A Shy Boy’s Journey

People who know me today do not believe me when I tell them that basically I am quite shy and backwards. I have always been that way, but over the years life has taught me a few things about myself. Perhaps the biggest lesson I have learned is to fake my lack of shyness and move forward in various settings. With that being said, in other situations this shyness still manifests itself in hugely uncomfortable ways, but unfortunately no one knows the burden I carry. 

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My shyness problem is seldom present when I’m with friends or family with whom I feel comfortable. My shyness erupts whenever I’m with a group of people that I don’t know very well. For example, I vividly remember one experience I had with my cousin, Roger Cazier, when I was 15 or 16. I was in Afton, Wyoming, and one evening Roger invited me to go to a party with him, and I hesitantly agreed to give it a try. As soon as I sat on the back of his Honda 50 and we started heading to the party, I got nervous. Before we got to the party my natural inclination towards shyness took over and it  blossomed into a case of full onset fear. I mean that evening I struggled to remember my name. 

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When we arrived, I saw that I knew most of the guys, but there were some that I didn’t know well enough to be comfortable interacting with them. Then I saw the girls, and I met them. Man were they pretty, and I immediately told myself that I was definitely not in their league. After saying “hi” at the introduction, I didn’t say another word the entire night. I just stood around and watched the kids, thinking that it would be fun to interact with some of them, but I never had the courage to take a chance and do it.

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Another example of my shyness challenge occurred when I was sophomore in high school. I still have a perfect memory of this experience. I wanted to ask a girl out on a date, which would be my very first. I didn’t know much about dating etiquette, and I was petrified.

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I think I owe it to my younger readers (i.e. grandchildren) to give a little background about what it was like to date back in my days when boys were macho. We had to actually talk with the girl and then wait for her answer. It was scary business. It wasn’t like today’s dating where boys buy the girl a little present (candy bar or some such thing), write her a note inviting her to go out with him, leave it on her doorstep, knock or ring the bell, and run away before getting caught.

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Now back to my experience. I wanted to ask Gayle to a dance. We sat next to each other and in class we talked, and laughed, and teased each other, but when it was time for me to call and ask her out, I was shaking so bad, and my voice was creating problems for me. The thought of calling her and talking with her on the phone gave me a giant case of the heebee geebees. 

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On this particular day when I thought I had the courage to call and ask Gayle out, I was at the library studying with my friend. I could not focus on my studies because all I could think about was Gayle. Finally, I’d had enough of my cowardice and decided I was going to do this, so I  pushed my chair away from the table and walked to the pay phone with the express purpose of calling this girl. I walked to the phone booth with confidence, stepped in, took a quarter from my pocket, put it into the phone, stood there and asked myself if I was brave enough to dial the number. I decided that I wasn’t, so I retrieved my quarter, and walked back to the table to begin studying for real.

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I could only concentrate for maybe 20 minutes and then I had to get up and go call Gayle, and I had the same results. In fact, I did this five or six more times and always came back frustrated. Finally, my friend Bill, who was studying at the same table, couldn’t take it anymore, so the next time I went to call her he accompanied me. In fact, he and his 250+ pound body pushed his way into the phone booth with me and watched as I dialed the number. Just as I was about to hang up, he shoved his big hand under the receiver and stopped me from hanging up. 

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The phone rang and Gayle’s sister answered. I asked to speak to Gayle, and when she got on the line I nervously asked if she would go out with me. She said “yes” and I said goodbye and hung up. 

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Over the course of my early life, my fear and shyness nearly ruined me. According to my wife, Anne, a licensed clinical social worker, I’m a shy extrovert, meaning I am shy when it benefits me and extroverted when I want people to laugh (that’s not really her definition, but it works for me!).

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Make sure you read next week’s post to learn how one of my grandson’s fear of asking a simple, single question created a huge problem for their generous grandfather. In retrospect, this crazy adventure or frustrating event, whichever it, is now a source of laughter in our family.


Happy Failing Forward,


Calvert Cazier PhD, MPH


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