Prodigal

By John Chomeau

Matt Collins is an ambitious young man from Minnesota who longs to escape from the dull, dutiful life his father, Larry, and older brother, Steve, have built while attending church and running a successful group of car dealerships. He wants to go places, party with his friends, and have independence and freedom.

After a tragedy near the end of his senior year, Matt prepares to go on a trip to Greece, a gift from his dad for graduation. But he plans to make an even bigger change and stay in Greece for good—with the help of his share of inheritance from his father. Once Matt arrives, he goes through a series of ups and downs, making bad decision after bad decision. Where else can he go, in the end, but back home to the unconditional love of his father?

In this novel, a young man lives out a parable that Jesus Christ shared with his disciples. While Jesus was silent on the challenges the prodigal son faced after his decision to return to his father, those who have taken this journey know what really happens. Resolve to return to the Father brings unexpected and dangerous challenges. Through Matt’s eyes, Prodigal chronicles a cycle of pride, arrogance, deception, failure, humility, survival, resistance, and redemption.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Jul 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781489734785

John Chomeau

John Chomeau is an executive in the health care industry. He has passions for leadership, ministry, and high-performance skiing, having committed twenty-five years of his life to coaching ski racers and the general public. He enjoys time with his wife and only son who both have a passion for ministry. John believes each person has a life-changing decision to make upon hearing the gospel and that the storytelling of Jesus Christ helps us understand the mystery of God the Father and his Son.

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 John Chomeau.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means,

graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by

any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author

except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue

in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

LifeRich Publishing is a registered trademark of The Reader’s Digest Association, Inc.

LifeRich Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.liferichpublishing.com

844-686-9607

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-4897-3479-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-3480-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-3478-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021906210

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 07/19/2021

Dedicated to all of us

who have been redeemed.

Contents

Chapter 1 Unsettled

Chapter 2 Give Me My Share

Chapter 3 The Dye is Cast

Chapter 4 Not So Distant Country

Chapter 5 Walking Over History

Chapter 6 Pilion

Chapter 7 My Plan is Birthed

Chapter 8 Three Rows Back

Chapter 9 Milina

Chapter 10 The Winds Shift

Chapter 11 My World Pivots

Chapter 12 On Solid Ground

Chapter 13 I Have Arrived

Chapter 14 Mine!

Chapter 15 The Turn Home

Chapter 16 Portugal

Chapter 17 Death Trap

Chapter 18 Eye of the Needle

Chapter 19 You are Always With Me

Chapter 20 Redemption Takes Root

Chapter 21 He Was Lost and is Now Found

About the Author

49171.png

Chapter 1

UNSETTLED

Redemption.

Some of us believe we experience redemption after a life struggle or trial. In reality, we do not. It is only our pride being put back into place and our ego feeding the lie that we prevailed.

True and pure redemption is a gift that is offered by someone else—birthed out of unconditional love. It is not of our making and is the selfless act of a loving person. In my case, it was the unconditional love of my father.

My story began when I was growing up in Minneapolis. I was just your usual kid with a brother, and a father who was challenging. My dad ran a group of automobile dealerships, and for the most part, we had everything that we needed in life because of my dad’s success—you may have heard of the Collins Automotive Group.

My dad, Larry, was known for many things. He was a successful businessman. He was an avid fisherman. And he was the guy you could always count on when there was trouble or if you needed something done to overcome challenges in your life.

For me, I was less interested in my dad and his success because I had my own life to live. Dad was a man of integrity. He was very involved in the church. Many times, he said his success in life centered on a group of men around him who spoke truth into his life. The guys he hung around with where pretty cool—manly guys. They had organized fishing gear. They had custom guns they would use to hunt deer in the fall. They had water toys for Lake Minnetonka. But I always felt as though my dad didn’t have time for me, so I sought to live my own life.

I spent all my time taking care of what I needed for my purposes. My brother, Steve, was just like my dad. He had all the makings of the older son in my family. He helped out around the house. He helped at the dealerships. He worked in the parts department. And, of course, he always sat next to Dad in church, nudging him when certain things came up in the sermons. At the end of service, you would find Stephen shaking everybody’s hands and smiling—in essence, he was a mini-me of my dad. Add all this up—he was my older brother, and because of that, he always seemed to be telling me what to do.

I remember growing up in Minneapolis and the amazing number of things we could do in any given season. During the summer, when Lake Minnetonka was sparkling, we’d be out on our boats or on our Jet Skis, zipping around the lake, looking for chicks we could meet and connect up with our friends. It was a great time in my life, going to Minnetonka High School. I was pretty much able to do as I wanted. I had good teachers and above-average grades. I participated in all the sports that attracted the best-looking girls—football in the fall and competitive wrestling in the winter and baseball in the spring. I was a graduating senior, living the senior slide. I had everything going for me.

In the winter, Minnesota became the great white North playground. We had legendary snow. You could do everything you wanted to do: snowmobiling, skiing, snowshoeing, ice fishing, or just hanging around, throwing snowballs with your friends. It was a great way to grow up.

On the surface, everything was great. Inside, however, my dark story began with the pride that was brewing within me.

