Meet Mr. West
By John Cortese ‘98
From the Delbarton Courier, September/October 1997
I first met George West five years ago, back when I was only
an eighth grader. Every Wednesday night
I had to go to Wind Ensemble and Saxophone Ensemble, and I was usually in
school until
In fact, I pretty much hated Delbarton. I hated the work. I hated a good deal of the people, and I hated myself for doing so. I was lost. I am going to tell you about one of the people who got me back on my feet: Mr. West—one of our school’s janitors; and I hope you can understand why.
Mr. West, a resident of
“I’d still like to know how many millions of pounds of sugar I dumped,” Mr. West remarked. “Now they have all kinds of machines. Back then, though, we did everything by hand. It was hard work, but I was just doing my job.”
Mr. West married in ’48, but it would be another thirty-seven years before he became a member of the Delbarton Community. What happened meanwhile is absolutely astounding.
As you all know, not everyone is as fortunate as you and I. There are many children in today’s society who don’t have money, who don’t have clothes, who don’t have food or shelter, who don’t even have a family.
Mr. West and his wife Connie have adopted five children of their own and have parented thirty-two foster children over their years together.
“They come from all over the place,” he says. “A lot of times they just come and go. I help them out for a little while.” There was even a time when a young African couple didn’t have a place to live, and the Wests offered to keep their newborn baby and take care of it.
“I just raise them and they go,” he says. “They’re all in better shape than me. I did my job. I did what I had to do. You know, I just try to be a good guy.”
Mr. West eventually retired from working full-time, and
began working part-time at Delbarton in ’85.
Every afternoon, from
Concerning the school itself, he remarks, “I think I do a pretty good job. I always leave the school clean, and I’ve never had any problems. Everyone here is good to me, and the kids work hard on top of everything. I just do my job and go home.”
When Mr. West is not making our school look beautiful, he spends much of his time taking care of his wife, who is currently ill, and his crippled daughter. He also has a son who is looking at colleges, and three other children who work.
I still remember the very first time I met Mr. West. I asked if I could use one of the classrooms to do homework until Wind Ensemble began, and he willingly obliged. “Just don’t forget to shut the windows, turn off the lights and shut the door,” he said. I didn’t.
The same thing happened the following Wednesday, but this time we happened to strike up a conversation before he left the room. I told him about how rough of a time I was having at school, and he listed politely. I didn’t think he’d understand—after all, I didn’t know anything about him. He surprised me.
“I’ve seen thousands of kids walk these halls over the years,” he told me when I was through. “A lot of them have a tough time. Believe me, you’re not the only one. I promise you, things will work out for the better.”
That’s the kind of conversation we had every Wednesday during my eighth grade year. The funny thing is, I was really learning from him. Not about x’s and y’s, or 1’s and 2’s, or the ABCs, but about life. He has much more experience than I have in that category. He knew what was really important in life, and knew what wasn’t so important. There were even times when I forgot about the books, and talked with Mr. West instead.
I didn’t know a whole lot about the man I was talking to, but I did know that he hadn’t had an easy life. He’d worked hard, and he’d earned everything he had. It really made me put things into perspective. Suddenly my “problems” weren’t such big problems after all. Mr. West gave me advice that I needed badly, and I am very thankful to him.
To tell you the truth, I wasn’t really surprised about the amount of children he helped. I mean, I was surprised, but not nearly as much as some of my classmates. While they heard, “A janitor at our school fostered thirty-two children,” I heard “Mr. West.” It was something that a man like him would do.
A very modest man, Mr. West does not like to talk about himself very much. I’m lucky that I received all of this information from him, because he doesn’t think he’s doing anything special. Just his job.
He is a man who has not been given all of the opportunities that we see before us. He has, however, made the most out of everything he’s got. He has taken the term “being a nice guy” to the next level. He is a unique guy who had made a difference in the lives of many, many people.
“You’ve got long lives ahead of you,” he says to all of us. “Just do the right things, be good people and everything will work out fine.”
A remarkable person, Mr. West himself has set quite an example. Talking to him will justify for yourself why his name appears on the schedule; why he truly deserves every bit of recognition he receives.