Delivering the keynote address at the annual Mathematics, Engineering, Science, Achievement Awards Dinner at San Jose State University (photo courtesy of SJSU)
“Eloquent speech is not from lip to ear, but rather from heart to heart.” ~ William Jennings Bryan
From the late 19th century through the early 20th century, William Jennings Bryan was the driving force behind the populist wing of the Democratic Party. He was the Democrats’ candidate for President of the United States in 1896, 1900, and 1908. Although he lost all three times (that’s something I can relate to), Bryan spoke from the heart and captured the soul of the modern Democratic Party.
Over the last several months, I’ve had the privilege to speak at community gatherings, corporate partnership meetings, San Jose State University, Gavilan Community College, and local high schools. Each one of these opportunities has been a humbling experience as audiences have inspired me to speak from the heart about my passions: leadership, education, and second chances.
If your organization or event planners are looking for a speaker who inspires audiences with heartfelt, amusing, and compelling stories, check out my speaking services.
I tailor each talk to engage your audience by drawing on stories about life growing up in a working-class neighborhood and sharing insights from over 25-years as a corporate executive, school board president, community leader, and high school and junior college basketball coach.
Talking with students during my 2008 campaign for the high school board (campaign photo)
Blogger’s note: The following passage is the final installment of Chapter 3: “Redemption” from my manuscript of Summer in the Waiting Room: How Faith, Family, and Friends Saved My Life. ” Summer in the Waiting Room will take a three-week hiatus and resume on Wednesday, July 8th.
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My professional career and political prospects were progressing well in 2008. I had the privilege of attending the Democratic National Convention in Denver, Colorado, as a Comcast executive and witnessed history when Senator Barrack Obama accepted the nomination of his party for president of the United States. The general election of 2008 would also be the testing ground for my potential run at higher office. I was an incumbent school board member who had an admirable, if not distinguished, record on the school board running for election to keep the seat to which I had been appointed.
I had secured the endorsement of the teacher’s union, my colleagues on the board, the San Jose Mercury News, and nearly every politician who served residents in San Jose. I also amassed more campaign funds than the other candidate. With this profile, winning election seemed to be assured. There was one problem. My opponent was a former longtime trustee who had name recognition as a school board member.
When the votes were counted on election night, November 4, 2008, Barrack Obama became the first black president in the history of the United States, and I had I lost again. Over the course of twelve years, I had attempted to win election to public office four times and earned the trust of financial supporters and volunteers, but emerged with no victories. My political career was in tatters.
That same election, a longtime friend, George Shirakawa, ran for and was elected to the county board of supervisors. Right after his election, he asked me to consider leaving Comcast to join his team as chief of staff. We made a great team on the school board and George persuaded me that we could make a big difference working together at Santa Clara County. I would have to take a large pay cut, but I would be home every night and would not have to travel across the nation.
Even though I was dejected by the results of my election, I was looking forward to a new venture helping George assemble his staff and leading a team that could make a positive impact in the community. Also, the day after Election Day, the new president of the school board invited me to breakfast and encouraged me to apply for the appointment of the seat vacated by George as a result of his election to the county board of supervisors. Demoralized, I couldn’t imagine putting myself through that pain again. But the pain of failure cut deeper, and after a long talk with Sandra and some personal soul-searching. I accepted the challenge and was reappointed to the board of trustees two months later.
I was busy at the start of 2009 setting up the supervisor’s office and seeking opportunities to be an effective school board trustee. The pace at the county board of supervisors was slow compared to the hustle of the corporate world, so I added another major project to my plate. I was part of a group that started a leadership academy to help professional Latinos develop community leadership skills. It was going to be a busy schedule, but I didn’t have to travel anymore. I would be able to spend time with my family and sleep in my own bed every night.
On the school board, the opportunity to make my mark came immediately. Before I began my second appointed tenure, the board unanimously voted to close a budget shortfall by eliminating after-school sports to the outrage of the community. The final decision would be made later in the spring when I was back on the board. I believed deeply in the value of extracurricular athletics as it had been a great experience for me in high school.
