When we got caught, and we stood, well I sat, at attention like good sailors while we endured the agonizingly boring lecture on why rules are important for the safety of everyone in the hospital.
In the cafeteria, Shane bought me my second lunch.
I loaded the burger with all the toppings, and extra mustard, to please my tastebuds.
This time, I didn’t rush. I couldn’t. Eating a heaping-with-all-the-fixings, too big for my mouth burger with only one hand wasn’t easy.
“You want some help with that?” Shane asked after he stopped laughing.
“That’d be great. Thanks.” I picked the lettuce off my legs, then wiped the mustard off my sweatpants as he cut my burger into quarters.
We didn’t have a lot to catch up on, since I’d spent my holiday break helping out at the ranch, but there was one kid I wanted to ask about.
“How’s Trina?” She was a foster kid who’d run away from an abusive family. Like most kids, Trina landed at Shane’s after a run in with the law and had major trust issues.
Shane’s ranch was a last resort for local teens in the system; most were runaways from abusive homes who struggled to survive on the streets. Shane helped them clean up their act, and gave them a roof over their head while teaching them useful skills and getting them back in school.
For many, it was their last chance to get their shit together before they wound up in juvenile detention, or worse. Those who passed the interview were invited to move in immediately.
I wasn’t a runaway, and had worked at the ranch before the cop who arrested me for underaged drinking, and knew my family history, brought me to Shane instead of locking me up.
I was one of the lucky ones, and I’d made the most out of my second chance.
Despite Shane’s best efforts and loving guidance, not everyone who stayed at the ranch went on to live a drug or jail free life. But his successes far outweighed the failures.
When I’d visited Shane last December, he told me about Trina. “She works her ass off, like she’s afraid she’ll get booted, and she’s timid, even with the other kids.”
For whatever reason, she’d opened up to me when I was leading an archery class during my second day there. She was a natural, so I’d asked her to help one of the shy younger kids during the next class.
The shy girl Shane described disappeared when she talked to me, and while hesitant to work with the other kids at first, she’d come out of her shell faster than I’d expected as more kids asked for her help.
“You had a major impact on her.”
“In a good way, I hope?”
Shane’s brow lifted his more salt than pepper hairline.
“She’s doing well.” He took a bite and chewed it slowly, leaving me hanging in suspense.
“And?”
“She’s thinking about joining the Navy after she graduates high school.” His proud papa bear smile grew even bigger when he added, “She wants to be a teacher.”
He let it sink in. The girl, who rarely spoke to anyone, wanted to join the Navy and become a teacher.
“You gave her that,” he said.
“No, I just showed her the way. She did the work.”
“And that, Matthew, is why you’re one of my biggest successes.”
“I am? How so?”
“Most people think it’s because you became a SEAL, which is no small feat and I’m proud as a peacock you followed in my footsteps, but that’s not what makes you a success. It’s what you give back to the kids who find themselves on my doorstep.”
“That’s crazy. I show up once a year or so. You do all the hard work.”
“You show up and give everything you have to those kids. They listen to you because you’ve been there. You show them what’s possible.” He pointed at me with his fork. “And you refuse to accept a lick of credit for the impact you have.”
