Karolina Waclawiak has lived a life, and I loved hearing all about it during our most recent walk. Something she talked about that I really related to was the number of people who helped her along the way—giving her advice, helping her with her writing, or simply encouraging her to lean into her ambition. I’ve also had numerous people help me over the years, so I wanted to make some space for the people who have championed us in the past. Tell me, who has encouraged you during your life, and why did their encouragement matter?
So many people encouraged me and it's made all the difference. The highlights: Mrs. Meyers, a little Black lady in fourth grade: "I expect you to be the first Black President of the United States." I was a quiet, shy little boy, but that's how much confidence she had in me. I didn't become the first Black president, but I did end up being in the same law school class and befriending a future first lady. :-) Then there was Judge Higginbotham on the 3rd Circuit Court of Appeals in Philly. I worked in his chambers after school in high school. He introduced me to my college, became my mentor, and my law school advisor. When I was in law school I was his research assistant and one day he turned to me and said, "Your life pretty much couldn't have turned out more perfectly." Thanks to him and people like him. After he learned that I became interested in writing he wrote in a letter I have framed on my bathroom wall: "Keep up your writing. Remember, there are great Op-Ed opportunities in journals such at The Philadelphia Inquirer and others... Choose a couple of areas, focus on them, send out the articles, brace yourself for the rejections, and also for the ecstasy when one is accepted." Their encouragement mattered because they saw something in me and I hadn't even begun to envision for myself. My life as a writer and lawyer. They saw me as someone who could overcome the limitations that often come from being the child of a single working class mom. Last week an editor from a big name literary journal wrote me, saying: "I was flipping through the Best Debut Short Stories for 2021 when I was last in the office and stumbled upon your work--it's lovely. Is there any chance you have something lying in your bottom drawer that you'd consider sending us to read? We are putting together the next issue, and I think you'd be a wonderful fit." How did that happen? It started with people like Mrs. Meyers in 4th grade and Judge Higginbotham in high school. They were wonderful blessings in my life and their love for me lives on and I am eternally grateful to them. Thank you for the opportunity for me to share about how special they were and the influence they had on me.
For me, it was a college professor who changed my life. I had wanted to be a professional tennis player, and though I was a good college player, when I went out on the professional circuit I was -- at best -- deeply mediocre. Unless you want to teach tennis for a living, there is no place for okay in the professional sports world. I did not want to teach.
I came back to college, lost. I had worked hard and long at tennis, and it was for naught. By sheer happenstance, I took a class in Southern African politics taught by Gerald Bender. I learned about Angola, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, and South Africa. I was horrified by apartheid, and began to write a screenplay set in that country. Gerry encouraged me, and helped me meet people when I traveled to South Africa.
I had stayed in touch over the years. He was at my graduation from film school. He attended my wedding, and funerals for both my parents. He was an important part of my life. But a couple of years ago when I reached out to take him to dinner I learned he had died. RIP Gerald Bender. You changed my life.
I've been lucky to have so many people encourage me along my varied paths, but because my mind has been bending back to my teen years lately, I'll shout out one particular teacher, my tenth grade English teacher, Mr. Bulkeley, with whom I've just reestablished contact. He's long retired, 84 years old now, which is hard to imagine, but back in his tenth grade english teaching days, he encouraged me as a young writer to take risks, to read outside my comfort zone, to defy convention in my writing, and to make choices in it. They could be wrong choices, they could be profane juvenile choices, but they had to be choices. Creativity wasn't a passive act and if I wanted to live a creative life, it wouldn't happen to me. I had to make it. Whether we were reading the Odyssey or ee cummings, he pushed me to grow, not as side-effect of time passing, but as act of creation. What a lucky teen I was to have that brand of rigor thrust upon me. Plus, he was very good at cursing, which was a fucktastic education unto itself.
When I was a teenager and first started writing poetry, I met Edward Field and showed him some of my poems, worried that they were cliched. He said they were not at all cliched and to keep writing. He also said, as an example, "It takes seven years to make a dancer's body." Be patient.
It's always my mom, and I know it will always will be.
I work in content marketing for a nonprofit, and I write blog posts about DEI related topics. Our newsletter this month featured a pretty personal story of mine and my name was in the subject line. My mom thought my boss had specifically sent the email to her and sent her back the SWEETEST note about how proud of me she was and how thankful she is for my boss providing a wonderful work environment for me. My boss sent a nice response back about how much my job values me (as I type this now, I am truly being hit with how LUCKY I am), which my mom then proceeded to forward to me saying "Oh my gosh look at how much your boss loves you!!! I am so proud of you!!"