Despite vigorous opposition by the teachers union, I supported student-athletes, parents, and the community by hosting town hall meetings, writing an op-ed article in the newspaper, and meeting with my colleagues and other influential people in the community to persuade them to save sports. In late May 2009, the board voted 4-1 to maintain the after-school sports program. I had the momentum I needed to position myself for a strong election campaign to earn my appointed seat in 2010.
“I don’t live in either my past or my future. I’m interested only in the present. If you can concentrate always on the present, you’ll be a happy man. Life will be a party for you, a grand festival, because life is the moment we’re living now.” ― Paolo Coelho, The Alchemist
If you haven’t read The Alchemist, read it as soon as you get a chance. It’s the story about a boy who has a dream about buried treasure. A wise man tells him to follow his dream, so the boy sets out on the long journey from his home in Spain to the find his fortune. Along the way, he meets good and bad people and experiences success and great loss. Once he arrives at his destination, the boy realizes that the treasure was the journey itself.
What fascinated me about the story was how the boy immersed himself in what was happening to him at any given moment. While his ultimate goal was realizing his dream, he didn’t let that get in the way of experiencing the journey one moment at a time. For most of my life, this concept has been totally foreign to me. I’ve always lived, not in the present, but analyzing past events to create a better future. I was always a few steps ahead of myself.
Unlike the boy in The Alchemist, I spent most of my life preparing and planning for future success and happiness. In the process, I didn’t fully experience the joy and sadness life had to offer. A health crisis four years ago forced me to live one day at a time. Shortly after recovering, a good friend recommended that I read Paolo Coelho’s masterful fable. I found the tale to be profound, yet perplexing.
Although the meaning of the story resonates with me, I still struggle to truly understand the concept of living in the present. Like most people, I worry about the mortgage, paying for my daughters’ education, and funding retirement. Voice-mail, e-mail, texts, and social media are always there to distract me from the present moment. Despite these distractions, I now try to live one day at a time.
Every once I awhile, I’m able live in the here and now. For me, it’s different and kind of strange, but it’s fulfilling. I better understand what it means to be alive. As I write, I hear birds singing outside my window, see trees swaying in the wind, and smell the freshness of morning through an open door. They’ve always been there, I just didn’t know it. I’m reminded that when I concentrate on the present, I appreciate the sights, sounds, and smells of life. I think everyone should give it a try.
As Coelho writes, “life is the moment we’re living now.”
Marisa and Erica get Sen. Hillary Clinton’s autograph at a 2008 rally in San Jose. (Sandra & Eddie García family photo)
That same fall, I applied for an appointment to an open seat on the high school board and worked hard to get the votes needed to ensure victory. After three elections losses, I finally became a public policymaker. I shared my story with students in the economically and ethnically diverse district that included my alma mater to inspire and encourage them to work hard, dream, persevere and believe in second chances. I was working around the clock with my dual duties as a Comcast executive and school board trustee.
On one occasion the two duties intertwined when I was on the east coast and airlines were cancelling and delaying flights due to bad weather. I planned to present a new policy proposal for the school board to discuss that night. Originally scheduled to take an early morning flight, I was scheduled to arrive in time for the 4:00 PM executive session and 6:00 PM public meeting where I would introduce my proposal.
My flight from Ronald Reagan National Airport in Washington, D.C. to San Jose was canceled and my desperate attempts to secure another flight, even on any other airline, were unsuccessful. With time running out, I took a taxi from Reagan Airport to Dulles International Airport. During the 35-minute drive, I frantically called airlines in search of a flight that would get me home in time for the vote. Finally, at Dulles, I was able to secure the last seat on a flight that was scheduled to connect in Las Vegas for the final leg to San Jose.
