Letter to my younger self

 

"Let your life depict your evolution as you present yourself to the world." Dr. BLR

 

 

It’s not every day you revisit your past and feel good about what you’ve discovered. I was feeling nostalgic about my military days while looking at an old photo of me, selected as a squad leader in my platoon. I searched the internet for a site where military personnel could reconnect. I found a Facebook group linked to Fort Dix Army Base, where I completed basic training in 1981. I posted a picture of my battalion, C-2-5, in the chat group and asked if anyone there was with me. It was a long shot, but I tried. 

 

Six months later, I received a response from someone claiming to have been there and to have trained with me. Of course, I was skeptical and didn’t reply until he sent a black-and-white copy of my photo from the graduation book. I was astonished to see the photo for the first time and shocked to see myself at seventeen. I didn’t know what to say or think, but I figured I’d let my younger self know how “we” had done. 

 

To the young man I once was, thank you for all you've endured to make me the strong man and father I am today. On the few occasions when you took a wrong turn, I'm glad you were lucky and never got caught in the criminal justice system. You learned an important lesson: never repeat your mistakes.

 

That decision paved the way for five years of steady employment at Napoli’s pizzeria. The long hours kept you off the streets and saved you from a fretful fate many of your contemporaries faced. It wasn’t easy to stay disciplined because you damn sure wanted to test the street life, which looked so enticing. It was a good thing you looked up to your mother, who set the example for you and your siblings and, more importantly, would’ve whooped your ass if you got into trouble. 

 

At some point, you took the initiative to seek the discipline you believed you lacked and joined the United States Army Reserves when others your age were unsure of what would happen the next day. You completed both your basic and advanced individual training, and in the latter, you were recognized as the top soldier in your battalion. I’m so proud of you! 

 

When you returned from training, you entered the entrepreneurial world and became a co-owner of Club Hardware, a hole-in-the-wall party spot for young people. For about four months, you were part of the in crowd, but it didn’t last. One evening, a concerned resident called the local police to report loud music and illegal activity at the club, and your world came crumbling down. The police raid ruined your popularity, but you came out unscathed. Again, you were lucky. 

 

Life seemed to settle down when, by happenstance, you learned about a test for entry into the New Jersey State Police. The thought of taking another test scared you because you never paid attention in class and rarely did any homework; however, you ultimately passed, and your road to success lay on uncharted terrain. 

 

While every road may have bumps along the way, you navigated it as best you could and grew as a man by taking advantage of every opportunity that came your way. You brought compassion and values to your position in the state police. However, your eyes were opened to a microcosm of corruption and institutional racism that tainted everything you believed about your new role.

 

As you progressed, you did exciting things, but you also stepped on some toes when you became a whistleblower and exposed corruption in one of their internal affairs units. Some of those who feared your potential for growth lashed out to derail your progress. Unfortunately, you were forced to file a civil lawsuit to protect yourself from retaliation and to confront those who denied you promotions. You prevailed! 

 

Due to overwhelming stress, your body turned against you. You were diagnosed with ulcerative colitis, an autoimmune disease that attacks the colon. Although not life-threatening, the disability severely limited your quality of life, yet it couldn't hold you back. Obstacles became your dessert, which you devoured like ice cream on a scorching day. You fought until the end of your career, then exited with your head held high and your integrity intact. Some called you courageous, but you described your stance as "I am my mother’s son."