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A Reason to Believe_ Lessons From an Improbable Life - Deval Patrick [0]

By Root 500 0
Copyright © 2011 by Deval L. Patrick

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Broadway Books,

an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group,

a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

www.crownpublishing.com

BROADWAY BOOKS and the Broadway Books colophon

are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Patrick, Deval.

A reason to believe : lessons from an improbable life / by Deval Patrick.

1. Patrick, Deval. 2. Governors—Massachusetts—Biography.

3. African American governors—Massachusetts—Biography.

4. Massachusetts—Politics and government—1951–

5. Lawyers—United States—Biography.

6. Chicago (Ill.)—Biography. I. Title.

F71.22.P37A3 2011

974.4′044092—dc22

[B]

2010021528

eISBN: 978-0-307-72076-4

Jacket design by Darren Haggar

Jacket photography by Rick Friedman/Corbis

v3.1

To Diane, Sarah, and Katherine—my treasures

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Preface


Chapter 1: VISION IS ESSENTIAL


Chapter 2: KNOW WHO YOU ARE


Chapter 3: TRY A NEW PERSPECTIVE


Chapter 4: LEARN TO LOVE


Chapter 5: SAVE A PLACE


Chapter 6: FAITH IS HOW YOU LIVE


Chapter 7: OVERCOMING KRYPTONITE


Chapter 8: IN DEFENSE OF IDEALISM


Acknowledgments

PREFACE

Once, when I was fifteen, I had to catch a bus to meet a friend, and I was running late. We lived on the South Side of Chicago, near the corner of 54th Street and Wabash Avenue, so I raced south down Wabash past the white-walled commercial bakery that always smelled of sour yeast, across the weed-filled median on Garfield Boulevard, and east down a block past the liquor store, the Laundromat, and the shop that sold live chickens to housewives. The shopkeeper could slaughter the bird or the women could do it themselves at home.

I reached the bus stop just as the familiar green and white CTA bus pulled up, oily and wheezing. I climbed the steps, reached for my coins, and only then realized that I did not have enough for the fare. The driver, a world-weary black man with a gray grizzle and salt-and-pepper mustache, had already jerked the bus into gear and started down the street. He gave me a withering look and told me gruffly to sit down, pointing to a seat close to the door. I obeyed.

I braced myself for a stern lecture on the futility of trying to pull a fast one, and I assumed he would kick me off at the next stop. My mouth was suddenly dry, my stomach churning. Embarrassed and stammering, I stood again and started to explain that I had been away (I was a sophomore at a boarding school in New England) and did not know the fare had changed. He looked me over with the sure gaze of a man who had heard every excuse and was practiced in sizing up passengers. He turned his eyes back to the road. His expression abruptly softened.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Just pass it on, son. Pass it on.”

I thanked him and sat back down heavily, overwhelmed. Expecting humiliation, I instead received a simple act of grace, and for whatever reason—perhaps just the kindness in the face of certain reprimand—that moment left a lasting impression. It was a reminder that I should do for others what he had done for me.

Nearly forty years later, I can reflect on what a blessing it has been to encounter so many people who chose to help someone in need—not because they had to but because they simply could. They showed mercy or compassion, and through their action taught a lesson. Sometimes these deeds, bold in their scope and lofty in their ambition, create headlines. More often, they are performed anonymously, quietly, reaching no further than the heart they were intended to touch. In whatever form, such acts create their own legacy of hope and inspiration. They pass something on. This book is my effort to share some of the lessons that have imbued me with core values, shaped my identity, and made me want to be a better man.

My life is often described as “improbable.” Because I grew up in a broken home and in poverty, my academic career at Harvard College and Harvard Law School is sometimes called “improbable.

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