I recently asked my mom if she regrets having me and my siblings. I wrote about this previously, but it fascinated me so much, I decided to elaborate some. I added to the question, "Would your life have turned out better without us? Be honest." She looked at me without smiling, as if perplexed by the question. "I don't regret it for a second. You kids are the best thing that ever happened to me in my life. Maybe it would have been easier for me, but I wouldn't trade the life I have with you for a million EASY lifetimes."
Holy shit ma, that was pretty deep! I guess in reality it was a pretty stupid question, no matter how good it sounded in theory. Her answer kept me up at night, thinking and thinking about it. I wondered if she meant it, which led me to think of my own life and my own decisions. I tried to think of a single thing in my life that I regret. The result I kept coming back to was that everything in my life that led up to now, has shaped me into the person I am today. I'd probably say, that in the traditional sense, I've made more mistakes than I've made "good" decisions. I've done some pretty dumbass things. I kept thinking, "Do I regret any of the stupid shit I've done? Would my life have turned out differently if I went left instead of right? Said "No" instead of "Hell yeah!" Of course the answer is yes, it would have. I can't go back and change anything, and even if I could, I wouldn't. I like the way my life has turned out so far and look forward to the future. People who regret decisions are usually unhappy.
I could have done things and made decisions that would have made my life a lot easier to deal with now. Where's the fun in that, though? Some decisions are made for you. I could have been born into a rich family and grown up with all the amenities of Billy Madison. That would have made my life easier, but would people have liked me? Would I have worked for anything in my life? Nope. Would people be jealous of me and resented me? Probably. If my parents didn't have more kids after me, (I was an "accident" as you know if you've read my previous posts), I wouldn't have the best siblings on Earth. My best friend wouldn't be my brother. If I never met my ex-wife, I wouldn't have my kids. I also wouldn't have child support payments. Easier life, not a better one. Not even close. Get the idea?
I hated my mom's boyfriend. I legitimately didn't like him. He never had kids of his own, and I don't think he understood how to handle it when his girlfriend and her 4 kids moved into his nice, brand new house. He made my mom happy. I wish I saw it at the time, but I was a teenager. I moved out as soon as I could when I was 18 and lived on my own. It was a struggle, certainly more so than if I had stayed at home. I got along better with my mom when I moved out. I didn't talk to her boyfriend for a long time. The older I got, however, the more I saw how happy he made her, how good of a companion he was for her. During my engagement with my first wife, I called him. I left him a message. I said that I was sorry for all the things I said and did to him, and for not recognizing the sacrifices he made in his life, to make one for my mom and us kids. I asked if he would be my mom's date to my wedding. He said he'd get back to me, and I'm sure he struggled with the decision, but he eventually called me back and said that he would like to go. He passed away before my wedding day. I don't regret my relationship with him, necessarily, it was what it was. Maybe it makes me appreciate him more and opens my eyes to what he meant to my family now that he's gone. Even though I've always said that you shouldn't praise someone after they pass away if you didn't praise them when they were here. Maybe he was the exception, and only because it made me come to the realization that he didn't hate me, he just didn't understand me, nor I him. It was MY decision to move out, and it was probably the right one...but I'll never know for sure.
I know that if my mom never met him, I never would have met all the friends I have today. My dad would never have met his second wife. My sister never would have met the father of her child. I wouldn't have met the mother of mine. It was a decision not made by me, or anyone else in the above group. It was a domino effect. It was like November 5th, 1955 to Marty McFly. A moment in time that changed everything, for everybody. My mom made the decision to move in with her boyfriend, in the town that I now call home, the same town I've called home for more than half my life, and it led to a great number of sequences of events that shaped the lives of so many people. I'm sure it wasn't a spur of the moment idea. It was probably talked about and thought through, probably for a good amount of time...but there was a moment when the decision was made final.