The flight would arrive around 7:00 PM, so before departing from Dulles, I called the board president and requested a delay in the proposal until I arrived. Sitting in the middle seat of a cramped plane only added to my anxiety about missing an opportunity. The connecting flight in Las Vegas was also delayed, but I was determined to get to the school board meeting. Once the plane landed in San Jose, I drove directly from the airport to the board chambers to introduce my proposal. It was almost 9:00 PM when the board discussed the proposal and shortly thereafter approved it unanimously.
Although I enjoyed the adventure and adrenalin rush both high-profile positions offered to me, I hadn’t realized that I was neglecting the diversions that had balanced my life. I no longer buried my nose into a good biography or followed the NCCA basketball tournament to its inevitable exciting conclusion. I couldn’t remember the last San Francisco Giants game I attended that didn’t include a business and relationship-building component or a movie that I could enjoy with Sandra and the girls.
Most apparent, I wasn’t spending time just hanging out with the larger Peralta family. Sandra, her parents and sisters, and we husbands had always been close. We baptized each other’s children and gathered frequently at the Peralta’s house for no other reason than to be together. There were the weddings, the family parties, the college graduations, Christmas, Thanksgiving, and News Year’s Eve that also kept the bonds strong. I had rationalized that I was still fully engaged through the holidays and major family events, but in reality, my career and my public life had taken center stage.
What I was missing were the bull sessions and drinking beer with Mr. Peralta around the barbecue pit on a lazy Saturday afternoon, the “honey-do” home improvement projects and customary beer drinking afterwards with Eddie, the ballgames with Pancho, and the conversations about business and politics with Miguel. I wasn’t keeping up with the family stories and gossip I so enjoyed with Mrs. Peralta, Valerie, Kimberley, and Shelley. My dizzying work and school trustee schedule kept me occupied.
The Comcast executive salary provided a lifestyle that I could never have imagined. I was able to take my family on vacations to the east coast, Hawaii, and Puerto Vallarta. We even took mini-trips to Santa Fe and the Grand Canyon, and weekenders in San Francisco and Monterey. I was speechless when my father-in-law proudly and emotionally walked onto the grounds of the White House on a tour I had arranged. When Senator Hillary Clinton visited San Jose for a rally during her historic presidential campaign, my family and I had access to seats next to the stage.
I had reasoned that these opportunities made up for missing day-to-day family interactions. I had reached the apex of my comeback and the college failure demons had been destroyed. I was an executive for a large corporation who traveled throughout the country to represent the company’s interests and I was a trustee for a large school district. The political bug had bitten me again and I was poised to take it as far as I could. With a small group of supporters, I started to map out a strategy to prepare myself to be a future candidate for higher office.
Hanging out with Marisa and Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi. (personal photo)
A few weeks after the shortness of breath episode in Long Beach, while sitting in a plane that was descending into San Antonio International Airport, I again struggled to catch my breath. I felt fine the rest of the trip, but made an appointment with my doctor when I returned home. The doctor checked my vital signs, administered an electrocardiogram (EKG) test, and a cardiac stress test, which consists of the patient walking on a treadmill to determine if blood is flowing correctly through the heart during physical exertion.
I passed all of the exams without difficulty, relieved that I wasn’t suffering from the same fate as my parents and my sister. The doctor explained that I might have issues related to anxiety as the symptoms are similar, but far less intense, to those of a heart attack. I was ultimately diagnosed with a form of anxiety that causes a rapid heartbeat, sweating, chest pain, nausea, and numbness. The disorder can be hereditary or caused by environmental factors such as stressful life events and life transitions.
For nearly a year, I had been masking the grief of my mom’s loss by working incessantly and grappling with some of my siblings on settling the estate. Doctors were sure that my episodes were not the result of genetics. They were caused by the life-changing events related to my mom. The doctors assured me that I could manage my condition by participating in a few group and individual sessions with a therapist, and taking small doses of anxiety medication.
