February 16, 2005
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My son received a letter from
A note to my son:
Dear Jordan,
I am heartbroken with you about the letter from
I wish I could be one of those “everything happens for a reason” people, but I think the reality is that sometimes life sucks like a cosmic vacuum and there isn’t a whole hell of a lot we can do about it.
My best guess is that the fact you received the letter two months ahead of schedule indicates that your application was summarily dismissed without a legitimate review of your credentials simply because you didn’t fit their “profile.” Some academic consultant somewhere is advising them not to invest in you because “statistically” your age, or some other completely irrelevant factor, might make you a risk. Since your GPA, test scores, and all other measurable academic achievements vastly exceeds that of the typical candidate, that is the only plausible explanation. For all of the forward thinking that universities encourage in their students; as an institution, academia is often the least capable of thinking outside the box.
Although every paternal instinct in me makes me want to find some way to fix this and make it better, I know I can’t. Despite that frustration, there is something I want you to know.
Over the last several years I’ve learned something that most people figure out much earlier in life. There is a line in Proverbs that reads “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold.” I didn’t understand the value of the love and respect of family and friends that goes into being able to claim a “good name” until I lost most of that twelve years ago. The lack of a good name is the very definition of failure. Now that I’ve had the incredible opportunity to have a second chance at having these things in my life, I finally understand that I’m the richest person in the world despite what my bank balance might indicate, or whether I have a shelves full of sales trophies on my office wall.
This is what I know about you: Every friend that you’ve ever had counts themselves lucky to have known you. Every teacher/professor that you’ve ever had holds you in high regard and has great respect for you. You have the love of a wonderful woman who has promised to spend her life with you. And you have parents, grandparents, and other family members that would die for you without a moment’s hesitation.
Even though you may feel like you have failed, by every measure that is eternally important, your life is the very definition of success.
There is something else that sets you apart. Some people can claim the good name spoken of in Proverbs. Some people can claim an incredibly impressive resume. Very, very few people can claim both. I am completely confident that there is a graduate school in NYC that is smart enough to recognize this in you.
So….my thought is; “If Columbia can’t pull its head out of its arse, them f*#k them. (To be perfectly honest, I’ve always thought the program at John Jay sounded more interesting.)
I know that this is supposed to be the other way around, but there is no one in the world that I admire and respect more than you.
I told you four years ago when you started at Baylor that by the time you graduated you would own the place. That has certainly come to pass. I have no doubt that very soon you’re going to own NYC as well. It’s just a little bit bigger, so it might take a tad longer, but I have no doubt it will happen.
Love,
Dad.
Comments (6)
Dad,
I’ll go ahead and say here that your comments bring me more peace than anything anyone here has tried to shovel my way. Your second statement about how “everything happens for a reason” is one more reminder that I come very much from you. Every time someone has tried to feed me that since last night, I’ve gotten a little irritable. At a place like Baylor, you hear it almost as often as you would in your office.
It sucks, but there are other opportunities. Even if I get none of them, I have time – I’m thankfully still young enough to mess around for a while to find out what it is I’ll ultimately do. Who knows, 4 years from now may find me as an animal trainer at the Bronx zoo or New York Aqualand.
Your belief in me is the primary reason why I can sit where with this letter pasted on my wall and say, “I can still do this.” And I want you to know, more than anything that any of the character strengths you see in me are reflections of you. Our friendship over the last few years has taught me so much about what it means to be a man of integrity. Someone who will pursue greatness, but who will sacrifice every chance at it in honor of human relationships, where they require it.
You’re right, it has served me well. But even if it all falls apart, I do have these relationships…these incredibly rewarding relationships.
I’m sorry you had to find out through my blog. I wanted to call you, but after yesterday and some resulting drama here in Waco, I wasn’t sure I could talk to anyone about it. Saying it out loud was a little too tough…I just realized that mom doesn’t even know yet…I should fix that.
Thank you Dad. Sometimes I think our relationship defies words and definition, but you can bring me comfort in the strangest and most wonderful ways.
Love,
Jordini
Your letters to each other made me cry….you’re an AWESOME parent!!
I think the folks at Columbia are “DUMBNUTS!!!!
you to are awesome writers. screw them and have your ever seen the movie orange county?! we can go burn the place down! oh no i wrote it now its pre-meditated.;)cya
im sorry i meant two not to. duh
Mr. LaBouff,
I’m an old friend of Jordan’s from freshman year in the BIC at Baylor. I just wanted to say how great of a Dad you are to write that letter to Jordan. There are so few kids in this world who have parents that can really comfort them, and you very eloquently verbalized your support for him. You remind me of my own dad and I wish there were more like you guys!
Jillian