I'd like to think I'm smart enough, especially now that I'm a parent, to make decisions that won't end up with me in jail or in the ground...I think I am.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, April 15, 2012
The Man Who Sold the World
Sometimes people get spoken about like they were saints after they die. It's as if death brought some kind of aura to them and now that they're gone, we can talk about them like they were the greatest person we've ever known. I never understood this. I guess it's a respect thing. Maybe when it happens so suddenly, we think we have more time.My philosophy is that if the person is so great in life, why not speak highly of them when they're on this Earth? Why not relish in their company and tell people, either who know the person or who don't, how great they are? Why do we wait until after they're gone to do this?
I recently lost a good friend who was the exception to the rule. I guess I'm being hypocritical by writing this now, because he passed away, but the point here is to explain that this man was magnetic, and spoken highly of by anyone who knew him. He was told this to his face. He was talked about amongst friends and colleague when he wasn't there. People were genuinely happy to be around him. We listened intently when he spoke. And he loved to speak. He went on and on about his family, his wife and three sons. He talked about his horses, and his ranch and the zip-line he wanted to build on his property in Alabama. How cool is that?
Steve was the hardest working man I've ever known. I know this first hand. He wanted nothing more than to be the best provider possible for his family, no matter how ragged he ran himself. He cooked meat on the grill better than anyone. His marinades were those of legend. He loved the rodeo. He loved helping people. He helped me all the time; be a better worker, be a better father, be a better man. We joked with each other about our accents. He made me laugh constantly. He called everyone "brother," He was a good 'ole boy. He was the man who would sell the world for the better of others.
He loved his co-workers, because they weren't colleagues or supervisors or employees to him, they were his friends. Steve was a strict father at times, but it was only so he could turn his boys into great men. He was so truly and absolutely proud of them. He had bumps in the road with his wife, but he loved her as much as a husband could love a wife. He had health problems, completely unrelated to his eventual death. He should have already passed away. He spent almost a year in the hospital with an incredibly serious illness. When he was brought in to the hospital a few years back, it looked pretty grim. He told me the story about when they took him in, he knew it was really bad. The nurse on duty told him, "Steve, you're not going to die during my shift. I'm not going to let you." After hearing this, he thought to himself, "You know what, I'm not gonna die during anyone's shift." Badass. I could literally go on and on, but this already sounds enough like a eulogy, and I don't want that.
Believe me, I spoke highly of Steve when he was with us. Everyone who knew him did. I'm NOT saying these things now that he's gone...but I am writing about it. I just wish I did this a while ago. How many people are happy and content with their lives and have it all? He was a happy person. How many people can you TRULY say that about? My friend Steve did.
I was with Steve when he passed away. I'm comforted by that in a weird way. He wasn't alone. I also feel some kind of guilt. I'm reminded that there was nothing I could have done, despite going over it again and again. It was sudden, and it was unfair. He was too young. He had life by the balls, he had plans.
I'll fully admit that I'm not a very religious person. I have faith that if I'm a good person, and treat people well, then I'll get the same in return. If heaven is a real place, and Steve believed that there is, he's there, waiting on his loved ones. Rest in peace my friend. You left us too early, but you lived what amounts to two lifetimes while you were here. Not many people can say that.
"Somewhere in the darkness, the gambler, he broke even. And In his final words I found an ace that I could keep." Love you brother.
I recently lost a good friend who was the exception to the rule. I guess I'm being hypocritical by writing this now, because he passed away, but the point here is to explain that this man was magnetic, and spoken highly of by anyone who knew him. He was told this to his face. He was talked about amongst friends and colleague when he wasn't there. People were genuinely happy to be around him. We listened intently when he spoke. And he loved to speak. He went on and on about his family, his wife and three sons. He talked about his horses, and his ranch and the zip-line he wanted to build on his property in Alabama. How cool is that?
Steve was the hardest working man I've ever known. I know this first hand. He wanted nothing more than to be the best provider possible for his family, no matter how ragged he ran himself. He cooked meat on the grill better than anyone. His marinades were those of legend. He loved the rodeo. He loved helping people. He helped me all the time; be a better worker, be a better father, be a better man. We joked with each other about our accents. He made me laugh constantly. He called everyone "brother," He was a good 'ole boy. He was the man who would sell the world for the better of others.