I took stock of my life, and like everything else I did, I put all my being into the treatment to quickly resolve the issues. Despite the scare, I returned to my hectic schedule. Armed with the tools to manage the void caused by my mom’s passing, I focused my energy to finally disposing of the failure demons and achieving professional success once and for all. Determined to move up in the company, I worked harder at the office, continued representing Comcast at national Latino events, and dedicated precious extra time to making an impression on corporate honchos at the Executive Leadership Forum.
In 2005, my leadership forum teammates selected me to present our group project to the chairman of the board and the company’s top executives. My presentation was a hit. Before long, opportunities to demonstrate my talents and commitment to the company came quickly and regularly. I soon had the chance to make a big contribution on a national conference call with corporate bigwigs. I offered to help Comcast secure a franchise in Houston, Texas, by introducing top company executives to the vice mayor of the fourth largest city in the country.
Houston’s vice mayor was an emerging national Latina leader who I met during my travels on behalf of the company. I scheduled a lunch meeting and traveled to Houston to make the introduction personally. After months of negotiations, Comcast won the contract with the vice mayor’s support. That summer, I was chosen to lead a meeting in Washington, D.C. with the chairman of the company and a high-ranking member of the U.S. House of Representatives Energy & Commerce Committee with whom I had a solid working relationship.
The veteran California congresswoman’s wood-paneled office had a high ceiling, luxurious drapes, and photos of her with our nation’s leaders. California and American flags framed her large oak desk. The office was bigger than the first apartment Sandra and I lived in when we got married. During the meeting, I couldn’t help but think about how far I had come from the simple days at 48 Viewmont Avenue, the college failure, the dark years of aimlessly wandering through life, and the triumphant return to and graduation from San Jose State University.
A few months later, I stood at the podium of the Fairmont Hotel in Dallas, Texas, to deliver brief comments on behalf of Comcast to a thousand Latino elected officials from throughout the country at the annual NALEO conference. It was the same gathering that, as a green and impressionable political staffer, inspired me to forge a career in politics nearly a decade earlier. By the fall of 2006, I had been named vice president of local government affairs for Comcast in California.
As vice president, I developed and managed the company’s local government relations initiatives and continued with my travels. Business trips included regular drives throughout California to visit and meet with the eight government affairs directors who reported to me. I also played a role as a company representative at political events across the state. On one such occasion, Marisa went with me to a fundraising event at the Los Altos Hills estate of a Silicon Valley executive where former President Bill Clinton was the featured speaker.
I beamed with pride when Marisa, just 12 years old, recognized and introduced herself to Nancy Pelosi, the first woman to be Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives. Marisa shook President Clinton’s hand and we arranged a photo with Speaker Pelosi. It’s impossible to accurately portray how it felt that day to provide my daughter with the opportunity to meet a U.S. President and House Speaker. The failure demons that haunted me for so long were gradually fading away.
My dad taking a walk in Honolulu after the end of World War II, circa September 1945 (García family photo)
“Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.”
~President Abraham Lincoln, “Gettysburg Address”
Memorial Day gives all Americans a chance to reflect on those who gave their lives to ensure our freedom. Many of my relatives and family friends served in combat during World War II, Korea, Vietnam, and Iraq. Although they didn’t make the ultimate sacrifice on the battlefield, I’ve always admired their courage and commitment to our nation. Using President Lincoln’s words, it’s “proper and fitting” today that I honor them and the heroes who gave their lives for our country.
My dad, Fred O. García (1926-1995), served on the U.S.S. Wasp in the Pacific Ocean during World War II. On this Memorial Day, I honor him and his fellow American heroes.
My sister Patty with my mom in early 2003. Sandra and Eddie García family photo)
Blogger’s note: This is the 23rd installment from my manuscript of Summer in the Waiting Room: How Faith, Family, and Friends Saved My Life. I post weekly excerpts every Wednesday morning. Check out the “About Summer in the Waiting Room” link at the top of this page to learn more about the story. To read previous installments, go to the “Tags” link and click on “Summer in the Waiting Room.”
