‘Where do I belong?’ A question leads to a journey
First of two parts.
Nathan Delafield woke up at the homeless shelter, not in his bed, but in another family’s room.
His mom, a drug-addict with mental health issues, had carried him there as he’d slept.
The 8-year-old shivered as he looked for her.
Nathan had lived in places like this, and on the street. He had attended a half dozen schools already. Sometimes he didn’t go at all. His dad was in prison. Now his mom was gone.
A child welfare worker took Nathan to his uncle and aunt, Kate and Randy Delafield. It was supposed to be temporary, but Nathan would grow up there, a ward of the state until he was 21. He marveled at their modest home.
His uncle was a laborer. His aunt managed a child care center.
They turned to the nonprofit Arizona Friends of Foster Children Foundation to help pay for his saxophone, football fees and camp. His aunt volunteered for the agency.
Nathan called his aunt and uncle “Mom” and “Dad.” At school, kids would taunt him, “Those aren’t your parents.” Nathan was biracial, his mother white, his father Black. His aunt and uncle were white.
Nathan wondered, “Who am I?
Where do I belong?”
In seventh grade at Montebello School, his teacher took him aside.
“You can and should achieve so much more than you are,” she told him. She challenged him to do better. She would help him.
Nathan got straight A’s that year and was valedictorian at eighth-grade graduation.
He attended Central High, earning a scholarship to Arizona State University, where he got a degree in kinesiology.
Nathan knew then his rough start hadn’t defined him.
That was something he had to do for himself.
Friday: Helping others like him.