I was beginning to get bored with the life that my dad built. Yes, I was doing great at football. I was doing well in school. I was even excelling at baseball, so you would think I had a very positive outlook on life. But there was something missing for me. I really wanted to do more than what Minnetonka offered. I wanted to go to places. I wanted to see things that my family wasn’t accustomed to seeing. Most important, I wanted to party with my friends and spend my time socializing with them and not with my brother, Steve, and his blockhead friends. Indeed, there also had to be more than hanging around with my dad’s friends, hearing the same old stories about the monster deer that they killed last fall or the monster musky that broke them off last week on Tonka.

I guess it was just part of growing up, when you begin to feel the pulling as a young man. I really wanted my independence. I really wanted to prove myself by going on a different path from my family. It was a tough time. I was trying to be independent, yet my dad—and certainly Steve, my knucklehead brother—were suffocating me. They were trying to keep me within their box, trying to limit what I could and couldn’t do. I remember so clearly when I was coming home late from a party. It was only about one thirty in the morning. Not that late in my estimation, but my dad was quite upset because it was past my curfew. He was certain the Minnetonka Police officers knew who I was and were just looking for me to mess up. Dad claimed that the cops were just looking to expose our family to the rigors of being compliant with a curfew in the Minnetonka community. It could soil our family reputation if you were to get arrested. Dad kept driving home the point like a landscaping spike.

I explained to my dad that I was always aware of where most of the police officers hung out after midnight, and I did everything to avoid them. While I thought that was rather clever, Dad thought it showed a lack of maturity. It certainly showed a disrespect for the men and women who served our community as police officers.

He spent a good hour that night telling me what he expected me to do going forward. And it was totally unacceptable for me to be out past curfew. Furthermore, he had a few things to say about the friends I was hanging around with. He went on and on. Dad did not understand that my buds, for the most part, were a lot of fun just like his buds. They meant no harm. Yes, we probably shouldn’t have been drinking beer at our age, and yes, we probably shouldn’t have been hanging around parties till midnight and then start looking for things to do after we left. But they were pretty good guys. They came from good families. When they needed to be, they could be quite respectful. They certainly respected the girls we hung around with. And they weren’t attempting to do any bad stuff with the girls.

And then, of course, I got the lecture on girls.

My dad said, You are too young to date seriously in your senior year of high school. I am very concerned about things that could go wrong in a dating relationship.

I think he was less concerned about my heart if a girl would break it than he was concerned about me having sex. Dad told me that he and Mom had abstained as high school sweethearts and waited to get married. He was very worried I would have lapses in judgment that would lead to other problems. And he was even more fearful of what the other families would say about their daughters hanging around with me and the potential social media ramifications if I ever did it.

So I listened to my dad that night. He explained what it meant to be a man—the responsibility of being a man and that he wanted me to be more accountable for my actions going forward. He meant well, but the pontificating lecture at two thirty in the morning left a bad taste in my mouth. My father was never an agitated or violent man. He didn’t pound tables. He didn’t yell at me. He was very balanced, but he was definitely had a different mindset. I wanted to go have fun. I wanted to experience the world. I wanted to have my freedom, while he just wanted me to be another dutiful son, like Steve.

After that conversation, I walked around for a while, thinking I did need to become more mature; I did need to show some adult behavior. So I made an effort to go to the dealerships after school. I picked days when my brother wasn’t working so I wouldn’t hear his constant harangue on my inability to do things his way. But I thought I’d show Dad by volunteering to work in the service bays. I swept the floor. I cleaned up the bays after a car was serviced. I even worked in the parts department to help run parts down for the other auto marts, like O’Reilly or automotive dealerships that were looking for parts from our central supply store.

It was fun work, and it certainly was great to hang around the guys, drinking bad coffee and telling stories and bad jokes. We passed the time and had fun commenting on the many customers who came through our doors. In the winter, Minnesotans are some of the funniest-looking people you will ever see. Don’t get me wrong; they are really nice people, but they always wear the oddest clothes. They’ve got hats, and gloves, and scarves, and boots that never seem to match—everybody is so bundled up that half the time you can’t even recognize who they are until they take off all the layers.

The guys and I would talk about who came in, and when we’d see a really attractive young girl, the comments would fly. What about that old guy in the funny hat with the feathers sticking out the side? Oh yeah, he was fair game too. It was a good time. The great thing about Minnesotans is that they’re good-natured people. They don’t mean any harm with their comments. They’re not really mean; they are funny and love to laugh when it comes to how they all dress. It’s a unique place for that alone.

I also remember hanging around the sales guys at my dad’s dealerships. The Collins Automotive Sales Department was absolutely where all the action was. These were the movers and shakers. These were the guys who dressed the part, had the cool watches, and knew where to go after work for a couple of beers. They had the great jokes, and they knew who the hot women were in town.

One sales manager at Dad’s dealership, Tony, was one of those guys who had his fingers on the pulse of everything. He knew everything that went on in the dealership, but more important, he knew everything that went on outside the dealership. He was the most connected guy I ever met.

Tony was an important character on my journey because he had a huge influence on my life and changes the path that I walked. But for now, the Tony story is just about him as a person. He was very gregarious. He could sell anything to anyone. He had a style that I found attractive. He knew how to say the right things at the right time and to get people to do things they were not prone to do. I really liked that about Tony, and I began to study him and his behavior. I liked that he always seemed professional but approachable. For example, even if he wore blue jeans for Casual Friday, he always wore a sport coat—many times with a handkerchief in the pocket.

