My Life and Times

I hear lots of concerned people saying now that since Harris wasn’t elected as President of the United States, all hopes and dreams are gone. This sentiment is complete bullshit...and a politician doesn’t make or break you—regardless of who is in office. I have a story too...my life, and why this is the best country in the world for hope and opportunity. This is a personal post, and nobody mentioned here is villainized, nor should they be. They are just part of my story.

I was born on July 16th, 1974. In 1974, the economy was in the toilet, and it was putting a huge strain on families. My father worked at the steel mill; my mother was a stay-at-home mother for my older brother and me. When I was eighteen months old, my parents separated. At three years old, they were divorced. My mother remarried when I was five, to a good guy. My brother decided to move in with my father around that time. My mother and her second husband fell out of their marriage a few years later and divorced.

My mother remarried again when I was eight; but unfortunately, he was a horrible person. He was a Mormon minister, who abused her on all levels—including mental, emotional and physical abuse. That was a terrible time for both my mother and me. My mother left him after a year of marriage. I became a latchkey kid.

My mother taught me how to wash dishes, do my laundry, and keep everything clean. She worked hard, and long hours. When I was twelve years old, we moved into the Rosewood Park Apartments, on the north side of Elyria, Ohio. That was the fourth time moving since I was born. I met a lot of good friends who were all in the same boat: single mothers with kids, struggling in all ways. Paying the rent and putting food on the table was a challenge for all of our mothers. We respected our mothers for the adversity they faced, and we didn’t dare to complain, because that would be disrespectful.

Instead of complaining about the lack of food, I improvised by stealing cartons of cigarettes and 40-ounce liquors from the nearby market. I would sell them off Georgetown Avenue, or within my apartment complex. The way I saw things, I was getting by; but I was headed for trouble. My eighth-grade year, I was suspended, either in-school or out-of-school suspensions, for most of the year.

My grandparents—my father’s parents—noticed. They took me away from all of that. I ended up on the swim team at the YMCA, played Little League baseball, and even went bowling with them. I felt loved. My grades turned around, and my vision of my life started to change. By the end of my senior year of high school, I graduated with a high GPA, received an honorary scholarship to college, along with a vocation in industrial electronics.

Keep in mind, during those years, between eighth and twelfth grades, my father taught me the building trades: everything from carpentry, to electrical, to plumbing, to...everything else. My mother taught me life skills, and to be a better person all around. My oldest child was born when I was eighteen. I had just enrolled into college then. I worked full time at Wal-Mart to provide medical insurance (court-ordered), and I went to school, full time, for Computer Science.

After college, I got a decent job, got married, and was able to buy a house and raise a family. Later on, things changed. I got a divorce, later marrying the love of my life. I look back at it all and am happy to have had the opportunities to get where I am.

If you ever look at your situation like it’s hopeless...don’t. It takes some encouragement and determination to do anything you want to do. You cannot do that, the way you can here, anywhere else in the world. I don’t care who is in office. The opportunities still exist. No white privilege here—just a poor white boy who made some good decisions.