The Other Wes Moore: One Name, Two Fatesby Wes Moore
Two kids with the same name lived in the same decaying city. One went on to be a Rhodes Scholar, decorated combat veteran, White House Fellow, and business leader. The other is serving a life sentence in prison. Here is the story of two boys and the journey of a generation.
In December 2000, the Baltimore Sun ran a small piece about Wes/i>/b>
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Two kids with the same name lived in the same decaying city. One went on to be a Rhodes Scholar, decorated combat veteran, White House Fellow, and business leader. The other is serving a life sentence in prison. Here is the story of two boys and the journey of a generation.
In December 2000, the Baltimore Sun ran a small piece about Wes Moore, a local student who had just received a Rhodes Scholarship. The same paper also ran a series of articles about four young men who had allegedly killed a police officer in a spectacularly botched armed robbery. The police were still hunting for two of the suspects who had gone on the lam, a pair of brothers. One was named Wes Moore.
Wes just couldn’t shake off the unsettling coincidence, or the inkling that the two shared much more than space in the same newspaper. After following the story of the robbery, the manhunt, and the trial to its conclusion, he wrote a letter to the other Wes, now a convicted murderer serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole. His letter tentatively asked the questions that had been haunting him: Who are you? How did this happen?
That letter led to a correspondence and relationship that have lasted for several years. Over dozens of letters and prison visits, Wes discovered that the other Wes had had a life not unlike his own: Both had grown up in similar neighborhoods and had had difficult childhoods, both were fatherless; they’d hung out on similar corners with similar crews, and both had run into trouble with the police. At each stage of their young lives they had come across similar moments of decision, yet their choices would lead them to astonishingly different destinies.
Told in alternating dramatic narratives that take readers from heart-wrenching losses to moments of surprising redemption, The Other Wes Moore tells the story of a generation of boys trying to find their way in a hostile world.
“Moving and inspiring, The Other Wes Moore is a story for our times.”
—Alex Kotlowitz, author of There Are No Children Here
“A tense, compelling story and an inspirational guide for all who care about helping young people.”
—Juan Williams, author of Enough
“This should be required reading for anyone who is trying to understand what is happening to young men in our inner cities.”
—Geoffrey Canada, author of Fist Stick Knife Gun
“The Other Wes Moore gets to the heart of the matter on faith, education, respect, the hard facts of incarceration, and the choices and challenges we all face. It’s educational and inspiring.”
—Ben Carson, M.D., author of Gifted Hands
“Wes Moore is destined to become one of the most powerful and influential leaders of this century. You need only read this book to understand why.”
—William S. Cohen, former U.S. senator and secretary of defense
“This intriguing narrative is enlightening, encouraging, and empowering. Read these words, absorb their meanings, and create your own plan to act and leave a legacy.”
—Tavis Smiley, from the Afterword
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The Other Wes MooreOne Name, Two Fates
By Wes Moore
Spiegel & GrauCopyright © 2010 Wes Moore
All right reserved.
Is Daddy Coming with Us?
Nikki and I would play this game: I would sit on the living room chair while Nikki deeply inhaled and then blew directly in my face, eliciting hysterical laughs on both sides. This was our ritual. It always ended with me jabbing playfully at her face. She’d run away and bait me to give chase. Most times before today I never came close to catching her. But today, I caught her and realized, like a dog chasing a car, I had no idea what to do. So, in the spirit of three-year-old boys everywhere who’ve run out of better ideas, I decided to punch her. Of course my mother walked into the room right as I swung and connected.
The yell startled me, but her eyes are what I remember.
“Get up to your damn room” came my mother’s command from the doorway. “I told you, don’t you ever put your hands on a woman!”
I looked up, confused, as she quickly closed the distance between us.
My mother had what we called “Thomas hands,” a tag derived from her maiden name: hands that hit so hard you had to be hit only once to know you never wanted to be hit again. The nickname began generations ago, but each generation took on the mantle of justifying it. Those hands were now reaching for me. Her eyes told me it was time to get moving.
I darted up the stairs, still unsure about what I’d done so terribly wrong. I headed to the bedroom I shared with my baby sister, Shani. Our room was tiny, barely big enough for my small bed and her crib. There was no place to hide. I was running in circles, frantic to find a way to conceal myself. And still trying to comprehend why I was in so much trouble. I couldn’t even figure out the meaning of half the words my mother was using.
