by Rogers Wardy

Created on: May 20, 2009

The Lost

He was a quiet kid from a single parent home with his older sister. They were not rich, but by no means poor. The kids' clothes were bought at thrift stores and toys from neighborhood sales, but they always had just enough to make them smile.

His mother was a woman who knew how to work. Remembering her days in construction, nursing homes, corner stores and restaurants. She was a Den Mother to the Cub Scouts and a Troop Leader to the Girls. She was a very good cook and to top it off, she even played softball once in awhile.

Rog had a pretty good head on his shoulders for someone so young. Always thinking, always dreaming, always imagining a different time and place. During the early years his family moved from place to place searching for that homehe never knew. Although what he had come to know was a childhood overshadowed by alcohol and violence. Haunted, like a dream, by scenes of flying objects and expressions of hatred from two people who had vowed "to love and to cherish." Watching as his mother and stepfather brought about the climatic conclusion of their marriage.

At first glance this would seem like the opening of a novel, but in reality it begins the story of my own life. It was a time when a child's dream of being a scientist, a doctor, a fireman or even an astronaut was a common thing, but also a time when those dreams faded. When the reality of life steps in and says, "Not today, I've got something else you need to do."

Children are the one asset whose investment is priceless. Too many times they have been overlooked and underappreciated, misunderstood and overburdened, ignored and abused and exploited. From the time they are born, children are dependent on the previous generation to uphold a standard of life that encourages them to pass the torch to their children. Yet today we find the streets filled with dropouts, drug deals and dead bodies. Rival gangs target the innocent for control of a neighborhood or street corner. Little kids look to the prisons hoping to find mentors and fathers. Searching for someone who will teach them the rules of the game and what it takes to survive. Imparting unto them the knowledge of the streets, because, "you can't trust nobody."

For a few years of my life I picked up the mantle as a corrections officer in a juvenile correctional facility in Texas and it was here that I learned some hard truths. I watched as kids, age 13 through 20, fought for their respect and survival in a world that was no different than the streets of their hometowns. Many searched for answers they could not find and others just needed an ear to hear their cries for help. Some went so far as faking suicide attempts just to get attention.

Boys have not taught to be men, husbands or fathers. Girls are lost in the rat race between sex and self-respect. Being taught that, "whatever it takes to get it, do it," and finding no end to the nightmares that follow. They lose their identity, integrity and their dreams. They put life on hold because, "that's what mama did." They put their dreams on the shelf, because "dreams don't pay the bills." They go from novice to expert, having to grow up before they can grow up. So when the question is ask, "What gets lost the in transition?" The answer is obvious: they do.

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