04/16/2025
The Renaissance Seed: A Lesson from My First Mentor.
I was only 13 when I met my first mentor. His name was Bill. An 80-year-old Virginia homesteader with a well-worn straw hat, patched-up overalls, and a corn cob pipe. I was a 13-year-old naĂŻve boy from small-town Northern California excited to meet extended family on a summer trip to South Carolina. Great Aunt Florence was my chauffeur. A 4'9", red-haired fireball with as much energy for life as for Jesus. It was evening when we drove her gold Volvo four-door up to Bill's home surrounded by mature broad-leafed trees thick enough to still the smoke coming from a wood fireplace. I was greeted by Bill's wife who gave me a warm hug through a long floral dress and a starchy apron. Bill asked me to join him on the back screened-in porch. "I wanted to talk to you about what you wanted to be when you grew up." Whatever I said, I could tell my answer was not important. Bill told me his life had seen changes I could not imagine, from no indoor plumbing to the internet, and that I would see more change than he had ever seen. My young mind exploded. Then Bill altered the course of my life forever: "The best way for you to take care of your family is to learn as much about as many things as possible rather than everything about one thing." Bill planted my renaissance seed.
Ps: This bunny wasn't my first mentor (that was Bill), but it was my first photo op! Me at 6, not 13.
