I have come to realize that, as a child, I had certain assumptions about what my life would be like when I became a "grown up." As the youngest child in an average, lower-middle class family, my future meant that I would get married, buy a house, and be stuck in a job somewhere behind a desk until I retired at the ripe old age of 65. I'm not sure how old I was when I ditched the notion of ever having children. That seemed like a ridiculous idea to me, since I was the youngest, and I demanded most of the attention.
To fully understand my view of the future, please understand that I was born in 1962. I was too young during the conflict in Vietnam to have an opinion. I certainly have an opinion now, but it won't change the past. The United States was the dominant force in world, but there was always that Russian threat looming over us during the Cold War of my youth. We didn't have bomb drills in school when I was growing up, but the threat of a nuclear bomb dropping on our house was always looming there in the background. It did not, however, dominate our conversation, or influence my nightmares. My biggest fear growing up was being stung by a bee.
I even managed to skirt past the racial tensions of the 60's & 70's, because one of my best friends in grade school was black. She wasn't African-American; that term didn't even exist. Her name was Terry, and she was one of the nicest friends I ever had. She moved away before we finished middle school; I don't know what happened to her or where she is now. One of the most horrible memories I have growing up is when the Ku Klux Klan applied for, and was granted, a permit to parade through the neighboring town. I hated what they stood for then, and I truly despise it now. I wanted to go throw eggs; my mom wouldn't let me. It would have been a waste of our food. She told me the best thing to do was to ignore them, because if nobody went to see the parade, it would be a failure. I was too curious, though. I went to watch. So did a lot of other people. It was the quietest parade I have ever attended. It was just plain uncomfortable. There was some yelling, and a lot of police escorts, but mostly, it was awkward. I doubt many people even remember it happened.
My point is that we didn't live with the threat of terrorists on American soil when I was growing up. The American Dream, that started in the 1950s, was still a viable option. It wasn't until my junior year of high school that any of us had ever even heard of Iran, let alone being able to find it on a map. When I graduated from high school, "e-mail" was just being developed. I remember as a freshman in Temple, my friends trying to explain to me how they could talk to each other from opposite sides of the library over a computer. I didn't get it. I thought they were printing things out on paper to each other! It was right about that time that I started to believe that maybe I wasn't as smart as I thought I was. My SAT scores were abysmal, after all. I squeaked into college by the skin of my teeth and my parents' checkbook. Of course, that didn't turn out so well, and is not part of this story.
I remember some time during 8th grade, I think, that we first had to take a generalized test to help us decide what we wanted to do after graduation. It helped to determine our high school course selection. Unfortunately, I had no idea what I wanted to do when I was in 8th grade. My recollection of the results were that I was supposed to be a florist. It wasn't even until my Junior year, during a job fair, that I even became excited about a career. A very tiny, local radio station had a table, and they were talking about careers in broadcasting. The guy from the station let me have two Billboard magazines that he had on the table. I was smitten. I was going into radio.
So after graduation, I went off to Temple University to study Radio, Television and Film (RTF, for short). I was a communications major, on my way toward a Bachelor of Arts in Communications.
Fast Forward to May, 1981: Dropped out of school, moved home, got a job at Continental Bank during the day, and a t-shirt salesperson at Emerald City three nights a week. Then I was a hostess in The Ground Round in King of Prussia. Hated every minute of it, and I was really, really bad at it. Went from there to Kelly Girls, where I was a substitute secretary. From there to Advance Personnel in Center City, where I got a receptionist job at a place called Hay Associates. Had to leave there because there was no where to go. Went back to Advance, and was placed as a secretary in an interior decorating firm; I got fired about 2 months later. Hated it with a passion, but was afraid to tell the lady at the personnel agency. My last assignment through them was at Comcast, in Bala Cynwyd. I worked there for awhile, though, and met some of the best friends I still have in my life. I packed up and left there one day, and went to work at their newest baby, QVC. Night shift customer service. Hated it. Again.
After that, I went to a different employment agency and ended up in Wilmington, DE at Stoltz Realty. I worked there for what seemed like a long time, as a receptionist/secretary. But eventually, I got bored, and started looking around again. I had a job for a little while at Mutual of New York, working for a family friend who was one of the most successful underwriters in the group. Turns out he was crooked, and I couldn't deal with it anymore. Especially the part where he was cheating on his wife. Bastard. I made a couple of phone calls and ended up at DuPont, back in Wilmington. I made it there for five years. I got laid off from DuPont in November, 1993, when I was eight months pregnant with my son, Jake.
I was literally trapped indoors for the entire months of January and February, 1994, because of ice storms. It was right around then that I started wondering what had happened to my "grown up" plan. I had the husband, and the house. But there was no job, I was suddenly trapped as a feedbag for a baby, and it looked like my life was over. (It still confounds me that the doctor never recognized the depth of my post-partum depression. I was never treated for it, or for any depression, until I was diagnosed during my second pregnancy, in 1996.)
I needed to DO something. A big part of who I am, apparently, relies on what I do. So I started job hunting again. In September of 1994, I answered an ad in the Town Talk for a cashier at a local farm called Linvilla Orchards. It was one of my favorite places to go to as a child, so I applied. I was hired on the spot. Within a few months, I went from a part-time employee to head cashier. I loved my job, but I hated having Jake in daycare.
