Andy Gray: I’m talking today to Sylvester Neal, who is the past president of Kiwanis International and spent a life in fire service. Sylvester, welcome to A Congruent Life.

Sylvester Neal: Thank you, Andy. I’m happy to be a part of it.

Andy: Let’s maybe start, Sylvester, just with a quick introduction. Can you introduce yourself to our audience?

Sylvester: I’m Sylvester Neal. I’ve got a family of two boys. Right now, I’m raising two grandsons, and I live in Auburn, Washington. I was born and raised in Texas, and spent most of my working life in Alaska. I returned down to Auburn, Washington in 2000, and I’ve been here since then.

Andy: Let’s maybe talk a little bit about your upbringing, because it sounds like it was fairly significant to the course of your life.

Sylvester: You know my story of how a barefooted, cotton-picking country boy can grow up into a life of public safety. I went on to be a fire chief at an international airport and a state fire marshal, and on to be the president of a global service organization called Kiwanis of about 600,000 members. I guess the real first thing though is to understand a little bit of where I came from and how I got to where I am now.

It was the impact of my father. There were some really challenging lessons that I learned from my father. I was born in 1943, on a farm, in Texas. I had eight siblings. My dad was a share cropper. He had a sixth-grade education; but you know, he had a master’s degree in family, in fatherhood, and in raising a family, and I think he had a PhD in farming. He really understood how to rotate crops and how to take care of crops and animals. He had much of the influence on me growing up as a child.

My mother was probably the spiritual leader in our home. She dragged us to every meeting that the church had at that time. I also was part of a very gifted singing family. We had a family gospel group. We toured Texas, singing, mostly in rural country churches.

Three of my five brothers went on to be ministers in the gospel. But, my farm experience really laid the foundation for me and for my character, and I guess, for a lot of my beliefs that I have today.

Andy: So, you went to high school during the 50s, which was a pretty tumultuous time, I imagine. What was that like to go to high school in an integrated kind of way?

Sylvester: I moved from the farm to the city. When I was 13 years old, I was in the seventh grade, and I went to an all-black junior high school. Upon graduation, I decided not to go to the all-black school: number one, because I played fullback in junior high, and I sat on the bench for two years behind a very gifted running back, who played my same position. And, I knew if I went to the all-black high school, I’d spend four more years on the bench.

A group of us decided to go across town to the recently integrated Austin High School. I got on the football team, and I actually had a pretty good career playing football in high school. I made the honor roll. I never got into any fights. I had a couple of skirmishes, but I never got into any kind of fight. I think it’s because of the training my dad brought us up with. He taught us that we were as good as anybody else, and particularly, if you are a black man; you not only have to be good, but you have to be better.

And so, growing up in my family experience: you know that saying that it takes a village to raise a child? Well, that was more than just a slang or a slogan where I grew up; it was a way of life. I came up with a lot of discipline, and I used that throughout my experiences and in some potentially sensitive race situations. I learned how to turn the other cheek, and I learned how to have self-restraint and self-control, and I had a lot of self-confidence in myself, because of that upbringing.

I’ve never had a fight in my life. I’ve always felt that I was either smarter, or I would not stoop myself to that level. At age 70 now, I’ve never had the experience of hitting someone with my fist. I’ve always thought I was smarter than other folks. I could poke my way out of it. In some cases, I could outrun the people [laughs] that I had a problem with.

My experience in high school was pretty non-eventful. I expected more turbulence, and I expected some more incidents. I recall we were traveling on a bus to Waco, to play a team from Austin High School in Austin, and we were not allowed to eat with the rest of the players at the restaurant we stopped at along the highway. The first thing that impressed me with the coach is that he packed everybody else, and we went to another place where we all were allowed to go in. I had a lot of respect; that really was kind of a revolutionary experience for me: to be treated that way by the team and by the coach, but otherwise, it was pretty uneventful.

I did expect to hopefully get a scholarship, play football. My parents could not afford to send me to college. I knew if I were to get to college, that I would have to get a scholarship, and football was my ticket to college. Well, at the state championship game, we played at the Memorial Stadium there, at the University of Texas: a big crowd. I had one old district positions, particularly as a linebacker. But in that game, I played the worst game that I’ve ever played. The scouts were there. And I guess the guy, the flanker that I was trying to cover, caught about ten passes that day, and I was just devastated. There were no calls, from anybody, to get to college.

