Not pushing away, but embracing

STEVE SMITH

The surgeon first met the boy in October 1971. The surgeon had come

to see one of his four sons play in a varsity basketball game at

Fairfax High School in Los Angeles.

He had just come from his office, and he was dressed in a suit.

Shortly after the game ended, he walked over to one of his two

daughters, who was talking to the boy.

“Who’s this young man?” he asked. No one said anything in

response, and the boy, 16, and a Fairfax student, drifted away.

In contrast to the surgeon’s suit, the boy was wearing jeans and

an untucked shirt.

His scruffy, old sneakers were barely covered by the bell bottoms

of his pants.

His hair was long, almost down to his shoulders.

That was not unusual for 1971, but to those around at the time, it

was a clear sign of rebellion.

The boy wasn’t trying to rebel. Like most kids his age, he was

trying to fit in.

Even more than that, he was trying to find his way; trying to

latch on to something somewhere that fit, something that made him

feel as though it were the place and the circumstances in which he

was meant to be.

The boy did not feel at the time that he was meant to be at his

own home.

Today, the home would have a label -- most would use the word

“dysfunctional” -- but at the time it was simply a place he knew he

should not be.

By the end of the year, the boy had visited the surgeon’s home

several times.

This, he thought, was a place he thought he should be.

He saw six children and two parents getting along. The children

had parents with expectations, but more than that, they had their own

ideas of achievement and were on various tracks to meet long-term

goals.

At night, the surgeon came home for dinner.

Everyone sat a big, round table and talked.

Sometimes the surgeon was late because he was busy saving a life,

but he made it as often as he could.

Even when he was not there, the family felt his presence.

After dinner, the surgeon helped with the dishes. The boy watched

as the hands that had just replaced a heart valve or grafted a vein

were now elbow deep in dish soap.

More than that, he saw how natural and normal it all seemed.

This was it, thought the boy. This is how it’s supposed to be.

Despite his rough edges, the boy spent more and more time at the

surgeon’s home.

He was invited to dinner at restaurants he would not otherwise

have been able to visit, and he watched how people behaved -- how

they ordered, what they wore and even how they ate.

It was all new, all good, and he soaked it up.

The boy attended plays with them at the music center in downtown

Los Angeles and was made to feel a part of the surgeon’s family.

Little by little, the boy changed.

He cut his hair and started to buy a completely different style of

clothes.

To some, it was more conservative, but he felt it was just normal.

In 1972, the surgeon put the boy to work in his large office. To

the casual observer, it would have seemed as though the boy wasn’t

doing much, but in fact, he was soaking this up, too.

He saw the letters the surgeon wrote to other doctors.

He saw how kindly he treated his staff, always making time to

check in with everyone, if only just to say “hello.”

The boy’s grades began to improve as he saw the connection between

achievement in school and achievement in life.

His own parents had not gone to college and could not make this

connection for him.

The boy was evolving, and although he knew he still had along way

to go, for the first time in his life he began to feel real hope for

his future.

Over the course of the boy’s five-year association with the

surgeon, his wife and their children, the boy learned what it took to

excel.

He learned how to eat, dress and work. He learned what it meant to

make a promise and keep it.

He learned what it meant to accept life’s increasing challenges

not as road blocks but as more opportunities to grow and learn.

Even more important, he learned the importance of being civil, of

being responsible, and of never, ever, doing anything that would harm

his reputation.

The boy is now a grown man, with a wife, children of his own and

not one, but two successful careers, which he manages simultaneously.

One of the careers is the fulfillment of a dream he has had since

he was 9 years old.

When he stops to appreciate the great success he has achieved, not

always measured by his bank account, he credits the surgeon and his

wife.

And realizes after all this time that everything they taught him

was done by example.

Not once did they ever stop to explain to him how to do the things

he learned.

*

January is National Mentoring Month. This true story is a special

message to all parents whose children may have brought home someone

who is not what you would consider to be an ideal friend.

Miracles can happen when you use your arms not to push away, but

to embrace.

* STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and a freelance writer.

Readers may leave a message for him on the Daily Pilot hotline at

(714) 966-4664.