Back in July, Father’s Day got me to thinking about the mentors in my life. My father taught me things that have been vital throughout my life. My grandfather and an uncle were iconic in my life, but there were also mentors that were unrelated by blood. The contributions of my mentors often seemed insignificant at the time. But looking back over my life, I’m humbled by the things they chose to share with me.
One mentor in my early life was Cecil Kitchens. He was an old mechanic that worked on our cars and lawnmowers. Mr. Kitchens who lived in a small community not far from my birthplace. He was the best mechanic around, according to my dad. After a few visits to his shop, he became number one in my book, too. Cecil’s shop was orderly. His hand tools were as clean as spoons.
When people brought machines to him for repair, the first thing he did was listen to the customer. He’d nod as they described knocks, sputters and squeaks. He always did a visual inspection of the mechanism. His approach to his work was methodical. I credit Mr. Kitchens for my problem-solving skills.
Throughout my life whenever I’m working on a device, I think of how Mr. Kitchens looked and listened before putting wrench to metal. Thanks to Cecil, I’m able to fix things.
Several of my teachers in school taught me things that my report card did not reflect. Not the least of which was “Always Do Your Homework.” Even today when I have a meeting at work or at one of my volunteer efforts, I always do my homework. I realized the importance of this lesson after years of meetings. When someone comes unprepared, it is a waste of everyone’s time. Not doing homework is rude and expensive.
Another mentor that stands out in my mind is Dale Short. I’m sure he’ll blush when he reads this, but it’s true. He taught me to take photographs. He also taught me the love of writing and the importance of working on the craft daily. We worked together at The Community News in Sumiton just after my tour in the Army. The job didn’t pay a lot, but what I learned during my time there was priceless.
G. M. Young was a general manager for the phone company back in the 70s. I met Mr. Young at a city council meeting. He started hanging out the paper office. We’d all drink coffee now and then. We talked about business, politics and the meaning of life.
When I left my job at the paper, I lost touch with Mr. Young. My cousin Tommy Lowery hired me at his package store to pump gas and load beer. I worked there almost a year while I looked for a job. One day Mr. Young stopped by the station for gas. He stepped out of his company car and leaned against the door as I filled his tank and cleaned his windshield. He asked if I’d ever thought about working for the phone company. I told him I was looking for a job and would do most any kind of work. He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and wrote down a name and phone number.
At break time, I called the number and asked for Mildred Clayton. She was a hiring manager for MaBell. She told me to come in and take a battery of tests. Before leaving that day, she asked me to report to work on January 3, 1977. I was thrilled.
Working for the phone company allowed me to buy a new home, attend college, travel and meet amazing people through the years. I often wonder if Mr. Young realized the impact he had on my life.
It doesn’t cost money to be a mentor, but they often share something much more valuable — knowledge, empathy and time.
Rick Watson is a columnist and author. His latest book, “Life Goes On,” is available on Amazon.com. You can email at rick@homefolkmedia.com.
