Cliche Catalysts? Maybe...

On first thought, it seems silly to write an open letter thanking the various people that inspired me and brought me up simply because when I stand back and look at myself, I don’t see some great accomplishment. And I certainly don’t want my shortcomings to be reflected on those near and dear to me, but if I look closely, really look, I’m not showing my gratitude to them for turning me into some spectacular protégé. I’m appreciating the fact that they influenced the most malleable parts of me in my development and indeed gave parts of themselves to me. Is it so hard for me to give credit where credit is due? Yes.

Yes, it is. And why? Well, that would be because of the first epic role model that graced my life who’s been there from day one: my father. Personally, I call him ‘Dad’, but whenever I refer to him to anyone else, he’s ‘my father.’ He’s a rigid man, calculating and deliberate. I can’t recall ever seeing him do anything on a whim or just because. He’s quiet and reserved to most everyone and only seems to emote to his very close friends and family. I’ve always looked up to him even though there are things about him I don’t like (most probably because I can see some of my more flawed personality traits that seemed to have been passed to me) and most notable of all these things is his humility. In the public arena, he is modest and slow to act rashly or without great deliberation. From him I received my ‘black or white, there is no gray’ mentality of problem solving. Do I mimic some of his less desirable characteristics? I think you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who didn’t pick up at least a few from their parents. Those little blemishes on the face of my personality really don’t seem to matter as much when I look at all the shining parts of myself that will forever immortalize him through me. Perseverance, integrity, and humility along with a healthy dose of long held, traditional scruples are what I gleaned from him. Everyone has these, to some degree, but I believe that due to his influence and instruction, I have top marks in these areas.

He pushed me to do well in school, which at the time seemed passé as well as barbaric. It never made sense to me (and I think that’s a pretty common line of thought in children) but I’m glad that I mostly did my best in school because it really opened me up for meeting some really special people. There are many teachers that I had in school from K-12 that had a hand in forming my personality as well as contributing to my individuality. But there is one that is above the rest that seemed to imbed her passion and curiosity deep into my being. My high school German teacher pried open my narrow mind, left it open while she deftly worked to instill the wonder and fascination I now have towards different cultures and people, and then shut it back up to send me on my way—truly a better person. I walked into her class with a sense of nationalism loosely cloaked with a waistcoat of patriotism that was a tattered hand-me-down from my forbearers, and I left in a garment all my own that she helped me stitch together with all patience, compassion, and a sense of adventure.

This sense of adventure helped me to branch out and shuffle out of my comfort zone a little and that is where I met the last person I want to thank as a mentor and, more importantly, a friend. It’s a funny story, how we even became friends. My sister hated her (they were about the same age and my not-yet friend was beautiful and funny and popular) and she forbid me to ever talk to her. One day, years later, she finally asked what my deal was and why I wasn’t nice to her and I suddenly blinked, seeing things clearly for the first time. “I don’t know. My sister told me not to be.” I shrugged. As soon as I had spoken those words, I realized how silly they had sounded and we became friends immediately. It was good timing, considering I was going to be leaving high school and going off to college. She was my only regular contact in college. We talked all the time. Although she was only a few years older than me, she helped me to navigate the scary world of adulthood I was stumbling through. She taught me about peer pressure (a subject in which I am now well rounded), honesty, encouragement, and doing the right thing even when it absolutely blows.

I feel like some of the best parts of me come from these people and I don’t think I’ve ever told them as much. There are many more that helped me discover who I am and what I’m about, but these were the first three that came to mind. I can’t imagine being who I am today if they wouldn’t have been present in my life. They’ve packed my toolbox of life skills plumb full and I, by the end of my life, it was found exemplary and worthy of commemorating, it would be, most certainly, due to these few guardians, instructors, and encouragers. A simple thank you won’t suffice, but if I had to recompense somehow, it would be by living a life that shows their efforts well justified and that they weren’t in vain.