Tony pulled me aside one day and said, Hey, Matt, I know you and your old man are working to grow these dealerships. I like working with your brother, Steve, because he’s a solid young man, and he seems smart about the industry. He knows what’s going on in the dealerships and running operations. But you, Matt, are different. You understand people. You know the rhythm and the pace to use to create a change in people’s thinking and have them become customers. I’d love to take you under my wing and teach you the ropes. I would love to have you become one of our sales guys because you understand people, first and foremost. That’s not to say that your dad, Larry, and Steve don’t understand; it’s just different. You kinda know what the deal is.

So I began to hang around with Tony.

Tony taught me the ropes. He showed me the process of preparing prospective customers to accept my suggestions; he showed me how to listen for their objections or concerns and then turn those into positive outcomes. I did not expect his very structured process, but he followed it precisely. It never changed, and he always used it to great success.

This experience and his intensive training helped me understand that influencing people and creating motivation could always work for my benefit.

Tony told me, The more positive you can be with customers, the more likely they are to buy. And the more likely they are to buy, the better off your paycheck will be.

For Tony, it was all about paychecks. Make no mistake about it; Tony was there to make money. Tony was there to better himself and to make sure that he had all the money he needed to do the things that he wanted to do.

This was a key turning point for me.

As part of my training, Tony also taught me how to have fun. He taught me what it meant to sit in a bar and command the room, just by my presence—how to attract people by virtue of how I carried myself; how to use my words carefully; and what I needed to do so that people were attracted to what I was saying. Many times, Tony bought drinks for the people at the bar. I sat there in amazement, watching people flock to him when he offered a free beer. I knew in my heart that if I could develop the ability to do what Tony was doing, I would be very successful in life. I would be well on my way to becoming more successful, rich, and powerful than my own dad.

Here I was, stuck as an eighteen-year-old Minnetonka High School graduating senior, but I’d found an outlet. I could sit in a bar in Minneapolis with the sales leader for my dad’s business, and I was learning from him what life meant. The high school experience was great, and my dad helped me to understand what it meant to be a man and accept responsibility, but the real excitement came from hanging around with Tony. Tony taught me about human nature and things that I never thought I would learn. He even taught me how to pick up women, not just flirt with girls.

I thought I knew how to attract girls, and I hung around with many very nice-looking chicks, but Tony had an approach and a skill set I had never seen. Women warmed up to him very quickly; they laughed vivaciously, and they even had an interest in me because I was with Tony. It was amazing to me that a hot twentysomething babe would talk to me in a bar. I loved the energy, and I studied every aspect of Tony’s game, even his favorite drink—scotch and water.

Although Tony was at the height of his game during the evening, he always left alone before the bar closed. He told me one night that in this game, that was how it was played. "If you want to be a standout in that kind of environment, don’t bring somebody home because the minute you do, it changes everything. You are better off not bringing somebody home and having everybody wonder why you are so gregarious and exciting. You don’t party there to have opportunities to have women. It is the brand that has people wanting more."

I actually understood his game clearly and realized there was almost a power and control that came with walking away from the setting. People were left wanting more and always thought of him as a good friend, a good guy, who spread love to be shared by all. He was so right; the minute you took somebody home, it changed the dynamics of the room because someone had been singled out from the group.

So Tony, as a single man, spent his evenings going from bar to bar, where he knew the bartenders and the people, and he knew what to say to make everybody happy. As a result, he built his business to the point that everybody wanted to come to Tony at the Collins Automotive Group. Tony had prepared the ground. When someone came in, Tony was a straight-shooting guy—he was forthright, he was honest, and he was fun, and people knew that he could find them the right car for the right price—that was because he said that to the bar patrons every night at the bars he visited, and the bartenders affirmed it. In fact, because he told them so in a bar setting, people actually believed it.

The critical part of the game was that Tony delivered.

You would come to the dealership, and there was Tony, all dressed up and completely ready to sell you the car of your dreams. When you walked into his office, you were the most important thing in his life. All attention was on you. Kind of like what you probably had seen in the bar, where everybody thought they were Tony’s best friend. He taught me that it was important for everybody to feel that way if I wanted to be successful.

As I sat in school one day, I thought, What if I tried this in my school? I decided to see if I could build my popularity and improve my personal brand among my schoolmates. I thought long and hard on how to use Tony’s techniques and apply them to the high school mindset. The mentality at the high school was so strange because everybody just lived on their iPhones, and nobody talked anymore. Even though we were jammed together in school, we constantly were Instagramming or texting each other under the desks. I needed to take this into account because we kids generally were nonsocial, and if we were social, it was usually in the few minutes between classes, so it was very difficult to connect. But I was going to give it my best to see if I could do it.

I started getting to school early, before classes began, and I used the time to randomly walk up to people and express interest in what they were doing. It was interesting at first; most people thought I was just weird. Some people thought I was rude. Some people thought I was out there, but as I began to talk to them—saying things like, Yeah, I honestly have an interest in what’s going on in your life—they began to open up. And sure enough, over time, I was able to build a fairly small but loyal group of friends who wanted to follow me. These were totally new friends from outside the group I normally ran with. These were individuals who often were disconnected from school activities. They were solo flyers who were trying to get by, hovering below the popularity radar. I still had all my cool friends, as well as friends I’d known all my life. But this was a different group of other people, those I hadn’t ever thought I’d reach. In essence, they became interested in what I had to say, even though we had been total strangers. They became a cohesive group of friends, and, like Tony, I was beginning to translate the bar game into the same thing in Minnetonka High School.

