Free I Am in Here by Elizabeth M. Bonker

eerily remind me of my struggles to understand Elizabeth. She will try to say something, and I just can’t understand it. I will bring out the letterboard, and she will start banging her head out of frustration. That’s why we usually just sit together, listening to music, just like with Al.
    Â Â  Shine Bright   
    If I were a star
    I would burn bright
    In the night sky
    I would be far
    That way I could have my own place
    In space
    Away from other stars
    So that I would stand out
    And be noticed for who I am
    And not what people expect me to be
    ----
    I sometimes get overlooked or lost in the crowd. I want people to see and hear me.
    ----
    During the years that I held umbrellas for Al, another fellow would sometimes stop and chat with him as well. On the mornings when Al was struggling through a conversation with this dapper gent using Junior as an interpreter, I would pass by and get on to my office. One sunny day, I decided to introduce myself.
    The fellow, Chuck, had been with a large investment bank and now ran his own fund with a couple of colleagues a few blocks away. Al had also gotten Chuck to store his umbrellas. In fact, Chuck had been warehousing umbrellas longer than I had and threw Al a birthday party every year. Chuck stood out in the Wall Street crowd.
    In time, Chuck and I were grabbing lunch together to talk about our friends Al and Junior. Was there anywhere else they could liveother than that spartan YWCA? Did they get the right medical care? Was Al losing all their money on those trips to Atlantic City?
    We would scheme about how to bring these topics up with Al, because he was a proud, headstrong man who didn’t want anyone telling him what to do.
    One of our big victories was getting Al to change his will. In Al’s old will, he left all his worldly possessions to Social Security because he said that he had received benefits all those years and if there was any money left after he died, they should have it back. After many talks with him, Chuck and I were able to convince him that Junior needed the money more than the federal government did.
    When I was deciding what to do next in my own career, it was natural for me to ask Chuck’s advice over one of our lunches. I was deciding between starting my own venture fund and joining a nonprofit firm.
    Seven years earlier, I fell into venture capital as a stroke of luck, not realizing how well it fit with my entrepreneurial roots. My parents owned and operated eleven different “mom and pop” businesses over forty years. When I was five years old, I bagged rabbit pellets for five cents a bag in their pet shop, and when I was ten years old I graduated to punching out lottery tickets in their deli.
    To my delight, venture capitalists get to invest other people’s money in promising companies and work with spirited entrepreneurs to help those companies grow. None of my parents’ businesses would have been ambitious enough to take venture capital, but living in an entrepreneurial family gave me the itch to raise my own venture fund.
    As we contemplated my next move, Chuck took a bite of his sandwich and said, “It seems obvious to me. People need jobs. Give them a fishing pole, not a basket of fish.” And witha twinkle in his eye, he added, “I would be delighted to be your first investor.” I was floored.
    That is how it began, and I have been on my own ever since. To this day I credit Al, by way of his linking me with Chuck, with giving me the gift of my own business. This blessing of being an entrepreneur has given me flexibility I never thought I would need. In between all of the conference calls and board meetings, I can take the children to their doctors’ appointments and have meetings at school. I have been blessed by my communion and community with others.
    For me, community isn’t simply a series of quid pro quo transactions in which we receive good things for ourselves in equal measure as