He loved his co-workers, because they weren't colleagues or supervisors or employees to him, they were his friends. Steve was a strict father at times, but it was only so he could turn his boys into great men. He was so truly and absolutely proud of them. He had bumps in the road with his wife, but he loved her as much as a husband could love a wife. He had health problems, completely unrelated to his eventual death. He should have already passed away. He spent almost a year in the hospital with an incredibly serious illness. When he was brought in to the hospital a few years back, it looked pretty grim. He told me the story about when they took him in, he knew it was really bad. The nurse on duty told him, "Steve, you're not going to die during my shift. I'm not going to let you." After hearing this, he thought to himself, "You know what, I'm not gonna die during anyone's shift." Badass. I could literally go on and on, but this already sounds enough like a eulogy, and I don't want that.
Believe me, I spoke highly of Steve when he was with us. Everyone who knew him did. I'm NOT saying these things now that he's gone...but I am writing about it. I just wish I did this a while ago. How many people are happy and content with their lives and have it all? He was a happy person. How many people can you TRULY say that about? My friend Steve did.
I was with Steve when he passed away. I'm comforted by that in a weird way. He wasn't alone. I also feel some kind of guilt. I'm reminded that there was nothing I could have done, despite going over it again and again. It was sudden, and it was unfair. He was too young. He had life by the balls, he had plans.
I'll fully admit that I'm not a very religious person. I have faith that if I'm a good person, and treat people well, then I'll get the same in return. If heaven is a real place, and Steve believed that there is, he's there, waiting on his loved ones. Rest in peace my friend. You left us too early, but you lived what amounts to two lifetimes while you were here. Not many people can say that.
"Somewhere in the darkness, the gambler, he broke even. And In his final words I found an ace that I could keep." Love you brother.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Raise Your Hand if I've Been In You
Only an asshole would use a title like that. Winner winner chicken dinner! I happen to be one of the best assholes I know! At the same time, I have good values and morals and I try to be a good person. I'm a walking contradiction, as Billy Joe Armstrong once said.
When I split up with my ex-wife at the end of 2010, something in me said, "I don't give a fuck." I never cheated on my ex. I had opportunities, but I didn't. Maybe looking back I was mad at myself cause I probably should have. Hindsight is 20/20. For most of 2011, I went on a vagina seeking rampage the likes of which I had never experienced before. Any shyness, (which wasn't much), had completely dissipated. I began banging like I had never bung before. Something clicked in my brain that reminded me, "Hey, girls love fucking too!" What a completely eye opening revelation! There are caveats to that statement, of course. Girls also love relationships, and some think that sex and relationships are one in the same. Sometimes they are. I'm a relationship guy myself, but for a period of time after I became single, I was anything but a relationship guy. I wasn't ready to commit to anyone right away, and I acted unfairly to some women. I never misled them into thinking what we were doing, (hanging out occasionally and fucking) would turn into anything more. That picture unintentionally gets muddied sometimes.
It took me a long time to realize just how easy it is to get a girl to sleep with you, (or fuck you, depending on which end of the language spectrum you prefer.) I turned into a man whore. If I was a girl myself, I would have been called a slut, a whore, a skank or whatever....but since I'm a guy, it doesn't work like that. It's the world's most incredible double-standard. When guys have sex with tons of girls, they brag to their friends and tell stories about them and one becomes a legend amongst his piers. When girls do the same thing, it's as if they're ashamed of it. They don't want to tell to many people because they'll think she's slutty and easy. How did this happen!! Not that I'm complaining, but really? Those of us with penises sure lucked out on that one. We also made out ok with the not getting periods, not having to give birth, not having to do our hair and our makeup every time we leave the house, not getting yeast infections, not being horrible drivers or unable to play any kind of watchable professional sport. My point is that we have it much easier as guys.
