Remembering my mentor

King Odysseus, leaving for war, asked his friend Mentor, to look after his young son. A mentor is someone who helps another learn the ways of the world – or specific tasks. . . . Many successful people are open to sharing with a protégé. . .
Bridges out of Poverty by Ruby Payne, Philip DeVol, and Terie Smith

I was born of a defective egg, I guess, because I came out of the womb hypersensitive, selfish, and sort of a dim bulb. My father had his own problems, which drove him to move constantly. I went to 33 schools before I graduated from High School. I was terrible in school both with my grades and my behavior. I felt alone, unloved, unimportant, unwanted, in the way, ugly, stupid, worthless, sinful, and having no hope or future.

In 1966 our family moved to Kansas and I was old enough then to get a driver's license. I was able, by age rights, to have a little more autonomy. I could leave the house alone. I could go by myself to the school play, or a band concert. Before I had never been to school events of the evening. In that little town of Huffington, Kansas, I got my first real friend, Flip Fieldson, and through Phil I was introduced to a guy at a local Huffington Bible Camp. [I changes some names here, not to protect Mr. Belvedere, because he is dead, but to protect Mr. Belvedere's family, I guess.]

Richard Belvedere was a 50-something CEO of the Huffington Bible Camp and preacher for a tiny group of believers that called their church the Gospel Chapel. Mr. Belevedere took me under his wing. He encouraged me to write. He set up poetry readings and invited me to bring my poems to read. Richard Belvedere became the man who cared about me, my mentor. He seemed to genuinely care about me. He took a lot of time to talk with me, share books with me, and was perhaps the most important man in my life.

One summer I was invited to stay, free of charge, for one of the summer camps they held at the Bible Camp. I woke up in the night with Mr. Belvedere kissing my face, and touching me. We were in a room filled with bunkbeds and sleeping boys, so when I started making noise in resisting he stopped and went away.

There was a second incident where he made a move towards me, sexually. I was kissed on and grouped, and I was a young boy and he was a grown older man, but still I was able to resist him, and told him it was not to happen again, and that he had to resist these feelings he had.

I also learned that everyone who cares about me, wants something from me. I grew to distrust the whole mentor concept. No one really cares about me. I exist to serve the pleasures of others. I'm too fat and ugly to be a boy toy for anyone, so now they want me to give them stuff, do their work, or at least get out of their way.

I'm still alone. I am still a defective egg, a dim bulb, hypersensitive, and submerged in self-pity. I would like to, but I am sure I can't blame it all on my mentor.