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By mid-year, the senior VP in California informed me that I had been selected, at his recommendation, to participate in the exclusive Comcast Executive Leadership Forum class of 2004. The Executive Leadership Forum was by invitation only, and the corporate chitchat was that those who completed the program were soon sitting in executive chairs. Just as my professional prospects were looking up, my personal life took a downturn.
In March 2003, my sister Patty, just forty-nine years old, suddenly died from myocarditis, an inflammation of the heart muscle caused by an infection from a virus. She started the year with what seemed like a bad cold that appeared to lead to bronchitis and pneumonia, but doctors couldn’t clearly identify the problem and decided to do exploratory surgery. The morning of her surgery I called Patty to wish her luck and told her that Sandra and I would make the four hour drive to her home in Bakersfield to see her when she emerged from the operating room. That was the last conversation I had with my sister.
During surgery, the doctors confirmed that she had myocarditis and that her heart was so weak that she would need a heart transplant immediately. A suitable heart was found at the UCLA Medical Center, just a short one hour helicopter flight to Los Angeles. The doctors first needed to make sure that her heart was strong enough for the flight, so my sisters Barbara and Sisi, and my brother-in-law’s family prayed for a positive outcome and anxiously waited for the doctor.
Finally, in the early morning hours before dawn, the doctor walked into the waiting room and asked my brother-in-law to step into the ICU unit. My brother-in-law asked me and the priest who presided over his and Patty’s wedding many years earlier to join him and the doctor. Once in the wide and antiseptic hallway of the ICU unit, the doctor, in a straightforward and unemotional manner, told my brother-in-law that Patty’s heart had weakened to the point of failure and that she would die within the hour.
As my brother-in-law sobbed and pounded his fists against the wall in grief, I stood by dazed and numb, and my mind started to spin trying to find answers in the confusion. Patty had been in great shape, she ate well, rarely stressed about anything, and she died of a bad heart. A few days later, I was given the honor to speak at her memorial service where I described her fighting spirit and her total devotion to her husband and her only son Matt, while my mind swirled about my own mortality.
At just thirty-nine years of age, I intensified the urgency I had placed on myself to achieve redemption by accepting the invitation to participate in the Comcast Executive Leadership Forum and working longer hours. I was excited about starting the program and moving forward after the stunning death of my sister, but 2003 ended on the same tragic note when my mom died of a blood infection after battling kidney failure for several years.
Once again, I found myself at the podium delivering a eulogy for a woman I loved while my mind raced about the ticking clock that foretold the end of my time. While my sister’s sudden death was startling and forced me to think about my health, my mom’s passing was devastating. She had been the glue that kept everything together. Her unconditional love kept me afloat during the darkest of times. I was sad, scared, and not sure how I would get through the tough times that were sure to come.
In addition to the emotional pain, my mom had named me the trustee of her living trust and I felt a deep sense of obligation to get it right. Hearing my dad’s voice advising that working hard was the best my way to get through sorrow, I developed a laser focus on my career and on settling my parents’ estate. On top of meeting daily responsibilities as director of government affairs for Comcast in the South Bay Area, for the next ten months I traveled frequently to Philadelphia for the Executive Leadership Forum.
My work schedule was grueling with regular trips to Sacramento and Washington, D.C, in addition to stops around the country as Comcast’s representative at national Latino political gatherings. The grinding schedule kept my mind off of the huge void left by my mom. What few hours I had left in the day would be spent with Sandra and the girls. If I was in town, I would have dinner at home before heading out to an evening event, and when on the road, I would call Sandra and the girls just before bedtime to say good night.
Sandra began expressing concerns about how hard I was driving myself. If I wasn’t careful, she warned, my family history of heart disease would catch up to me. Rather than taking that warning as a sign to slow down, I drove myself harder rationalizing that the clock was ticking and my window for redemption and success was closing fast. In September of 2004, after a long week of business in southern California, I found myself short of breath while trotting up a flight of stairs at the Long Beach convention center. At the top of the steps I was able to compose myself, and a few minutes later, the sensation disappeared.