In a panic, I kicked the door shut behind me just as her voice reached the second floor. “And don’t let me hear you slam that—” Boom! I stared for a moment at the closed door, knowing it would soon be flying open again. I sat in the middle of the room, next to my sister’s empty crib, awaiting my fate.
“Joy, you can’t get on him like that.” My father’s baritone voice drifted up through the thin floor. “He’s only three. He doesn’t even understand what he did wrong. Do you really think he knows what a woman beater is?”
My father was in the living room, ten feet from where the incident began. He was a very slender six foot two with a bushy mustache and a neatly shaped afro. It wasn’t his style to yell. When he heard my mother’s outburst, he rose from his chair, his eyes widening in confusion. My mother slowly reeled herself in. But she wasn’t completely mollified.
“Wes, he needs to learn what is acceptable and what is not!” My father agreed, but with a gentle laugh, reminded her that cursing at a young boy wasn’t the most effective way of making a point. I was saved, for the moment.
My first name, Westley, is my father’s. I have two middle names, a compromise between my parents. My father loved the sound and meaning of Watende, a Shona word that means “revenge will not be sought,” a concept that aligned with his gentle spirit. My mother objected. Watende sounded too big, too complicated for such a tiny baby. It wasn’t until later in life that she understood why it was so important to my father that Watende be a part of me. Instead, she lobbied for Omari, which means “the highest.” I’m not sure what was easier or less lofty about that name, but I was well into elementary school before I became comfortable spelling either.
My parents’ debate continued downstairs, but their words faded. I went to the room’s only window and looked out on the world. My older sister, Nikki, and I loved to look through the window as families arrived at the swap market across the street. Our home was on a busy street that sat right on the border of Maryland and Washington, D.C., stuck confusingly between two different municipal jurisdictions, a fact that would become very significant in the near future. I pulled back the thin diaphanous curtain that covered the windows and spotted my friend Ayana outside with her mother. She was half Iranian and half Italian, with long, dark hair and warm eyes that always fascinated me. They were light green, unlike the eyes of anyone else I knew, and they twinkled as if they held stars. I wanted to tap on the window to say hello as she walked past our house to the tenement building next door. But I was afraid of making more trouble for myself, so I just smiled.
On the dresser by the window sat a framed picture of me with Nikki. I sat on her lap with my arm wrapped around her neck, a goofy smile on my face. Nikki is seven years older, so in the picture she was nine and I was barely two. Colorful beads capped the braided tips of her hair, a style she shared with my mother, and large, black-framed eyeglasses covered half of her face.
Nikki’s real name was Joy, like my mom’s, but everyone called her Nikki. My mother was obsessed with the poet Nikki Giovanni, in love with her unabashed feminine strength and her reconciliation of love and revolution. I spent nearly every waking moment around Nikki, and I loved her dearly. But sibling relationships are often fraught with petty tortures. I hadn’t wanted to hurt her. But I had.
At the time, I couldn’t understand my mother’s anger. I mean this wasn’t really a woman I was punching. This was Nikki. She could take it. Years would pass before I understood how that blow connected to my mom’s past.
My mother came to the United States at the age of three. She was born in Lowe River in the tiny parish of Trelawny, Jamaica, hours away from the tourist traps that line the coast. Its swaths of deep brush and arable land made it great for farming but less appealing for honeymoons and hedonism. Lowe River was quiet, and remote, and it was home for my mother, her brothers, and my grandparents. My maternal great-grandfather Mas Fred, as he was known, would plant a coconut tree at his home in Mount Horeb, a neighboring area, for each of his kids and grandkids when they were born. My mom always bragged that hers was the tallest and strongest of the bunch. The land that Mas Fred and his wife, Miss Ros, tended had been cared for by our ancestors for generations. And it was home for my mom until her parents earned enough money to bring the family to the States to fulfill my grandfather’s dream of a theology degree from an American university.
When my mom first landed in the Bronx, she was just a small child, but she was a survivor and learned quickly. She studied the other kids at school like an anthropologist, trying desperately to fit in. She started with the way she spoke. She diligently listened to the radio from the time she was old enough to turn it on and mimicked what she heard. She’d always pull back enough in her interactions with her classmates to give herself room to quietly observe them, so that when she got home she could practice imitating their accents, their idiosyncrasies, their style. Words like irie became cool. Constable became policeman. Easy-nuh became chill out. The melodic, swooping movement of her Jamaican patois was quickly replaced by the more stable cadences of American English. She jumped into the melting pot with both feet.
