The Privilege of Youth: A Teenager's Story
Page 18
To this day, Paul is closely associated with Duinsmoore, and I am too, especially when my beloved elderly mother calls in the wee hours of the morning, terrified of a raccoon that has somehow burrowed under her house. David, too, still carries Duinsmoore close to his heart. When our dear friend Dan Brazell was still with us, David used to make the several-hour drive to see him on Father’s Day, and for years now it has become a tradition for my mother and other mothers within the Duinsmoore community to receive an intimidating-sized bouquet of flowers from David on Mother’s Day. And now, with David’s Privilege of Youth, Duinsmoore Way will forever be immortalized as a community that meant so much to so many, especially to my friend David.
I will always miss David and the times we had in our adolescence. I consider David to be my brother and my best friend. The memories of my childhood are filled with love and adventure. Before Duinsmoore, I had often wondered what David’s were full of.
Duinsmoore Way Perspective
MICHAEL MARSH
Suburban Park was a quiet, unpretentious bedroom community in Menlo Park on what is known as The Peninsula, which extends south to San Jose from San Francisco. It was where my family and I lived in our first home, from 1970 to 1979 when we moved to Denver, Colorado. The 100-block of Duinsmoore Way was a street that was occupied by a potpourri of families who truly represented a cross-sectional slice of Americana. Farnham, Neylan, Ferrara, Marsh, Brazell, Jolly, Howard, and Beaulaurier were all families who interacted, socialized, played, celebrated, and supported one another, and were all families on a street that David Pelzer adopted—against some of their wishes.
Duinsmoore Way was quiet most of the year, but on at least three occasions a year it was alive with the sounds of rock bands, street parties, and fireworks, most of which were in the distinctly illegal category. At the ripe age of thirty, and as a surviving combatant of the Vietnam War, I was, or fancied myself to be, something of a bon vivant. Therefore, for at least two or three years, I hosted a birthday party on March 21, featuring beer kegs and a rock band. It was called “Spring Rites” by my friends and neighbors, and it was a rigorous affair, enthusiastically attended by friends, neighbors, and occasional passersby. Then one year, my patient but practical then-wife announced an end to Spring Rites. It was fun while it lasted, but it had been in danger of getting out of hand. The Duinsmoore Street Party evolved from the annual Suburban Park Association Picnic, which had been held for many years at Flood Park, but died because the neighborhood was bored and wanted something livelier. I had been cajoled into becoming president of the Suburban Park Association, and the board figured out we could have a DJ, an inflatable jumping castle, booths, etc., and the Street Party was born. The third event of the year that every neighborhood dog dreaded was the Fourth of July, and it was a major-league shoot-out, which of course today would be punishable by all the Health & Safety Fascists, The No Fun Allowed League, and Seriousness Police. It was closely supervised with adult garden-hose quick-response teams and one helluva lot of really, really fine illegal fireworks. I’ll never forget a largeish rocket gone astray, exploding under Gary (“G. Jolly from Cal-Poly”) Jolly’s lawn chair as he observed the pyrotechnics. The next day everybody manned brooms and rakes to clean the street and yards.
On my fiftieth birthday (several years ago, now) I was presented with a book full of letters from well-wishers, and several of my nieces and nephews had written testimonials on how, as children, they had been witness to unbelievable displays of fireworks at Uncle Mike’s house on the Fourth of July. As a great admirer of Mark Twain, I can only remark that our lawless behavior way back then was elegant in its innocence.
It was this eclectic, tiny corner of American society that David Pelzer happened into, and whether you believe it was fate, providence, God, or just plain luck (good or bad), it had a catalyzing effect on his dim, naive, and limited perception of life, future, and opportunity. My across-the-street neighbor, the late Dan Brazell, was a fair and honest man who wanted Dave to be something more than a loser. Dan and I spent a good amount of time ragging, nagging, hassling, and antagonizing Dave, primarily because Dave needed it. In today’s politically-correct society this wouldn’t be deemed appropriate, but Dave turned out to be something other than a loser. He became a winner. That wasn’t because of Dan Brazell or me or Duinsmoore Way; it was because Dave determined what he would be. Mark Twain might sum it up thusly: “He was a no good lout; a failure so miserable everyone loathed his success and admired his achievements.”
—Michael Marsh, curator of the Marsh Institute of Advanced Aeronautical Studies, Lakewood, CO
Duinsmoore Way Perspective
MRS. HOWARD
Please understand, I am not the gushy type. I have a hard time expressing feelings. So, this is how I feel:
I am the blessed mother of two extraordinary children, David and Cheryl. But through a seemingly ordinary occurrence, I came to know and love an extremely haggard young child whom I have called my “other son.”
When David Pelzer first moved into our neighborhood as a foster child, I must admit it raised more than a few eyebrows. At the time, I knew very little about foster care and even less about David’s past, but one could clearly see this young man could overcome anything.
I’ve always prided myself on raising my two children to not be smug or judgmental but rather tolerant and kind—to walk a mile in the shoes of others before being critical. David Pelzer had wandered through the depths of hell before being saved and tempered in waters of love, family, and community that he held so dear.
