When I think of a champion, I picture the person I want to be, a mentor, someone who will take you under their wing and show you the way. That person has to be successful and possess something good, great, or valuable, something in their life for the greater good, like saving someone’s life, and it doesn’t have to be a physical rescue.
Initially, I thought my brother would have been that person when asked this question, and he is in a way. I always looked up to him, and after graduation he was more than willing to get me off on the right foot. However, as life turns out it just didn’t work out and our lives went in different directions. I wanted him to be my champion and in a way, he is because he is supportive, loving and a great brother, but this exercise calls for something a bit more over incarceration years.
I was forced to think of someone who has put some serious time and investment into me. This all just fell in place somewhat recently, and I didn’t even realize it happened until I was asked to think of a champion in my life. I started running through every man who I have looked up to in my life, and then I caught myself. Why does it have to be a man? When I take this in and digest it, I think of my champion, and the person I see is my sister Morgan.
She is the person who has become my mentor over the last year, who has come and visited me religiously over the past 6+ years while I have been incarcerated. The first visit was months after she delivered my nephew, Greyson, and she brought my daughter all the way from Minneapolis to Milan, Michigan. She didn’t fly, that would have been too easy for her, she drove them, and I don’t have access to Google maps, but I am guessing it took at least 14-15 hours. She came twice out to Milan, and then once I moved closer, Yankton SD, she made sure to come at least twice a year, every year after that.
She has made sure to put money on my books, answer the phone when I call, and send me pictures and letters, keeping me in the loop about the outside world. All the while repeatedly telling me how terrible of a sister she is.
As fas as success, she has it, whether you look at her construction business, interior design business, or the blog. She has a great marriage to a great guy that treats her well. I mean for goodness sake the man built my mom a replica of a $1,200 vanity for Christmas, just because she left a magazine at their place and she said she loved it. He never stood a chance of escaping the family after that.
Even in the areas where she is imperfect (if you let her tell it), like parenting, marriage, housekeeping, meeting deadlines, sending me stuff in a timely manner (oaky that last one is on me), and she is willing to put all those flaws out on full display for everyone to read on her blog. I guess you can say she has plenty of things that I want.
Then there is the rescue, and I can’t say that I wouldn’t have been fine without her, but there is a chance that she quite possibly saved my life (this is assuming I turn my life around after my release). But at the very least, she has improved my chances because she has taken me under her wing, she is my mentor, and I am her muse.
I am a very screwed up and twisted individual who has doubted himself his whole life. But she still put that aside and let the damaged, broken, and full of baggage me represent her brand through first telling my story and then writing about whatever crazy idea comes to my mind. This was probably not the smartest business move she has ever made, but maybe it’s just crazy enough to pan out.
I love you, Morgan, you are my champion!