"Call me Grace..."

Alexandria VA. A fourth-grade class field-trip to the Smithsonian Institution. I think we saw the moon rock and a space capsule, but I don't remember much. I do remember seeing the Spirit of St. Louis. I was most excited to see the lumberjack exhibit, and learned that with big logs the boss (who got paid more) stood on top, while a worker standing below ate all the sawdust. Management 101.

By far my strongest recollection was of a demonstration of a computer. She introduced herself formerly, but then said, "You can call me Grace". She stood in front of a machine, and asked us about our day in the museum. Then she asked if we had ever seen a computer, and explained what it was and what it was used for. I was spellbound, and even more thrilled to eventually see, "Ricky", printed on the page, drawn by some magical spell that has lasted a lifetime.

I wrote my first trivial computer program in my sophomore year in high school. That was my gateway to buying an expensive Apple Computer and a spreadsheet program, called VisiCalc. While my friends worshiped Sting and Tom Cruise, I idolized Jobs, and Wozniak, and Bricklin, and Robert Lissner. Nerd.

Before the days of Firefox, I drove the 30 miles from Moon Valley to the Arizona State University bookstore, where I discovered Don Lancaster, Donald Knuth, Brad Cox, Fred Brooks, Michael Abrash, and so many others. I met some working professional too, like Pete, who wrote firmware for Motorola phones – and who would patiently take my overenthusiastic calls, and clearly explain 6502 assembly language to me until it made sense.

But the true lesson from Gracie, and Don, and Pete and all the rest is this: I had unintentionally begun to build my Mentor Stack. These real and virtual people who graciously, tirelessly, expertly and passionately shared their knowledge. I am eternally grateful to each of you.

The Mentor Stack

Systems thinkers are perpetually concerned with "stacks" – configurations of components intentionally designed to solve a known problem. My mentor stack has been an evolving collection of thoughtful and informed professionals who share my interests, and are willing to guide my learning and growth.

My mentor stack began as the result of my curiosity, rather than a goal or specific outcome in mind. I was a student, and they were teachers. The harder I worked, the more good questions I asked, the more they engaged with me. The scope of our conversations shifted from "this topic" to "how to think about a set of related topics".

At the time, I thought I was just the lucky person who got to talk to experts. Only later did I realize that I had organically and unintentionally constructed my first mentor stack. By the age of 30 and few failed startups later, I made a decision: stop leaving it to chance. Double down. Build deliberately.

Building Your Stack

The fastest way to build your stack starts with the 'who would you ask' trick. To rapidly gain insight into any field, ask everyone you meet in that domain for their 'one book' recommendation. Be persistent—even annoying. Ask repeatedly, ask widely. Then read these books, even if just to map the territory. Pay special attention to the works they reference—those are your next reads. This is table stakes. And if you can talk-the-talk, prospective mentors might take you seriously.

The owner of the computer store where I bought my Apple ][ recommended Don Lancaster's books. Lancaster opened my eyes to professional-grade tools and techniques in 6502 assembly language, and later answered my questions personally. When I was ready, he pointed me to the next level: Byte and Dr. Dobb's magazines—which, I'm proud to say, later published my early articles on hypertext and assembly code.

Those magazines were my internet, and opened my eyes to a bigger world with a much bigger cast of characters. I devoured every word, then sought out the authors themselves—at conferences, online, and occasionally by phone. My network grew book by book, author by author, mentor by mentor—because I showed up, listened, participated in the discussion the best I could. And I always asked, "what's next?"

You Gotta Share

Articles and books let me peer into the mind of the author, and learn indirectly - but communities gave me practice. In the 80's and 90's, these were user groups, online forums, and conferences. Today they're Discord servers, Reddit communities, Slack channels, Hackathons, and even AI chatbots.

The magic of communities isn't just the experts who hang out there—it's the peers at your level who are asking the same questions, trying the same experiments, and making the same mistakes. You learn by teaching others what you just figured out yesterday. You gain the different points of view, and if you're very clever, new mental models that can augment or replace your own.

For me, it was things like writing articles for magazines like Dr. Dobbs. I attended user-group conferences in my home town, and traveled to the big shows when I could afford it.

In addition to the other benefits, communities serve as "mentor delivery systems"—you see who consistently gives thoughtful answers, who shares generously, who pushes thinking forward. Those are your future mentor candidates. After figuring out who is who, who is real, and who is approachable, leaving one thing left to do...

You Gotta Ask

I get a steady stream of student requests for advice. Usually it's coursework related, but often it's about life or career. Some of my favorite conversations are with students who want to become entrepreneurs. Their questions are so big, hopeful, open-ended. They remind me of myself—full of ambition but uncertain about which steps to take.

The secret decoder ring for mentors:

If you want to know what you should do, ask your family, friends, or guidance counselors. If you want to know how to move forward, find a mentor. The right mentors already scouted these trails. They can't tell you which mountain to climb, but they can share what they learned about navigating in the dark.

You Found One? Now what...

Engaging with mentors can be intimidating at first; it's a much better experience if you come prepared with a plan. Show up early. Say thank you frequently. Treat their time as the valuable resource it is. Doing so shows respect and gives your mentor the chance to make a real difference.

It took me years to understand that the interaction has a completely different value proposition for your mentor. They're hoping to help your interest catch fire. To give something back. To do some good in the world. That good is your growth, and it comes with a cost we'll discuss in a moment.

It helps to understand that this is a temporary relationship with a beginning, middle, and end. Be gracious and respect the time and boundaries set by your mentor. Avoid the unforced error of forgetting to tell your mentor "thanks" one last time before you part company. I regret it to this day.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat, Until...

I still have a set of mentors, some I've met IRL, others I have not. Some, oddly enough, were both mentor and mentee. Really good people from all walks of life and lifespan, who join a long list of others to whom I owe a debt of gratitude.

Oh...yes...that debt...

At some point in your life, you may realize something is missing. An open circuit that needs to be closed. Be patient until that day arrives for you. That feeling marks the day you're ready to give something back. I'm not just the luckiest guy for learning from my mentors – but moreover, because I get to give it all back. To you, for example, if I'm lucky.

Have we met? I'm rickg.