I applied all levels of learning that Tony had taught me. I thought it was interesting because most of the people genuinely felt valued, and they belonged. As time passed, they wanted to be part of what I was doing after school and to be seen with me after games or to hang out together at dances. Knowing the model, I said, I’ve got a lot of things going on. I can’t do stuff after school, but let’s continue to talk before school, and let’s connect then because that’s the best time for me. I was learning to do a Tony and leave people wanting more of my time, so it was an interesting experiment that actually surprised me. I learned that people are genuinely interested in you when you are genuinely interested in them.

This was unlike my own family, and it wasn’t a lesson that was ever taught.

My dad, Larry, was only interested in running his automotive dealerships with excellence and in a way that would honor God. And, of course, Steve, being the number-one son, was dutiful and by his side at all times. My dad was very focused on having the Collins name mean something positive in the community. I’m not criticizing my dad for that. He certainly worked very hard at the dealerships and with many difficult people to make that happen, but I was finally learning something new. Tony taught me some of the most valuable lessons in my life on being able to get what you want and to achieve by influencing people in a positive way.

I think the most crucial and pivotal part of my journey happened one day on the way to school. I was driving down Highway 7, and there were tons of police cars and ambulance lights ahead of me. Traffic was backed up for at least a mile. When I finally got up to the squad cars, I was shocked to see a car that I recognized—it was a friend of mine; he apparently had lost control of his car, crossed the median, and had run head-on into a delivery truck. Tristan’s car was completely crushed. As I drove slowly by, I strained to see if Tristan was there, but all I saw was the ambulance pulling away, and the police officers frantically waving us through to clear up traffic on Highway 7.

When I got to school, everybody was talking about it, especially the people I always met early in the morning. Several of them had passed the accident scene, but they didn’t know what had happened, other than it seemed like Tristan had lost control of his car, as it was underneath the truck. Everybody at Minnetonka High was very concerned about Tristan; we all were worried that he had been rushed to the hospital.

Tristan was a pretty cool kid and was well known at Minnetonka. That day, we whispered in classes and asked each other if anybody had heard anything about his condition. Everybody was on their iPhones, looking for information about what had happened. Of course, the gossip chain was full of all kinds of stuff about Tristan. People were texting that he’d had a seizure. People said that he had been out drinking last night and was half drunk still. People said that they knew that he was a pot smoker and that he was probably was high on his way to school. None of it was true.

At the end of the day, the principal spoke over the public address system with an update on what had happened. He was very emotional as he read a prepared statement: I regret to inform you that Tristan, unfortunately, has passed away at the hospital from severe internal injuries. We had lost our classmate. This was a significant blow to all of us. Kids began to cry right there in the classrooms.

In the days to come, it was apparent that Tristan’s death had more of an impact on us than we had realized. I became quite withdrawn and upset that Tristan was now gone, that his life had been snuffed out at such an early age. Classmates texted each other constantly through the night, saying things like, I can’t believe Tristan’s gone; What a loss; What a great kid; and Boy, school is not going to be the same without him. There was so much grief and sadness in my school over losing one of our own due to something that could’ve been avoided.

As the days went on, I slowly got back to normal—at least a little bit. I thought about how short our lives can be and how we start with such promise and optimism. We go places and do things and experience great things in life, but at any moment, it can be taken from us. What began to build up in me was the realization that I didn’t want to waste my life. I wanted to experience life to the fullest. I wanted to see the world before I died; I was fearful that my life would end in a sudden, tragic accident, like Tristan’s.

Little did I understand at the time that Tristan’s death and this time of grieving would have a huge impact on the path of my own life. I began to realize that I was not built to settle down in Minnetonka and become Dad’s helper at the dealership—and I certainly was not built to work for Steve.

Something was brewing inside of me that kept me up at night—and it truly bothered me. It was like I was being called away, to be free of my current life—that was the best way I could describe it; anything that freed me from my family. I needed something that didn’t continue the waste that my life had become; I needed any change in the way that I was living at that point. I didn’t know if it was a desire to escape or if it was a calling; I only knew that my life was not everything it could be.

After Tristen’s death, I actually had thoughts of not living any longer—of taking my life. It seemed easy to rationalize—if I worked hard, only to be killed in a random car accident, and everything was lost, why should I have lived anyway? It was kinda strange to think like this, and I didn’t know what to do with it.

I would stay up for hours in the middle of the night, staring at the TV, trying to figure out why people bought stuff on television, but it kind of made sense. People just wanted to do something—anything. They wanted to accomplish something. They wanted to move forward in some small way, and, as bizarre as it might sound, taking out a credit card and buying something on TV and then waiting for the delivery truck was a step forward for some people.

I have heard stories about people who take their own lives, particularly after the loss of someone close. I’ve heard that people who contemplate suicide actually think about it quite a bit and then act upon it in a matter of minutes. That means they’ll think for a long time about ending their lives, actually rehearsing in their minds how they do it, and then, suddenly, they’ll execute their plans. I was living a life that was unfulfilled, and thoughts of suicide were quite developed in my head.

