I woke up in the morning with the intention and desire to get away from my current situation. I was made to feel that being myself was not the correct way to live in this life. I tried at times, but I was unable to live up to my parent's expectations. They wanted to project an image of a 'normal' family to everyone they knew or came into contact with. I was not a bad kid. I helped people whenever I could, without any expectation of something in return. I was a hyperactive teenager and I could not make sense of the 'plastics' of people around me. My mother did not respect my privacy. She frequently searched my room for anything that would be or lead to an embarrassment to her or the image she was trying to project.

I wrote stories about my experiences with friends and with life. I wrote about how I felt and thought. For some reason, my mother told me that I should not be writing stuff like that and proceeded to throw out most of my writings. I realized, by her actions, I was to deny who I was and what I felt. Two days before I ran, my mother had searched my room again and found an adult magazine behind the cold air exchange register. She was so furious that she could not contain herself and hit me on the side of my head with the magazine. She yelled at me and made me feel immense shame. I truly felt like I had something wrong with me. When I felt shamed, I so desperately wanted to live up to their expectations and earn their respect, but it still did not make sense to me. When I did not feel shamed I would be more myself. The cycle continued that way throughout my life with my parents.

Who was I? I was a curious person who didn't see the logic in the way people lived. I saw so much hypocrisy, especially at home. I also saw many inconsistencies with people's words and their actions. I had never been in trouble with the law and have always had the desire to help people. I acted out my frustrations by rebelling and pushing the envelope of non-conformity. I was an easy person to take advantage of because of my willingness to help people. I am sure that part of that was using any opportunity to show others who I was, since I could not get approval at home.

Here is my story:

It was a wintry Tuesday morning and I was a freshman at St. Edwards Catholic High School in Elgin, IL. I woke up with a funny feeling in my stomach. I had just spent a sleepless night thinking about my decision to leave home. I had thought about where to go and had decided on the Twin Cities in MN. I had family there that I could rely on if I got in too far over my head. I had not considered the danger of my actions. I just knew I had to get away from my feelings of shame. I was truly heading into the abyss without knowing what I was going to do to survive, or what to expect. I had no plan, except to make my way to MN.

I got ready for school as normally as any other day. I did not want to send any signs of my plans. I caught the city bus to downtown, where I usually take a connecting bus to school. Once I was downtown Elgin, I went to a phone and called my school. I told them that I was sick, but my mother was at work and would send a note with me the next day. They bought the story and that gave me at least a 12-hour head start since no one would be looking for me. I hopped onto another bus that took me close to the I-90 toll road where I started hitch hiking. An older, farmer looking guy picked me up in a red rusted pickup truck. When I got in, I asked him how far he was going. He informed me he was going to Rockford, IL. As we rode, he asked me where I was going. My story was: "I am making my way up to MN to live with my sister. My folks died about 6 months ago and I was told that if I could make it up to MN, my sister would let me stay with her." He looked at me, trying to size up my story, but he did not question me about it. On the way to Rockford, I asked him about his life. We chatted about pretty light topics. I was trying hard not to think about what I was doing. The time flew by. When we got to Rockford, he let me out on an exit off the interstate. I made my way to the Rockford toll plaza and stuck out my thumb again.

Within minutes an old blue Chevy came out of the tollgate and headed right for me. The guy at the wheel opened the door and invited me to get in. He looked about 35, was about 5'10, had dark hair and was on the skinny side. We took off towards Wisconsin. Once we were up to speed, he said, "Hi, I'm Paul Henry. And you are?"
"Steve", I said. "Steve Kepel."
Paul asked me, "Where are you headed?"

I told him the same story that I told the farmer. Paul hid a chuckle behind a smile and said "ok." I asked him about himself. He told me that he was heading up to Beloit, WI to close out a Christmas Club account at a bank up there. He asked me where I was from. I told him and he said he used to live there too. "I worked for an accounting firm on the corner of Liberty and Villa." He continued." "The name of the place was The Becker Accounting Firm. I worked there up until about 6 months ago. I was in a car accident and got a $300,000 dollar settlement, so now I don't have to work. I have bought a house in the Rockford area and I am spending all of my time fixing it up." He then asked me where about in the twin cities my sister lived.
"Cottage Grove." I answered.
"How did your parents die?" he asked.
I was unprepared for this question and I hastily said, "It was a car accident."
He then asked where and how I had been living.
I was even less prepared for that question. I paused in thought while I formulated an answer. "I was able to live in the apartment until recently. Now I can't live there any more because I can't pay the rent."
Paul drove for a bit in silence. It was an uncomfortable feeling for me. I was lying to him, he was asking me questions that I had no answers prepared for, and he seemed to be on to me.

