Yesterday reminded me just how small and truly magical this world can be.
My trainer here in Miami honored me by letting me listen to the first chapter of his new audiobook. He was sharing a gripping story about a moment when his family faced down corrupt army forces. As I listened, something he said made my ears perk up: he was born in Liberia.
That one detail unlocked memories from decades ago.
When I was a young teen, I started noticing a kid riding past my house almost every day on a beat-up old tenspeed bike. He’d slow down just a little as he watched me shoot hoops in the driveway, clearly curious, clearly interested in playing.
After about a dozen of these “ride-bys,” I finally worked up the courage to say hello. I then asked him if he wanted to play. That was all it took.
From that day on, we played basketball together nearly every afternoon, until my parents would call me in for dinner. He was brand new to the sport, so I taught him what I knew, but he learned fast. He became obsessed with dunking and, even though he was only about 5’8”, he wore ankle weights every day for months. Eventually, he did it. He dunked. It was one of the most impressive things I’ve ever seen—pure grit and determination.
As we got to know each other, he shared that he was a foreign exchange student from wartorn Liberia. His family had been forced to flee after the rise of warlord Charles Taylor. He had been separated from his parents and sent to my hometown for safety. By complete coincidence, he ended up living with a family we were close to.
It’s been so long I don’t remember if he stayed a year or more, but during that time we became best friends. I even went to his wedding in his twenties. He went on to graduate college and become a successful venture capitalist. His name is Joseph Crayton.
So yesterday, as I was sharing my thoughts with my trainer about his book, I casually said, “You know, I actually know someone else from Liberia…” and told him this story.
When I said Joseph’s name, my trainer’s face lit up. Eyes wide. Big smile. Total disbelief. As it turns out, the one other person I know from Liberia just so happens to be one of his friends too. What are the odds?
We snapped a selfie to send to Joseph—two Liberian brothers, connected through time, continents, and one random kid who just said two hellos, one in a driveway as a teen and later in life as a 53 year old in a cold plunge.
Everything I know about Liberia, I’ve learned through these two incredible men. And if these are the kinds of people Liberia raises, men of strength, kindness, wisdom, and resilience, then I’m deeply impressed.
It’s funny how life works. Sometimes, the most meaningful relationships, the richest stories, and the deepest lessons begin with one simple moment of courage.
I once taught a Liberian to play hoops so he could get strong enough to accomplish his goal of dunking a basketball. Fast forward forty years, a Liberian is teaching me how to get strong enough to achieve my goal of becoming healthy!
What’s even crazier is that the first chapter of my trainer’s book was literally about the impact the smallest of ripples can have on a person’s life. A lesson taught to him by the most inspirational figure in his life, his father!
So here’s to being brave enough to say hello. You never know how it might change your life.