Joy Thomas entered American University in Washington, D.C., in 1968, a year when she and her adopted homeland were both experiencing volatile change—Vietnam, a series of assassinations, campus unrest, rioting that tore through the nation’s cities, and an American president who no longer wanted the job. Joy herself was caught between loving the country that offered her and her family new opportunities and being frustrated with that country because it still made her feel like a second-class citizen.
At college, Joy quickly fell in with the OAASAU, the very long acronym for a very young group, the Organization of African and African-American Students at the American University. The OAASAU was rallying AU’s black students into engagement with the national, international, and campus issues roiling around them.The battling organization elevated her consciousness beyond her assimilationist dreams and sparked a passion for justice and the good fight.
A charismatic AU senior named Bill was the treasurer of OAASAU, and two months after they met early in the exciting whirlwind of her freshman year, Joy was engaged to marry him. Despite the quick engagement, they waited two years to get married, by which time Joy was a junior and Bill a recent graduate looking for work. Marriage brought the sobering realities of life into focus. The truth was, they were both still trying to find their feet as adults and feeling a little in over their heads as a married couple.
As the love haze wore off, Joy began to see that the same qualities that had made Bill so attractive as a college romance—his free and rebellious spirit, his nearly paralyzing contempt for “the Man”—made him a completely unreliable husband. And she discovered that what she had foolishly thought of as his typical low-level recreational drug use was really something much worse. In a time of drug experimentation and excess, Bill was starting to look like a casualty.
As the years passed, Joy kept hoping that Bill’s alcohol and drug use would fade. She was caught in a familiar trap for young women and girls—the fantasy that she alone could change her man. So she doubled down on the relationship. They had a child together. She hoped that would motivate Bill to make some changes. But his addiction just got worse, and the physical, mental, and emotional abuse he unleashed became more intense.
One night things came to a head. Bill came home and started to badger Joy about washing the dishes. His yelling threatened to wake up one-year-old Nikki, and Joy tried to shush him. He kept yelling. He moved in on her. The two of them stood face-to-face, him yelling, her pleading with him in hushed tones to lower his voice.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her down. She sprawled on the floor in her white T-shirt and blue AU sweatpants, stunned but not completely surprised by his explosive reaction. He wasn’t done. He grabbed her by her T-shirt and hair, and started to drag her toward the kitchen. He hit her in the chest and stomach, trying to get her to move her arms, which were now defensively covering her head. Finally, she snapped. She screamed at him without fear of waking Nikki as he dragged her across the parquet floor. She kicked and scratched at his hands.
Bill was too strong, too determined, too high. Her head slammed against the doorframe as he finally dragged her body onto the kitchen’s linoleum floor. He released her hair and her now-ripped T-shirt and once again ordered her to wash the dishes. He stood over her with a contemptuous scowl on his face. It could’ve been that look. Or it could’ve been the escalating abuse and the accumulated frustration at the chaotic life he was creating for her and her daughter. But something gave Joy the strength to pull herself up from the floor. On top of the counter was a wooden block that held all of the large, sharp knives in the kitchen. She pulled the biggest knife from its sheath and pointed the blade at his throat. Her voice was collected as she made her promise: “If you try that shit again, I will kill you.”
Bill seemed to suddenly regain his sobriety. He backed out of the kitchen slowly, not taking his eyes from his wife’s tear-drenched face. Her unrelenting stare. They didn’t speak for the rest of the night. One month later, Joy and Nikki were packed up. Together, they left Bill for good.
My mom vowed to never let another man put his hands on her. She wouldn’t tolerate it in others either.
My parents finished their conversation, and it was obvious that one of them was heading up to speak to me. I turned from the window and stood in the middle of the room, mentally running through my nonexistent options for escape.
Soon I could tell by the sound of the steps it was my father. His walk was slower, heavier, more deliberate. My mother tended to move up the stairs in a sprint. He lightly knocked on the door and slowly turned the knob. The door opened slightly, and he peeked in. His easy half smile, almost a look of innocent curiosity, assured me that, at least for now, the beating would wait.
“Hey, Main Man, do you mind if I come in?” I’m told that he had many terms of endearment for me, but Main Man is the one I remember. I didn’t even look up but nodded slowly. He had to duck to clear the low doorway. He picked me up and, as he sat on the bed, placed me on his lap. As I sat there, all of my anxiety released. I could not have felt safer, more secure. He began to explain what I did wrong and why my mother was so angry. “Main Man, you just can’t hit people, and particularly women. You must defend them, not fight them. Do you understand?”