Somehow she has the energy to provide her undying support for her four children, each of their spouses, and her five grandchildren. I don't know how she does it.
So many people encouraged me and it's made all the difference. The highlights: Mrs. Meyers, a little Black lady in fourth grade: "I expect you to be the first Black President of the United States." I was a quiet, shy little boy, but that's how much confidence she had in me. I didn't become the first Black president, but I did end up being in the same law school class and befriending a future first lady. :-) Then there was Judge Higginbotham on the 3rd Circuit Court of Appeals in Philly. I worked in his chambers after school in high school. He introduced me to my college, became my mentor, and my law school advisor. When I was in law school I was his research assistant and one day he turned to me and said, "Your life pretty much couldn't have turned out more perfectly." Thanks to him and people like him. After he learned that I became interested in writing he wrote in a letter I have framed on my bathroom wall: "Keep up your writing. Remember, there are great Op-Ed opportunities in journals such at The Philadelphia Inquirer and others... Choose a couple of areas, focus on them, send out the articles, brace yourself for the rejections, and also for the ecstasy when one is accepted." Their encouragement mattered because they saw something in me and I hadn't even begun to envision for myself. My life as a writer and lawyer. They saw me as someone who could overcome the limitations that often come from being the child of a single working class mom. Last week an editor from a big name literary journal wrote me, saying: "I was flipping through the Best Debut Short Stories for 2021 when I was last in the office and stumbled upon your work--it's lovely. Is there any chance you have something lying in your bottom drawer that you'd consider sending us to read? We are putting together the next issue, and I think you'd be a wonderful fit." How did that happen? It started with people like Mrs. Meyers in 4th grade and Judge Higginbotham in high school. They were wonderful blessings in my life and their love for me lives on and I am eternally grateful to them. Thank you for the opportunity for me to share about how special they were and the influence they had on me.
For me, it was a college professor who changed my life. I had wanted to be a professional tennis player, and though I was a good college player, when I went out on the professional circuit I was -- at best -- deeply mediocre. Unless you want to teach tennis for a living, there is no place for okay in the professional sports world. I did not want to teach.
I came back to college, lost. I had worked hard and long at tennis, and it was for naught. By sheer happenstance, I took a class in Southern African politics taught by Gerald Bender. I learned about Angola, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, and South Africa. I was horrified by apartheid, and began to write a screenplay set in that country. Gerry encouraged me, and helped me meet people when I traveled to South Africa.
I had stayed in touch over the years. He was at my graduation from film school. He attended my wedding, and funerals for both my parents. He was an important part of my life. But a couple of years ago when I reached out to take him to dinner I learned he had died. RIP Gerald Bender. You changed my life.
I've been lucky to have so many people encourage me along my varied paths, but because my mind has been bending back to my teen years lately, I'll shout out one particular teacher, my tenth grade English teacher, Mr. Bulkeley, with whom I've just reestablished contact. He's long retired, 84 years old now, which is hard to imagine, but back in his tenth grade english teaching days, he encouraged me as a young writer to take risks, to read outside my comfort zone, to defy convention in my writing, and to make choices in it. They could be wrong choices, they could be profane juvenile choices, but they had to be choices. Creativity wasn't a passive act and if I wanted to live a creative life, it wouldn't happen to me. I had to make it. Whether we were reading the Odyssey or ee cummings, he pushed me to grow, not as side-effect of time passing, but as act of creation. What a lucky teen I was to have that brand of rigor thrust upon me. Plus, he was very good at cursing, which was a fucktastic education unto itself.
When I was a teenager and first started writing poetry, I met Edward Field and showed him some of my poems, worried that they were cliched. He said they were not at all cliched and to keep writing. He also said, as an example, "It takes seven years to make a dancer's body." Be patient.
All of these stories are so encouraging! Thank you for sharing!
It's always my mom, and I know it will always will be.
I work in content marketing for a nonprofit, and I write blog posts about DEI related topics. Our newsletter this month featured a pretty personal story of mine and my name was in the subject line. My mom thought my boss had specifically sent the email to her and sent her back the SWEETEST note about how proud of me she was and how thankful she is for my boss providing a wonderful work environment for me. My boss sent a nice response back about how much my job values me (as I type this now, I am truly being hit with how LUCKY I am), which my mom then proceeded to forward to me saying "Oh my gosh look at how much your boss loves you!!! I am so proud of you!!"
Somehow she has the energy to provide her undying support for her four children, each of their spouses, and her five grandchildren. I don't know how she does it.