Consider a normal American
Born to a family of long journey and second thoughts
happy childhood
adulthood and responsibility came without warning, too soon
two sisters and a mother and a grandfather for guidance
work work work
lucky I met you wife, but you may not think so in time
borrow spend, borrow spend, with my friend
the bottom fell out
work work work
opened my eyes
will this be the end
optimism still - less expectation
live each morning
happy. . . with less
-Tim Pickett
My great grandparents down the line a few generations, converted to the Mormon Church and spent all of their savings traveling to Salt Lake City to settle in a new country. The story that I was told, included a short blurb about how they would have returned to England if they could have afforded to. It seems they were told that the church no longer practiced polygamy, but when they arrived, such was not the case. That being stated, my family raised me in the Mormon church from a young age.
As a young boy, before age 7, I remember good parents and a happy life. Building in the sandbox, learning to ride a bike on two wheels, and playing with cousins often. My mother's family would fight between themselves from time to time and there was a tension at some family parties between them, not between us cousins. My mother was also fearful of my getting hurt and would not allow me to play football or climb high in the trees at my grandparents home. My parents fought venomously when I was 7 years old and I stood between them, protecting my mother from my fathers words, if not from his hand. He moved out and they were divorced. I was 8 years old.
I cannot remember actually being told by anyone that I would have to be the man of my household, but immediately I took on the role. No one asked me to mow the lawn, but it got mowed each week. No one asked me to shovel the snow from the driveway or how to run the snow blower, but when it snowed, the walks were cleaned. Looking back, I must have had some help, but I cannot remember a single time or person helping me with these tasks. And looking now at eight year old boys, I wonder how I was able to do these things.
My two younger sisters were raised then by our mother, and protected by me. My mistreatment of them was strictly forbidden. I was taught chivalry from the time I could open a door myself. And protecting my family was a paramount privilege. At 16 years old, my father refused to pay additional child support for my sister's dance classes and I called him on the phone and berated him. “We are your children and it is your privilege to do these things for your kids,” I remember shouting. He left a copy of the divorce papers in my car, letting me know that he was doing all and more than what he was required to. When the older of the two sisters was kicked off the drill team her senior year, it was me above anyone else that she was most afraid to tell. She felt as if she disappointed me. I remember being supportive and not criticizing her. I was always balancing trying to be both a brother and something of a father to them.
As for my mother, I was something of a partner to her at a young age. She talked to me honestly about work and finances because she had no one else from time to time. Her second marriage was difficult for both of us and it ended badly. She felt unable to shelter me from the world or to carry the burden if I made bad choices. I remember her telling me that if I was man enough to have sex, then I better be man enough to buy condoms. And in the event my girlfriend became pregnant, she would be unable to help, that it would be up to me to make it work. Maybe she said that to scare me, if she did, it worked.
Lastly, I was significantly influenced by my mother's father. From my earliest childhood I spend a lot of time with him, during my parents divorce I practically lived with my grandparents in Vernal, Utah on their small ranch. He taught me to work hard at a young age, to get up before the sun and provide for myself. He was warm and funny, and honest. He told me that he didn't believe in the Mormon faith to a point, but that a man could not go wrong living by the teachings of the church. He smoked from the time he was eight years old. He was racist, but hid it. He raised me from the time I was seven until I was out of high school when I lived with him for a year because I could not live by my mothers rules. He hit me once when I was back-talking my grandmother, I understood.
My late teens and early twenties were tumultuous. It seems like I changed my world view every six months and went a different direction with each changing of the wind. I smoked and drank for a time, went to church for a time, and got married in the LDS temple at the young age of 21. I settled in on working for the family construction company. My wife believed me when I told her I was stable. She felt that I would always be by her. Neither of us would have believed what was to come.
I quit work to finish college, which was a huge milestone in my life. I truly felt that it was the first time I had finished something on my own. I attended the Marine Corps Officer Candidate School and broke my leg before commissioning, only to return home and fall back into the family construction business. Four years later after my grandfather (the namesake of the business) had died, I broke away and started my own business with my best friend. We built homes and borrowed money to do it. We were taught by the banks how to fill out the forms and get approved, we worked with realtors who did the same with people they knew. We were young and leveraged beyond the max. In late 2007, it all began to crumble and by early 2008, with the fall of the economy, we ran the business to nothing, split up the remaining unsellable tools, and went separate ways. Filing bankruptcy was not the accident, I was told, it was the ambulance. My wife and I spent almost two years wondering if we would lose our home, and fighting off a litigious client with a grudge. In the end, we lost everything except our two young children, 4 and 2 years old respectively.
So here I am, back at school, earning a second bachelors, this time in Nursing. I researched the field and it pays well, is very stable, has good benefits and if I don't like the area of nursing that I get into, I can move areas without taking too much of a pay cut. That quality is the real reason I chose nursing. I am learning that I tend to change directions from time to time. Finding ways to accept and embrace that personality trait has actually made me feel more grounded, if that is possible.
Happier than ever, with less money (a lot less), I'm optimistic and much more ready for the future. My goals are set lower, more reachable, while my focus and determination is sharp. I have reset my priorities: Family first, including cherishing my children and loving my wife in the way she wants to be loved. Which means spending time with her. Pretty much everything comes second to family, and I'm still trying to reduce my desire for money, to keep focus on what is truly important, to live in the present. Time is always running out,escaping out the back door, and I am determined not to die with regrets