For over five decades, St. John Vianney Catholic Church has been the anchor to my boyhood neighborhood in east San Jose. During three days in May, the annual SJV Fiesta is the gathering place for those who live in the neighborhood and those who grew up there. As my friend Jason Rodriguez puts it, “Fiesta is an east side reunion.” Yesterday, I made my annual pilgrimage.
I’ve always known that people have notions about the east side, and I’m guessing they’re not so positive. I recently heard from a few people who lived in a “better part of town” clearly miffed that East Side Eddie Report.com was posted on Facebook. I could almost hear the disdain in one writer’s voice as he typed, “Why am I getting your east side report? You might as well be from Oakland.” In one sentence, he managed to look down on two communities he probably knows nothing about.
One quick walk around Fiesta demonstrates that writer’s foolish notion. For many of us, this neighborhood is home. Passing the carnival, food booths, and local entertainment stages, Fiesta visitors see generations of families enjoying each other on a beautiful spring day or evening. Teens and pre-teens at the rides, little kids and their parents dancing to the music, and grandparents sitting at tables under the canopies sampling Portuguese linguisa, Philly cheese steaks, and strawberry shortcake.
I always run into old friends and their families. Three friends I saw this year reminded me of the talent the east side has to offer. Two of them, Larry Gonzales and David Rosas, played basketball for me when I coached at James Lick High School. Those talented boys are now men serving as an officer in the United States Navy and a teacher/basketball coach at our alma mater. The third, Jason Rodriguez, grew up one block over from me. Today, he jets around the globe as an executive representing Hewlett Packard.
Like our parents, we east side kids grow up to be resilient men and women who work hard and raise good families. It’s fun to gather once a year at Fiesta to see old friends, share stories, and introduce new family additions. Over the years, I’ve been blessed to share stories about my own growing family and travelling across the country for work. Nevertheless, Dorothy had it right. My pilgrimage to Fiesta every year reminds me that, “there’s no place like home.”
Campaigning for city council from the back of a pick-up truck in 2000. (Photo Courtesy of Patricia Rocha Malone)
Blogger’s note: This is the 22nd installment from my manuscript of Summer in the Waiting Room: How Faith, Family, and Friends Saved My Life. I post weekly excerpts every Wednesday morning. Check out the “About Summer in the Waiting Room” link at the top of this page to learn more about the story. To read previous installments, go to the “Tags” link and click on “Summer in the Waiting Room.”
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Losing that second campaign for school board didn’t diminish my ambition or my hopes of winning election. Two years later, I decided to run for the city council. I had earned some name recognition with voters during the school board campaigns and my professional profile improved with my position in the business world. The only person who stood in the way was a high school board member who was the scion of a political family whose father had served in the California state legislature for two decades.
In the spring primary election, each of us defeated two other opponents to earn spots on the general election ballot in November. Primary election night would be the highlight of my electoral political career as I gave a victory speech, with three-year-old Erica in my arms, in a packed campaign office, to the cheers of my family, friends and supporters.
I started the fall campaign trailing badly in the polls, so with the support of a small cohort of extended family and friends, the campaign team was essentially a family affair. The Peralta girls and Miguel walked precincts every weekend and called voters every night asking them to vote for me. My mom and Mrs. Peralta shared phone bank duties as well. Pancho, Eddie, Will, and Rudy fanned out throughout the district posting campaign signs on supporters’ yards and along major roadways.
Even Marisa, just five years old, walked door-to-door campaigning with me, her infectious smile confidently persuading people on their front porches to vote for her daddy. After a long and vigorous campaign, I couldn’t overcome my opponent’s well-known name and well-financed campaign machine. The returns on election night proved to seal my third electoral loss in six years. I was devastated as I addressed supporters in a crowded room at a local restaurant to thank them on my family’s behalf.