Andy: Wow, so how did you deal with that situation, that kind of disappointment, knowing that your skill was better than what you were showing, but it turned out that it didn’t sort of open the door that you thought it might?

Sylvester: I’ve been a short-order cook most of my life, part-time, working my way through high school and during the summer time. After I didn’t get the scholarship, I felt that my profession would be something in cooking, but that was an incident that happened on my way home from school as a senior. School was almost out, and I came home to find my house on fire. I was really devastated. All of my stuff, my hopes and dreams, my possessions were going up in smoke, and all I was left with were the clothes that were on my back.

But during that experience, as I look at these firefighters trying to put the fire out in my house, I thought they were slow; I thought they were old; and I felt that they were not working hard enough trying to save some of my stuff. And I had a dream: I said, “I’m going to be a firefighter one day.” I saw myself with a big “superman” on my chest; that I could be someone racing through burning buildings, trying to save children. I was very athletic. I thought I was a pretty tough stud back in those days. I would save lives and protect properties, and what was happening to me, I did not want to happen to anybody else.

I think that when a spirit of service – that flame of spirit of serving and trying to do for others – I felt that implanted, and maybe, brewing someplace inside me that I would really act on later in my life. I didn’t act on that dream right at the moment; but two years later, in 1965 – I graduated 1962 – there was an opening in Austin Fire Department, and I joined the fire department. That was another pretty drastic change in my career.

After I joined the fire department though, Uncle Sam came knocking on my door. I got drafted in the military in 1968. Most of the people were going straight to Vietnam. It just so happened that because I was a firefighter, they had a critical MOS or job description for training; and they wanted a trained firefighter, and I got sent to Alaska. Nine out of ten people that were coming out of basic training were either going straight to Vietnam or to advanced training. I had an opportunity to go to Alaska and serve in the military fire department, and that started my firefighting career.

After the military service – well you know, things happen, I believe, for a reason. One of the first fires that I went to, on the military base in the army fire department, we put the fire out, and as we were leaving the building – I’m just an E2 right out of basic training and new to the department, but I told the fire chief, “I think there’s still fire in this building.” I went to a wall, and I said, “I think there’s still fire behind that wall.”

Well, there’s one thing that any firefighter in a fire command that does not want, and that’s a rekindle. When you think you put the fire out, and you go back to the station, and you got a call to go back to the fire, that’s a very embarrassing situation. So he took me and my word and we cut that wall open, and there was indeed a smoldering fire still in the wall.

It turned out that I went from an E2 to a sergeant E5. I was put in charge of commander on one of the vehicles, and I ended up in training. It really set my career in the military fire department off to a very good start, because I guess I had shown—I knew that I knew my stuff. The confidence that I showed and the professionalism – the people took it to heart, and it really enhanced my firefighting career.

After I finished my tour of duty, I started applying for firefighting jobs in Alaska. The city of Fairbanks had just been under a decree on a suit that was brought by two females for discrimination in the hiring practices. And so, they met with me and told me that I could come to work the next day after I got out of service. They have heard about my experience in the military fire department. I got to know a couple of the local firefighters, but he wanted me to come to work; no tests, no prerequisites—just come to work, and I didn’t have to do any of the preliminary or screening things. Probably one of the hardest decisions that I’ve made in my life was to just say “no”.

He says, “We need you because you’re black,” and says, “We have to hire a minority; we might as well try to get a good one.” And, that’s something that he probably shouldn’t have told me.

Again, the background that my father had brought me up in is that you don’t get something for nothing. I knew I was capable. I asked to take the test, to go through all of the screening, and they said, “No, you don’t have to do that.”

Well, in emergency work and in the military, you learn that your comrades that you go to battle with, and when you go into a fire emergency, you have to know that the people, that you’re with, have your back. I did not want to take that job, with the other firefighters thinking that I got it only because I was black. I knew I could meet the requirements. I knew I could pass the test. They didn’t allow me to do that, so I told them “no.”

Now, that didn’t sit too well with some of my colleagues, particularly African-American colleagues, who felt that the world owed them something. But again, I take it back to my spiritual upbringing, the values that my dad taught and my family had taught me—that you need to get things the old-fashioned way; you earn it.

The next day, I got a call from the airport. They’re just outside of town, and there’s an airport fire and security department. They asked me to come to work. They didn’t tell me that they were hiring me because I was black; that may have been the reason, but that’s not the reason that they told me. And so, I ended up taking that job in 1970, when I got out, and by 1979, I worked my way up to be the fire chief of the department.

