We all have life stories, how we got from where we were to where we are, unexpected blessings, things overcome, lucky breaks – a few worth retelling. My first break was at 12. I got paid 40 dollars a week as part of a camp “outdoor crew,” my first obligation each morning was to clean and fix 25 toilets.
You may not count that a lucky break, but it was. It was the beginning of this kid’s American Dream. Taught plumbing, carpentry, and engines by a WWII veteran, a former gunner on a TBF Avenger, I was lucky.
Week by week, I put that money away, for five summers – reminded by my schoolteacher mother that working hard, learning what you could, and saving for “someday” was a good plan.
My “someday” – my dream – was to buy a small snowmobile. By the fifth summer, approaching age 17, I was almost there.
One day, my mother casually noted I could buy a snowmobile, something Maine kids want like others do a motorcycle, or I could apply the saved money to college.
I knew which one she thought was the right choice. I forgot to mention my first blessing, a mother up each morning at 0500, getting four kids off to school, more or less raising us alone, while also teaching.
I gave up the snowmobile, and focused instead – as she suggested – on my grades. My father never finished college, but she had an MA. With no money, she believed a good education, like hard work, mattered. She told us if we worked hard, good things would happen. We believed her.
When application season came, I tried the University of Maine – and a new dream. With no ties to Dartmouth College, but having seen and loved it, I applied.
Still cleaning and fixing 25 toilets every morning at the camp, which catered to wealthy kids, I will never forget dropping my applications in the outgoing mail one morning… and getting a strange look.
Somehow it was entertaining, endearing, or maybe above my station that “the toilet boy” was applying to an Ivy League School, from a little Maine town. I did it, anyway.
My mother was crystal clear: You have to dream, forget what others think, work for the dream, trust, and adjust but keep at it – and Dartmouth was my worthy dream.
The day an envelope arrived from Dartmouth, I nearly stopped breathing. It was not thin; it was thick. Inside was my dream – and a thief who took that dream away at the same time. By lightning strike or God’s Grace, I had been admitted – but with no financial aid, the dream was a “no-go.”
Again, my mother was clear: We do not give up on dreams when challenged, when they seem out of reach, or when life urges us to drop them – if we believe in them. She gave me the family car, so I could explain why I might be worth the investment.
On return to Maine, no answer. I had given the dream my best shot, a 13-point brief explaining why I was worth their investment, a rural Maine kid. My mother knew that, was proud of me, and calm.
Nothing changed. Then a call came. This is where dreams begin to cascade. Dartmouth had decided to give me a scholarship, loans, and work-study. They understood the dream, committed, and resolved to make it work. My mother smiled.
Many years have passed since that day, but not one has diminished it – nor the power of lifting your eyes, daring to dream, saying a prayer, and working for it.
I ended my Dartmouth time on a high note, gave the Address to the College, and went on to Oxford University and Columbia Law School – both on scholarship and loans.
In time, I clerked for a US Court of Appeals, found my way to two white houses, litigated, served as Colin Powell’s Assistant Secretary, and have worked to solve problems and help others shape and realize their dreams. My mother has seen it all.
Faith, dreams, and hard work count to add up. My mother said it would be that way. Hoping to clerk, I applied to 300 judges, but 299 rejections, one judge, a Reagan appointee, former US Marine, and later lifetime friend … accepted me.
Lesson? Never say never. Never say never when you have something that crystalizes into a dream and is worth working for, rising, falling, and rising to make happen.
Most importantly – a thought that animates me every day – out there somewhere is a young person who confronts long odds yet dares to hope, pray, work, and commit to his or her dream. If we can stay on the lookout for them, good things will happen. As my mother reminds me even now, when you least expect it, they do.
Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, attorney, and naval intelligence officer (USNR). He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (2018), and is National Spokesman for AMAC.
