Transcriber: Delia Cohen Reviewer: Ellen Maloney
Please welcome correctional officer Calvin Williams.
(Applause)
Wow. This event is really looking good.
Everybody's respecting one another, and it's really turning out nice.
I want to get right to the point here.
Basically, who am I?
Everybody knows my name as Officer C. Williams
Been called Billy Dee. Been called Ray Parker.
(Laughter)
Some people call me The Reverend,
because I do some singing around here from time to time.
But today what I want to talk about is my biggest job: that's being a father.
I look at a lot of these young men in here, and I see these pictures:
holding a football, got all of that going on.
I see that all the time.
I see so many people walking around here that show so much potential,
but maybe somewhere along the way that guidance wasn't there.
So, what I'm trying to talk to you about today is each and every one of you:
be it that you a father or be it that you have the ability to talk to children
in whatever way, I just want to point out that fact that me personally,
I didn't have my father.
When I grew up at the age of six, my family broke up.
I came from Detroit, east side of Detroit,
came out here, and started a new life.
There was a lot of atrocities that go on, I could go the long story.
Everybody got theirs.
I'm not trying to go into all of that.
But the bottom line was my pops wasn't there.
I would see men. They looked like my dad.
I missed him.
I would want to talk.
He wasn't available.
Okay, cool.
I grew up.
Very masculine kid.
Loved girls, hit hard, liked to play ball,
liked to play basketball.
Everything masculine, but the thing was the means of passage was missing.
I didn't have one.
My means of passage was how hard I can hit.
My means of passage was how big was my nut in my pocket.
My means of passage was how well could I hold my liquor.
My means of passage were all these negative influences,
because I was influenced by those who didn't have an influence themselves.
Blind, leading the blind.
A bunch of kids out there, trying to survive.
So, I can't take claim to being so smart and making all of the right decisions.
I'm here because God allowed me to be here.
I didn't grow up saying I'm going to be a correctional officer one day.
No, I had dreams more grandiose, if you will.
I figured I'm a very talented guy, and I can take it anywhere.
But God places you exactly where you need to be.
I'm very happy to be here.
I lost my wife less than two years ago.
23 years.
(Applause)
Alright. Okay.
I've got three beautiful children.
Not having my dad, man, I got a firm fight to be a father.
Didn't realize how difficult it was when mama was gone until she was gone.
Being a provider is a piece of cake compared to being a single parent.
Being involved.
I look at a lot of you,
and I see my son's face when I look at you.
So, it gives me a fierce fight.
And I'm asking all of you --
I hear some of you on the phone.
You know that's my job. I've got to listen sometime.
(Laughter)
And I hear some of you talking to your sons, to your daughters.
That's the difference.
You see, your presence in their lives gives them validation.
They ain't got to find it in the streets.
Men who have jobs, busting your tail for that dollar,
and forgetting about the child that's watching you every day.
What's most important right now is to pay attention.
We as fathers are logically capable of being able to watch our child and say,
"You know what? I see that habit.
I'm going to curb it right now and get them where they need to be."
That's how we do it.
And if enough of us are trying,
you don't have to be way up here, way down there,
just the fact that you say, "I love you. I'm watching you"
makes a world of difference, man.
Because it's that guy in the street
that say, "Hey man, I got you. I got you."
He ain't really got you.
Ain't nobody ever going to have you like your daddy got you.
When you love your child
and you understand the pains of life, you will fight.
And I ask all of you:
Men, stand up. Be fathers.
And this will change tomorrow
I promise you.
Thank you.
(Applause)