The Dean's List
Trinity news and views from the Dean of Students. Trinity University is in San Antonio.
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Saturday, February 13, 2021
UnMasked: All You Need is Love
Note: Christina Pikla shared her news with me last year and she and Rachael were excited to be interviewed for this piece. They have approved the final version. I am grateful to them for allowing me to share their story.
This is a love story about two cisgender women who got married. To each other.
When Christina Pikla, Director of Financial Aid at Trinity, received The Presidential Award for Excellence in Student Advocacy in the spring of 2020, the reaction among those who know her was unanimous. Of course!
Christina graduated from Trinity University in 2004 and is in her 15th year here. She moved from Financial Aid counselor, to assistant director, to associate director, and now director. People in the Financial Aid world deal with numbers, scholarship packaging, governmental regulations and audits, the FAFSA form, appeals, and data. And those are the fun parts. Christina had to earn a Master's degree in Higher Education administration for the privilege of more responsibility. None of this is why she won the advocacy award.
What Christina brings to her role is humanity. When asked about her philosophy on working with students and families she quickly related that it is "to ensure that the other party has voice, to respond to the true need of the student, the family, and the community." In a word, it's called empathy. Countless times I have walked students to Christina's office, interrupted her mind-numbing work, and introduced a student in need of guidance and support. Christina looks these students in their eyes, tells them she cares, and says "let's see what we've got."
Many times she let's the student know that this space is a safe one. No stranger to anxiety herself, Christina takes a personal approach, "willingness to share pieces of yourself," she calls it. It is a process of vulnerability, trying to reduce her authority by unmasking herself as real, accessible, and approachable. Christina has to follow the guidelines, but with her knowledge of the nuances of the system, she can provide options and guides people through their needs and the possibilities for assistance.
Rachael Fournier most recently worked at UT-Arlington as the Director of Scholarships. "The wild west of financial aid" is what she calls it. She is an award-winner too. And she holds a Master's degree in Business Leadership and Management. She won the Trailblazer Award in her professional association in 2018. She is currently working toward certification in a program called Green Belt. This field is one that emphasizes the costs of current practices versus possible savings in financial and employee capital by improving systems. Ultimately organizations pay one way or another for inefficiencies. Companies and institutions need to "look at what they should do, but not what they have always done or held onto."
Her personal story is even more compelling. She is the oldest of nine and early on, was forced to serve, essentially, as the responsible parent for six of her siblings, one who tragically passed away. She moved 37 times in her life, growing up in California in a dangerous Los Angeles neighborhood as well as Mexico. She has some of her own anxiety. "I'm more nervous facing a crowd than a weapon" she quips.
Christina and Rachael met in 2016 in Frisco, Texas, at the Texas Association of Student Financial Aid Administrators (TASFAA) annual conference. On the list of notable goals of TASFAA, serving as a dating platform is not on the list. Christina hurried into a room that had just cleared out following a mixer, hoping to find something to eat from a leftover food platter. Rachael, only Rachael, was in the room. They had an awkward exchange because they thought the might have met but weren't really sure. Christina decided to eat and run.
Both volunteered on different committees for the association and their paths started to cross more, including at the San Antonio meeting and most significantly at the 2018 meeting in Galveston. Something was there. But what it was, neither knew.
When Christina stood at the podium to make remarks to the audience of 300 her eyes met Rachael, sitting, intentionally, front and center. And Christina rambled on, forgetting to tell the crowd her name. Rachael says that something had been building for two years, though she didn't know what. She got her answer in that session. When their eyes met, they both felt an extreme transfer of energy - nothing physical or sexual - something deeper. A "flicker" says Rachael. When Rachael received her award Christina hugged her. Rachael thought "This is it. We're touching. But this will be the end of it." One thing Rachael knew, was that she wanted to get to know Christina better.
Their friendship and relationship grew from that point forward. They started emailing and talking frequently, including what the called "Reclaiming Mondays." Hour-long discussions grew into four and six hour conversations.
Christina was engaged to a man in 2011 and broke it off. She threw herself into her work. She had started seeing another man before her relationship with Rachael began to blossom. Rachael didn't think much about dating (though she had dated some men) and had resigned herself to being single. Her past, her work, her energy didn't really accommodate another person.
