Diversity Diaries: Paul Guillory
By Paul Guillory
Copy editor, The Advocate, Baton Rouge, La.
08.22.01
I was a newspaper photographer for 13 years and met just about any "kind" of person you could think of. A few years ago I switched to the copy desk, and a year ago I moved back to my hometown.
I began to realize that while I learned many skills in college, many of my beliefs were shaped in high school. Tops on the list was a general tolerance for people and points of view. I decided to seek out a few of my high school teachers to tell them "thank you."
I never really liked covering things with "old people." I would run out of patience quickly when I had to cover something at a nursing home or had to repeat questions — loudly — when interviewing elderly folk. Frankly, I always have been in generally good health and being around people who weren’t was depressing.
I'm no collector of antiques, but through the years as a photographer, I would occasionally see a broken lamp or piece of furniture on the side of the road. If I had time, I'd pick it up and repair it. I never thought much of it.
Brother Ramon was not a teacher. He was in charge of the maintenance shop and administered the detention program at Catholic High School. If you got detention, you reported to school on a Saturday to paint, fix and clean things. I don't recall getting detention during high school — well, maybe once — but I did deal with Brother Ramon when I was a manager on the basketball team, and I did ask his help to fix a few things when I went to work at the Catholic diocesan office nearby.
I felt compelled to find Brother Ramon, though I did not know why. Through former brothers and teachers, I located Brother Ramon last summer. He was living alone, administering a part of his order's summer camp by teaching wayward boys to ski. A large part of his job was still fixing things.
When I sat down to talk to him, my mind finally made the connection. I had to thank Brother Ramon for a simple lesson: Even though something is broken, old or decrepit doesn't mean it's worthless. That goes for people, too.
For years, I had dismissed old people as "worthless" (though I never let that sentiment appear in public or in my photographs). But it dawned on me that day that I didn't really believe that. Now, I try to listen more carefully to the wisdom that comes from elders, whether offered as advice or offered as information for a story.