Decade Seven and beyond: Exploration and mostly ill-functioning body parts
History consists of the lies chronicled by the victors, and, I am a winner, at least still alive in the Twenty-First Century. Am I entitled to rewrite or rearrange the events in my life to suit my ego? I probably would if I could, but like condensed milk my past has evaporated to a saccharin consistency. Like pickled beets, I cannot restore the blood-red flow of my youth.
I have two adult children so some passion must have existed back then. I view photo albums of them tousling with their thinner and darker haired father. I am no longer that person, nor should deceitful nostalgia remake me after the fact.
My pursuits today, either real or fantasized, resemble the foundation of a child learning to walk and to talk. I mastered those skills in timely fashion, but the drive to improve them dissipated by the time I entered grade school. I learned to read and write and make music, but called on those skills only intermittently throughout high school.
As early as junior high, I had been farmed out—literally—living with relatives and neighbors on farms to earn room and board and spending money. In high school, I held numerous after-school jobs and summers employed with the county engineering department. I found surveying for road construction challenging and enjoyable enough accept as a career.
College happened by accident, a job offer with sufficient income and free time to attend a junior college. A two year degree led to a bachelor degree in teaching. However, successfully managing a movie theater during the last three years of college, I had developed business skills that could become the career I’d enjoy.
With a taste of student teaching and a teaching contract offer, I had found my vocation. Four years of graduate work evenings and summers, I earned a doctorate. A new challenge—what to with free time during evenings and summers?
My teaching career purred effortlessly, my energies directed toward residual schemes and enterprises with hopes of becoming rich. Most languished, faltered and failed, as measured by their original intent, exclaiming, I lost it my way.
At a recent high school class reunion, my classmates asked me to capsulate those years since graduating into a blurb and a recent picture, no doubt to be posted alongside my grad photo and prediction for success for classmates to chuckle at.
This is how I explained to them what Father Time had done to my body and my soul.
I have been blessed with two boys, two wives, and three grandchildren. When I became too old to teach school, I moved to Las Vegas with Laurie and wrote six novels and three memoirs, two of which I post chapter-by chapter on my blog www.HoboNovel.com along with many musings and minis. Check it out.
Which employment did I enjoy the most? I would have to revisit them—not possible—to experience the negatives that dissipated since I retired in the year 2000.
I suppose my best employment is that which I am enjoying presently. However, the pay is so bad, the government has to support me with a monthly check.