I nodded, then asked, “Is Mommy mad at me?”
“No, Mommy loves you, like I love you, she just wants you to do the right thing.”
My father and I sat talking for another five minutes before he led me downstairs to apologize to my sister, and my mother. With each tiny step I took with him, my whole hand wrapped tighter around his middle finger. I tried to copy his walk, his expressions. I was his main man. He was my protector.
That is one of only two memories I have of my father.
The other was when I watched him die.
My dad was his parents’ only son. Tall but not physically imposing, he dreamed of being on television—having a voice that made an impact. Armed with an insatiable desire to succeed—and aided by his natural gifts, which included a deeply resonant voice—he made his dream come true soon after finishing up at Bard College in 1971.
As a young reporter, he went to many corners of the country, following a story or, in many cases, following a job. After stints in North Carolina, New York, Florida, Virginia, California, and a handful of other states, he returned home to southern Maryland and started work at a job that would change his life. He finally had the chance to host his own public affairs show. And he’d hired a new writing assistant. Her name was Joy.
Excerpted from The Other Wes Moore by Wes Moore Copyright © 2010 by Wes Moore. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
What People are saying about this
“A moving book . . . a call to arms.”—Chicago Tribune
“This intriguing narrative is enlightening, encouraging, and empowering. Read these words, absorb their meanings, and create your own plan to act and leave a legacy.”—Tavis Smiley, from the Afterword
“[A] compassionate memoir—a story that explores how some survive and others sink in urban battlegrounds.”—People
“Moore vividly and powerfully describes not just the culture of the streets but how it feels to be a boy growing up in a world where violence makes you a man.”—O: The Oprah Magazine
“Inspiring . . . a story for our times.”—Alex Kotlowitz, author of There Are No Children Here
Meet the Author
Wes Moore is a Rhodes Scholar and a combat veteran of Afghanistan. As a White House Fellow, he worked as a special assistant to Secretary Condoleezza Rice at the State Department. He was a featured speaker at the 2008 Democratic National Convention, was named one of Ebony magazine’s Top 30 Leaders Under 30 (2007), and, most recently, was dubbed one of the top young business leaders in New York by Crain’s New York Business. He works in New York City.
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I had never heard of Wes Moore before I was lucky enough to be in the audience at the Oprah Winfrey Show when he was a guest (air date 04/27/10). As a parting gift, we received an advance copy of The Other Wes Moore. In the few minutes that this Wes Moore was on stage, I was immediately struck by his charisma, enthusiasm for life and belief in a brighter future for others who begin life as he did. I read the book from cover-to-cover the moment I returned home. As I read, I was searching for the thought processes that made this Wes Moore, successful and upwardly mobile in life and the other Wes, headed for defeat and failure. I wanted to know what this Wes Moore was made of - whether innately there or implanted and nurtured by others. The book sheds light on this. Our Wes Moore comments, "Young boys are more likely to believe in themselves if they know that there's someone, somewhere, who shares that belief. To carry the burden of belief alone is too much for most young shoulders." At crucial junctures when our Wes was unable to carry the burden, his mother, friends, grandparents and mentors helped shoulder it with him but he remained part of the mix. By contrast, from prison, the other Wes Moore comments, "We take other's expectations of us and make them our own. The expectations that others place on us help us form our expectations of ourselves. We will do what others expect of us. If they expect us to graduate, we will graduate. If they expect us to get a job, we will get a job. If they expect us to go to jail, then that's where we will end up too. At some point you lose control." To that, our Wes Moore, adds, "True, but it's easy to lose control when you were never looking for it in the first place." Both Wes Moores started out with the odds stacked against them and innately, I think, both wanted to succeed but there finally came a time when they each chose a different path for themselves. At a later point in his life when our Wes is firmly on the right path, he visits South Africa and speaks with a woman who survived apartheid. She states, "The common bond of humanity and decency that we share is stronger than any conflict, any adversity, and challenge. Fighting for your convictions is important but finding peace is paramount. Knowing when to fight and when to seek peace is wisdom." Also in South Africa, Wes meets a boy who is days away from going through the Xhosa adult circumcision ritual and when Wes asks if the boy is scared of the pain and the process, the boy replies, "It's not the process you should focus on; it's the joy you will feel after you go through the process." That sums up the meaning of this book for me. Life is a process and the end result is the prize. Our Wes Moore is deserving of joy. He has earned it and he continues to pay it forward in his life. I am now a fan of Wes Moore. I have no doubt that his name will become a household one once the Oprah show airs and his book hits newsstands. Pick up several copies, as I have, to give as gifts to those looking for inspiration. A local Boys and Girls Club or other families-helping-families type organization would benefit greatly from this book. Ultimately, I think you are left with the realization that we are responsible for ourselves and for each other. These are not mutually exclusive events. Wes benefited from a loving, self-sacrificing family but he kept himself as part of the equation. The other Wes didn't.