We arrived at the bank in Beloit, he went up to the counter and made his transaction. Then we got back in the car. He was silent for a little bit as we sat there. He finally told me that he would take me a little bit farther up the road. I was appreciative. Along the way he started asking me questions about whom I was. "What do you like to do to relieve stress?"
That was an easy answer. "I like to write. I write stories with me as one of the characters. I would love to be an artist, but I can not draw very well."
"There are plenty of other ways to express an artistic side other than drawing" He replied.

We arrived at a diner about a half-hour south of Madison. He said he would buy me lunch, we went inside and sat down at a table. I told him that I had some of my writings with me and he asked to see one. He read it after we had ordered and told me he really liked it. He told me that writing was a creative way to express how one feels. "Never lose that ability to look at yourself. Understanding who you are is very important. It is a God given gift. You need to use it." Then he asked if I had a story about my parents' death. As he asked he had a subtle confrontative posture to him. I was silent for a while. I didn't want to lie to him any more. I somehow I felt safe with him. I felt that he would not judge me for who I was or what I was doing.
I mumbled, "They didn't really die." I looked at the table with my head still down, feeling shame for my deception.
"I already knew that. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. Why are you running away?"
I was suddenly uneasy. I had conflicting feelings. On the one hand I was so used to being judged and shamed, I was scared that he would judge me too. If Paul, an understanding, encouraging person would judge me as evil, I would feel all the more hopeless. On the other hand, I had a feeling that he was more like me. That he would validate my feelings and not tell me I was wrong. That is how he turned out to be.
"My mother found a magazine in my closet yesterday and really let me have it. It was...an...adult...ah...magazine."
Paul laughed and said to me, "Well that doesn't sound like it would qualify as the crime of the century. There must me more to it than that."
I told him about my feelings of no respect. I told him that I did not feel like I was able to be the son that they wanted and I felt bad about it. "I also am just frustrated as heck about always trying and failing at it."
"You can say hell. Hell fits better than heck." he joked.
"So have you given any consideration to what is in store for you? Running away can be hard on a person." He said, getting serious.
"No I haven't. I just wanted to get away from there. I can think on my feet and I can always find a way do make things happen." I said, feeling confident.
"I don't think you realize how hard it could get for you. You are not dressed right and you are not prepared to live on the streets. It is winter and cold right now. There are a few months left of this weather. How much money do you have?"
I counted my money, "$10 dollars."
"Ok, so you can eat tonight, tomorrow and possibly the next day. What are you going to do then?"
"I have family up there that can help me with that. I have a cousin that could sneak me food." I answered.
"What happens if he tells his mother. Do you think they will be angry and send you back home to your parents?" He asked.
"I don't think he will." I replied.
"Where are you going to sleep tonight?"
"I will worry about that when I get up there." I answered.
"Let's examine the scenario that you will probably run into. You will get dropped off in Minneapolis, if you even make it there. You will be cold and all alone. There is nothing that your cousin can do for you tonight. You will have to most likely find a bridge to sleep under. It will be cold and you will be miserable." He informed.
I replied, "It might be rough for a day or two, but I will try and make the best of it. I like adventures, even if they are not always easy. There is a challenge ahead of me and I can hit it head on."
"Adventures are great. They are the heart of life and I can not debate that with you. But an adventure of this sort takes years of gathering knowledge to be safe. You are from the suburbs and have been all of your life. People won't care about you on the streets like you may be hoping they will. You have to take care of yourself, because no one else will. Gathering experiences is very important because they give you options. Options like shelters, organizations that can help you with your home life and getting you back home. You can have a great future ahead of you. This is a pivotal point in your life. Please think about this. Is your home life bad enough to take the risks you are taking? Are you going to finish school?"
The questions he asked had no tone of being threatening or judgmental. He was making me think for myself. He never once inferred that I was wrong in my actions and he wanted me to come to that conclusion on my own.