Both of these women separately began dealing with their feelings toward one another. Christina knew that her connection to Rachael was deeper than any connection she had felt with anyone else before, including men. What followed was the typical wooing dance couples do when they first start to express their feelings and begin dating. Only this courtship had an added, new, scary, and exciting dimension. And it all unfolded long-distance during a pandemic. As Christina once described her ideal partner - her non-negotiables - Rachael said "so you basically are looking for a male version of me." Uh-oh. Christina had processing to do: "Do I like Rachael?"
In a subsequent conversation Christina finally laid it out their. "You're the only woman I would ever marry." Rachael fumbled to offer a response, and finally said "me too."
These are complex things and yet so simple. It depends on the person. Friendship can lead to love and love can lead to intimacy. And Rachael did her research. She wanted to read up on what was happening here, with them. Here is what they are focused on. They say that they have "soul recognition." Indeed, they beautifully express that they were "cut from the same cloth at creation." One was from the east coast, the other the west, and they met somewhere in the middle. They had their first real date in May, 2019. They got married on January 4, 2020 and Rachael moved to San Antonio that March. They still have not had a honeymoon, though it seems safe to say they have been having one for years.
The moral of the story should be self-evident. In a world that is increasingly attuned to sexuality and gender, people have agency over their own identities, without constraint. Who they choose to be with and how they navigate their relationships is personal. Christina and Rachael are the ideal parable. All you need is love.
Wednesday, August 19, 2020
Don't Let Us Get Sick
Happy new academic year to the Trinity University community! The lyrics to this Warren Zevon song seem particularly appropriate this year. Here is the song.
Don't let us get sick
Don't let us get old
Don't let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave
And make us play nice
And let us be together tonight
Don't let us get old
Don't let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave
And make us play nice
And let us be together tonight
The sky was on fire
When I walked to the mill
To take up the slack in the line
I thought of my friends
And the troubles they've had
To keep me from thinking of mine
When I walked to the mill
To take up the slack in the line
I thought of my friends
And the troubles they've had
To keep me from thinking of mine
Don't let us get sick
Don't let us get old
Don't let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave
And make us play nice
And let us be together tonight
Don't let us get old
Don't let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave
And make us play nice
And let us be together tonight
The moon has a face
And it smiles on the lake
And causes the ripples in Time
I'm lucky to be here
With someone I like
Who maketh my spirit to shine
And it smiles on the lake
And causes the ripples in Time
I'm lucky to be here
With someone I like
Who maketh my spirit to shine
Don't let us get sick
Don't let us get old
Don't let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave
And make us play nice
And let us be together tonight
Don't let us get old
Don't let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave
And make us play nice
And let us be together tonight
Source: LyricFind
Songwriter: Warren William Zevon, Warren Zevon, Zevon Music BMI
Don't Let Us Get Sick lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
Blowin' in the Wind
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Waxing poetic. |
Friend and colleague Bruce Bravo eschews the term "death," at least when talking about his wife and son. He never really thought about it, and doesn't know why. "Passed," "lost," "went to heaven," are naturally, more palatable. But also, not as permanent sounding -- or as fatalistic. This makes sense for the affable eternal optimist.
You wouldn't blame him for being otherwise. Consider that he lost his ten-year-old son 17 years ago, his youngest brother shortly thereafter, his wife just months ago, and his dad just before that. When Bruce Bravo needs people the most, the 64-year-old Cajun can't be near them because of this pandemic. But for us, we need stories like his to give us perspective and lessons in true grit.
When his wife, Elvira got sick around Memorial Day in 2017 and was diagnosed with cancer thereafter, she and Bruce had the same thought: "Not again." They had traveled this road before when in 2001 their son Evan was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Mother and son, as with many cancer patients, followed similar paths: Diagnoses, surgeries, treatment, recurrence, quests for alternative treatments, steps forward, steps back, bad news, more bad news, and death. Similarly: Shock, fear, fight, hope, acceptance, frustration, anger, and grief.
When Evan was told by his doctor that there was nothing more that could be done, he asked his parents to take a trip to the beach. On the way they stopped at the Crazy Cajun Restaurant, so Evan could have his favorite fried shrimp. When met with the sign that said "no fried shrimp today," he told his parents that's just the way it is. He would be gone three weeks later, but he told his parents this beach trip had been the best ever. Likewise, when Elvira received her diagnosis she and Bruce went out for Mexican food as planned. Just the way it is.