One night, I was sitting in the chair where I always sat, watching TV in our family room. My dad had a gun case that was always under lock and key, but we regularly had knives and other types of sharp objects available. I’d often thought of just cutting my wrists and being done with it. This night was a little different. I thought about Tristan and that he was no longer with me. I began to wonder, if I killed myself, if I would see him again. Would he recognize me when he greeted me, or would there be some other place that was worse than any of us expected?

I sat there thinking, If I cut my wrists and bleed out how, will people wake up to find me lying on the floor, dead, with blood all around me? Will our dog be overly reactive to the blood on the floor and start barking?

Would my dad break down in tears and cry for me?

Would Steve feel a loss because I was no longer his punching bag?

As I thought through this, a very disruptive thought came to me. Strange as it might seem, I actually thought that Tony might miss me.

How would Tony feel about not having a protégé to train and an individual to follow him around like the proverbial puppy dog, watching his every move, inflection, gesture, and question that he asked the customer?

I thought more about the loss for Tony than the loss for my own family.

On that night, the thought of Tony and his feelings caused me to back down from my thoughts of suicide.

I put the hunting knife down on the coffee table and looked up at the TV. On the television screen was the cheesiest commercial I’d ever seen. They were selling some type of home gym device, which allowed you to lose tons of weight and create a new you in just ninety days from their proven diet and exercise program. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this commercial would have a profound effect on me—not because of the product but because the backdrop was a beautiful beach, with mountains in the background, and waterfalls cascading to the bluest water I’d ever seen. At first, I wondered where the heck it was, but as I continued to watch, I realized that the location was the island of Santorini in Greece. I had seen pictures of that island on calendars that were sold in the bookstore. I recognized the whitewashed buildings, the beautiful blue domes, and the crosses atop the stone roofs.

002%20copy.jpg

It was beautiful. The water was shimmering blue. The whitewashed buildings spoke of fortified purity and cleanliness, and the sunny weather surrounding the beautiful people didn’t hurt either. All this made the thought of Greece very attractive to me. The other great thing about Santorini was that it was high on a hill, looking out over the ocean. You could see all the beautiful boats, ocean liners, steamers, and water toys scooting around as people enjoyed themselves in the setting sun.

The commercial gave me a new game board on which to play out my life. That two o’clock commercial stayed with me over the next several months, firmly planting in my head that I was longing for a place where the buildings were whitewashed, the sun was warm, the water was sparkling, and the people, of course, were beautiful. There didn’t seem to be a worry in the world there, and there didn’t seem to be the grind of living in the cold winters of Minnesota; there also didn’t seem to be the pressure of being the son of Larry Collins, having to perform ever so perfectly in the automotive business, in the church, and at Minnetonka High School.

Things at school were getting better. I had some success using Tony’s techniques to develop new friends and expand my circle of influence. I had been more positive lately because I kept thinking about taking Tony’s methods to a faraway land. Why couldn’t I accomplish the same thing among strangers?

I thought about taking that trip and seeing if what I’d learned from Tony could be applied in a place like Santorini. It didn’t seem all that outlandish. I did have a senior trip coming up. My dad always promised that when we graduated, he would give us an overseas trip to wherever we wanted to go.

My brother, Steve, had elected to go to India. He came back very knowledgeable about Hindi culture and was very excited about what he had experienced in India. He told me many stories about the fabulous palaces that had been created by thousands of workers. In that country, he said, there was incredible population density; people were living on top of each other. There was such an urgency around the simple things, like finding food and water, having a job, and just raising kids in a community that was overly populated. This was completely unfamiliar to me and something that I was certain I would never experience. I never understood why Steve wanted to go to India, and I had no interest in seeing it for myself. My full attention was on Greece, and I began to obsess over the possibilities.

While in school, when I wasn’t in class, I would go to the library and spend time looking at pictures and reading about folks who had traveled in Greece. It was a fascinating country and absolutely steeped in antiquity, but most of the people around me didn’t realize how majestic the culture was in social matters. Much of what I was reading discussed what had happened in the society of Ancient Greece; specifically, how the world made pilgrimages to that great country to learn from the great thinkers of the time. Good grief, why didn’t my history professors and teachers teach me this stuff? I wondered. Why were our history classes so dry? Reading it through the new lens of an individual who was interested created a much different flavor for history. I desperately wanted to go to Greece.

So I began to hatch my plan.

In the beginning, I thought about where I wanted to go, the places I wanted to see, and the experiences that I wanted to have. I laid out a detailed itinerary for the trip that my father was going to give me for graduation. It started in Athens and was designed so I would spend an appropriate amount of time to orient, learning som of the language while looking at the antiquities and all that great city afforded. Aside from the usual tourist locations, there were a couple of places that I absolutely wanted to see.

Not too far from Athens was Marathon, where the famous runner departed after the Athenians defeated the Persians. He ran twenty-six miles back from the battlefield to the Athenians. In the center of Athens, he declared that the Greek forces had prevailed and that the evil invaders had been turned back. How cool is it that when he arrived in Athens to pass the word of success, he uttered the word nike, which means victory, and then he died on the spot.

I wanted to re-create that run. I wanted to see it for myself. I wanted to see the hills that Pheidippides ran over on his way to Athens. His heart pounded and his mind spun with the words he would to say and how he would say them, only to get there, utter his words, and die. He probably never thought about becoming an iconic hero of legends and ancestry by being the one who announced to the great people of Athens that their army had prevailed against the invading horde. In his run, he probably never thought that they would honor him greatly, and they would tell stories about his great accomplishment of bringing the great word of victory to his countrymen. He died but never knew that history would immortalize his name.