When my son, David, first introduced David Pelzer to our family, he seemed more like a shy, quiet animal ready to bolt at the slightest movement or sound. Whenever a voice was raised, his hands would literally shake. His eyes were intense, as was his attention, which never wavered. To David Pelzer, everything held a certain significance. Whether it was cookies I had just baked for the stream of children who went to and fro in our house, or chocolate cheesecake that David would slice ever so slowly and razor-thin so it would melt in his mouth before he could savor a taste, or an off-the-cuff compliment that he would absorb like a sponge, this young boy held everything as if it were gold.
David Pelzer was also pure of heart. Not only did he carry a deep sense of compassion that made him wise and mature well beyond his years, but what struck me, my family, and even those who were overly leery of the presence of a foster child within Duinsmoore, was David’s sincerity, gratitude, and respect toward everyone he came in contact with. As clumsy and withdrawn as he appeared to be, David would practically kill “The Duinsmoore Crowd” with a courteous respectful “Yes, sir” or “No, ma’am” whenever addressed. Even for the hardcore “Crowd,” David’s manner made them take notice of this young man’s potential.
At times, when my son, David, and my “other son” resembled Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn with their rambunctious adventures, David Pelzer’s persistence in bettering himself while keeping a genuinely kind attitude propelled him into a league that few have joined, or ever will. He was the type of person who gave everything he had to everything he did, while offering a wave rather than looking for a handout. All he needed was a little love and a hug.
To this day, whenever in the Bay Area and no matter how tired or how long his travels take him, David drops by. Every Mother’s Day without fail, my “other son” adorns me with a bouquet of roses that are beyond belief. Above his acts of kindness and generosity in his cause of helping others, David Pelzer’s proudest achievement is his son, who, like his father, is a kind, sincere young man who is coming into his own, too.
While David Pelzer gives much credit of his success to families such as the Brazells, the Marshes, and mine, if indeed those days of Duinsmoore made a difference in David’s young life, I am both flattered and proud beyond words. To some, Duinsmoore is nothing more than a quaint little neighborhood. To my three children, the impact of Duinsmoore enabled me to nurture and care for them as any parent should, so tha
t when they became of age, they, too, could live a life filled with love and happiness.
Keynotes
Dave is a living testament of resilience, faith in humanity, and personal responsibility. Dave’s unique and inspirational outlook on life, coupled with his Robin Williams-like wit and sense of humor, entertains and encourages business professionals with real-life information to overcome obstacles while living life to its fullest. This is what has made Dave one of the most exceptional and unequaled personalities in the public-speaking arena today.
Dave also continues to provide specific programs to those who work in the human services and educational fields.
For additional information on having Dave speak to your group, please write, call, fax, or visit our Web site at:
D-Esprit
P.O. Box 1846
Rancho Mirage, CA 92270
Phone: 760-321-4452
Fax: 760-321-6842
www.davepelzer.com
And for those who wish to write, please include a SASE, and keep in mind that due to the large volume of letters we receive daily, as much as we try, we will not be able to answer every letter. But we sincerely thank you for taking your valuable time to write us. God bless.
Dave Pelzer
About the Author
A former air force aircrew member, Dave proudly served in the USAF for more than thirteen years. He played a major role in Operations Just Cause, Desert Shield, and Desert Storm. Dave was selected for the unique task of midair refueling of the once highly secretive SR-71 Blackbird and the F-117 Stealth Fighter. While serving in the air force, Dave worked in juvenile hall and other programs involving “youth-at-risk” throughout California.
Dave’s exceptional accomplishments include commendations from Presidents Reagan, Bush, Clinton, and George W. Bush, as well as other various heads of state. While maintaining an international active-duty fight schedule, Dave was the recipient of the 1990 JCPenney Golden Rule Award, making him the California Volunteer of the Year. In 1993, Dave was honored as one of the Ten Outstanding Young Americans (TOYA), joining a distinguished group of alumni that includes Chuck Yeager, Christopher Reeve, Anne Bancroft, John F. Kennedy, Orson Welles, and Walt Disney. In 1994, Dave was the only American to be selected as one of The Outstanding Young Persons of the World (TOYP) for his efforts involving child-abuse awareness and prevention, as well as for promoting resilience and self-responsibility in others. During the Centennial Olympic Games, Dave was a torchbearer, carrying the coveted flame.
Dave is the author of four other inspirational books: A Child Called “It,” which has been on the New York Times bestseller list for more than five years; The Lost Boy, which has been on the same list for more than four years; and A Man Named Dave, a bestseller for nearly two years. Dave’s latest book, Help Yourself, was also an instant New York Times bestseller. Dave’s books have been on the bestseller list for more than eleven years combined.
Dave is currently at work on his next book, which deals with issues for teens, entitled Help Yourself for Teens. His future works may include a tome entitled My Wife’s Life: One Husband’s Quest to Understand the Complexities of the Married Female Psyche.
When not on the road with his wife, Marsha, or son, Stephen, or submitting to his recent addiction to golf, Dave lives a quiet life in Southern California with his two Bichon dogs, Titan (“Big Boy”) and Ernie (“the Psycho Pup”) and his box turtle named Chuck.
For more information you can visit Dave’s Web site at www.davepelzer.comx.