c. 1998 Religion News Service

(Rodolpho Carrasco is associate director of Harambee Christian Family Center in Pasadena, Calif., a faith-based youth program. E-mail him at genxlatino(AT)aol.com.)

UNDATED _ When graduating from Stanford University a few years back, I sadly remembered my older brother.

Sandor wasn’t there to share my joy because he had died of an alcohol overdose nine years earlier. Why, I wondered, did I survive our turbulent upbringing but he did not?

We both grew up in the same rough Southern California neighborhoods without our parents. But Sandor got involved with a local gang, floated from job to job, had a difficult stint in the Navy and got in trouble with the law. He never was able to get it together.

Still, the pain of Sandor’s death was compounded because I looked up to him. Even six months after his death, when I made the high school varsity basketball team, the only person in the world I wanted to tell was Sandor. Instead, I visited his grave.

But now I’m beginning to understand why I made it and Sandor didn’t.

My faith _ and the positive moral choices that come from my relationship with God _ have been key to my survival and accomplishments. However, I also made it because, unlike Sandor, since age 10 I was surrounded by some positive role models and mentors.

My sister Yolanda, who raised me, matched me with as many caring adults as she could find. My most significant points of contact came with mentors from the small Baptist church I attended. They understood my difficult family situation and took turns spending time with me.

Some were faithful: Dave taught me the Bible and challenged me to submit to a higher moral order; Uncle Bob had me work for my lunch and then took me bowling with other kids; John took me camping and taught me how to walk with hope.

But not all my mentors had the right attitude. Some would spend time with me once, and I would never see them again. And a few were downright jerks who didn’t even try to understand me. They seemed as if they were simply doing their duty.

Still, these men _ the faithful and the clueless _ made a difference in my young life.

It took more than a village to raise this child. It took shoddily mowed lawns and spotty car washes so I could earn a ticket to a Dodgers’ game or a few rounds in the batting cage. It took yearly volunteer work in Tijuana, Mexico; opportunities with the school newspaper; and a corporate internship during high school to put me on my feet.

I’m most grateful when I tell someone my life story and they respond,”I never would have imagined it. You seem so, well, normal.” I offer this reflection because as summer ends there is a great need throughout America for caring adults to mentor young people.

Now is when community and church groups, particularly those serving youths, begin finalizing program plans and recruit volunteers for the new school year. They always come up short on mentors.

Yet mentoring is important and often has a significant, positive impact on society.

Harvard sociologist William Julius Wilson suggests that the greatest problem for low-income youths is boredom _ no opportunities, no meaningful involvement. Young people with few alternatives always find trouble, many turn to crime.

It’s not just a succeed-or-fail situation for these kids. It’s also your money. The saying goes: Pay me now or pay me later. That is, invest a few hours, some money and vision into a grateful kid’s life now, or pay taxes in the future toward the $30,000 a year it will cost to keep that once-promising leader in prison.

Think hard about making a commitment. Somewhere there’s a teenage girl who has never been to a nice restaurant; there’s a gangly boy who learned how to play soccer by watching TV but doesn’t know how to sign up for a local league.

And there’s also a boy who has no father or mother. He has the will to live, but he needs someone to believe in him. With that encouragement, he could grow up to help others just as he has been helped.

Years ago, I was that boy.

MJP END CARRASCO