Hmm....I guess I'm supposed to tell "my story". I don't know what I really think of this blog. It's somewhat outside of my comfort zone in terms of privacy. That being said, I suppose I'd rather tell my own story than have it told for me. I'll be as brief as possible....maybe.
My mom didn't drink. She wasn't a drug user. She probably didn't deserve to be in the place she was in life back then but that's where she found herself and I had no choice but to be there with her. As a young child I obviously didn't understand that we were poor. I was used to my life and I think my mom did her best to make sure that me feeling loved was the most important thing. So there we were...me, her and my brother. We moved...a lot. When we moved it was usually in a hurry. We normally didn't get to take everything we would have liked to take. I originally typed out what I thought was a long story and decided to delete it. Instead, I will just say that I know what it's like to not have utilities, the newest toy or even a place to live. At a young age I realized that nobody was going to give me anything more than I already had. If I wanted something I would have to figure out how to get it for myself. You may think that this reflects negatively on my mom in my own mind but it doesn't. In fact, it's probably the greatest thing she ever gave me and she didn't even realize it at the time. I grew up with very little, around people who had very little but always had enough to share and enough heart to want to share. I lost "everything" enough times that I learned the most valuable things can't really be lost or taken.
I moved to Iowa to live with my dad after my freshman year of high school. It was the 13th time I had transferred schools since 1st grade. I had made many friends along the way but always knew that those friendships would be short lived. We would move again soon enough. That was the way things were. In Iowa everything was different. I found friends who are still friends today. I found stability that I always knew other people had. That's great but I didn't lose my view of possessions. I don't live or value my life based on what I have. To me...a table is just a table. It's nice if it matches everything else but it's not something I worry about very much. Perhaps the table will fall apart and I will have to get another one...if I want to. It's only a thing and it's a thing I probably can live without.
As a young adult I started to find financial success. Looking back, I was kind of amused with my purchasing power. I had never been in that position. As fate would have it, I met a man who was very wealthy...and when I say wealthy I mean the kind of money that you don't even get winning the lottery. I knew him for almost a year before I realized how much money he had. You would never know it if you met him. He drove a plain truck with no AC and just a plain radio. He dressed just like everyone else. He was as humble of a man as you could meet. He would go out and work with my tree crews and keep up with the young guys. He surely never had to but he did. I also know that he gives away more money to charity in 6 months than most people make in a year or two...or even three. Those are the kind of charities that helped me have a decent meal when I was a kid. I bet he will never know how much on an influence he was on me at that age. I never expected it myself. He is someone who never forgot where he came from and his attitude probably ensured that I never would either. I've probably never said it but that old man is one of my heros and if I ever grow up I hope to be like him.
So here we are. I can't go buy some piece of shit from the mall that I didn't want anyway. Big deal. It just means that I don't have to waste the gas driving over there and an afternoon walking around looking at nothing. After proofreading this post, my wife thinks that this last paragraph is an abrupt change. Fair enough. People may be happier if abrupt change didn't bother them so much.
That's it?
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