The Right Horse
I was asked in an interview to share a heartwarming story. I started about my writing professor and ended up at Jane Goodall, and what she taught him about surviving the world while saving it.
My sophomore year of college at USC, I had a writing professor, Dr. James Owens. He was a curious character. We got along well, and after the course, he helped me write my first CV as I scrambled to apply to an internship program in London — one I found out about days prior to the deadline. I was accepted and had a magical summer abroad.
The next year at USC, James reached out to see if I wanted to start a student-run club supporting his literary non-profit — The World Is Just a Book Away. Books had opened up and fueled my world, so I jumped at the opportunity. I grew the club into a big organization on campus, and we fundraised to build a bunch of libraries with ongoing reading programs in impoverished parts of Indonesia and Mexico. James then partnered with Jane Goodall, we included environmental education in the programs, and we got to travel together to Mexico to open one of the libraries and spend time with the children. It was moving.
But as much as I believe in the power of literacy to break generational cycles of poverty, as much as I’ve seen it do just that, I knew non-profit fundraising wasn’t my main mission in life. So when I graduated USC with degrees in exercise science/human biology and business, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I had opportunities in the early tech startup scene in LA, so I started there, but the question of what to do with my capital-L Life ate at me. I worked just enough to afford an apartment in Santa Monica while I spent the rest of my time voraciously reading, learning to meditate, meeting people, and exploring ideas and places along the California coastline. I had an urgency to figure out where to take my life, but little guidance.
Again, James came through. He suggested we set up a regular Tuesday evening call to brainstorm and strategize about my career. A professor and non-profit CEO now, James had tons of experience and success in the business world and was a pro at this very task. I was also a personal trainer, and James, in need of some exercise motivation, hired me, and we often combined the sessions.
There were days I remember walking along the ocean in LA feeling like I was so close to figuring things out, but also feeling like I wouldn’t make it, like I was going a bit crazy. In hindsight, it’s clear the pain at not being aligned with my work felt like it was destroying me. I felt ill. And it was those Tuesday evening calls that in many ways saved me. Kept me tethered. Gave me the confidence I’d figure it out.
After searching and searching, I finally found the next step — I was going to get a medical degree, become a doctor, a way to pull all the disparate threads of mind, body, and spirit that seemed to be driving me. So James helped me craft a masterpiece of an admissions essay for Columbia’s Postbaccalaureate premed program, where I’d need to start with prerequisites before applying to medical school. James, a professional writer, can get paid $600/hour as a writing consultant. But again, he poured hours and hours into me for free.
I applied, got in, and excelled in the program. Two years later, I gave the commencement speech at Columbia University, where James had matriculated with an MBA two decades before. He happened to be in NYC on the day of my speech. A scheduling conflict arose, and he turned down a meeting with an Ambassador to come see me speak. Standing there, delivering an impassioned speech to my remarkable classmates, family in attendance, and my USC professor who taught me the art of public speaking — that was a special moment. For James too, sitting there in the cavernous hall of Low Library, a room he’d only been in once before — for his business school graduation years ago — now watching his former student deliver a commencement address — it was special.
I went on to get into Columbia’s medical school, get most of it paid for, and I’ve been off ever since. These days, James is more like a brother than a mentor or professor. I’m a godparent to his son. And that’s the biggest gift — a lifelong best friend, a fellow journeyer. I feel blessed to have had what feels like such a cinematic experience — that one professor who saw something in me, invested and went far beyond the call. And it worked.
As James likes to say, “I bet on the right horse.”
Years before, when James thanked his close friend and mentor Dr. Jane Goodall for trusting him to partner with The World Is Just a Book Away to carry out her Roots & Shoots environmental education work in Indonesia, she said, “Of course I trusted you. I knew you would do it.” James replied, “Well, I guess you bet on the right horse, Jane.” She smiled. “I always do, James. I always do.”
Jane passed away this past year. I always thought I would meet her one day. I think about how James, a man whose work has reached over a million children living in extreme poverty across the world, would get overwhelmed by the suffering and ask her how she dealt with it. She told him: imagine the world is full of dots, dark dots, and each one you touch turns green. Just touch as many as you can. Green begets green. Jane bet right on James. James bet right on me. The work itself saves you while saving the world, and the promise of it being enough — your dent, however small — sustains you. It's about the dot, the person, in front of you. The kind act, here, today. As small as a compliment to the cashier. Or as grand as Jane Goodall, or the professor who goes the extra mile.
All the world asks. All the world needs.
Love this!