After lunch we started driving out of the parking lot. Paul stopped at the entrance to the road. He said to me, "I will take you as far a Madison. In Madison, I will buy you some appropriate clothes from the Salvation Army store so you can manage better and have a safer start. After that you can be on your way. Or," he added, "I can turn left here and take you home. What do you want to do?"

What he was telling me about life on the street was really starting to sink in. It was logical and made sense. I could not deny the irrationality of wanting to run from my problems. I was not ready to face the world alone yet. "I'll go home." I finally answered reluctantly.

Paul smiled at me and said, "That is a very wise choice. It takes courage to face your feelings. I think you may have grown up a little bit since this morning."

I was amazed at how I felt. For the first time, I was in control of my destiny. Paul would have supported my decision whichever way I would have gone. Looking back at it now, I have no doubt the he knew I would make that choice. But yet he still made it my decision. He gave me two options at that crossroad. By offering to buy me clothes and get me more prepared, he truly made the choice mine. There were no conditions put on it.

Paul Drove me back to Elgin which was about three hours out of his way and we arrived at my high school. Paul walked in with me into the vice-principal's office to talk with him. I was really feeling uncomfortable, but still feeling good about my decision. I could face whatever was given to me because I had met someone that validated who I was.
Paul told the vice-principal that I had run away today. "He is a good kid, but he is very confused. He needs to work on his issues with caring and understanding people. His main issue deals with his parents. We had a long talk on the way back here and he is willing to work with them. He is heading home to do that now. Be understanding with him and give him a bit of latitude. He will respond to that better than shame."
The vice-principal was taken by surprise bay all of that. "So you ARE going home right now?" he asked me.
"I am." I responded.
So Paul Said his good-bye's and wished me luck. He had told me that he would try to hook up with a friend of his for a few hours in Elgin, then try and stop by my house later to talk to my folks. I thanked him and got onto the bus to go home. I had found out the next day that, after I left, the vice-principal realized what had just taken place. They paged me numerous times over the loud speakers. When I did not respond, they called my parents to inform them of what had just occurred. I got home and my mother was very angry for the embarrassment. She was also mad that I would choose to run a way rather than submit to her control. My father was more sympathetic and tried to understand why I felt the need to run. A long conversation ensued, but I do not remember much of the details from it.

I tried to find Paul about a week later. There was no listing for him by the Rockford phone company or any record of a house bought by a Paul Henry there. I went to the corner he said he worked at in Elgin, trying to find information. The corner was an empty lot. I found out that there was never an accounting firm located there. There was no evidence I could find to prove Paul's existence. He had come into my life and spent a few hours there, but those few hours with him have affected my life.

About a month later I was encouraged by a teacher I respected, to join Junior Achievement. A JA representative gave a talk at my school and handed out sign up forms. The only night I could be consistently free was a Wednesday. The business hosting JA on that night was a place called Centel. I had no idea what Centel was, but it didn't matter at that point. So I joined JA at Centel which turned out to be Centel Cable. Centel has a television department and it was their department which was the hosts. We sold infomercials for businesses (5 minute long commercials) and played them on the local cable channel 6. Centel's everyday activities included a nightly newscast, a talk show and they were just getting into doing local high school sports. About 2 weeks into the program I asked to help out with the newscast and they made me an intern. I worked there every other day for the first 2 weeks and then every day after school. I was hired as a part timer after my first year. From there I learned all about television. I was always enthusiastic and absorbed everything I could at an almost frantic rate. They took me under their wing and I had found my creative outlet. I still had a lot of troubles at home, but having my sanctuary gave me direction and purpose.

As I write this, I am traveling through Chicago to the Twin Cities. When I passed the toll booth in Elgin, I started to reflect on that period of my life. I look back and wonder who Paul was and how he came to effect my life at such a pivotal point. I felt that I would really like to know him. But I have realized that I do indeed know him. I have looked into myself and found him there. The examples he set for me through his words, his actions and, most of all, his acceptance of people are part of me. His attitude showed me back then, that I was on the right track with my beliefs. I have tried to become everything that I saw in him. I am sure that he has his struggles with living as everyone does. He realizes that his way is not the only way; as do I. Therefore have come to the conclusion that I am he. And I am grateful.

Life is a struggle for many things. People who respect that struggle and strive to understand its nature and purpose are destined to be good people.

...I would love to hear any comments you may have. I can be reached via email at: bob@urbanproductions.com