Yesterday, a homeless man approached me, looking disheveled and downcast, asking for $20. Instead, I handed him $50. To my surprise, he smiled and said, “Thank you! Don’t you recognize me?”
It was Ross, a high school classmate. I was stunned as memories of our past fights came flooding back, but I also remembered how he had once stood up for me. Now, his life had taken a heartbreaking turn. He confessed, “I got involved with the wrong crowd—joined a gang, got into drugs and alcohol, slept around, abandoned three pregnant women, ended up in jail seven times. Now, I’m begging just to survive.”
He walked away, leaving me lost in thought, wondering how our lives had diverged so drastically. The answer dawned on me: my parents. They had been strict, with firm rules and structure, while his childhood lacked that foundation.
I used to think, “My parents were the worst.” But now, I realize they gave me what Ross never had—discipline, healthy habits, and respect for authority.
As I reflect on our different paths, I feel grateful for the upbringing that shaped me. Ross, without that guidance, lost his way. I’m left thinking about the bigger picture: if we want to fix this broken world, we need to start with the children. Education and guidance can change everything.