A Bulldog, an aggie, a Bigham

Well aware of the significance of last week, I chose to heed to the advice of a recent Ladies' Home Journal Magazine article and Slow Down as I savored my final moments at Fresno State. I took my time strolling through the campus, opposite my usual pace. My leisurely walks allowed me “to look at the places and people with curiosity and wonder,” just as the article suggested.

It would have been a shame if I had left that school, without ever appreciating its beauty. I have managed to overlook the character of my campus, caught up in deadlines, exams and conversations along the way. But I first realized it when mom and I intentionally sought out picturesque scenery for photo backdrops the week school got out. We covered every square inch of that campus, admiring the lush greenery and wide open spaces.

As the end drew near I took figurative snapshots of my surroundings, drinking in what would hopefully be lasting memories, resistant to fade. I was distinctly aware of the last lecture, final presentation, last class session and final exam. Grief and joy went head-to-head in the battle to win my heart. Both held their own as I continuously dubbed the experience “bittersweet.”

I took a final on Monday, another on Tuesday completing the least stressful finals week for a graduating senior; Mom and I shopped, got a pedicure and ran errands Wednesday, precursors to the upcoming celebration; My parents attended the animal science/agriculture education banquet with me Thursday where the president of the FFA conference committee recognized my achievement as the Web Proceedings co-chair; and my family offered their support at the department of agriculture’s commencement ceremony Friday and the university commencement ceremony Saturday. The week seemed to creep by in slow motion, but in retrospect I’m not sure where the time went.

My graduation was everything I hoped it would be. I made up my mind to enjoy every second of it. Plenty of opportunities arose for me to be robbed of my joy. However, I am grateful to say that I held tightly to it, refusing to relinquish my grip.

At Friday’s ceremony, we were individually recognized and awarded on stage. Pride swelled as my name was called and I extended that recognition to my parents in the audience with a kiss from the stage. I cheered loudly for my friends, and their achievements, recognizing that our lives were about to change drastically. I am proud to have them as my friends, proud of their accomplishments and proud to have experienced college with them.

These moments seemed surreal—yet I was caught up in the reality of them. I cherished the moment my name was announced, the opportunity I was given to thank my amazing advisor, Dr. Rocca, with a hug on stage, and the moments of silence and deafening applause. Pride was so thick in the air it weighed on my shoulders and the bond between the students in the college of ag never seemed tighter.

But nothing compared to spotting my family in the audience, expressing their pride in my achievement; especially Saturday when family and friends filled the Save Mart Center. Adrenaline rushed through our bones as we waited backstage to enter the arena. We were the final college to enter, so we spent our time, joking, laughing, taking pictures, and releasing shouts of joy. Each minute and step we took closer to making our grand entrance, the anticipation magnified.

It took me a while to find my family, so I had the entire walk to our seats to soak up the experience and sear it into my memory. When we stepped out onto the floor, the crowd enveloped us with shouts of recognition and simultaneous waves. I seemed to make my way to my seat in slow motion, listening to individual shouts from the audience, knowing that some of them belonged to me. My eyes scanned rows and rows and rows of seats—half looking to see if the occupants were my kin, half amazed by the amount of people participating in this event—for us.

I was feeling on top of the world until my face flashed on the screen above. At that moment, I thought I owned it. The camera captured our shouts, extended arms and the biggest smiles we’ve ever known.

The moment I found my family, the world stopped turning as we shared in it together. An equal blend of joy, pride and gratitude overcame me, an overwhelming emotion I had never known before. My hands flew in the air so proud that my achievement was what brought them there that day. They rose to their feet so fast, extending hands toward mine, our shouts getting lost somewhere in between. The diploma I received on that day belongs in part to those individuals.

Being the first in the family to graduate was a struggle. Generational inclinations had to be broken. I did it. I stood my own, but only because of their support. They wanted it for me as bad as I did myself and at times, more. When I saw them standing there waving, I felt as if I was the guest there to recognize all of their hard work and devotion. I’m so blessed to share the accomplishment with them, knowing that our name, “BIGHAM,” now belongs to the one percent of graduates in the world.

My slower pace last week reminded me of all that I have to be proud of: I am extremely proud of my identity as a Bulldog, an aggie and a Bigham.

For more on the commencement, please see Fresno State commencement a new beginning

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The legacy you leave

A legacy endures the hardships of one generation and remains steadfast for the next. It undergoes the transition from the weathered hands of the wise to those of unscathed youth. It is a component of history, a record of intricate detail and monumental worth. It is evidence of the past, service to the present and a promise for the future. There is untold value in its passage.

Over 4,000 members of the Future Farmers of America (FFA) gathered in my hometown last weekend, for their 82nd annual state conference. Student leaders, guest speakers and advisors addressed them, delivering a bold message: “Your Legacy Awaits.”


