Mission Statement Part Five: In My Journey Through Life

In my Journey through Life, I will: 
Stop to ask for directions: Seek credible advice from Masters and Mentors  

In my life, I have had the privilege of learning from a series of  Masters and Mentors. These are my favorites.

In elementary school and junior high, I especially remember that Helmi Thompson, Sally Reyman, and Laura Beheler “had my back” – they taught me right from wrong, and helped me plan my life five, six, seven years in advance. Mrs. Thompson was a Girl Scouts leader, and she adopted me into the troop, helping me attain badges and self-confidence. Ms. Reyman taught me art – how to put colors and textures together into a life collage. She also taught me how to deal with death and loss, as the love of her life was killed in a mountain-climbing expedition. Ms. Beheler was a guidance counselor, and she taught me the necessity of high grades and extra-curricular activities as the keys to college scholarships.

Once I graduated from high school, I remember other special Mentors and Masters: Madelyn Phillips, Marie Dextre, Mercia Leton-Kahn, Cecilia Bankins, and Willard Wright.

Madelyn was the mother of my fiancé in the early 70s. She had traveled with her military husband all around the world, collecting treasures like snuff bottles and kukui-nut necklaces. She loved anything Polynesian; she taught me graceful Hawaiian dances, the beauty of colorful long dresses and toe-rings, and the importance of supportive partnership. She had coffee with her husband every morning, and waited for him to come home after his swing-shift, taking the time to listen to his stories. Madelyn taught me about being a loving partner. It was no surprise to me to find out recently that they died together.

Marie took me under her wing when I went to San Francisco. I knew no one and had no family, but Marie arranged for me to live in the Salvation Army’s Evangeline Residence for Women, across the street from work, and I became the daughter she never had. She taught me how to work in an office, especially regarding personnel and office management. She loved books and music, especially opera, and taught me to appreciate all music, regardless of source.

Mercia Leton-Kahn was one of the first ladies of Social Security. She became an attorney in the 1930s – a time when few women dared to study law – and started to work for Social Security in 1937, shortly after it began. She was incredibly smart, compassionate, and loyal to her constituencies. As the Director of the Medicare Program in San Francisco, she was my boss, and she wrote a letter of recommendation for me to enter the University of Baltimore School of Law. She taught me to aspire to the loftiest goals possible, especially education, but never to forget your roots and family.

Cecilia Bankins was my boss at the Department of Labor, Employment and Training Administration in Washington, DC. A beautiful African-American woman, Cecilia was the Human Resources Officer, and she trusted me to be a generalist in personnel management, independently servicing one of the largest and most complex components of the agency. Cecilia was spunky and playful, but carried herself as a consummate professional. Under her tutelage I continued to climb the professional and administrative career ladder. Cecilia taught me empathy, how to be a successful woman of color in management, and how to laugh when you would rather scream or cry.

Finally, Willard Wright was the Director of Personnel for the Health Care Financing Administration (now the Centers for Medicate and Medicare Services). Like Cecilia, he trusted me as a professional and an administrator. I was one of his Branch Chiefs, focusing on policy and program evaluation, and I spent hours learning from him, laughing with him. With Willard, I rose to be the highest-ranking Hispanic female in the Department. Willard had put in his years of service, and was looking forward to retirement. I probably had a chance to succeed him. I will never forget the time when I told him that I could no longer support our President and the actions he was requiring us, as administrators, to do. The agency was undergoing a reduction in force, and I left federal service with his blessing and support, and returned to Santa Fe. Willard still believes and works toward bringing up the younger generation to achieve all that they can be, and that is the legacy he left with me.  

From my Masters and Mentors I learned to be a Master and Mentor. I learned adulthood, womanhood, and my profession. I also learned that I was not entitled to anything: I had to work hard, study hard, conquer my shyness and introversion, ask for help only after trying to figure it out on my own, ask questions, and create art from vision. Most importantly, I learned to set goals and to ask for direction with a blend of self-sufficiency, curiosity, and “spunk” that prepared me for all of the blessings I have received.