Mentors

When I was a little tyke, eight or nine, I used to walk down about ten houses to Mr. Jaspers’ place. Typically Mrs. Jaspers answered the door, and I’d ask her if Mr. Jaspers was up for playing catch. More often than not he’d be out a few seconds later, and he threw the ball with me. Mr. Jaspers taught me that if you’re going to catch a ground ball, you have to get your body in front it and be ready for it to bounce.

In high school it was Mrs. Sommers, my drama teacher. Mrs. Sommers was an animated, somewhat eccentric, passionate woman. My other teachers were a bore, but Mrs. Sommers brought us all to life with enunciation exercises like repeating “the lips, the teeth, the tip of the tongue” over and over again until we sounded good enough. Recently my high school classmates honored her at a reunion. As person after person stood up to give their tributes to her, I remembered how twenty years ago Mrs. Sommers made no secret of her struggles with infertility. I wish I’d had the presence of mind to stand up at the reunion and announce, “Mrs. Sommers, behold: your children!” Because it’s true.

I’ve had many other mentors over the years: bosses, therapists, authors, friends I look up to. Mentors have a way of showing up when we need them most.

You have them too, of course. Maybe it’s time to send a note to one of them and say thanks.