[November 6, 2025] Like many boys my age, I wanted to run and hide from the certain butt-whooping I was going to get. I broke a window in my neighbor’s house while throwing a baseball to my good friend Wilson. It was an innocent throw, sailing over Wilson’s head and into the living room window, shattering it.
I was in second or third grade, so I was around eight or nine years old, just old enough to play baseball and build muscle in my pitching arm. I wasn’t coordinated enough to place the ball where I wanted, and the result was poor. I didn’t realize how bad it was.
My Dad had always taught me to accept responsibility for my actions. This was also the Christian way. My first instinct was to run away. In fact, I tried to do that and persuade Wilson to go with me. I thought we could escape to my grandparents’ house just a 20-minute drive away. What I didn’t realize was how long and dangerous it would be to walk the distance, or that my solution was an overreaction and a complete rejection of my Dad’s guidance.
Wilson convinced me to stay. The broken window was in his house, not mine. Why would he run with me? I stayed. What to do in such circumstances is clear now that I’m an adult with more experience and have learned how to act properly. But young boys need to be taught the ways of men, and men accept their fate stoically and bravely. I knew I wasn’t brave yet, but could I be stoic? I didn’t even know what stoic meant.
Granddaddy was a real fixer-upper kind of guy. He could fix anything. For example, he had completely rebuilt my brother Philip’s disassembled 1945 Indian motorcycle and without a manual. I’m not sure anyone else could have done so. Maybe, I thought, just maybe he could fix the living room window. What I was thinking was not really fixing the window. My thinking was to get out of trouble.
This kind of thought process is immature and childish. I never had the chance to ask granddaddy for his help because, around the time Wilson convinced me to stay and face the music, his dad came out to see what was going on. He knew that Wilson and I were good friends and that we liked baseball, but more importantly, he liked me. What was going to happen? I asked myself.
Wilson’s dad was kind. He said that I would have to pay to get the window I broke fixed. Wow, that was a relief, but how much would it cost? I never had money on me, so I ran into my family’s home to grab about two dollars in change; at least, that’s what I remember the amount being roughly. He took the two dollars and made me promise to play across the street, near the abandoned school building.
Later, he would return the last few quarters I had given him after getting me to promise I would mow his yard a few times in the spring. I quickly agreed, even though I probably would have said yes to almost anything. The hardest part was telling my Mom and Dad and dealing with whatever was coming my way.
This was the start of a long journey to learn to accept my responsibility.
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Please read my books:
Boys + Windows = Broken
The boy Gen. Satterfield and his next-door neighbor Wilson sure did get into trouble alot.
Sir, I found your broken window article here to be more than interesting. What i found was that a little kid – you – was learning to take responsibility for your actions, even though every fiber in your being said to yourself “run away.” Running away is the biological fear response all animals have. To overcome that fear, we need to start early in figuring it out. That is what psychologists call “socialization.” And it is crucial in our development to overcome problems associated later in life with a lack of emotional control. I know that this is associated with IQ and family structure; too bad few are looking into these links because there is a racial and ethnic connection. Once, again, I’m happy i found your leadership blog long ago and I continue to learn from you.
I find these type of articles both entertaining (especially in this case) and educational (also in this case). Gen. Satterfield is good at burying an ethics lesson inside a story. His whole series on “Letters to My Granddaughter” which tells of his upbringing can be on the tab at this link: https://www.theleadermaker.com/granddaughter-letters/ highly recommended by me and many others.
Sometimes we have to learn the hard way, and it looks like Gen. Satterfield, as a boy, did exactly that. The Hard Way.
This story of a broken window and fearing the incoming punishment that we must expect, reminds me of the time that I broke our family’s car window. I’d been throwing rocks into the field next door. I was just a bratty kid and I had few friends. Then somebody suggested that I join the Boy Scouts, which made a huge difference in my life. Now there were finally grown men who knew how to be men – real men as Gen. S says – and they taught me responsibility, to be a leader, and how better to deal with jerks that came along. This is the best thing ever. And, now, sadly, the scouts have fallen apart thanks to them sacrificing thier religious teachings.
Sounds like a boy thing! LOL.
Love it. Thanks, sir.
Gen. Satterfield, it is always entertaining to read about your childhood and the lessons you – and all of us – learned, mostly lessons learned the hardest.
“This was the start of a long journey to learn to accept my responsibility.” – Gen. Doug Satterfield
Wesley Graham, welcome to Gen. Satterfield’s leadership forum. Maybe I missed it, but I’ve not seen you here before. So, consider yourself welcomed. I hope you enjoy reading the comments and especially the analysis of ideas that often occur (the best part of the comments section). You can also post ideas and ask for input. Mostly you will find the input to be valuable, or at least positive. Thanks for your contribtuions.