I went to work after my split-up. I was on a mission. It was new territory for me. Maybe I was trying to fill the void of being in a relationship with a series of meaningless romps, (some more meaningless than others). I didn't like to be alone. I DON'T like to be alone. It's difficult for me to sleep without a girl in my bed. (Why do you think I'm up at 4:00 a.m. talking about this when in reality, nobody really cares?)
I had sex with friends, friends of friends, friends of my sister's, girls I've been friends with since the mid 90's, ex-girlfriends, waitresses, my neighbor, complete strangers I met on the Internet, complete strangers I met in airports or hotels across the nation, girls I met at the bar, (the old-fashioned way DOES still work.) One or two were even absolute swamp-donkeys, it didn't matter.
I was exclusive with some for a couple months, but nothing serious ever came of it. The funny thing is, after a while, I started looking to be in a relationship again. I'd get that need to be with someone who would consistently be there for me. I wanted someone who could deal with me during my weak times instead of just my confident times and be able to handle my drama. I would go on dates to try meet a girl that I clicked with. Inevitably, since apparently girls are as horny as guys are, I would have sex with them on the first date literally every time. That's not being cocky, no pun intended, because it takes two. We'd meet up, have some food, some drinks, and one of us would wind up at the other's place. So how could I be in a relationship with these women if they just fucked me on our first date?? I guess it wasn't so bad, and I actually did end up dating some of them for a month here, a couple months there. After all, I had to separate the genders and put myself into their shoes. They were mostly in the same boat I was in. So I never felt bad about any of this. I never purposely hurt any of them, and any of them that I did hurt, I did it so I couldn't continue to hurt them, if that makes sense. I do have a conscience, after all, like I talked about at the beginning of this entry.
The way I can tell that I didn't do anything too bad, is that I'm still friends and still talk to most of them. Other than the one night stands I had with girls I met 4 hours ago, I talk to most of the girls that I've been with on a regular basis. And they know and knew what was up. I was being used the same way I was using them. The picture was clear, for the most part, for both parties involved. Nobody cared! A couple of the girls who I was with actually introduced me to their friends, who they knew damn well I was going to bang!
Luckily, I was careful and didn't impregnate anybody, contract any diseases, or hurt anyone's feelings too badly. Now I have a solid girlfriend, (who also knows about this time period of my life) and all's well with the world. See, I'm not that big of an asshole, am I?
When I split up with my ex-wife at the end of 2010, something in me said, "I don't give a fuck." I never cheated on my ex. I had opportunities, but I didn't. Maybe looking back I was mad at myself cause I probably should have. Hindsight is 20/20. For most of 2011, I went on a vagina seeking rampage the likes of which I had never experienced before. Any shyness, (which wasn't much), had completely dissipated. I began banging like I had never bung before. Something clicked in my brain that reminded me, "Hey, girls love fucking too!" What a completely eye opening revelation! There are caveats to that statement, of course. Girls also love relationships, and some think that sex and relationships are one in the same. Sometimes they are. I'm a relationship guy myself, but for a period of time after I became single, I was anything but a relationship guy. I wasn't ready to commit to anyone right away, and I acted unfairly to some women. I never misled them into thinking what we were doing, (hanging out occasionally and fucking) would turn into anything more. That picture unintentionally gets muddied sometimes.
It took me a long time to realize just how easy it is to get a girl to sleep with you, (or fuck you, depending on which end of the language spectrum you prefer.) I turned into a man whore. If I was a girl myself, I would have been called a slut, a whore, a skank or whatever....but since I'm a guy, it doesn't work like that. It's the world's most incredible double-standard. When guys have sex with tons of girls, they brag to their friends and tell stories about them and one becomes a legend amongst his piers. When girls do the same thing, it's as if they're ashamed of it. They don't want to tell to many people because they'll think she's slutty and easy. How did this happen!! Not that I'm complaining, but really? Those of us with penises sure lucked out on that one. We also made out ok with the not getting periods, not having to give birth, not having to do our hair and our makeup every time we leave the house, not getting yeast infections, not being horrible drivers or unable to play any kind of watchable professional sport. My point is that we have it much easier as guys.
