1 Jeremy Caverley COMS 110 Wallace

Who Am I: The Purpose of My Being

Who am I and why am I here? These two questions have been etched into years worth of memories. As Thomas Carlyle once said, Culture is the process by which a person becomes all that they were created capable of being. So my search for answers begins with birth and childhood, then on to the tragic struggles in school, loss of family and homelessness. The journey didnt quite end there. Another path opened up, leading to missionary work in South Africa, to becoming an award-winning Coast Guard veteran, getting married and going to college, where I gained the positions of Chairman of the College Republicans and Vice President of Student Senate. Every experience and heartache led to a full-time ministry built on a foundation of blood, sweat and tears. Many have asked how it all came to be, how each step led to a road less traveled. The story begins in a small town in Texas called Athens. I was born and raised as the child of a single mother. I never knew my father, who was heavily into drugs and alcohol. He tried to kidnap me at only a few months of age. It came to light in 2010 that he had died twelve years earlier from his drinking and drug abuse. My stay in Athens was a short one due to the attempted kidnapping. My next stop was Lufkin, Texas. I lived at two different residences, but I dont remember much of my life there, other than our dog and jumping in the leaves. Next I landed in Huntington, Texas, where I lived from kindergarten through high school. Here is where the path widens, with an already

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difficult childhood becoming so much worse. I became the bullying target of my school. One of the most scarring memories etched into my mind forever was a day in kindergarten. We were outside for our usual fifteen minute recess, which was extended to thirty due to the nice weather. We had these large monster truck tires on the playground that I could climb inside of and over. The other children cornered me into one of the tires and started throwing dirt on me, then held me down and urinated on me. This was the beginning of a childhood plagued by bullying all throughout grade school. Soon to follow was years of torturous bullying, molestation, and assault that made me truly fit the label of an outcast, unwanted child. My years in the educational system were filled with pain and sorrow, from poor quality teachers to students that seemed to get away with anything. The more I was picked on, the more I believed that I really was a lower member of society, but when I started to examine my relatives a larger picture came into view. Many have asked about my family life. I was raised by my mother and grandmother, who were both disabled and on governmental assistance. From birth to age eighteen, I survived on food stamps, welfare and Medicaid. With this lifestyle, I began to take on the caretaker and victim type of role. I was fortunate to have an aunt who provided us with food and clothing. I cherished the times I got to visit her and my cousin. I saw these visits as my only true family experience. No one ever wishes to be part of the lower class, but when I look back on my home life, I think of our financial woes. I think of how I was hardly ever able to go out anywhere or participate in any activity, with a single mother who was disabled from a car accident and a grandmother who had never had a drivers license. I think about how I wore the same clothes for several years and carried the same backpack for so long it had to

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be duct taped to keep its contents from falling out. My life was in shambles. Surely, this meritocratic role kept me down for many years. Yet, everything happens for a reason and is all part of a Master Plan. My struggle to endure from day to day instilled strength and determination within me that would endure for a lifetime. Amidst my anger and unbearable pain, I learned that we cannot take life for granted, that every day is a gift. I was humbled to the point that I could look past myself and know that there were others out there fighting to survive. I vowed that if I ever got on my feet, I would turn my experiences into positive ones by helping others. Human beings are merely small pieces of an enormous puzzle that fit inside this planet, who I personally feel were created for more than most realize, that they could take their problems and turn them into something beautiful. And yet it is our actions that determine the course of the world, the choices we make that create disharmony and pain or goodness and brotherhood. In my lifes travels, I wanted to learn more about the earth and its people. This led me toward the role of a multiculturalist and helped me become colorblind. From my diverse background, beginning in Texas with Hispanics, African Americans and Native Americans, to my trip to South Africa as a missionary while homeless, exposure to so many types of people brought forth new adventures and experiences. It also led to many more questions as to who I am and why I am here. As answers come with experience and growth; so too come more questions with each passing day as I remember who my friends were growing up.

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Among the first of my friends was an African American boy. It is hard to believe that in twentieth century America, this lad was still picked on for his color and way of life. But growing up in a rural Southern Texas town did not inject this type of thinking into me; I saw him for who he was, not what he was or where he came from. I also observed much discrimination among Hispanics that I worked with as well, including several that I called friends. They were viewed as second-class citizens because of a language barrier or the color of their skin. It made me so mad to see people being judged by their race. Whenever I saw this type of behavior, I made it my business to speak up for the people that were put down by bigotry and ignorance. In the midst of my travels, my faith started to grow and shape my thinking and actions. This forged me into a caretaker role for everyone I met. It also led me back to church. As a child, I never attended church outside of vacation Bible schools. Those summer months were the beginnings of what I would in junior high, call my belief in Jesus Christ. It was the small church in the country where I got baptized to the larger churches in town that I began to frequent, that changed my life. I switched churches because of the horrific experience of being molested by a youth leader who was invited to stop by my friends home after summer camp. My offender happened to have been of the African American race. From that point on, my friend would only refer to black people by that dirty word starting with n. While I, the victim, faulted only my offender as a person and not as a member of any race, in my friends eyes, anyone of his color became evil. Consumed with pain but unstoppable, I chose to love and forgive this man for his unthinkable actions. I later found out that he had been kicked out of the Bible College he was attending and from what I hear, he got arrested.

