I have always been intrigued with the journey of change and transformation. It is fundamental to all aspects of my life, from decisions I made as a teenager, to the military, my public, private and academic careers. Change continues into my “Golden Years”.
This journeys of change and transformation is all part of Being Arthur of today.
I have been inspired by many and feel fortunate. I enjoy reflecting on my journey and sharing pieces of this brief life. I hope you enjoy viewing this journey by visiting the various doorways I went through on my journey.
A partner in so many ways….
Journey highlights of this life include celebrating Melissa’s Birthday with close friends and family at the Ritz Carlton, Perth, Western Australia.
Melissa’s Birthday party at the Ritz Carlton Perth, Western Australia.
Our wedding day….
We got married during the COVID outbreak…we had the world to ourselves…
Two journeys become one.
To witness the wedding ceremony we had a couple of wonderful friends join us…and a friend as the photographer…that was the complete wedding party, small, focused, fun, elegant and memorable.
The Journey: Adolescence — When Doors of Opportunity Began Opening… and Closing
The Journey — The Early Years: Building the Foundation
This is my 9th-grade photo, taken long before I understood how many doors life would place in front of me—some wide open, some barely cracked, some tempting, some dangerous, and some I had no idea even existed.
Back then, I wasn’t the most confident or the happiest young guy. I was just a kid with a mix of curiosity, insecurity, and enough reckless fun to keep things interesting. And like every kid growing up in a neighbourhood full of noise and energy, I faced a hallway of choices: the smoking door, the drugs door, the alcohol door, the sports door, the girls door…
Each one with its own glow, its own risks, its own pull.
I appreciated what I had—my friends, my family, the community that shaped me. But let’s be honest: my life didn’t look anything like The Brady Bunch or The Cosby Show. It didn’t have the polished adventure of Mission Impossible, the calm authority of the Starship Enterprise, the glamour of Studio 54, or the power and privilege of the great halls where big decisions were made. My world was real, imperfect, gritty, and often unpredictable—but it was mine, and it laid the groundwork for everything that followed.
Even without that glossy TV-show shine, I carried something important: a simmering drive to be happy, to break through limitations, to imagine a life bigger than the one mapped out for me. Becoming a doctor never crossed my mind—not because I lacked respect or ambition, but because that door felt like it belonged in another universe. Role models were scarce, the hurdles high, and the path invisible.
But what I did have was instinct. Curiosity. A willingness to scan each doorway and trust myself enough to step through the ones that felt right—even when I wasn’t sure where they led.
Those early years didn’t give me a clear blueprint, but they gave me a foundation:
resilience, imagination, ambition, and the courage to keep moving forward, door by door, shaping a life far beyond anything that photo ever predicted.
My Mother — The Quiet Force Behind the Early Years
One of the strongest drivers in my early life was simple: I didn’t want to disappoint my mother.
She didn’t grow up with the opportunities that eventually came my way. Her journey was shaped by different doors—doors she pushed through with courage, doors that closed on her unfairly, and doors she chose even when the path ahead was uncertain. Some decisions were bold, some weren’t perfect, but all of them were made with a determination that still humbles me.
Looking back now, I can see the architecture of her life more clearly—the doors she walked through, the ones she avoided, and the ones she had to force open because there was no other way. Her drive wasn’t about personal glory. It was about hope—a deep, steady hope that her children would do well, that we would step through doors she never had the chance to even knock on…and that also was a bit scary…there is risk with each door.
In those formative years, her support was the foundation beneath everything. She was the steady hand, the quiet belief, the voice reminding me that I could be more. I didn’t want to let her down—but I was also trying to live my own life, to build on the base she created, and to reach for things neither of us had ever imagined.
Her journey gave me the starting point.
The Big A
Arthur Wilson Jr, my Dad in High School. He went on to have a distinguished career in the United States Navy achieving the rank of Master Chief. He retired from the Navy.
My Dad—Big A—was someone I watched from a distance. Growing up, I was scared of him, and our interactions were often tense. Even as his only son, I never felt deeply connected to him. I really don’t know if he tried to connect to me. He valued education but wasn’t engaged in mine, and he guarded his computer and did not trust me enough to let me touch it.
I don’t think he approved of the doors I was going through in my early years, and I don’t think he had much faith that I’d become the man I am today. He seemed disappointed with my life. We never had deep conversations—he would just look at me, like studying me, looking down on me. It defined what kind of father I didn’t want to be. And yet, I learned from him: his independence, his love of history and politics. Although I heard people say he was he was proud of me, he struggled to show me. He chose his own doors for reasons I may never understand. Because of that, I work hard to stay engaged with my kids. I don’t want my kids to be like me, but I hope they learn from me too and be better people as a result.
My God Mother
On the driveway at my parents place. I am with the afro, arm drapped around my God Mother, Esther next to her son and one of my favorite “cousin” Quinn. Quinn was an All-Star, All-American high school basketball player. He was a state champ, he was the almost the whole package.
He hoped to be in the NBA. His focus was on basketball, not school work, and ended up in a small college, made some poor choices, ended up playing overseas for awhile…got injured and then became a bit of an outlaw. He used to come to San Diego and it was fun…we would hang out until late, he always seemed have money…but he did not have a job. But I did not want to follow his path. He started going in and out of jail…and stayed in that cycle.
We made an agreement…I would live on one hill…he would live close by on another hill. From our homes we would be able to see each other and hang out. I would earn a living doing my 9-5, he would make his money through his illegal “jobs”….
Reality got in the way. Quinn will never got his house on the hill, he never owned a home. We can’t hang out anymore. That door is closed.
The Little A
Little A – Arthur Wilson III
Being Arthur 