At 19, after a post-high school “gap year” of jobs digging ditches in the Arizona desert and folding underwear, I realized that I’d better go to college or the gap year might become a gap life.  I applied to several colleges, all of which turned me down for the same reason: I never officially graduated from high school.

For my last attempt, I pulled on a tie and drove three-and-a-half hours in summer in a car with no air conditioning to Northern Arizona University (NAU), where I’d made an appointment on rather vague terms with Joseph Rolle, dean of admissions. His secretary led me into a darkly paneled room where the austere, white-haired Mr. Rolle sat behind his desk in a gray suit.   

I pleaded my case, telling him that despite not fulfilling my high school requirements I wanted to be of service in my life and become a special education art teacher. Attending NAU would start me on that path. Peering out from heavily lidded eyes he said, “I’ll give you one semester to prove you can do this.” And, with one stroke of his pen, I was in.  My parents paid the tuition.

After my first day of classes, while walking out of the Fine Arts building I noticed an audition announcement for a play, Fiddler on the Roof. I’d played two small parts in high school shows and didn’t really sing very well, but I decided to audition with the hope of maybe making some friends. I ended up getting the lead role. A few days after the show closed, I received a hand-written note in my student mailbox that read:

Dear Russell, 

My wife and I attended Fiddler on the Roof last weekend and enjoyed it and you thoroughly. Congratulations—I’m sure your years at NAU will be as successful.     

Sincerely,

 Joseph Rolle

The confidence I gained in the show led to many other great roles at NAU. Upon graduation, I went to New York where I worked Off-Broadway, on TV, radio and in theatres throughout the U.S. and Canada.  After a decade working as an actor, I moved to Chicago and became an Art Therapist working with disabled children.

Asking has helped shape the better parts of me, given me a positive view of humanity and inspired me to pay it forward.  Several years ago, I decided to find Mr. Rolle’s descendants and write them a letter to honor him, to thank him, posthumously, for the opportunity he gave me that resulted in my degree and 25 gratifying years in human services. To my delight, my research revealed he was still alive, 93 years old, and living in Flagstaff. I wrote the letter to him personally.

A few weeks later, I received a letter from his wife. She had read him my letter and related that even in his much-diminished state, he managed a smile. I learned that he died two weeks later. As a lost young man I had asked for an exception, and Joseph Rolle gave me one that changed my life.

Russell Leander is an art therapist, a psychotherapist, an educator, and artist in Chicago. He is the author of Every Time I Turn Around I’m Mentally Ill: Voices from Locked Psychiatric Wards.

Arizona desert photo by Lilibeth Brogna on Unsplash

PQ’s Ask: Did you find this story inspiring? If so, please share it with your social networks or with someone you know who needs the encouragement to ask.

Paul Quinn is author of a book-in-progress about the power of asking, from which this story is excerpted. As founder of See The Potential LLC, he helps leaders at all organizational levels prepare and deliver presentations that create wins for all stakeholders.