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I never placed charges on him, and the incident is what brought me to a new church, but as always the constant trait came back, a reminder of being lower class, something else to hold me back in the form of a lack of transportation. Not having your own vehicle in your residence is something that to this day I can see how important it is; almost a life-sustaining item in our world today. This was always an excuse for why I couldnt go anywhere, from doctor visits, to events in the next town, or even meeting with friends. Without a vehicle I felt trapped, alone and scared. I felt like the world saw me as less than human, could not and would not understand me, and judged me based on small details such as not having a way to get around. So many examples come to mind of being reminded by students of my lower class status and the southern Texas lifestyle of just getting by. Even still my relationship with Jesus Christ seemed to remain my only hope. As religion, spirituality were my main sources of extending me beyond my current situation and again another cultural trait I still have today. As my faith grew and my history kept repeating itself, I stood the test of time. I looked deeper into the Word of God and began interacting with students, faculty, and friends. I became involved in our youth group, sang in the choir, led worship and Bible studies and more. This quickly moved me to a place of feeling that I belonged someplace in the world, as I awaited my permanent home in heaven. But just as my life began to take a positive outlook, I hit another low- the death of my grandmother. It was no surprise, but happened sooner than expected. This was the indirect cause of my becoming homeless. My mother and stepfather moved back into my home and

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for a short time, I lived with someone else. I had endured many years of physical abuse at the hands of my stepfather and watched him beat my mother as well. So after high school, I chose the lesser of two (both really dreadful) evils. I left my situation of domestic violence and moved into a homeless shelter. Life in a homeless shelter is its own cultural experience. Nowhere else can you find such a mixture of ages, groups, races, and stories. The outside world sees the situation as being our entire fault. No one stops to think that it may be something outside of the person that led them there. Society stereotypes homeless people as substance abusers who cannot keep a job or a home, and yet I have never taken a single illegal substance. I barely had more than a couple of drinks in my entire life, I did nothing to bring this on; we do not choose the family we are born into. As I am living proof that a homeless person is just thata person- with a history, hopes, dreams and feelings- not a statistic or a case. This destitute experience may have been a catastrophic event that should have held me back; on the contrary, it made me stronger, as losing a residence didnt define me as so many others who go through such an event to do. I shifted back and forth from victim to caretaker and the lower class to middle class meritocratic role. I began reaching out to other homeless people, and I could look further back and remember helping kids in school, who were either in the same boat as me or less fortunate. There was something inside these outcasts that I saw, that they must have chosen not to see, the humanistic potential dwelling deep inside them that was yearning to come out. All of this brought me to a turning point yet again and forged another character trait in my longing to find my place in

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this world. Later on, the ultimate test would come in the unexpected opportunity to go overseas, and meeting the man who would change my viewpoint forever. The journey of my life continued on, from Athens to Huntington, and everywhere in between, as my homeless experience led me to a place that not many would even dare challenge, much less take on. I was given the chance to deliver a message of hope to other homeless individuals across the sea in South Africa, but before I share about this amazing experience I must mention the man who helped make this all possible and how he was the one of many mentors who molded my life. After a few months at the shelter, I met a man whom I refer to as my benefactor, a person who gave the least of these a second chance in life to make a difference. His offer extended to me to not only attend a conference, but later on go on a mission trip and then onward to a Christian academy amazed me! He said that my past was part of who I was, and that many others could benefit from hearing my story. It was in this amazing, dumbfounding, awe-inspiring moment that I just knew I was on the right track in life, that there was a reason for everything I had to endure. My experiences enabled me to do the ultimate kindness by bringing hope and positive direction to those just like me. This realization also strengthened my faith in believing that I would not only survive my every ordeal, but come out on top with flying colors. So this just ingrained even more inside of me the caretaker role and even more so into the achieved identity which would be more reinforced later on as now my journey begins across the sea.