Moore isn't at all smug or self-righteous about how his life compares to that of the other Wes Moore. Nor does he pity the other Wes Moore. That's because there is a difference between reasons and excuses. That is, there are abundant reasons for the choices that the second Wes Moore made and their tragic consequences for himself, his family, and his victims. However, the first Wes Moore clearly doesn't regard any of those reasons as acceptable excuses. Both Wes Moores came to forks in their lives; one of them made-- or was forced to make-- the right choices, and the other one didn't. But they were choices, and they are ultimately responsible for making them. Moore never specifically says it, but nonetheless, as one reads his account of their parallel lives, the difference is in the ways that their mothers lived their own lives and reacted to what their sons were doing. Moore's mother was raised by college-educated parents, and she spent her life working and struggling to achieve things for herself and her family. She moved several times in an effort to find stable, safe places for her kids to grow up, and she worked several jobs so she could afford to put her kids into private schools. When it appeared that Moore was going to fall into the thug lifestyle, she sacrificed economically and emotionally to put him into a military school. In short, she simply refused to allow herself or her kids to succumb to the conditions and temptations that surrounded them. In contrast, the other Wes Moore's mother tried to resist those conditions and temptations, but she eventually did succumb to them. She simply gave up. At the same time, unlike the first Wes Moore's mother, she allowed her kids to see violence as an acceptable way to resolve problems in their lives. This is a compelling story told with passion and understanding. While the author is compassionate, he also makes clear that he is in no way excusing the other Wes Moore for his heinous deed. Even so, I imagine this is a tough book for the family of the slain policeman to read. If you want another great story of a young black man from Baltimore who succeeds thanks to his determined mother.
Everyone should read this book. It will give you an understanding of how important our roles as parents,family and mentors are to our youth. In each section the views of both Wes Moore's are expressed, giving you an insight of how they viewed the world. This book isn't only a great read for adults but for our youth as will. After completing the book, I gave it to my 14 year old nephew. He loved it so much that he started to tell his friends about it. I think this book should be given out in schools, so our youth can see that there are others that are experiencing the same situations they are, and that achieving excellence is possible. This book is just Amazing!!
To those who drive down City streets and recognize the eyes of the many characters in this book, I challenge you not to look at them without a greater understanding. Wes Moore humbly portrays the tense hope that children born under these circumstances face each day. He illustrates what it takes to overcome great obstacles and how hard it is to find a bit of luck when it is so desparately needed. He portrays love in its many lights and manifestations while showing us the scary reality that hovers so closely over so many of our City children's lives. This book is a must read for anyone who is trying to understand what is going on with our kids and what they can do to help. Thank you for such a beautifully written book.
Joe O’Bryan When I heard that my mom got me this book I thought to myself that this is going to be really stupid and not worth reading. But in the first chapter I was hooked. I couldn’t stop reading. My family is just like the good Wes Moore’s family because my mother is always telling me and yelling at me to go above and beyond what is expected. The weird thing about the story is that two kids with similar backgrounds that share the same name and lived close to each other take very different turns. One man gets into drugs and is eventually arrested for a mass murder. He is caught in an old abandoned house after 12 days and is sentenced to life in jail. The other kid grows up to write a book and become very successful. He is able to look back on his life and realize that all of his reprimanding from his mom is not going to waste. Sometimes the other Wes Moore's family will come to visit him in jail but it is never like the family that the good Wes Moore has. I believe that this book is a very good read and I totally agree with the most helpful review because he/she says “A powerful and insightful look into what makes us tick and the role our families and influences play in our outcomes.” I really think that that statement sums up the entire book because it fells like you can take one road in life or the other and you are hoping that you pick the right one. In this case one Wes Moore went one way and the other went the other way. I believe that this book is a very good book for anyone of all ages.