I just believe that hard work, and trying hard, and applying yourself will get results; and I did not want any special treatment. When you know that you can do something and do it as well as someone else—that has just been a principle with me.

In the military, on weekends and days off, all the other firefighters would go downtown and party. I was not really into that too much. I stayed on my bunk bed. I got out the journals, and I was studying fire behavior, the principles of fire backdrafts, salvage and overhaul; I was studying fire tactics. I really have always tried to apply myself. Again, one of the lessons my father taught me is that if a job is worth doing, it’s worth doing right. That’s just really always stuck with me, and I learned that, because when I did something wrong, my butt felt the heat. You do that a couple of times, and whenever you do something, you’ll learn to do it right and the best you can and every time.

And you know, as I look back, I believe things happen for a reason in life. Some people call it “luck”; some people call it “being in the right place at the right time”. But I look back, and I said, “Because my house burned up, I was so devastated—lost everything I had; didn’t get a scholarship, didn’t know what I was going to do with my life.” But that fire, that experience of my house burning up, led me to a profession in firefighting, where again I went on to be the fire chief.

And at the fire department, I had an opportunity to go back to school. Thanks to the GI Bill, I went on and went back to school and graduated in 1983. It took me ten years of going part-time, raising a family.

But again, I knew if I was born to progress in that career, I had to be as good, or better, than the next person, and I just really tried to apply myself.

I graduated magna cum laude, with a 3.7 grade point average. And again, I don’t think I’m very smart, but it’s applying yourself; and every test I took, I try to do the best that I could. I wanted to come out number one on every test. I’ve always been very competitive in sports, and I think that’s been another part of my life—the competitiveness I have and trying to be number one. People don’t always remember who number two is, but trying to be number one…

But again, the house burning down, leading to a career in firefighting, leading me to the opportunity to be the chief of a department of fire and security, and that led me to an education that I wouldn’t have otherwise gotten if I hadn’t went into the military, and that led me to an appointment to the state fire marshal’s job.

I was very happy at the airport. I worked hard, and I’d gotten the department to where it was just about running itself. My supervisors, the airport manager, and the state people in the department of transportation were very happy with my work there.

And, I think I caught the eye of somebody in the state government. They called on me and asked if I wanted to be the state fire marshal. Well, I did not want that job. It was a political job. I was secure; I was looking forward to retiring. I sat down in an interview with the commissioner, who I had known there at the airport. He was the chief of police in the city fire department, and he tried to talk me into taking this job.

I went there to the interview because some people say, “Hey, the job is yours; you just go to talk to this guy. They want you, and you just need to go talk to him.” So, I did that, with all indications of saying, “No. I’m happy where I am. I’ve got eight more years before I need to retire.”

But, he told me that the Department of Fire Prevention and the Public Safety Department was in trouble, that the reputation has been reflecting on the whole Department of Public Safety and even the governor was not very pleased with some of the performance in that department. He told me, “I need someone to turn this department around.”

Well, I haven’t always veered from a challenge, but that was too much of a challenge for me. [laughter] I didn’t need that. I was happy where I was. But he told me, “You know, I’ve talked to a lot of people. I believe that you are the only man that can turn this department around,” and he said, “Because you are a man of integrity.”

Now, that was the highest compliment I think I’ve ever gotten, and it just kind of floor-boarded me there for a moment. For someone to think that maybe because of my performance, how I carried myself, that I could be thought of as a man of integrity in a profession of security, police, and firefighting—that was a challenge that I just couldn’t resist in that moment. So, I went on and accepted the job; I had to relocate from Fairbanks to Anchorage.

That job is probably one of the most challenging jobs that I’ve ever had in my life. I learned about leadership. It was a training ground for my character development. There were three deputy fire marshals, who thought they were going to get the job in the three regional offices. And for me to come in—number one—as a black man, for me to be the first person—number two—from outside the department, coming into that department to be the director, I had two strikes against me to begin with.

They didn’t expect me to last six months. I’m not going to get into all of the situations there, but I can tell you, from cutting the shrubbery in my yard one morning; when I woke up, tires slashed to my car to, across, burning the grass in my front yard; a lot of embezzlement complaints—they were bound and determined that this—and I’m not going to say the “n” word that they use—”Were going to make him resign and make him quit.”