The other places in Athens that strongly appealed to me were the cultural centers. I read about many nightclubs and hotels where I could stay and party, enjoy the culture, and dance, eat, and sing my way through Athens, desperately seeking enjoyment. Athens was known for its culture. There were numerous places that catered to hedonistic, glorious fun. I wanted to go to many of those nightspots, where anyone could dance, drink, and watch the sun come up over the mountains.

Upon leaving Athens, I planned to see some of the most important places in that country. I had built a very detailed map with travel notes of each place that I wanted to visit. Coming out of Athens, I would head straight up the national highway to the site of the historic battle of the Spartans. The Battle of Thermopylae was one that we read about in history class, but I wanted to see it for myself. I wanted to see where Leonidas and the 300 faced the advancing Persian army and held their ground for three days in defiance, along a treacherous mountain pass bordered by the ocean.

I also wanted to see the beautiful coastline that faced the Aegean Sea, imagining that I could see all the way across the Aegean to the great city of Troy, which was discovered in modern-day Turkey. I imagined a thousand ships that were launched to save Helen from certain death. I also wanted to see the city that responded to the abduction and set forth the historic battle—the great community, Mycenae, that Helen’s uncle Agamemnon had built.

Seeing the ancient site that was discovered by Henry Schliemann in his journey to find Troy really captivated my thinking. Who would’ve launched one thousand ships to save his brother’s beautiful wife and bring her back, possibly against her will? To me that seemed to be the noblest cause, one of extraordinary output, yet was it cursed? I wanted to see the place where all that had happened.

I also wanted to see the great historical sites that were the northern parts of the country. I planned to go to Thessaloniki. I wanted to see the monasteries on Mount Athos, and I wanted to see the great city of Corinth, where so much of what my brother and father loved in the Bible had played out for the apostle Paul.

And I wanted to go to the North. There apparently were beautiful mountains in the northern part of Greece that many people didn’t make an effort to visit. I read that there were canyons there that rivaled our Grand Canyon in terms of grandeur. I read about a place called Vikos Gorge, which was incredibly steep and difficult to access. From there, I wanted to go to the great towns of northern Greece, to see the town of Ioannina—I had read about the horrible Turkish governor who was so brutal to the surrounding villages that people hated and feared him in the same breath. Ali Pasha had a horrible reputation in the village of Ioannina, and he systematically launched fear into the countryside. He would rape and pillage all the Greeks in their communities.

The fear was so great, as the story is told, that the women of Zalongo decided to climb the precipice near their community. They stood atop a two-hundred- to three-hundred-foot cliff with their babes in their arms, and they worked themselves into a frenzy by dancing in a circle. When the chanting and the frenzy had reached a dizzying pace, they leaped to their deaths by hurling their bodies hundreds of feet down onto the rocks. This was a true act of Greek defiance. Today, the memory of the women of the Zalongo was re-created in many of the dances performed in Greece. The Greeks are indeed a proud people, and I wanted to see exactly where those women stood in a courageous and dramatic act of defiance.

Ali Pasha was also known for being cruel to his own family. There are stories of him presiding over his son’s wedding, and when his son’s new wife refused Ali Pasha’s advances on the wedding night, he was so enraged that he took his son’s new bride from the wedding chamber, dragged her and all of her friends out, put them in bags with stones, and dropped them to the bottom of the lake. Today, you can see where all this happened. That was the amazing thing about Greece—the history was so well preserved there and valued by that culture; I wanted to see this for myself.

I wanted to see the beautiful little villages that dotted the coast on the northern and western edges of Greece. Much of what I read in library books was about how these villages were heavily influenced by Italian culture. It was a huge melting pot over there, according to what I read. People were half Italian and half Greek, and I figured that was an amazing combination. I thought that those people most certainly would know how to party. And the food and the women must be spectacular.

Greece consumed my waking hours, and in my mind’s eye, I drove a vehicle around the country. There was so much to see, such as the great town of Olympia. I wanted to see the birthplace of the modern-day Olympics and understand the uniqueness of that event in human history. My reading indicated that nations would gather there, and they would bring treasuries of wealth to the games, which they would set up almost like small banks, and they would honor their culture by awarding the contestants the winner’s items from their treasuries for success in the games. The pictures of Olympia were unique; that they had beautifully restored structures that included the Olympic Stadium. They also had evidence of the first known ancient hotel, where people would stay to observe the games. This was truly an amazing and inviting place because what it showed was the world coming together to enjoy the spirit of competition, unlike what I’d seen in the United States.

This long list of places was on my itinerary. None was more important than the many islands of that beautiful country. I had plans to see them all. I especially noted the northern islands that proudly presented themselves off the coast of Pilion. I had read that the islands of Skiathos and Skopelos were legendary for Europeans practicing the fine art of nude bathing. That certainly caught my interest. In addition, I made plans to see the great southern islands, which seemed popular with everybody. I wanted to visit Mykonos and experience the beautiful culture of the Greek islands. My plans also took me to the western islands, which were so well known for their Italian influence, like Corfu and the great port city of Igoumenitsa. This seaport and island, in particular, were special because from the harbor, I could jump on a ferry and head across the Mediterranean to parts of Italy, Spain, Portugal, and France. It was the portal to the eastern Mediterranean countries.

