow lost the lesson – lost the connection. We’ve gone back to sleep. It’s not a time for blame and accusations – it’s a time to dig deep and find our connection again.

So, too, do I believe that institutions get wake-up calls, and I started out referencing the fact that I think that Wells is in the midst of a wake-up call. Wells is now co-ed. Our Wells world doesn’t look as it always has. Getting through my own wake-up calls always included a period of weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth – being angry, asking “Why?” and “Why me?” and resisting the inevitable. But ultimately I had to get to acceptance, or I was choosing to stay in a state of bitterness that hurt no one but me. There probably isn’t a Wells graduate alive or dead that wouldn’t prefer Wells to stay as it was when we were here – the way we knew and loved it. But what is Wells’ charge? I believe it is to send women out into the world, prepared to move the world forward. 

The best way to do that, initially, was to encourage and support, educate and challenge women – and then send them into the world. Now I see that we have broadened that charge, not changed it. I was not given any daughters to raise. I had two sons and no daughters. I chose to raise my sons in a way where gender equity was a part of their being, where they didn’t see jobs as being male or female. One of my greatest joys is watching my sons as husbands and fathers, for they are two men who, to me, model gender equity at its finest. So why now is it not a good idea that Wells begin to help men learn the lessons of gender equity? If as a society we don’t do that at some point, then as women we’re always going to have to fight our way in.

I’m at the end. I hope you’ve heard at least one thing that you can carry with you. Each and every one of you could stand where I stand. We all have that capability. We will all get our wake-up calls – it’s what we do with them that count. They are part of our pilgrimage, pulling us, sometimes kicking and screaming, to our spiritual center. Don’t fight them – or at least don’t fight them forever and don’t go back to sleep. Learn from them. Ultimately they connect us all in love – for love, I believe, is the spiritual center at the end of all our pilgrimages. Thank you.

Delivered Saturday, June 3, 2006, in Macmillan Hall’s Phipps Auditorium at Wells College.