As people gathered around me with tears and hugs, I felt something tugging at the bottom of my sweater and looked down to see Marisa looking up at me with teary eyes saying, “Daddy, I’m sorry you lost, but I’m kind of happy because we could have you back now.” The next morning, I woke up after just a few hours of sleep with my political dreams smoldering in the ashes of failure. Despite the fact that my political career was over, the ambition to succeed and erase the demons of the past with a focused urgency hadn’t gone away.
I was committed to putting all of that energy into spending time with my family and building a career as a corporate executive. As it turned out, I spent more time chasing the elusive concept of success than I did enjoying my family. I wanted to be a good husband and father, and I loved being with Sandra and the girls, so I made sure that I was home for dinner every night I was in town and available for as many school events and family events as possible.
For several years I coached Erica’s little league teams, but it wasn’t unusual to hear the kids shout, “Coach García is wearing a suit again,” because I would have to run out right after practice to be on time to my first meeting for the evening. Despite my efforts to be a fully engaged father, my professional ambitions took the lion’s share of my time.
When Comcast acquired the local cable company as part of a nationwide eighty billion dollar transaction, I was now working for a major American corporation with countless opportunities for those who wanted to get ahead. During a tour of Comcast facilities in San Jose, the new senior vice president for the California region stepped into my sparse office, asked about my background, my family, and my plans for the future. I filled him in with the basics about Sandra and the girls, my career up to that point, and boldly proclaimed that I wanted to be a vice president someday soon.
Over the next several months, the senior VP called on me to lead selected projects in the regional government affairs department, which I accepted without hesitation. Although these special projects required me to be away from the office often, my direct supervisor was supportive of my ambitions and allowed me the time needed to be away. I was making much progress in my climb up the corporate ladder when I became close friends with a colleague at the corporate office in Philadelphia.
He was a bright executive forging his own way up the organizational chart. We had much in common: we were both in our 30s, we both had our eyes on higher executive positions, we both had the same philosophy on government relations, and we both were persons of color. He asked me to help at the national level when a local elected official from California with whom I had a strong working relationship was appointed to the telecommunications public policy committee of the most influential municipal advocacy group in the nation.
With me and my colleague representing Comcast, we co-hosted a dinner with the California official in Charlotte, North Carolina, for the telecom committee members. Just like that, I became familiar to executives at corporate headquarters as a valued representative of the company, especially with Latino political organizations. Before long, I was in Los Angeles, Washington, D.C., Dallas, Santa Fe, and San Juan, Puerto Rico representing Comcast at national meetings of Latino public policymakers.
Last week, a Facebook friend posted the following quote:
“Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about un-becoming everything that isn’t really you so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.”
These two sentences hit me like a ton of bricks. I scoured the Internet and quotation books to find the source. It showed up on a couple of meditation blogs and Pinterest posts without author attribution. I don’t know who said or penned it, but the more I read the passage the more I reflect on my own life journey.
For the past several years, I’ve been thinking about my journey and writing about it in Summer in the Waiting Room: How Faith, Family, and Friends Saved My Life. I’ve posted 21 excerpts on East Side Eddie Report.com, and plan to complete and publish the manuscript as a book early next year. The powerful two-sentence quote elegantly captures my personal journey and forms the cornerstone of the book.
For readers who have been logging on to the weekly excerpts, thank you!! If you haven’t been reading the story, take a few minutes and check it out by clicking on the Summer in the Waiting Room tag on the right of this page.
Summerin the Waiting Room: How Faith, Family, and Friends Saved My Life is the unique and inspiring story of a boy who grew up in a working-class neighborhood, failed at college and lost hope, met and married the love of his life, returned and finished college, raised a family, and found some success in business and public office. It’s also the story of a man who vowed never to fail again and toiled tirelessly trying to redeem himself, only to find true redemption, while in a state of complete helplessness in the ICU.
ESEReport.com 