END OF PART 1
To fully understand my view of the future, please understand that I was born in 1962. I was too young during the conflict in Vietnam to have an opinion. I certainly have an opinion now, but it won't change the past. The United States was the dominant force in world, but there was always that Russian threat looming over us during the Cold War of my youth. We didn't have bomb drills in school when I was growing up, but the threat of a nuclear bomb dropping on our house was always looming there in the background. It did not, however, dominate our conversation, or influence my nightmares. My biggest fear growing up was being stung by a bee.
I even managed to skirt past the racial tensions of the 60's & 70's, because one of my best friends in grade school was black. She wasn't African-American; that term didn't even exist. Her name was Terry, and she was one of the nicest friends I ever had. She moved away before we finished middle school; I don't know what happened to her or where she is now. One of the most horrible memories I have growing up is when the Ku Klux Klan applied for, and was granted, a permit to parade through the neighboring town. I hated what they stood for then, and I truly despise it now. I wanted to go throw eggs; my mom wouldn't let me. It would have been a waste of our food. She told me the best thing to do was to ignore them, because if nobody went to see the parade, it would be a failure. I was too curious, though. I went to watch. So did a lot of other people. It was the quietest parade I have ever attended. It was just plain uncomfortable. There was some yelling, and a lot of police escorts, but mostly, it was awkward. I doubt many people even remember it happened.
My point is that we didn't live with the threat of terrorists on American soil when I was growing up. The American Dream, that started in the 1950s, was still a viable option. It wasn't until my junior year of high school that any of us had ever even heard of Iran, let alone being able to find it on a map. When I graduated from high school, "e-mail" was just being developed. I remember as a freshman in Temple, my friends trying to explain to me how they could talk to each other from opposite sides of the library over a computer. I didn't get it. I thought they were printing things out on paper to each other! It was right about that time that I started to believe that maybe I wasn't as smart as I thought I was. My SAT scores were abysmal, after all. I squeaked into college by the skin of my teeth and my parents' checkbook. Of course, that didn't turn out so well, and is not part of this story.
I remember some time during 8th grade, I think, that we first had to take a generalized test to help us decide what we wanted to do after graduation. It helped to determine our high school course selection. Unfortunately, I had no idea what I wanted to do when I was in 8th grade. My recollection of the results were that I was supposed to be a florist. It wasn't even until my Junior year, during a job fair, that I even became excited about a career. A very tiny, local radio station had a table, and they were talking about careers in broadcasting. The guy from the station let me have two Billboard magazines that he had on the table. I was smitten. I was going into radio.
So after graduation, I went off to Temple University to study Radio, Television and Film (RTF, for short). I was a communications major, on my way toward a Bachelor of Arts in Communications.
Fast Forward to May, 1981: Dropped out of school, moved home, got a job at Continental Bank during the day, and a t-shirt salesperson at Emerald City three nights a week. Then I was a hostess in The Ground Round in King of Prussia. Hated every minute of it, and I was really, really bad at it. Went from there to Kelly Girls, where I was a substitute secretary. From there to Advance Personnel in Center City, where I got a receptionist job at a place called Hay Associates. Had to leave there because there was no where to go. Went back to Advance, and was placed as a secretary in an interior decorating firm; I got fired about 2 months later. Hated it with a passion, but was afraid to tell the lady at the personnel agency. My last assignment through them was at Comcast, in Bala Cynwyd. I worked there for awhile, though, and met some of the best friends I still have in my life. I packed up and left there one day, and went to work at their newest baby, QVC. Night shift customer service. Hated it. Again.
After that, I went to a different employment agency and ended up in Wilmington, DE at Stoltz Realty. I worked there for what seemed like a long time, as a receptionist/secretary. But eventually, I got bored, and started looking around again. I had a job for a little while at Mutual of New York, working for a family friend who was one of the most successful underwriters in the group. Turns out he was crooked, and I couldn't deal with it anymore. Especially the part where he was cheating on his wife. Bastard. I made a couple of phone calls and ended up at DuPont, back in Wilmington. I made it there for five years. I got laid off from DuPont in November, 1993, when I was eight months pregnant with my son, Jake.
I was literally trapped indoors for the entire months of January and February, 1994, because of ice storms. It was right around then that I started wondering what had happened to my "grown up" plan. I had the husband, and the house. But there was no job, I was suddenly trapped as a feedbag for a baby, and it looked like my life was over. (It still confounds me that the doctor never recognized the depth of my post-partum depression. I was never treated for it, or for any depression, until I was diagnosed during my second pregnancy, in 1996.)
I needed to DO something. A big part of who I am, apparently, relies on what I do. So I started job hunting again. In September of 1994, I answered an ad in the Town Talk for a cashier at a local farm called Linvilla Orchards. It was one of my favorite places to go to as a child, so I applied. I was hired on the spot. Within a few months, I went from a part-time employee to head cashier. I loved my job, but I hated having Jake in daycare.
END OF PART 1
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