It is a great book and should be read by every american.
Shortly before he died, my father started planning to write a book about why some kids do and some kids don't "make it." After working as an educator for decades in the Chicago public school system, he recognized that was a story that needed desperately to be told. Wes Moore has told that story very well. As Lauryn Hill so eloquently stated, "consequence is no coincidence." Without judgement or excuses, Wes Moore carefully and thoughtfully illustrates how the choices made for and by these two young men resulted in very different consequences. Special note: I "read" the audio book version. It is read by the author. He has a great voice and the recording quality is excellent. Among the very best audio books I have "read."
Although the book The Other Wes Moore is used as a cautionary tale against what may happen to one who falls down the wrong path, it fails to uphold this standard in many ways. The book starts off by introducing the author, Wes Moore, and a man who shares the same name but a different fate. Both men grew up in the same area, had the same family problems, and had the same problems with school yet one Wes Moore becomes a Rhodes Scholar and an outstanding student while the other ends up in prison. Not only did this book leave the reader with many unanswered questions, it revealed the underlying answer to the story’s conflict: money. Without money the author would have never been able to attend military school. Without military school the author would have continued to do poorly in school and could have just as easily ended up as Wes Moore. The fact that money was one of the main reasons the author became who he was makes this story very unappealing and I think it sends the wrong message to our nation’s youth. Another thing that threw me off was a part in the story where the author, while attending military school, asks one of his friends Sean the question: “Do you think what life would ever be like if we never came here?” Sean simply replies, “About the same I guess”, and the author agrees with him so easily. The reason this throws me off is because I thought military school made the huge difference between the two Wes Moore’s yet the author makes it seem like his life would be the same if he had not attended the school. This leads me into my second reason of why this book was not captivating: it did not fully explain the characters’ stories. The book skipped around a lot and left many missing parts. For example when the author first attends military school he is very insubordinate and tries to escape, and by the start of the next chapter he becomes platoon sergeant and commands his own platoon. The book never fully explained what the author did in order to get to where he was. Some parts of the stories were overly developed while some, such as this part in particular, left the reader confused. All in all, this book had good intentions but failed to be the outstanding book I think it should have been. I feel like if this book was more precisely written and had fully developed its plot then it definitely would have deserved 4 or even 5 stars.
Great book; at first glance this book looks interesting, but once you start it, you will soon see it is even more than that. The lives of two men with the same name but completely different fates is shown in this novel in a way that parallels them both in order to show their similarities and differences. As author Wes Moore slowly but surely matured, he began to understand the realities of life and worked hard to become an educated and successful man. The other Wes Moore seemed to know deep down the realities of becoming involved with the drug business but had no one to truly guide him given his father's absence and his mother struggling to make ends meet in a poverty stricken community. However, his affiliation with the drug game soon "snowballed" from a business in order to make ends meet to a violent and hate-filled life. When this lifestyle seemed to take him over, his life worsened as he spent time in and out of jail for various crimes. The reality is that either of these men could have had the other's life had they chosen their decisions in a different manner. The author does a good job of revealing this to the audience and leaves them with this idea to think about: how would things have been different if one of the two decided to act differently? While growing up, author Wes Moore saw the realities of the drug game and could have ended up in the same shoes as the other Wes Moore had it not been for the guidance of his mother. Similarly, the other Wes Moore could have just as easily turned his life around had he spent more time to think of how becoming involved in the drug game would affect his life. In reality our decisions are what make us who we are, and decide our fate in life. The only negative part of this book are the early parts of the book where the author describes the stories of each characters' families and how they ended up in the city that they did. But overall, this is a well-written book that does a great job of showing the importance of one's decisions and how anyone can change their life by thinking how their actions will influence where they end up in life.
this book was very interesting and insightful...it is a shame that the police officer was killed and his family was left without him..Wes, the author also had to live without a father...but let's not look at the tragedy but what can become from it..the epilogue includes groups that need volunteers to help influence children in a good way..
Kiss your hand and post this three other places and look under your pillow
I had to read this over the summer for school. At first I wasn't that into the idea of reading a non-fiction book, but when I started to read it I actually found it interesting. Seeing how two lives could be so similar, yet they end up in completly different situations in the end is fascinating.
Wonderful, thought provoking book. I could understand and feel for all those involved. It gave me a lot of insight into a world I am not familiar with, but I could see a lot of similar situations in my family. The youth in our country needs stability and direction. I feel this book is a great read for anyone from any background, but especially good for teen to see how every decision made can affect the rest of their lives.