That job and those challenges changed my prayer life, and it really developed some leadership skills that I did not know I had. But the real key to that, without getting into a lot of the details, is that I had a very strong support from the guy that hired me, from the commissioner, and from the governor.

People who tried to go around me—the complaints they were making to the commissioner and some directed to the governor. They both would redirect those people—”We’ll, you’ve to go back through and take this up with Sylvester.”

That’s the most powerful support that you can get as a leader—to have your people above you have the confidence; and when they delegate something to you, leave you there with the responsibilities. So, I was bold enough [laughs] because I had that support to do the kinds of things that I needed to do, as a leader, to turn that department around. And after three years, I think I really developed—I was there eight years. It took me about three years to really develop that department into a really effective team.

One of my colleagues at the time said, “Man, the very people, who were trying to destroy your life,” he said, “You have them eating out of your hands.” One of the things that helped me is that I had my hands in the hands of the Man—and that’s with a capital “M”—to prayer, at the diligence in heaven, the stick-to-itiveness to stick to my principles; I didn’t stray from my values and my principles. And once my team understood that, they said, “Hey, we have to work with this guy.”

And so, I went on to have a successful career, but I learned a lot of life lessons. I go right back to my upbringing. Some of the challenges that I had playing football, some of the challenges that I had as the fire chief, were nothing in compared to the challenges that I had as a state fire marshal. And, I went on to be the president of Kiwanis International. As I look back, I think a lot of the things that I went through were preparing me for what I feel was my destiny, and that was a life purpose of service.

When I was a chief at the airport, the airport manager—my boss—was in the local Anchorage Fairbanks Kiwanis Club. He came down to the station, about noon one day, and said, “Let’s go have lunch.” I went with him. He took me to a Kiwanis meeting. I didn’t know what Kiwanis was; I had never heard of it. I had never thought about being in a service organization, but after a couple of meetings, I ended up joining.

And I’ll tell you truthfully, it wasn’t for the altruistic service of wanting to serve others; that’s what this organization has. I mean, I joined for business [laughs] reason. When your boss asks you to join an organization, I thought it was better that I say “yes” than say “no”. So, I went on to join Kiwanis, and that has been one of the best things that have ever happened to me.

One of the first service projects that I went to—we were delivering food to a very needy family—things that Kiwanis do. This lady was so appreciative of getting this basket of food. She invited me and the other Kiwanis in the end, and she prayed for us. She said, “My family was hungry.”

We walked into this. It’s about 40 below 0, the day before Thanksgiving. We walked into this little mobile home. There were six kids lying on the floor in sleeping bags. The house was not quite warm enough to really keep them warm. We took out this food, and this lady was so appreciative. She called us in and asked if she could pray for us. We held hands—I and this lady—and this lady prayed on and on. I opened my eyes and started looking around the apartment, and I couldn’t figure out why this lady was so thankful when she had so little.

I began to look at my own life and found out how really blessed I was. And when she called us “angels”—she said, “I want to thank these Kiwanis angels, who brought us food,”—I felt the little twinge in my shoulders, and I thought I felt some wings trying to sprout out from my shoulders. I’ve never been called an angel. I looked at myself—how blessed I was—and I really found out what service meant. Giving to others and realizing how blessed I was, and how appreciative this lady was—she helped me changed all my whole prayer life also. I just had a different understanding.

I went on to love this Kiwanis organization. They deal with children. I’ve always had an affinity to work with children, and particularly with young African males. I’ve learned to try to be an example, and now, I have an opportunity to try to give back—but Kiwanis has provided me with that opportunity. I didn’t think I’d go much further in my Kiwanis career. I had been a lieutenant governor and had been a club president and a regional leader.

But in 2000, I fainted and went on to find out—my wife, my friends and sisters—that I went to the hospital. I went to the hospital. They checked me out. They sent me to a cardiologist. He put me on the treadmill, and the next day, I had a quadruple bypass operation.

During my recovery, my doctor told me that most people that fainted and went down, like I did—I had 85% blockage in one of my main arteries—he said they would not have gotten up again. Now, my name is Sylvester; and Sylvester, the Cat—I got to thinking about that. I said, “Wow, he had nine lives. Somehow, God has given me another one.” He just didn’t understand how I recovered and made my recovery so well.

As I was laying there on my hospital bed, meditating and being thankful, I got a real revelation—I’ve had a family history of heart problems. All five of my brothers died of heart attacks; only one lived older than age 55. I said, “Lord, what I have, You kept me here.” My answer was, “I want you to serve.” I decided then I would take up leadership roles in Kiwanis. And as I went on to be the Kiwanis International president and a real calling I felt on my life that I had been so blessed, that it was time for me to try to give back to others.

