I don’t really have a relationship with my nephew who is a graduating HS senior. Without directly asking my sister why she got him involved in Boy Scouts, I imagined the answer to be fairly obvious and plain: she saw how it helped me in life, both with enjoyment as a kid and professionally in acceptance into USAF Pilot Training and ability to complete it successfully.

Her son is riding fairly high right now, with several notable achievements under his belt, including Eagle Scout and acceptance into a unique college program. When I visited recently for his birthday, I directed the concept with him to knives, just for fun. I was surprised that he knew a bit about metals being used these days. He also surprised me by an earnest delivery of how he was super practical in being content with cheap knives that got the job done. Being the uncle who was consistently tardy or absent on birthdays and Christmas his whole life, I figured I would take a moment and a rare handful of cash and get him a knife he would never buy for himself—and likely never use. I also wanted it to be one that he would forever associate positively with Uncle Pete.

To my shock and dismay, when he finished opening the gift, my sister and mom took turns nastily cautioning him about the dangers of bringing it to school. Essentially they warned him that he would lose many opportunities that are available to him today over such a thoughtless mistake. They both then looked at me with apprehension, bordering on respect, a kind of, “I hope you know what you’re doing” attitude. I credit them for not “disagreeing” or “revoking” the gift.

Keep in mind, this was only a week or two before the black kid murdered the white kid with a knife.

How did I, the Eagle Scout uncle, caution the newly armed man?

Later, and one-on-one, I homilized, “I had no idea that your mom and grandma would react like that.” This opening keeps me credible and trustworthy. “On the topic, I just want to say this.” This establishes that the sermon is brief and likely worthy. “I got you the knife partly because of all these recent achievements of yours.” This is a compliment; hard to not like a compliment. “But please know that if you were to do something stupid like ignore reality and bring it to school, besides the consequences, by my thinking, it would mean that all the achievements were counterfeit.” This was the respectful and powerful punchline.

He blushed hard and seemed hurt.

Then he shed any maturity he had just revealed unintentionally, if winsomely, and smiled and nervously giggled in what I supposed must be counted as a teenager’s acknowledgment of unsolicited guidance.