The very foundation of FFA exemplifies all that this slogan entails. During the conference, I observed its members display a dedication to family, ethics, education and responsibility and a diligence to preserve it. They take pride in leadership, show respect for their elders and possess a unique patriotism.

I can say with absolute sincerity, that it was my pleasure to take part in the conference for my second consecutive year. As a co-chair for the Web proceedings committee at Fresno State, I served as a photographer for the event. As such, I was asked to conduct a workshop to 14 FFA members who were selected as part of a press corps team.

These students participated in a number of workshops aside from the general sessions and completed assignments related to their designated area of the press. It was a joy watching them on assignment. Several times backstage, I crossed paths with student reporters as they chased down officers, award winners and other recognized individuals for interviews. I brushed shoulders with student photographers as they sought out the best spot to capture the on-stage action.

I received the most satisfaction, however, from the interaction I received during my presentation to the press corps team. They were attentive, inquisitive and respectful. And they helped me come to an understanding about my own legacy.

At the beginning of my workshop, I quoted Mark Sharenbroich, from his keynote address during the opening session. He said, “Find out what your gifts are and share them with the world.” I told the students that that is why I chose to accept the invitation to conduct my workshop that day. I know what my gifts are and I am determined to share them with the world—through my camera and my keyboard

I have had some of the most amazing leaders and mentors who have helped direct me along the journey to discovering those gifts, and I am indebted to their devotion. But because of my late start on my education and involvement in the things that I love to do, I am continuously inspired by young people who make a point to follow their dreams. I often feel compelled to encourage them in their pursuit.

The fulfillment I received from my workshop led me to the realization that it is part of my responsibility to pass on my legacy. Even though I still have my entire career ahead of me, it is not too soon to share the treasure I have found in writing and photography. It doesn’t belong to me; I simply get to make use of it. And I am honored to be able to share it with newcomers like those I had the privilege of speaking to that day.

Mexican Tales and a Springtime Serenade

I was strumming on my guitar as we sat around the bonfire when my youngest niece requested that I play “Mr. Lincoln.” Having never played the song before, I searched for the chords and began singing once I found them. The musical prose of the song accurately interprets its melancholy message and has significantly impacted my five-year-old niece. She informed me, “Aunt Leah, I might have tears in my eyes if you play that song. But it’s OK.”

Our Hispanic neighbors joined us for the weenie roast. They brought along homemade potato tacos to accompany our all-American hot dogs—a typical blend of cultural trends. Mario Sr. shared a few fables he learned as an impoverished child, growing up in Mexico. He spoke of the good and evil that his grandmother taught him about recounting the sacred lessons of how God works in “different” ways.

After everyone left, I listened to the sounds of spring and watched as the fire died out. Nearby coyotes howled against an orchestra of crickets and frogs that left an impression comparable to “Mr. Lincoln’s.” A wailing train blew its horn in the distance as if to publicize the array of concealed emotions I’ve experienced this week. I stared into the fire pit pondering the excruciating pain inflicted by burns and it reminded me of the old saying, “if you play with fire, you’re gonna get burned.” How quickly we learn that lesson as a child; as it applies to the physical realm. Yet even as adults, we continue to think we are exempt from the dangers of those less tangible.

After enjoying the company of family and friends, I sat alone at the fire. I became aware of my own solitude and the human necessity of its reciprocate: community. There is no greater remedy for one in need of mending. Community—communication—communion—each requires the sharing of something. To share, we rely on one another. We weren’t meant to face this journey alone.

One of Mario’s tales exemplified these lessons through the story of a young man who shared his food and water with others. Though he didn’t have any to spare, they needed it more than he did. Likewise, they saved his life when he was under attack by his own brothers. We are guaranteed trials in this life. We are not guaranteed a support system as we face them. Make yourself available to others by recognizing their needs. The day will come when the tables are turned. I visited a church last week whose pastor mentioned a quote worth passing along: “Adversity doesn’t build character; it only reveals it.”

Transparency: the real you

Officers of the Public Relations Student Society of America (PRSSA) chapter on campus held a PR Unplugged event today. Four prominent PR specialists spoke to an audience of students, professors and professionals about personal branding, social media, crisis communication and media relations.

Though a number of beneficial topics were covered, I took particular interest in their reiteration of establishing trust and transparency through communication with clients and in our brands. These concepts aligned with much of the content I produced for my article, Technology, Identity, Community that appeared in Pork Business Journal last summer. In a world where global communication has become commonplace, it’s tempting to conclude that we, as a society, have lost touch with these values—particularly when headlines daily reveal breeches of trust and lax transparency.

Debra Nalchajian-Cohen, founder of Cohen Communications, encouraged effective communication up front, stating that “facts rise to the top quickly.” Even when you think they can’t, people can see right through you.