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Preparation for my trip into South Africa was an educational delight for me. Learning about the language, culture, food, clothing, and everything in between was exciting and very new. I was reminded of growing up the many times I saw South Africa in either films, music, or in school. It showed me that this was a path already being integrated into my mind, long before I chose to even go on this trip. This trek to becoming a multiculturalist really began, as I tried to learn the language and even speak it properly. Now I must pause to reflect upon the current political strife that this country was enduring. It was the end of the apartheid, a very racial and class warfare experience. Even as I stepped into the land, I could see barbed wire fencing, and locations marked off where land mines were, and other places still had their old propaganda up of the former regime. So it was apparent that social status, wealth, power, religion, even generational gaps were present in businesses and religious sects, so much so that if a person wasnt the right age or gender, they would not be allowed within a certain group, and then the race issue still exists in South Africa. Everywhere I went, we had to be careful not to say certain things or even go in places, as being white or a Christian was dangerous. Now, other parts of the country we were welcomed with arms wide open. Here we could help build homes to their specific needs as they saw fit. We even helped with water wells, school education, music and more. All the while, it made my heart feel warm, that someone I never met before, who may have spoken another language, even looked differently than me would accept me as I was. So after this months journey was complete and several more years passed it was time for another cultural rift to invade my senses: the call into the military.

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After years working in ministry while homeless, for a short time I lived with my aunt, making several mistakes along the way, trying to live in the real world and after a personal debate with myself, the decision was made to join the military. This choice wasnt easy; as I had all the branches to choose from however, in the end I joined the United States Coast Guard. From here the following choices had to be made. The recruiter gave me the option of either just going to boot camp or allowing the military to choose not only my location of where I would work, but the occupation of it as well. As an underclassman, there were two routes, a seaman or a fireman. Another choice was to choose an A school, this was like a vocational/college program equivalent to an associate degree. An enlisted could spend a tour just as a seaman or fireman learning nothing more than basic military life. Culture in the Coast Guard was like other branches of military the training of customs and proper courtesies to higher ranking enlisted or officers, to the raising and lowering of the flag each time at a specific time. Everything was on some sort of schedule. From the time you woke up to where you would be every day, your whole life was now owned by the United States government. Technically you were paid for every day of the year, with just thirty days of paid vacation, only if you could get the approval for time off. Now for the style of the culture I would say it involves many aspects. The achieved status role would be simply explained by their need for all members to advance from their current job descriptions into a higher role of management. Even much more so you could say they are co-cultural due to men and women working together along with the other branches of military to the interactions with civilian employment to just the general public. Furthermore, it can be broken up into a class ranking system, where the unskilled general

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fireman/seaman may have just been a basic enlisted; they still had the same rights as enlisted who had a trained job skill. Then on the other hand you have the officers, who were required before coming into the military to already have a college degree. Everyone seemed to be integrated together in a co-existing culture, with their own jargon for basic terms such as a mop, which was called a swab and the restroom was called a head. An achieved status was noticed by the many medals and ribbons given for various actions done throughout a career. This is also enforced with the enlisted/officer ranking system for members to be encouraged to learn a new skill to as they would say advance. Another point to mention is the motto of the Coast Guard, which actually would sum up several portions of my life, as how I saw fit to be prepared for the worst. Semper Paratus which means, always ready, the men and women of this branch would give their all at any hour and at any cost. This meant, constantly training, and looking not only at the present, but the future as well. All of this and more was placed in the life of those who were in the military. Although my tour only lasted roughly three years due to another culture experience, weight control. Enlisted and officers can only be a certain body fat percentage to be allowed to stay in. After serving three years of military life, I got out and moved from California where I was stationed to Ohio, as life decisions led me to marriage and the going back to college after getting laid off from work. The journey to college has been a long ten year process. Many times I tried to get into college, but because of being homeless, the moving from place to place, and a tragic day that my only transportation broke and I lost a full scholarship at a university for band, and a smaller one at a community college, things seemed to be holding me back year after year.

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So the new culture shock comes as I start my first day in college! Now from my viewpoint, college becomes its own world that gives a unique freedom to where subject matter discussed within the classroom setting can be talked about, that found in the real world, may be considered difficult subjects to mention, or taboo. Also our particular branch campus brings diversity into play with many professors, students, and faculty of all ages and backgrounds. All of this encompasses my college experience as I continue on as a junior here at Ohio University-Chillicothe. Each of these unique cultures I will never forget how they have impacted my life, as I continue to reflect upon the unthinkable hardships I endured and my struggles to simply survive to the next day, and how they have influenced me in ways to make me who I am today. So many locations across the United States and South Africa have transformed a nave simple boy into a man that joins the military and even on to college. This is all something I have dreamed about for so long and now it is all a reality, that my life wasnt in vain, and the learning experiences of the various cultural styles can continue to mold me today and into the future. But as all paths of this life are now starting to converge, my journey to becoming me can be summed up in a single, original quote: Adversity is overcome by letting the hottest of fires in life forge you into the strongest of steel.