Yes, environment plays a role on our lives. But you have to have the want to learn and succeed. I know people in their 30s today who don't care to work and they came from professional parents. We will always have the bad in society, all we can do is offer some info for them to succeed. Personal choices are just that. I do have a public school teacher in the family and I am passing my copy to him because I still believe knowledge is power.
A very good read about the dynamics of family structure and stepping in to help your child's fate will really get them past the points of no returns.I like how it just gave us a parallel timeline into the lives of two young men and shows how actions and decisions do affect the outcome of quality of life. The old adage what you do today, affects tomorrow really rings true. Also that someone's earlier walk of life does not dictate the direction of things to come. The more life experience and culture you are influenced by shapes your big picture.
Xxxxxxxx deranged from curb hides Chung Franky chill breach hull Chavez crop Pyrex bbl hum bijou thrU trek Yehudi Hirsch kingpin greatest Krug bedbug receded deuce enough genetic bric chic moon vs. McCullough kinetic cleric tranquil genetic ok thanks bye
This book is a really good book i would really whant to buy it plus people should read this book sincerly jazmyne johnson
I would recommend this book to an older audience from the ages of sixteen to around someone in their thirties. I’ve always wanted to know or meet someone with the same name as me, I couldn't imagine growing up in the same neighborhood with someone with the same name as me. The purpose of The Other Wes Moore was very interesting. I really enjoyed how the Wes Moore jumped from himself to “The Other Wes Moore.” The book really shows how bad some kids had it in the city of Baltimore. It also showed how easily someone can turn their life around. The family influence that Wes had was amazing to me. They helped him with so much after the tragic accident happened in his family. I also enjoyed how the whole story was told in just Wes’ point of view. The struggles “The Other Wes Moore” goes through in the book are primalery from alcohol and drugs and how they affected his life. It was amazing to just see how many little details changed both of their lives dramatically. This book gives great examples of what life would be like growing up in a rough neighborhood and what you could do to change it. I believe Wes Moore did a great job at explaining some of the racism that went on back in that time. He also talks about the troubles of growing up without a father. This book deserves endless amounts of awards and should be noticed for how great of a book it is.
Have you ever wondered how different your life would be had you made some different choices along the way? “The Other Wes Moore” is a non-fiction novel written by Wes Moore detailing the key differences between his life and the life of another Wes Moore, who happened to grow up on the same streets of Baltimore. The author Wes Moore is a successful entrepreneur, Rhodes Scholar, and decorated veteran who later learned of the other Wes Moore who is now spending the rest of his life in state prison for charges of manslaughter. With the consent of Wes, and through hundreds of hours of story telling and listening, he compares and contrasts the paths the two men took to end up where they are now. “The Other Wes Moore” is an inspiring piece of insight on these two lives, making it very easy to read, while also keeping the reader hooked. He uses chapters as break points, switching perspectives from Wes to himself on every other chapter, keeping their ages aligned with one another. This allows for the constant comparison between the decisions they made growing up, where they hung out, who they hung out with, and what activities they partook in. Using this method helps the reader understand at what ages and points in time the difference started to set in. You really get to know both Wes’ on what seems like a personal level, and rightly so, considering this is essentially an auto-biography. He doesn’t dive too deep into the characters around the two men, but that’s okay because none of them play a particularly large role in the lasting outcome. Although you don’t learn much about these characters, you hear every thought that both Wes’ have about them, which proves to enough for you to feel like you truly understand the relationship between them. Overall, the writing style was excellent, keeping the book intriguing without over-challenging the reader, also making it very easy to pick up right where you left off. The idea of the story is phenomenal, and the execution is even better. Wes Moore helps you understand what it is like to grow up in horrid conditions, like the streets of Baltimore. He also helps you realize how easily you can be lead into a life behind bars, or how you can do the exact opposite and live the life of a successful independent. Mr. Moore does a great job of highlighting pivotal events between the two young men, as the ones that influenced the final destination the most. I felt a little unsatisfied in the end, as it almost seemed like Wes Moore was rushed to finish the story, I didn’t get the full sense of closure I was hoping for. Don’t let that scare you away, besides that small bit of error, the story greatly exceeded my expectations in many ways. All in all, I must suggest this book to anyone who is even slightly interested, as it is an inspiring, lesson teaching story that can truly put your life and values in perspective.