In my career as the president of Kiwanis International, I’ve got to go to lots of places and meet lots of people; see so many dedicated, committed people, all over the world. I went to over 79-80 countries giving of their time and of their talents, trying to make this a better world, and trying to really impact children. That’s what I still do and what I enjoy doing. Serving others—I think that’s why I’m still here, and that’s what I still try to do now.

Andy: Wow, so much richness there—they’re all kinds of stories—which is exactly the purpose of this show. The reason for A Congruent Life is really to share these kinds of stories of authenticity and people living lives of service in a way that is congruent to them. So, what does living authentically or congruently mean to you?

Sylvester: The things that I learn, particularly in the position of international president, I didn’t realize it’s just a lot of politics and a lot of other things going on beyond that altruistic goal of service.

There’s a poem I think that kind of defies my attempts to lead a congruent life and a life of authenticity. It was given to me when I worked for the newspaper. Someone brought me in this poem; it was already framed. I’m not quite sure why they brought it to me. I don’t remember the conversation, but it was called “A Man in the Mirror“. I kept that poem right in front of me. As a matter of fact, right now, in front of my home office here, it’s right on the wall.

I don’t have the time to read it, but the gist of it is—no matter what other people say about you, no matter what other things are going on in your life, you have got to look at that person in the mirror. Every morning you get up, and if you are not happy with that person, then you’ve cheated life and you’ve cheated yourself.

And so, it’s been like kind of mind-over-matter—a lot of things don’t mind, and a lot of people don’t matter. I don’t try to do things for other folks. I’ve got to satisfy and live with myself. That poem has meant a lot to me, and I refer to it a lot of times when I get a little down and out. I’ve got to be able to look at that person in the mirror and be happy with that person and be able to smile at that person, and know that I’m satisfied within myself that I’ve tried to be the person that I’ve tried to be.

One of the things that drew me to Kiwanis was the first object of Kiwanis. It says “This is an organization that gives primacy to the human and spiritual rather than the material things of life.” They talked all of this stuff trying to talk me into being in Kiwanis during my orientation, but when they got to that part, I said, “Wow! This is the organization for me. Their values coincide with my values.”

The thing that moving to Alaska did for me as a black man, from the neighborhood that I came from in Austin, it liberated me from the materialistic neighborhood that I came from. Back home, people have to have a fine car. They watch what you wear; how you dress. Some people’s cars were bigger that the houses. It was kind of a showman materialistic kind of thing, and that never resonated with me very well..

When I got into Alaska, I could really live out that non-materialistic aspect of my life. I could go to church in blue jeans; I couldn’t do that in Texas. People weren’t concerned about what you wore or what your position was. I just got treated like a person, so that was very liberating.

I remember the first time that I went back home to visit family in my old neighborhood. One of the first persons, one guy, asked me, “Hey, you up there making a bunch of money in Alaska now? What kind of car do you drive?” I said, “I drive a Volkswagen Bug.” It just kind of blew their mind.

When Kiwanis says they focus on the human and the spiritual rather than material things in life—that was really resonated deep in my soul; that this was the kind of organization that I want to belong to. I have given up—I wouldn’t say given up—but I’ve had other opportunities before I took a leadership role in Kiwanis. When I left the state service, I had an opportunity and a job offer to go to work, making quite a bit more money.

After my heart operation, after I told my wife, “Let’s move from Alaska. I’ve got to relocate to Washington, so I can take the job of governor of this sole Kiwanis division so I can better serve.” I’m so blessed to have a wife, like I have, but when I got this job offer for a lot more money, just as I was getting into Kiwanis higher leadership, I thought it was going to be a divorce. But, I said, “No, I cannot take that job. I made a commitment in that hospital bed—that I was going to serve.”

God doesn’t give me—he didn’t promise me—everything that I wanted, but it’s just my belief that He has supplied everything that I need. I don’t need a whole lot other things—I’ve got family; I’ve got my church; I’ve got Kiwanis. I don’t need a whole other stuff. I can look at that man in the mirror. I can be happy with myself.

I feel it’s just my job to give to other folks; particularly, the children are such a part of our future; they are our future. Just this week, I had an opportunity with Kiwanis to go out with some adults with disabilities. I volunteer with some adults, who are trying to do service, and they have disabilities. I was at the middle school yesterday with some students. I worked in the high schools, particularly for African-American young men, who are dropping out of school, who are going to prison, who are getting in gangs.

