Ben & Shae Cecka's family in Gilbert, AZ

I don’t care much for television. Too much of the same and not enough thought put into it. As such, I’m typically out of touch with the latest pop-culture. I can’t name any films in the theater this week, I don’t know about the new Britney Spears hit (wait, is she still around?), and I have no idea when the television season opens and concludes. I have to ask myself: “Ben, who do you look up to? Y’know, to get starstruck?”

We all find role-models in society from our very beginning of existence. I witnessed this with our son, Johnathan, almost immediately. He learns not because we teach, but because he observes. The teacher is not doing the student a service by giving a lesson, but it is the student doing a service by listening and assimilating the new ideas into their self. I’m a relatively quiet person because, like my son, I prefer to observe and listen to those around me for a good length before injecting my own ideas. I may have to rethink this paradigm however because it may prove to be too risky of an endeavor now.

Debate has been an integral part of my life for the past few years. It has changed my very being, as far as I can tell, from the way that I communicate with my wife, to the way that I approach everyday situations. I find myself thinking in sub-points, using an oppositional line-by-line, and weighing the impacts of any given decision. My partner and I have done some rather remarkable things in our short time together on a community college team. We’ve learned this game inside and out, and beaten (and been beaten by) some of the toughest competition in this part of the country. When I was contemplating rejoining the team this year because of the high amount of last-minute drops, my ex-partner used a particularly effective argument: He told me that some of what he used to succeed was learned by watching me. A flattering remark, yes? Very much so. I didn’t realize it at the time but I can’t take credit for this. As a matter of fact, I was also emulating someone.

Even during our first few tournaments in the Novice division, my partner and I regularly competed into the elimination rounds. We slowly gained a reputation for our down-to-earth manner and our comedic antics. When our time came and we couldn’t secure the votes though, we were encouraged to watch the Open division, the “pros”, in their elimination rounds to see if we could learn a few things. I was encouraged by a much wiser and more seasoned member of our team to check out Willamette BW — Matt Bost and Logan Will. I had no idea what to expect, but I of course acquiesced and took the advice.

Fun fact about Ben: I’ve logged a play-by-play of every debate that I’ve been involved in starting with the very first round of practice in class. I don’t know why, but they’re all there.

I walked into that round as someone who had a handle on the world of debate — I walked out of that round a blank slate. I was starstruck.

From then on out, each time I was dropped out of the elimination rounds (except for those two times we took first) my first priority was to sit down for an experience of Willamette BW. As far as I was concerned, these guys were it. I hung on to every argument, every turn, every impact, every critique, and every plank of solvency. After seeing their rounds my fellow teammates would ask me, “So, who do you think won?” My first response would always be, “Well, I’m biased with them.” They’d laugh — but I wasn’t kidding.

I pride myself on my rebuttals. It’s one of the few things that I feel that I do fairly well, and it is absolutely one of the most important speeches in any debate. I learned how to give a rebuttal in the same manner that my son learned how to say, “Papa”. Unconsciously, automatically, and naturally. I learned by watching Logan Will.

At the Debate Workshop at Willamette University I learned even more about debate, and ultimately myself, from Logan Will. I attended the camp as a coach, mentoring our teams and learning more about logical theory and fallacy at the same time. It was a truly invigorating camp and I was actually sad that I wasn’t going to compete this year to use these new tools (irony is sweet). At the end of the week-long camp, a two-day tournament was hosted. Of course, the top two teams in the Open division were both from Willamette, and one of them was Willamette BW (with a 6-0 record mind you). The final round was to take place in front of the entire camp so that we could all witness and learn. I overheard a fellow debater ask Logan if he was going to “be funny” since he was competing in front of such a large audience. He just smiled and said, “We don’t do humor.” It struck me. Made me think about myself very hard. These two young men knew exactly what they could and couldn’t do, and they knew just where those boundaries lie. They didn’t need to prove themselves. They won the round with a landslide vote.

After the last debate that I watched with Willamette BW, I strongly considered asking Logan and Matt to sign my flow sheet of the arguments in the round. I stopped myself because I though it might be a bit strange. I mean, I’ve never even talked to them.

Instead, I looked forward to this weekend. Willamette University was holding a free tournament that Clark College was going to attend. This tournament was different though in that there were no divisions. To me that said two things: 1) I’m going to be raked over the coals, and 2) There is a chance I might debate Willamette BW. I envisioned myself giving a rebuttal that, rather than ask for an undeserving ballot, I simply thanked Matt and Logan for such a cordial learning experience. Upon conceding the round, I was going to ask them to autograph my flow of the round. I was going to finally have the courage to approach these men and shake their hands. I was going to frame that sheet — all part of the vision. Funny how plans have a way of changing when everyone least expects it.

Salem

Willamette to hold service for crash victim

November 28, 2006

A memorial service for Willamette University student Logan Will, 22, of Grants Pass will be at 7 p.m. today at Hudson Hall on the campus.

Will died from injuries suffered Nov. 22 in a car wreck on Interstate 5. Will was a senior majoring in politics and a member of the Willamette University Debate Union.

Family funeral services will be at 11:30 a.m. Friday at the Bethany Lutheran Church Youth Education Building in Gold Beach. Another memorial will be held at the Grants Pass Performing Arts Center at 5 p.m. Sunday in Grants Pass.

The family requests donations in lieu of flowers to be sent to the Logan Will Fund at Willamette University, 900 State St., Salem OR 97301.

— Ruth Liao

Thank you Logan Will, for the experiences that you’ve allowed me to share. Know that your life continues in the countless hearts and minds of those that you touched. I regret everyday that I didn’t gather the courage to shake your hand and tell you: You are my hero.

A few weekends ago I attended another convention in Las Vegas. The previous one was more of a trade show for the entire industry of mail and parcel centers, whereas this one was specific to our primary software vendor (and about 3000 other users). While the point of the convention was focused around various learning sessions, in the case of our company being there it was mainly for networking and public relations purposes. I found myself continually following, what I felt to be, an odd line of thought throughout the weekend.

I thought about conventions fifty, one hundred, and then three hundred years ago. I thought about the people that might be sitting in their seats, listening to a charismatic speaker giving his pitch. I imagined looking at those black and white photographs in my history class — the ones with the sullen, long-faced men and women, looking blankly at the camera. I wondered if they were inwardly excited about their involvement in whatever it was they were attending. Did they think they would change the world? Then I applied that thought to myself. This is the battle that I’ve faced for many years as I’ve integrated more and more into an 8-5 M-F corporate-ladder type job. Many men and women before me have done the same exact thing that I have done, and I want to ask them a single question: Was it worth it? Was the opportuniy cost of life worth it? Otherwise, why bother. Lately I’ve doubted that entire model to begin with though, and I pray that I’m not the only one. As I talked with different people in our own company and those that we work with, I had this sense that I was regarded as someone of importance. What I’m wondering is: “Does that make me unique?” After much thought these past few months, I’m pretty sure the answer is: “No”. I’m becoming fairly certain that just by assuming this position in Phoenix and using my knowledge to make a few dollars I will ultimately become a failure. More than likely a very successful one. I can’t be kidded into thinking that I’m unique in this regard. Countless threads of life have winked out of existence thinking they were unique, but only a handful found what they were looking for.