Here's to the Old Schools in My Life

 I was standing at the microwave recently, heating up a cup of water for tea, when I was drawn into a funny conversation. 

Turning to me and the young man standing near me, someone said, "Has anyone ever told you guys that you could be father and son? You look a lot alike." 

It had never occurred to me that this young man looked anything like me. He was tall, thin, white, and shaved his head, but otherwise I saw no resemblance. Nevertheless, I was aghast at the suggestion for other reasons. 

"Wait! I'm not old enough to be his father," I protested. Turning to the young man, I asked, "How old are you, anyway?" 

"I'm twenty-six," he replied, grinning.

I performed some quick calculations in my head, and then dropped my head as I realized I was indeed old enough to be his father. I felt old, but not for the first time in prison. 

The first time a young prisoner called me "old school" ("school" for short) was several years ago. I was insulted that time, too, since I was barely forty years old at the time. I remember protesting and asking him also how old he was. When he told me he was nineteen, I felt old then, too. I also felt profoundly sad that this young man was losing such early years of his life to prison. He ought to be in college or pursuing his first career, not wasting his young potential playing poker in prison. 

I feel drawn, at times, to a fatherly compassion for the young men around me. To some, I offer a word of encouragement. Some, I try to warn off destructive behaviors or offer guiding advice. For others with visions of starting their own businesses, I've offered to share my experience with entrepreneurial pursuits. Still others, well, they are just too hard-headed to hear any wisdom from the "old heads." 

I lost my privileges as a father when I came to prison, and it's the greatest loss I've ever experienced. Being a father figure to young men in prison isn't quite the same, but it does feel good to make a difference when I can. So many young men in prison never had a father in their lives. They never had a man teach them right from wrong. They never had a man tell them they could make something of their lives. They never had a man show them how to follow their dreams and tell them they had it in them to achieve those dreams. They've never had a man believe in them before. 

I was fortunate to have that sort of encouragement and motivation from a few men throughout my life. I'm deeply grateful for the difference they made. Dave, Andy, and Walter taught me much during my earliest working years. Marion believed in me when I first started my career (and remained my friend until he sadly died recently). Mike watered the entrepreneurial seed that germinated in my heart, giving me confidence to start my first business. Jim took a big risk on me and has been far more than a business partner to me. Don taught me more about being a man than almost anyone, both through his incredible example and his frequent advice. 

I don't know if I can live up to the status these men hold in my heart and mind, but I hope to. The nickname "old school" might carry a sense of respect with it, and I hope to be worthy of that honor.