Igoumenitsa was pivotal in my journey.

At the time of my planning, I didn’t understand how important this port was, but I later learned that my life was dependent upon the actions I took in this seaport, and it played a pivotal role in fulfilling my redemption. I was still in the planning stages at this point in my journey, though, and I wanted to go to Greece to experience life, to love beautiful women, to drink, and to swim in those beautiful, warm waters without a care in the world. I wanted to be free of my family. I wanted to be on my own. I wanted to be the strong man that I was made to be. I wanted to use the skills I had learned from Tony and others. Maybe I could become the most loved and respected American in that country.

That dark night when I had wanted to take my life because I didn’t think it was worth living seemed long in the past. I had seen a little slice of heaven, and I wanted to be part of it, and now I had a plan to get there. Dad didn’t know yet that I wanted an eight-week trip, upon my graduation, to experience the beautiful and fertile country of Greece.

I was back in the grind of life in Minnesota and frequently left the library feeling depressed and filled with a longing to escape this claustrophobic town. I could no longer hide my interest in Greece and shared my feelings with many of my friends. We talked for hours about what it would be like to see the ancient sites that had been built over six thousand years before the birth of Christ. Why were they still standing? How did they master the ancient architectural techniques to create buildings that have withstood thousands of years of earthquakes, wars, and weather?

My mind began to shift to graduation and the upcoming event of launching me into manhood. I dreaded the day, but I also looked forward to it because I would ask for my freedom. I fantasized about telling my brother, Steve, that he was no longer my overseer or responsible for my walk in life. In fact, I was relishing the fact that he would hear I was taking an extended trip to Greece and most likely would be a changed person when I returned.

Don’t get me wrong; Steve was an OK guy. He and I were just terribly different. I wasn’t sure if I could work for him directly. I had a hard enough time working for Dad, but working for Steve, once Dad passed away, would be a nonstarter for me. He would boss me around from day one, reminding me constantly that he was my older brother, and he’d never let up. My dad loved me and gave me encouragement, but Steve was nowhere near that. Steve loved to pound on me, pointing out all the things that I did wrong. Even when I did nearly everything right, he found the 10 percent I had not done correctly. He often said, You know we demand excellence in this family. The Collins name is worth a lot in our community, and any time we don’t execute with excellence, people know it, people see it, and people wonder if we are as good as we say we are. He seemed to carry a huge burden, but I didn’t. As I said, we were different.

Once, when we were in church together, I was sitting next Steve, who was sitting next to my dad, as he always was. I pulled out my iPhone because it was vibrating, and I quickly sent a text to one of my friends who was having a bad day. Steve flipped out; he was very upset that I had the insensitivity to take out my iPhone in church and send a text. He was very concerned that I had shown disrespect to the pastor.

After church, he pretty much ripped me a new one. He told me that it had been an embarrassment to be in the pew with me when I pulled out my phone, and everyone could see me testing.

It was for a good reason, I assured him. My friend was in crisis and needed to talk to somebody. I thought I would connect with him to say I’d talk to him after service.

But Steve would not let it go. He continued to rail on me and tell me that I was an embarrassment to the Collins family. It was a pretty harsh and judgmental rant.

I finally said, I’m done with this, and I’m not gonna engage in a nonproductive discussion.

This was yet another example of how my family life was not helping me become the grown man I so desperately wanted to be. I thought about what it would be like, once I left for Greece. In that process, I wondered if I should stay longer than eight weeks. How long could I stay with the money that Dad would spend on my traveling abroad? How much could I extend my trip and not feel so rushed to come back to Minnesota, only to work in the auto dealership for the rest of my life? Yes, I could attend college. Yes, I could do things other than work at the auto dealer, but there was an expectation that I start my time there and then decide what I wanted to do later in life. The thought of this absolutely suffocated me, and I thought about how much I could extend that trip if I was frugal with my money.

Wait a minute, I suddenly thought. Why do I have to be a poor tourist, pinching every euro?

I was hanging out at the Excelsior Grill, not too far from the lake, with my good friend Zoe. Hey, Zoe, what you think about this idea? I don’t want to come back too soon from Greece. I’d like to be able to stay as long as possible. What if I could get a job working as a waiter or as a manager of a small hotel? I’m sure they’d be happy to hire a good-looking American kid like me!

Zoe laughed. Yeah, right, they’re gonna hire you? You don’t know the language, you don’t have any direct skills, and you don’t have a strong enough work ethic to make a go of it. Matt, you’re just a nice guy who’s pretty good-looking, who’s fun to be around and, at the end of the day, is pretty good with people.

Exactly, Zoe, that’s what I’m talking about. I should be able to go there and make a living. I’m good-looking. I have a great smile. I’m good with people, and I could learn the language. Are you kidding me? How hard is it to learn Greek? I know a few words. I’m sure that I could sign on as a junior manager of some type, maybe just focusing on the American tourists and helping a hotel meet the needs of those customers.

Zoe laughed again. You’d have to work pretty hard for that job. I’m not sure you have that in you. She picked up a french fry and waved it in my face. "You better learn how to work hard before you go there because if you go now, and you think you’re working hard, you’re going to starve."

