The Unlikely Relationship

By Michael Stary and Willie Bentley

This book describes a mentoring relationship that began in 1999 between a forty-year-old, white, upper-class physician and an eight-year-old African American boy from the inner city. It is told in parallel; we each wrote our recollections without reading each other's. This was done so that neither of our writings would influence those of the other. In some cases, the memories actually differ or even conflict. This is exactly the point that the book hopes to convey. Due to our background and environments, we viewed the same events differently, sometimes creating very conflicting memories. This is central to the misunderstandings people often have with one another, as well as those that whole groups may have with one another. It is especially true of the divide that exists between our races today. We must try to see, to experience, and to feel something from a totally different perspective than our own. We hope this book encourages the reader to reexamine relationships between individuals and groups in their own lives from a new perspective, and experience the transformation that can result.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781643500379

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The Unlikely Relationship

Michael Stary

Copyright © 2018 Michael Stary

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-64350-036-2 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64350-037-9 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Foreword

I was the behavior management teacher for a special program at Ludlam Elementary that was involved in Willie’s young life. Prior to his placement in our program, I remember hearing this young child banging on the window coverings outside the classroom—screaming, hollering, and crying. He quickly became the worst kid in the school at such a young age. I remember trying to comfort him during his moments in distress, reassuring him that he would be okay. Such a young soul feeling lost and misunderstood, unable to express his feelings in a non-violent way. After all, growing up in a neighborhood filled with drug buys, gun violence, dysfunctional families, rampart drug use, domestic violence, physical abuse, and a mother—drug addicted. Nevertheless, she did the best she could under the circumstances. Her love was ever present. He never had to wonder about the love she had for him. It was always understood—she loved her baby boy with all of her heart.

A memory I will always treasure is of a conversation with the assistant principal and counselor regarding a phone call from a Dr. Stary, Emergency Department Medical Director of South Miami Hospital. They shared that he was calling the school, inquiring about mentoring a child in reading. Long and short of the matter . . . he was assigned Willie Bentley. We chuckled at the thought.

No one ever assumed that this once-mentoring relationship would last over seventeen years . . . withstanding the chance of time!

Dr. Stary was a welcome relief for this child. He was patient, loving, and non-judgmental. He accepted the challenges of this troubled young child who couldn’t read, exhibiting severe emotional/behavioral problems, with open arms, even though their lives were worlds apart. White and rich/black and poor. He became the advocate Willie needed to ensure he received the best educational opportunities afforded him. He provided Willie with opportunities to see the world from another perspective while realizing and respecting where he lived and navigated life. He knew Willie had to be able to go back and survive in his troubled environment.

After forty years as an educator, being employed in various positions, working with exceptional needs children with the most severe emotional/behavioral problems, I’ve learned that all human beings, regardless of race, gender, color, or sexual orientation, have the fundamental need for positive, loving relationships. We all want to be loved and cared for by someone who thinks we are special. Someone to reassure us that we are good enough. Someone to say, I’m proud of you. This was especially true with Willie.

Mike and Mom were Willie’s greatest cheerleaders. They loved him in different ways, but ultimately the goal was the same. You see, Willie’s mom was not perfect, but through her trials and tribulations, he still was able to feel the love she had in her heart for him. A love that he continues to crave. He became lost without her. He looked beyond her many issues and saw her heart—her unconditional love.

He continues to look beyond Mike’s color and money to see his heart, his genuine love. A love that he has kept sacred even when his friends teased him about white Mike. Rich Mike. Yes, Mike is able to afford more than most, and Willie’s family couldn’t, but it was never exploited or taken for granted. It was understood that Willie had to earn special gifts from Mike—he had to put forth his maximum effort and always do his best.

This relationship has had its challenges, but through it all is the seam of authenticity and a divine purpose. It has been the undying centerpiece of their lives that remains consistent today. The experiences shared by these two unparalleled lives shows the journey in its fullness. The destination hasn’t been reached, the goal hasn’t been accomplished, but the unwavering drive is ever present.

The Black Lives Matter movement has brought to the forefront what it feels like to be racially profiled in society today. It’s unfortunate to say that in this relationship both lives have had to endure this unsettling reality of such injustice.

Willie continues to struggle for some purpose and peace in his life. He hasn’t received his high school diploma as yet but assures us he’s in the process. He’s still trying to make sense of a world without his Mom, unfaithful friends, family issues, and no place to truly call home. He and his sisters are looking forward to the day when they can live together once again. No matter what, Mike has been the one true constant in his life.

This project has been an amazing adventure. It afforded me the opportunity to continue to witness the intertwining worlds of these two . . . separated at times but still yoked in love.

Thank God!

Chapter 1

First Meeting

May, 1999: All I Wanted to Do Was Teach One Child How to Read

I was in my forties, a white male from an upper-middle-class family, and an ER physician who had just taken a new position as the medical director of an ER. This gave me flexibility with my schedule. I had moved to a townhouse, which was located directly across the street from an elementary school. My own mother had taught me to read at a very early age, and it had enriched my life so much that I wanted to do the same for another child. As I pictured it in my mind, it would have been a Hispanic female in about the second grade. Her parents might be undocumented and they spoke only Spanish. I would tutor her over the summer, and she would be reading by the start of school in the fall. There is a saying, Man makes plans and God chuckles. I guess he had a good one on me. At least I got the second-grade part right.

I made an appointment with the school principal and explained my goal. She was kind enough not to laugh at me. She explained that I would have to undergo a background check, and if everything checked out, I could start in the fall. I filled out all of the required paperwork and left. Over the summer I received clearance, and so before the start of school in the fall, I reappeared in the principal’s office. I could tell that she was a little surprised to see me, but she introduced me to the school counselor and told him what I wished to do. He said to come back the first week of school, and he would find an appropriate student. I arrived on the specified day. Both the student and his mother were there and were very eager to meet me. The counselor and I went into the classroom. The elementary school furniture was small. The mother was African-American, neatly dressed, and had a certain gleam in her eye. Her name was Charlie Mae. The