In Alaska, I put on a couple of workshops, statewide workshops. I got a grant to put on a couple of workshops for troubled youths. That’s what concerns me right now—it’s trying to be an example, trying to help other youth. Some of the very things that I’ve learned, primarily from the Bible study and the spiritual training that I had, are trying to give back and show some direction and be an example for other young men.

Best example I have of that right now is raising two grand-boys. My son and his wife split up, and my wife and I found in 2009 that we were the new parents to a three and a five-year-old boy, very active boys. And instead of sending them to adoption, we’ve taken them in. That has been my greatest challenge here. At my age, I said, “These guys are going to keep me in good shape, or they’ll going to kill me; I don’t know which one.” But, my challenge right now, and my purpose with them is to show them what a father figure is. It has enhanced my relationship with my wife. We’ve been married 43 years, and these boys have brought new life to both of us.

At first, I thought it was just a, “Why me?” I thought it was a tragedy. It’s just—I knew I had to do it. I wasn’t so willing to do it, but I’ve found out that it’s been a blessing. I think God said, “Well, you messed up with your other kids. I’m going to give you a second chance.” I don’t know, but I’ve got a second chance, not only at life itself, but to try to be a father figure and raise two young boys—that they can hopefully be men of integrity. That would be the highest calling that I think I could, a contribution that I could make to them—to have them to be successful men, and me being an example for them now as their grandpa-father.

Andy: How can our listeners engage with you, Sylvester?

Sylvester: I have an opportunity, particularly with my Kiwanis and other involvements in the community; I have an opportunity to talk with children and youth and kids. I have an email. I’m on Facebook. Check me out on Facebook. I think my webpage might still be up. When I was president, I had a webpage to make myself accessible and available to Kiwanis all over the world.

I’ve just developed some outstanding friendships for life with other people, like-minded people, who are concerned and want to try to make a difference and feel that responsibility that we can—one child, one community at a time—still make difference.

The thing that really touches me is when I see a young student that I worked with or had an interaction with—to see them grow up. Some of them have contacted me on Facebook, students that I’ve worked in high schools with in Anchorage back in the late 80s, early 90s. They’ve found me on Facebook, and they’ve said, “Are you the Sylvester Neal, that was in Alaska, who went down in high school?” And, to find out that these people are successful business people, maybe somehow, some way, my little interactions with them—hopefully my words of encouragement of just being there in support—may have had some impact; I’ve had some letters and some really heartwarming experiences.

If I have one gift, a talent or a gift, I think one of the gifts that I might have is that I’m an encourager. I love to compliment people, encourage people, respond to people and tell them that they do a good job.

There was one that—the most time consuming thing I did as a Kiwanis International president is that I would read newsletters and people would send me information. I find somebody doing something outstanding, just ordinary people doing extraordinary things, and I had a little pin called a “Light your fire” pin. I’d send them a pin. I’d send out and send them a little card, or I would get on email and send them a little note, just saying thanks. And when people know that they are appreciated, just treating people with dignity and respect—

In treating the people, we have to go beyond the golden rule. The golden rule said, “Treat other people like you want to be treated.” Treat other people like you want to be treated. Well, I’ve tried to go to a platinum rule, which is much more difficult, but it is worth the while when you can treat people like they want to be treated. That’s very difficult, and it’s challenging sometimes, but that’s what I try to do. I love encouraging people, making people smile, making people happy.

I’ve been in a grocery line but if give my money and she doesn’t say “thank you”. If she doesn’t say “thank you”, I’ll smile at her, and I’ll say, “You’re welcome.” And the next time I go in there, they’d look at me and smile; “Thank you, Mr. Neal. Thank you.” I just look for the positive.

It’s that man in the mirror, I guess. No matter what other people say, I’m happy with myself. I know where I stand. I have a lot of people that have helped inspire me along the way, and I just want to help and inspire some other folks in their lives.

Andy: Well, Sylvester Neal, your example of service—your life of service—is indeed inspiring. Thank you very for sharing this time with us and for sharing so many of your stories.

Sylvester: Okay. Thank you, Andy, for the opportunity. I appreciate the opportunity. I love what you’re doing with your audience, and I’m going to tune in and join in and keep in touch.

Andy: That’s fantastic. Thank you.