“Yeah, Dad, I figured that would start up when the word got out.”

Thomas Stepforth Sr. found his son Major Stepforth Jr. as a friend he needed in his old age – they too, had been through their share of conflicts, but Major Tom had his father's firmness and sense of unflinching, uncompromising Black manhood wrapped his in mother Velma's calm … no ruthlessness, no fierce temper, and really no need to be disrespectful because he had ways to deal with disrespect from other people that ended that *quick.*

The elder Stepforth had found this out because the younger Stepforth had told him, just as calmly as you please, that his billions were not needed by his son and his family, and that his pattern of neglect and disrespect and playing with the inheritance in exchange for compliance was not going to extend to a second generation because Major Stepforth would disown him first.  Period.

This had shocked and shaken the elder Stepforth to the core … but he had heard his son, and they had reconciled years before the elder Stepforth had thought about reaching out to Mrs. Stepforth.

The thing about Major Tom … he had this marvelous ability to hold balance between all the massive, demanding personalities in his family, and see right and wrong clearly and call it.  It was a quality to be respected, and made it so that even family members in conflict could talk with him and know that he would listen and then tell the truth.  His mother and sisters adored him, and his father respected him, and that had never budged.

This man also was single-handedly changing the course of educational outcomes for the generation of his son Thomas Stepforth III in Lofton County … he had gotten home and gone up to the public high school that served rural Lofton County the next day, asked for and received certain information, and the next day had started building the Stepforth Study Hall to provide educational support to his son and his peers.  That had opened up in September 2020, and young Black men's academic performance in Lofton County had been going up ever since.

Major Tom was also one of those devout Christian men who passed through church for a few hours a week in a life of consistent, quiet, powerful service to his Lord Jesus in every aspect of his life – he was not a “churchman” and had no need to be, seeking no position inside any church building because he and the Lord had enough to do outside.

So: Major Tom was a worthy friend to his billionaire father, a man of equally high intellect and impact in the world, although in a service-oriented way.  He respected his father greatly, understood him because he had experienced intense racism in the military and so knew better what his father had gone through in his life, and loved him deeply.  

Major Tom was all for reconciliation in his family, and had been praying for it for most of his life.

He also had no illusions about how hard that was going to be.

This made him the person to ask.

“What would you do, Major Tom, if you had to answer all these angry phone calls from your children who don't want to see you do better – that are coming off as being against this family healing and reconciling?”

“It's a tough situation, Dad.  I've given a lot of thought to it because I knew they were going to react this way.  The hard thing about healing a family or community is the competition within a wounded group of people to get to the benefits first.  No matter where you start, someone is going to feel neglected and overlooked again.”

“That makes sense.”

“Still, Dad, this isn't a business situation in which you can just go out and steal the secrets of the competition and then destroy them.”

“I never knew you knew about that.”

“I pay attention to business news, Dad, and I know you.”

“I guess you do, son.”

“Anyway, there's no mystery about what needs to happen here.  The first thing to remember is that Melissa, Valerie, Teresa, and Melody are acting a place of deep, long-standing pain, so they are not in their right minds.  The causes for that pain have gone unaddressed for decades, and that's on you, Dad, 100 percent.

“At the same time, however, you have a right to insist on their respect.  This is something we never argued about between ourselves, because I know that the Lord demands that I honor you, no matter how I feel.  My sisters are big church people, but they are sinning against you in this matter.”

“Son, I've never told you how much it means to me that you and I can have the hardest conversations, but you remain respectful.  You have never attempted to break me down as a man to make yourself feel whole in comparison.”

“I'm not a woman, Dad.  That makes it easier.  When a woman feels unloved, unless she is just a near-angel like Mom, she will reach out to snatch away what means most to a man; respect.  Your daughters inherit most of your basic temperament than I do, meaning that because they feel unloved, they are going to be ruthless in their disrespect.  But, you have a right to call them on that.  You are still the man God chose to be our father.  Period.

“The other thing: there are a lot of good things they have forgotten.  You weren't the horrific ogre they have made of you.  That's just not true.  There were a lot of good times for everyone.  You were the best father you knew how to be, and you deserve respect for that too.  You were a loving father when at home throughout our childhoods, and set a total foundation down to ensure us all success in life even before we inherit.  There's a lot of hurt, but there is a lot that each and every one of us is living in every day and living well because of what you did.”

“Thank you, son.”

“All these things are true, and I'm building you up in them because they are not going to do that.   If you had felt disrespected for two decades or more, would even the most humble apology and repentance slow you down in your response?”

“Son, I would kill that man if he even tried at that late date – he had best move to the moon or Mars for his own safety after that long and even stepping to me like that.  I know my own temper well enough to know that.”

“Okay, so you have four daughters before whom you must set forth a repentance, who have felt unloved for about that long.  They are very like you, Dad, so you know what to expect.  There's no mystery to it.  You have to take it, calmly and humbly, without flaring back … but that's how you win.  That's how you win, Dad.”

“Son, now you are talking my language.”

Major Tom laughed.

“I do know who I am talking with,” he said.  “No more fierce competitor ever lived than you.  I'd hate to go out on the basketball court even now – T3 [grandson Thomas Stepforth III] keeps telling me about how he got handled by his grandfather all summer in one-on-one, and that boy is not yet 15 to your not yet 66!”

Both men laughed heartily … they did understand each other.

“So, Dad, this is how you're going to win: when all four of my sisters have that story to tell to each other, about how you listened and didn't thunder back, they will realize hope, and the Spirit will start to work on them for their behavior.  You have the power, Dad, to change all things around in this family – God gave you that when He chose you to be our father.  You can win.  This family can win.  It starts with you.”

There was a long silence, and then Mr. Stepforth sighed.

“You're right, son.  There was no mystery to it.  I just needed to hear you say it, and receive that affirmation from you as my son so I could handle not getting it from four of my other children.  I know I'm not perfect, that I've failed in many ways, but it is hard to not even get respected for what I did well.  I'm a person and I have feelings too about everything that went wrong.  Do people think the last 10-12 years don't mean anything to me – that I wasn't hurt?”

“First of all, Dad, you are a juggernaut in our eyes  … all of us are going to fall out from surprise if you ever actually die, or even get seriously ill before the end.  You are an unstoppable force.  The divorce didn't even slow you down on making that second and third billion.  You're still out here at nearly 66, making teenage boys actually have to learn fundamental basketball, despite a diagnosis of heart trouble nine years back.  On top of that, you're a Black man.  You're a Black man.  We have all been acculturated in this country – including YOU – to overlook your pain.”

“Major Tom, that is one of the deepest things … I guess if I didn't take that divorce and how it hurt me seriously for ten years, why should anyone else?  And you're right.  I'm a Black man.  Couldn't show weakness to a country already saying I was weak, worthless, useless for all free endeavors.  Had to wear the mask, and fooled myself and everyone else.”

“Not me, Dad, but, I am your son.”

“Thank God that you are, Tom.  Thank God that He chose you to be my son, a son a father can rely on when his family interpersonal skills fall vastly below his basketball skills.”

Major Tom chuckled.  

“You can win, Dad.  You're ready now.”

“Thank you, Coach.”

“Any time, Dad.”