I came into ninth grade Catholic school desperate for belonging. Middle school had been brutal – bullied, isolated, a 5-foot-tall Indian kid waiting for a growth spurt that wouldn’t come for years. I was an easy target. Starting fresh, I wanted three things: to be liked, to have a tribe, to feel protected.
Randy came to the rescue with exactly that.
Randy was my first major friend in ninth grade. He was Chinese American, born here, and we clicked immediately. Different cultures, but we had this bond – a crew of us who hung out, sparred, watched movies like Bloodsport and Kickboxer on repeat. Randy was building something he called a gang. He gave us weapons. Encouraged us to get more from the local martial arts store. By the end of our friendship, I had a dozen different weapons in my room – butterfly knives, ninja stars, a blow gun, a switchblade, in addition to dangerous fireworks like roman candles and cherry bombs. These were things that eventually became illegal in 1991 due to NYC’s zero-tolerance policy.
Even my Transformers Megatron action figure that transformed into a life-size G1 gun had to go. Some of my GI Joe toys too. The US prohibited the manufacture or sale of realistic imitation firearms. I remember thinking, ‘They’re banning my childhood toys along with the actual weapons.’ That’s when I knew the path I’d been on was serious.
At that time in 1989 it felt like belonging. It felt like power. When you’re 5 feet tall and spent middle school getting pushed around, a crew and some weapons make you feel like you finally have a chance. Like you’re not prey anymore. I didn’t see the danger – I only saw that for the first time in years, I felt safe and I finally had a tribe.
My Dad had some concerns for me and my pubescent behavior and he encouraged me to change schools. When I left Catholic school and went to public school for tenth grade, Randy and I stayed friends. I brought some of that energy with me initially in my new school. I latched onto kids who made pranks. I was still on a downward path and I could feel it.
Randy’s house was still on the way home near my new school. My school bus pass allowed me to get on any bus or train I chose within hours.
Then came the moment everything changed.
Middle of tenth grade. Randy pulled out a gun from his weapons collection and pointed it at me and another friend.
That was it. I was done.
I made a decision to separate from Randy.
Aristotle said nature abhors a vacuum. When you remove toxic influences, better ones have room to enter. The question is: what are you making space for?
We rise to the quality of expectations of our peer group.
The moment I separated from Randy, Robert appeared. That timing wasn’t coincidence – it was what happens when you make space for better influences in your life.
I’d seen this kid repeatedly on my 90-minute commute – two buses, a walk, the whole ordeal to get to a top high school in Queens. One day as we got off together, I just started talking. “What’s your name?”
“Robert.”
Robert was Chinese American – like Randy, born here, second generation. He lived exactly one block away from me – one block. That proximity, at that exact moment in my life, changed everything.
Robert was the complete opposite of Randy in every way. Grounded. Steadfast. Humble.
I started stopping by his house, having dinner with his family. His father was a chef at an Asian restaurant. They didn’t have much money, but they made the most of what they had. Robert lived with three cousins – one was a Christian pastor, another training to be a professor. The humility in that household was extraordinary.
Robert was an only child. His parents barely spoke English, so he had to manage filing taxes and handle adult responsibilities most teenagers never face. He matured quickly, stepping into the role of man of the house.
What struck me most was how he handled challenges. Anytime Robert faced a dilemma or obstacle, he would simply say ‘Interesting’ out loud and lean into solving it. He rarely seemed stressed. I modeled that through college – when I faced my first major car accident and countless other obstacles, I’d often pause and say ‘Interesting’ just like Robert taught me, even to this day. I learned to be resourceful through him.
Robert was levels above most people I ever met when it came to understanding technology. We also both collected comic books. As years went on, he got me into music, health, nutrition. Hanging out with him and his friends held me to a much higher standard. I made better choices. I learned to focus.
Several years later, Randy got arrested for mugging and for using a weapon. I don’t know if he’s alive today. But I think about him sometimes, and the moment I knew I had to walk away – that moment with the gun.
In our senior year of high school, Robert and I volunteered together at Elmhurst Hospital, where my mom was a registered ICU nurse. He worked in the computer division. I worked in the adolescent ward. That’s the kind of thing Robert did with his time.
I sold my first computer to one of Robert’s closest friends, who became one of my friends. Robert got me into technology at a level that shaped my entire career.
When our house got burglarized in high school, Robert was the only person I could call. The only person I trusted enough to cry to.
Over the years and into college, our friendship developed. We both got into technology. We both did fairly well post-college. We both have been able to take care of our parents, our moms and raise families successfully.
When my Dad passed away after I turned 30, I moved back to a different part of Queens. Robert and I became neighbors again living a block away from each other.
The contrast couldn’t be starker. Randy – possibly dead or in jail. Robert – a good man, still humble, still the same person he was back then.
Here’s what I’m aware of: All you need is that one friend, maybe two, who you can latch onto. Who you can encourage. Who you can advance with. That’s all it takes.
Who I am as a person now, in many ways, has to do with the friends I was around in high school and college. A lot of my best decisions came from being in the right proximity at the right time. The moment I separated from Randy, Robert appeared. That timing wasn’t coincidence – it was what happens when you make space for better influences in your life.
Both Randy and Robert were Chinese American, born here, navigating the same world. I was a small Indian kid looking for belonging. Culture didn’t determine our paths – character did. Choices did. The people we chose to become mattered more than where we came from.
So here’s my question for you:
Do you have a Robert in your life? Or a Randy?
And maybe more importantly: Are you being someone’s Robert? Or their Randy?
The friends we choose, the people we spend time with – these aren’t small decisions. They’re everything. They determine trajectory. They determine who we become.
I’m grateful I walked away when Randy pulled that gun. I’m grateful I met Robert on that Q66 bus days later. I’m grateful I lived one block away from someone who showed me a different path.
Proximity is power. You become who you’re around.
It’s so valuable in life to find ways to build on those relationships and maintain those relationships. That one friendship can be the difference between who you could have been and who you actually become.
What do you think? Who comes to mind for you when you read this? Drop a comment and let me know.
~Joseph
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