Texas Wing - Civil Air Patrol
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Editorial - Of Mentoring and Self-Determination, 1 August 2010
DRIPPING SPRINGS, Texas – Not unusually, I got a message from someone whose e-mail address I didn’t recognize. Since I get between 300 and 500 messages a day, reading them all word-for-word is not practical, because it would keep me from doing any useful work. I glanced at this one, decided it had nothing to do with me, and brought up my Norton AntiSpam Filter. From the drop-down menu I picked, “This is spam,” accepted the defaults, the message disappeared, and I went back to working my way up the long list of unread messages.
Since I know habits can rule my life, I’ve always tried to develop good habits. However, all of us fall into far too many habits. To make it easier on myself, I tend to gloss over those that seem harmless. In this latter category, I check my messages from latest-to-earliest, since the last highlighted message is always the latest – and it’s easier for me to start from there.
As I progressed upwards towards my first unread message in this latest batch, I got to another message from the same “presumed spam” sender. This one I glanced at and then read, carefully. It said (I paraphrase), “A member of my squadron sent me some of your writings.” Further down, “My 19 year old grandson needs a mentor.” Down the electronic page, the story unfolded poignantly: the usual late-teen angst: excellent grades in high school, first year in college, disenchantment with academia, non-return to college, devoted new girl friend, works at some menial job, mother gives him anything he wants – whether she can afford it or not – and to all appearances college is no longer on the young man’s horizon.
Fortunately, my Norton AntiSpam Filter is reversible, so I righted that wrong, but that wasn’t all. Now I had another problem. How was I to answer the message?
Ignoring it would be heartless, but did I have the right to interfere? Does a 19-year-old have the right to self-determination? I was 19 once, and thought I was entitled to it. I know I did, because I remember it vividly. But I didn’t know then as much as I know now.
I opted for having a conversation with the sender. Would I find the name on eServices? I did, and the phone number too. Thus, I dialed it.
The phone rang, a voice answered, and yes, this was the person who had signed the message. I introduced myself. After a brief silence of surprise, then happy sounds and thanks, I asked for some background information. Out came a catalog of little horrors, innocent enough taken individually, but adding up to trouble. Some were the product of past family tragedies, others circumstantial, their sum total pointing to a young man’s decision to wing it alone, enjoy life a day at a time, happy to remain in the darkness of ignorance – at least for the moment.
“He needs a mentor like you,” I heard over the phone. I sensed that my reply was not what the other person wanted or expected (or perhaps feared), “I don’t believe I can help him. At his age, he thinks he’s immortal and has all the time in the world. He’s bent on doing whatever he wants, because he doesn’t realize that not having a good education will keep him from becoming a valued (and well-paid) member of society.” Silence. “I really believe that being a valued member of society, right now, is not part of his equation for success. He seems ready to accept his personal freedom as success enough. I would say he’s devoted to living the moment.”
How could I know? “At his age, it’s natural to think that way,” I explained, then dug a little deeper, “Is he a Civil Air Patrol member?” As I had thought, he wasn’t. “Then, what possible excuse could I have for calling him and pushing on him ideas he will reject? Were I a counselor, and he came to my office and paid his fee at the front desk, I might be able to help him figure out a better life plan. But I’m not. As things are, he would take my free advice as a worthless intrusion into his private life – and reject it.”
After a pause, pregnant with disappointed, unspoken words, I offered, “All I can suggest is that you talk to him and tell him that he’s the guide and manager of the entire fortune, life and success of a 40 year old man.” This caught my distant correspondent’s attention, who asked, “How’s that?”
“Explain to him that this is a real man, and to meet this person all he has to do is wait for 21 years and have a mirror handy. Once the 21 years have passed, ask him to look into that mirror. The balding, perhaps overweight, even wrinkled person he will see on that mirror will be the one whose fortune, life, and future he has carefully crafted through the 21 years bridging his present to his future.”
The stunned silence was deafening. “Now ask your grandson what he imagines this 40 year old man is likely to think about his 19 year old manager and guide. And should the 40 year old man not be happy with the results, how could he possibly go back and fix them, or perhaps get even with the inexperienced 19 year old who brought him to his reality, that far into the future?”
“Oh, my! Could you say that again, please?” I did, and added, “Each day we live is a gift, and once we live it we can’t ever get it back. No amount of money in the world can bring back those days, months, and years we have ill-used or even wasted. It is up to your grandson to live them wisely. No one else can do that for him.”
“Anything more I could say to him?” I explained that life gives us very few true choices, that by definition are life-changing. Getting married – or not – is a true choice. Getting a higher education – or not – is another true choice.
We parted friends. I hope the grandson listens.
Maj. Arthur E. Woodgate, CAP