Sometimes, it takes a random moment in a conversation to unlock a memory that explains everything.
Today, I was interviewing a guest — someone who’s worked with the biggest brands in the world. Deep into our talk, something he said flipped a switch in my mind, triggering a flashback I hadn’t thought about in years. A memory from kindergarten, of all places.
My music teacher had this reward system — gold stars. Earn five stars, and you got to pick a prize. One option? Five minutes on the music keyboard sitting across the room. And for me? That keyboard wasn’t just a prize — it was purpose. The moment I saw it, I was locked in: “What do I have to do to earn those stars?”
And I did. Over and over again.
I’d get my five minutes and head straight for the keyboard. First thing I’d do? Change the instrument sounds. Drums. Piano. Anything I could explore. It wasn’t just fun — it was fuel. My love for sound, rhythm, music — it was being born right there. And what made it special? I was seen. My teacher noticed my hunger and gave me the room to grow.
Then another story bubbled up.
Right before my family moved from Texas to Michigan, I wanted to do something meaningful. Not for the popular kids or even the teachers. But for the custodian.
See, I was small back then. Quiet. Bullied. Didn’t have much of a voice. But this man — this janitor — looked out for me in the cafeteria. He never said much. Didn’t need to. Just made sure I was good. Like a silent guardian.
So one day, I brought him a plate of my dad’s BBQ ribs. Told him we were moving and that I just wanted to say thank you. I’ll never forget the look on his face. Shocked. Then lit up. It wasn’t just about the food — it was that someone saw him too.
These two people — my music teacher and that custodian — didn’t just show up in my life. They showed me something. That being seen matters. That being heard matters. And somewhere deep down, I think those moments planted a seed.
Fast forward.
I’m now the host of a show that lets other people be seen and heard. I’m in audio, production, storytelling — helping others unlock their voice. And today, while talking to my guest, I realized: I’ve been doing for others what they did for me.
Full circle.
It’s easy to think everything we’re doing is random. But sometimes, it’s all connected. Maybe your calling isn’t something new — maybe it’s a return. A remembering. A gold star moment. A plate of BBQ. A story that was always leading somewhere.
That’s why I do what I do.
Because people need to be seen. Need to be heard. And I’m just grateful I get to be a part of that for someone else.
#StayFocused
— Shemaiah Reed
