He is a man of two briefcases. One, black and sleek, fit for a working class professional; the other, beaten brown leather fit for a cowboy on the range. Hovering somewhere in between is the holder of these two suitcases: a popular and award-winning university instructor who is living a life so different from the one of his past.
Don Graham is a burly man with grey whiskers for a moustache and glasses that conceal his startling blue eyes. He has been teaching criminology at Kwantlen University College since 2000, and before that he worked on the Downtown Eastside for 11 years at the Triage Emergency Services Residential Centre while studying for his undergraduate and graduate degrees.
For some, he is a “riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma,” and for others he is a sensitive man who wears his heart on his sleeve. Graham describes his own character as opinionated and easygoing, and he likes to think his students share the same sentiment, “although sometimes they probably think I’m overbearing,” he adds.
Barbara Ng, who worked with Graham at Triage for five years, agrees that he is opinionated, but says, “he respects other people’s opinions as well. You will speak your mind and express your opinions, and then he will say what he has to say.”
She says Graham is also passionate, fun and caring. “He can be childish in a lot of ways, he still knows how to play and be silly.”
Sitting in his small office nestled between bookcases, papers and filing cabinets, he looks the part of a well-educated teacher with his black corduroy blazer and stylish brown shoes. As he ponders the question of his own identity, he rocks in his chair, chewing a piece of gum and constantly shifting his gaze.
“I had identity problems as I was growing up, and self-esteem issues, issues around being accepted, who I was and what I was about,” recalls Graham. “I think that I came from a good family but they weren’t very expressive, and I missed that.”
Graham’s childhood in Kitsilano was rife with conflict. He started drinking alcohol in Grade 8 between classes to “deal with pain in (his) life.”
When he was 13 years old he started stealing cars—which he described was like “playing cops and robbers. I remember when I was 13 I broke into a house with a friend and we got the alcohol and we got very drunk and the police found us,” says Graham. “They put us in a juvenile home, and one day we were in a courtyard where there was a high metal fence with barbed wire around the top. We were playing baseball there and somebody hit the ball over the fence. It was interesting because this worker there opened a little door in the gate said, ‘Don, go get the ball.’ I went, and I got the ball and I brought it back. Now, why did I bring the ball back? I think that I felt appreciated. As I said, it’s a basic need in my life to feel appreciated. Always has been, back then and even now. So back then, my need was met and I felt happy, and I brought the ball back.”
When he was released from the juvenile detention centre he started hanging out with gangs, “and it escalated from there.”
Graham was introduced to heroin in his 20s, and was immediately addicted. “It made me feel like helping old ladies across the street and kissing babies, and I thought, ‘I’m going to do this drug for the rest of my life.”
It soon took over his life, and instead of using it to feel good, he used it to escape withdrawal. He began selling drugs, and on the street it became common knowledge in the crime community that he was “fuckin‘ nuts.” After selling drugs to a police officer, he went to federal prison for 18 months.
In 1981, after he was faced with more jail time, he went to a treatment centre on Vancouver Island where he had his breakthrough. After breaking down in front of a group, he attempted to storm out of the room, but was stopped by one of the workers there who encouraged him to turn back. “This time, Don, go back there and face it,” he said.
After that Graham worked in television production, and then he moved to Triage so he could “help people.” While there, he received his undergraduate degree in psychology, his masters in criminology and was then hired by Kwantlen as an instructor.
Graham often uses stories from his past to provide anecdotes in his courses, although he doesn’t believe this puts him at any better advantage than the other instructors. “I don’t think it’s made any difference. I think anybody my age is going to have a history, and part of my history is going to prison—but that’s just a fraction of it.”
For Graham, teaching is his security blanket. “I like doing this, I would rather do this than anything else, but really money is the ultimate thing. It keeps me out of trouble, it contributes to my self identity, I feel like I’m contributing, I feel like I’m making a difference. I feel that I matter.”
Whether it helps or hinders him, Graham will constantly be judged by his past and at the same time compared to it, although he wouldn’t change it for a second. “If you like the way it is now, you don’t want to change the past, because if you change the past, then you change the way it is now. So everything would be completely different. I don’t think my past hinders or benefits anything, I think it’s just what is.”