When Bruce talks about losing two of the most important people in his life he uses the term "smothering" as an adjective when discussing the sadness surrounding his losses. He met Elvira when he was working as a Food Service Director in Wichita Falls, Texas when she came in as a customer. She caught his eye but she was dismissive at first. She came in with her mother one day and Bruce told her "I'm going to marry your daughter." He was the only one who believed it. But he did.
Elvira would work a number of jobs throughout their marriage. After they lost Evan she retreated into her grief for months and then began working at a residential treatment center she had learned about from a friend she met during Evan's illness. She would further her education and dedicate herself to children and teens at risk and spit out by the foster care system. She was beloved for her compassion and quiet resolve.
Evan was quirky, funny, and athletic. He was diagnosed just as the family moved to San Antonio where Bruce would work in campus food service at various locations across the city. He passed away at home. His dad would return to work almost immediately. While Elvira retreated, Bruce threw himself into his job. He did it again when she passed away last fall. After working food service, including a successful stint as the Director of Campus Dining at Trinity, Bruce would eventually end up working for Trinity and ultimately become the Senior Director for Conferences and Special Programs. In that role he manages major campus speakers and the day after he lost Elvira he was on campus working to pull off a major program. People couldn't tell when he teared up behind his glasses while bustling around Laurie Auditorium, working his grief.
Bruce Bravo is one of the best sports you will ever meet (shout out to TUPD chief Pete Perez who endures the steady diet of doughnut jokes at my hands). I have made fun of Bruce, or "Bravo Sua-vay" as I call him for his meandering musings when he "waxes poetic" on any number of subjects. He puts up with jibes, never takes himself too seriously, has an enthusiastic laugh, and is warm, sincere, super good-natured, and focuses on others. One would never know the grief he has and does endure. Even I forget, recently in a Zoom call mocking his photo, asking "what grade were you in?" when that picture was taken. I should know better, and filming him in HEB covertly as he shopped with a mask, one glove, and fogged glasses shows how much I act like everything is the same. I just can't not give him grief, ironically.
It's not an act. The thing about getting sick and about grieving, is that there is no strong or weak. People just get along the best they can, anyway they can. You can orchestrate your feelings or how you cope in front of others to an extent and for a while. But as Bruce well knows and says, it will catch up to you.
At Elvira's wake, Bruce was comforted by his beloved daughters Monique (29) and Latina (28) as well as his siblings. He talks to his brothers by phone daily. His group of friends, some going back to elementary school is a group made up of nine men of various professions. I was there when they descended on the funeral home and swallowed Bruce up not so much by love but mischief. It was as much fraternity party as memorial as they smothered Bruce with the friendship, goofiness, and comfort that he needed.
All of this matters. Bruce is surrounded by lots of people to support him. He spent the holidays with his family in New Orleans and they exhausted him with activity. He had trips planned with some of them early this spring, all of which got cancelled. Before that he got to spend some much-needed time alone as well, though an annual retreat was scrubbed because of the pandemic. This included a camping trip that featured long, private reflective hikes at a favorite place of his and Elvira's. It was on one of his hikes, there, that out of nowhere a dust devil blew up before him while everything else was still in that moment, he felt a presence as the wind moved in front of him. A sign? He doesn't know.
He does know that his son Evan said that he knew that God was with him during his illness as he could feel his presence as a warm wind that enveloped him. Perhaps this is why he was at peace, worrying mostly about how his parents would handle what was to come.
How many deaths will it take? How much can one person endure? It's hard to imagine losing a child. Excruciating. Smothering. It's hard to imagine losing your partner and best friend of over a quarter of a century.
If you were to see Bruce on campus at work before his wife died you would never have guessed the pain in his life from his losses. He was the same after. That's the way it is with him. He teaches us a lot about perspective and resilience. And while the phrase "uncertain times" swirls around us until it means almost nothing, one thing is certain: We don't need to look for answers impossible to find. We have a path that Bruce Bravo has shown us. If he can survive, so can we. We just need to keep our heads up, smell the air, and move forward. Into the wind.
If you are moved by Bruce's story you might appreciate these posts on colleagues Jennifer Reese, Jimmy Roberts, and Rick Roberts.
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