The Bastard Child

Finally, the moment of truth was now at hand; my introduction was my cue to make my way to the platform like we had practiced earlier that day. Watching my life story unfold on the screen as I approached the stage was surreal. The Ten Outstanding Young American (TOYA) committee had captured my life story and contributions to the world and made a remarkable video (to see it was incredibly humbling, it put things into context for me). At that precise moment, for the first time, having my life put in context before me, and my contributions to man highlighted, I felt that I humbly belonged amongst the other winners. With each step I took towards the platform, my heart began to pound harder and harder, as if it would burst through my shirt. Now center stage and looking out into the crowd, I realized just how many people were in the audience from a “birds-eye-view.” Before saying a word, I collected myself; I knew this would be the speech of my life. I took a deep breath and I prepared to give my speech, prepared weeks before. You could hear a pin drop it was so quiet before I said a single word, or at least that was what I was thinking. When I began to speak, I thanked the panel of judges who selected me for this tremendous honor. Next, I thanked my family that was in attendance and my squadron and wing commander. And last but not least, I thanked my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. My speech painted a picture of my life, from my humble beginnings as a child, through my troubled years as a teenager and then my time in the military. I expressed that day on the stage that life, no matter how difficult, was to be embraced, explaining that someone, somewhere on this earth had it harder than you. I explained to the audience how I would find myself feeding the homeless in my hometown when no one knew. How I wanted to make amends for many of the wrongs that I had done as a young man in the streets of New Jersey. I explained that I got to know poverty firsthand by life and by traveling the world while in the military, trying to make a difference with my bare hands, at times carrying food to those in need. That life was not about receiving, but giving back to humanity with everything you had. How education propelled me in life, and how it leveled the playing field for me. I acknowledged my fellow TOYA recipients that night on stage; I applauded them for their contributions that they had made to this great nation and the world. It was clear that we all shared a burning desire to do one thing, make a positive difference in this world, whether it was in medicine, philanthropy, or for humanity. For a moment that night, I thought back to Chris my Resident Assistant at Kean College who was the first one to say, young man trade in your baggy pants and hoodie for slacks and a dress shirt, and be somebody. At that moment, I realized he was saying “Sean, it’s time to be a man and not a statistic.” Standing before that crowd, I knew that my life had come full circle. It was amazing and I could proudly look out into the audience knowing that my life’s work as a humanitarian had made a difference in some small way. I understood what the TOYA’s were acknowledging, but the award that was placed in my hands at the conclusion of my speech was not mine, not by far; it belonged to everyone who had helped me along the way to get me to this moment in life, for they truly deserved the credit, to include those who abused me. I had taken that abuse and channeled it towards positive momentum. When I went to exit the stage, I noticed the audience began to stand and applaud. First it was just a few people, then a table or two, then the room in its entirety. They kept their applause going; it’s as if no one wanted to sit down. Even making my way back to my table, my wife said “Sean they are still applauding!” I could not believe my eyes or ears as the cheers continued; I was humbly brought to tears. Looking back on my life, I knew at that point that I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, despite the physical brutality that I endured and the psychological scars that I was still dealing with. What was supposed to break me in life had only made me compassionately stronger. Faith—in a person’s belief, ability, or purpose—is an incredible thing. At the conclusion of the formal ceremony, each TOYA recipient was escorted to their own personal autograph signing suite. Not thinking that I would be autographing many programs, I told my wife Tonya that it would be okay if she came into the signing room with me. I set her a chair up next to mine at the table that had been set up for me. With the door closed, I had a few minutes to collect myself, but again I didn’t think that there would be anyone outside of my door that would want an autograph, a few at best. I told the TOYA representative that was assigned to me to open the door, again reminding my wife that we would not be there too long. To my surprise, when the door to my suite was opened, there was a line of TOYA attendees waiting for an autograph. I was overwhelmed by the response that was standing before me.