Her words couldn’t have been more accurate. As I would come to learn, the Greek people work very, very hard. But I had a comeback. So, Zoe, what if I took my life savings and my dad’s money. Could I make it then?

Same answer. Look, I’m a good friend. I think you’re a great guy, but I must be honest. You’re not your brother; you don’t work hard as Steve does. What you have going for you is that you’re pretty good with people.

I guess I wouldn’t have a decent shot at potentially making it at a hotel, I said in surrender. That sounds like a lot of work. I’m not sure I have it in me—you’re right. Thanks for being honest.

She kept eating, and I just sat at the table, thinking.

Maybe there’s another way to do this, I said. I could take everything that I’m entitled to from my dad—my inheritance—and take it with me and launch my life. That seems to be the only reasonable way to assure that I’ll make it and not falter. I could get there, invest some money, work hard, and begin to make a living. Then, knowing that I had money in the bank, I could survive for the next several years.

Zoe picked up another french fry and said, You may have a point there. It wouldn’t be easy, but if your dad was willing to give you your inheritance early, you could make it. I have heard of people doing that, but you’d need to be very frugal and understand that money is the only thing that comes between you having a roof over your head and living on the street.

Little did I know that what Zoe had said as she put that french fry in her mouth would be the most extraordinarily predictive thing that anybody ever said to me.

Hey, Zoe, thanks for the advice. I guess it is OK to think that way. Why don’t you join me?

No, that’s OK, Matt. You’re a great guy, but I have other plans. I’ve enjoyed hanging around with you, going to the Minnetonka football games, seeing you score touchdowns, hanging out on the lake, wake-boarding behind your boat, but I have a plan that takes me in a different direction.

Cool. I think I’ll talk to my dad about my plans. I’m sure he’ll be totally supportive. He’s a self-made man. He knows what it takes to go out there and succeed on your own. It’ll be a total joy to tell my brother that I’m not going to work for him and that I’m going to go to a foreign country and make my fortune there. I think it will totally blow his mind.

49171.png

Chapter 2

GIVE ME MY SHARE

I solidified my plan by writing out exactly what I wanted and then started to rehearse my speech. It was June 3, and I was graduating in one week. My request was actually going to be quite simple. I was going to build him up by telling him how great a father he was and how inspirational he had been as I had gotten older. I wanted him to know that I recognized that he was a self-starter, a self-made man, and that I was always impressed with how far he had come by his hard work. I figured this would butter him up for the next part of my request.

I would tell him that in addition to the trip he had promised me, I wanted to ask for my full inheritance, to be given to me now. I’d say that I felt my opportunities in Greece to make investments and to possibly fund my growth there were far greater than in Minnetonka, Minnesota. It seemed to be a very reasonable request. My dad was a reasonable man. He loved his sons, and he wanted to do what was best for them. I did not expect any kind of challenge or disagreement.

The key thing would be to find him when he was most approachable.

This was not going to be an easy task because my father was always working hard, managing the matters of the Collins Auto Group. I thought long and hard about the best time to talk to my dad, and I figured the safest bet would be after church on Sunday, when he seemed to be uplifted by the message from our pastors; it always seemed to help him find rest and certainty.

The plan was set.

After we left the church and were driving home, I said from the back seat, Hey, Dad, when we get home, can I make you breakfast? And can we eat it together while I share with you my excitement over my senior trip to Greece?

Sure, he said, no problem. I would love to hear about that. Then he added, Greece? When did that come up? I had no idea you were thinking about Greece. I thought you wanted to go to India like Steve.

No, I know India sounded interesting after Steve came back, but after extensive research, my heart is really set on Greece. I waited for a reaction.

Now I was on the hook for talking about Greece over breakfast. My mind was racing, paying attention to every single detail, because I had to be ready for the questions that were going to follow. My ask was not just for the trip to Greece; my ask was to separate myself from my family—to ask for the entire inheritance coming to me so that I could become fully independent. It was something that would set in motion events that would change me for the rest of my life.

We went into the house, and I immediately rushed to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a carton of eggs, juice, and a package of bacon. I put the juice on the table and asked Dad how he wanted his eggs. I was feeling quite brotherly and asked Steve if he wanted to have eggs as well, to which he immediately responded yes.

I proceeded to crack open the full dozen eggs from Byerly’s and hurriedly placed the bacon on a plate, which I covered with a paper towel and tossed into the microwave. I wanted to eat with them as quickly as I could because I didn’t want them to go off and do something else. This was a big event, one in which I wanted time to discuss my request and not spend it in eating or cleaning up dishes.

The smell of eggs filled the kitchen.

Dad, do you want cheese on your eggs? I asked.

Of course.

I quickly obliged by making sure he had an ample serving of his favorite cheddar on top of what was quickly becoming a beautiful skillet of eggs. The microwave beeper went off. It was time to put it all together on plates, sit down, and have a life-changing conversation.

The closer I got to the request, the more nervous I became. What would Dad think? What kind of complaint would I hear from Steve? I was about to reveal that I wanted to take a trip to Greece, and, oh, by the way, I want all of my inheritance. He would probably choke on his food, which wouldn’t be unusual for him because he was the fastest eater in the house.

I turned my attention to Dad as he began to eat the eggs fresh from the skillet. The cheese had melted perfectly, as if it had been done by one of the better cooks at Perkin’s. We ate quietly, just the three of us,