Fresno State professor of PR, Betsy Hays, expressed the importance of congruency. When your words don’t match your actions, you lose credibility and destroy your brand with a bad reputation.

These notions pertain directly to PR, but are just as applicable to our daily interactions with each other. Relationships are commonly severed by distrust and a lack of effective communication. Becoming an open book to your counter-part is positively less harmful than putting up a front. You are more likely to incur desired results by making yourself vulnerable.

The times I have decided to step out in faith, into a world of unfamiliarity and discomfort, have been the times that I have taken my largest strides toward personal growth. Transparency may ignite feelings of discomfort at first. But overcoming those fears is liberating. What is there to hide? Let's see the real you.

The Happiest Place on Earth

I returned home late last night after spending an extended weekend vacation with my family at the “happiest place on earth.” At the entrance the kids stopped to gather around a street performance by Mickey Mouse, Mary Poppins, the Mad Hatter and a marching band when the writer in me stepped back to observe.

Singing children clapped their hands then paused, only to raise them in the air begging to participate in the dancing celebration. Parents looked on with proud smiles, capturing indefinite records of the precious moments on camera. Some reconnected with their inner child, shamelessly belting out sing-along lyrics. All were living in the moment.

As the performance dwindled, people dispersed down Main Street with swelling anticipation. Music blared overhead as children everywhere grabbed hold of a parent and lead the way with pointed fingers. Oversized lollipops, trinkets and souvenirs were displayed near storefronts. The buildings were embellished with countless lights and intricate detail and kids passed with wide-eyed looks of amazement.

When we made it to the rides, I noticed that some children found ways to occupy their time while others waited impatiently in lines. Moms were reaching in handbags for snacks to appease their hungry kids while dads sought out their next destination on the map. Young couples took every opportunity to engage with one another but were frequently disrupted by the moving line. The screams and cries of tired and rejected kids competed with automated voices offering warnings and explanations of the rides. Loud laughter, cheerful music and clanking rides echoed all around. The smells of popcorn, cotton candy and churros combined to form the scent we all know as “Disneyland”.

This was my first time to the park with my nieces and nephews. While I was excited to share in the experience with them, there were definitely some things I was looking more forward to than others. I was surprised, though, by the renewed appreciation I had for the concepts relayed to the kids at the less-than-desirable attractions:

Despite the redundant melody and anti-climactic boat ride, “It’s a Small World” is a prominent representation of ethnic customs that exposes the kids to diversification. Despite the reality of racism the ride served as a small reminder of the strides we have taken toward harmony in this country. Evidence of this fact was displayed just outside the ride, by the multi-cultured spectators waiting in line.

In an address to the audience, Abraham Lincoln taught about the God-given right to liberty for each of those cultures represented, and the expense for which it’s been fought in this country. His presentation ended with a rendition of “His Truth is Marching On.” I was moved by the powerful message to never cease fighting for the protection of our liberty and to maintain the extreme value we place in it. I fought tears as I read the words “America, keep on dreaming,” displayed on the curtains at the show’s end.

Finally, as I soared above California at California Adventure, I was surprised at my stirred emotions at the recognition of the place I call home. Having grown up in the Golden State, I have often taken for granted the amazing things it has to offer. I realized that the places featured on the ride are in my backyard and that people all over the world dream of one day seeing them with their own eyes. How blessed I am to have experienced this lovely state—and so many others in this divine country.

Love is Everlasting

“Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illumines it.”
Martin Luther King, Jr.
(1929-1968); Minister, Civil Rights Activist

I am not one of those people that despise Cupid’s holiday. I support any and every excuse to confess and express love. However, I do detest the impact its commercialization has on participants and inactive observers alike. As a member of the latter category—and as a woman—I cannot help but believe the newspaper ads, TV and radio commercials, billboards and internet when their messages convey that I should have an enormous bouquet of flowers and box of chocolates awaiting me at my desk. I hardly care for chocolate and flowers—destined to wither—have never appealed to me. Yet at this time of year, I coincidentally find myself craving the robust flavors of melting candies and the aroma of a dozen red roses as I click away at my keyboard.

Do heart shaped boxes and vases of long-stemmed flowers satisfy the universal need for love? Compared to my daily experiences with proven unconditional love, the gesture seems quite empty and senseless.

A valentine is “what you call the boy/girl you’re temporarily ‘dating’ for Valentine's Day,” according to the increasingly popular urbandictionary.com. The Web site, best known for its comical content, provides a sadly accurate depiction of the word. For some reason, society leads us to believe that our worth is displayed through inanimate objects while the commercial world capitalizes on this notion. I don’t aspire for temporary meaningless interactions with others and if Valentine’s Day gifts are representations of that, I am better off without them. I don’t want to be temporarily pacified. Like the rest of mankind, I desire lasting devotion.
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