I went to work after my split-up. I was on a mission. It was new territory for me. Maybe I was trying to fill the void of being in a relationship with a series of meaningless romps, (some more meaningless than others). I didn't like to be alone. I DON'T like to be alone. It's difficult for me to sleep without a girl in my bed. (Why do you think I'm up at 4:00 a.m. talking about this when in reality, nobody really cares?)
I had sex with friends, friends of friends, friends of my sister's, girls I've been friends with since the mid 90's, ex-girlfriends, waitresses, my neighbor, complete strangers I met on the Internet, complete strangers I met in airports or hotels across the nation, girls I met at the bar, (the old-fashioned way DOES still work.) One or two were even absolute swamp-donkeys, it didn't matter.
I was exclusive with some for a couple months, but nothing serious ever came of it. The funny thing is, after a while, I started looking to be in a relationship again. I'd get that need to be with someone who would consistently be there for me. I wanted someone who could deal with me during my weak times instead of just my confident times and be able to handle my drama. I would go on dates to try meet a girl that I clicked with. Inevitably, since apparently girls are as horny as guys are, I would have sex with them on the first date literally every time. That's not being cocky, no pun intended, because it takes two. We'd meet up, have some food, some drinks, and one of us would wind up at the other's place. So how could I be in a relationship with these women if they just fucked me on our first date?? I guess it wasn't so bad, and I actually did end up dating some of them for a month here, a couple months there. After all, I had to separate the genders and put myself into their shoes. They were mostly in the same boat I was in. So I never felt bad about any of this. I never purposely hurt any of them, and any of them that I did hurt, I did it so I couldn't continue to hurt them, if that makes sense. I do have a conscience, after all, like I talked about at the beginning of this entry.
The way I can tell that I didn't do anything too bad, is that I'm still friends and still talk to most of them. Other than the one night stands I had with girls I met 4 hours ago, I talk to most of the girls that I've been with on a regular basis. And they know and knew what was up. I was being used the same way I was using them. The picture was clear, for the most part, for both parties involved. Nobody cared! A couple of the girls who I was with actually introduced me to their friends, who they knew damn well I was going to bang!
Luckily, I was careful and didn't impregnate anybody, contract any diseases, or hurt anyone's feelings too badly. Now I have a solid girlfriend, (who also knows about this time period of my life) and all's well with the world. See, I'm not that big of an asshole, am I?
Friday, April 6, 2012
College? Who Needs It?
I went to college for about a month. I know! Can you believe someone with the writing prowess that I possess barely attended college? I like to think I have life experience. More so than people who actually WENT to college. I worked. I grew up fast. I have always been highly intelligent, and entering adulthood before the traditional college student helped me become wise beyond my years, so to speak. I'm not afraid to say that. I went through a lot as a kid. My house burned to the ground 2 days before Christmas when I was 6. My parents got divorced when I was 9. I moved around a lot. I had to make new friends over and over again. My family never had an abundance of money. I had to adapt.
I'm not saying by any means that other people didn't go through much tougher times, not saying that at all. I didn't have to get my ass out of the ghetto. My parents didn't die in a horrific car accident. My mom wasn't addicted to meth. My dad didn't come home drunk every night.....let me rephrase that last one, he didn't come home drunk every night and beat us kids with a serving spoon and throw a lamp at my mom. My sister wasn't abducted and never seen again. You get the idea. I didn't have to overcome any terrible tragedies. My parents were 20 years old when I was born. They had 4 kids by the time they were 27. My dad worked hard, and we did OK. My parents fulfilled all of our needs, shelter, nourishment, love. When it came to wants, or luxuries, not so much. I'm not complaining. I was happy playing wiffle ball and street hockey and tag wars with the neighborhood kids We lived in a two-family home with a backyard in a decent neighborhood. We were above the poverty line, lower-middle class, I guess you'd say. I'm just making the point that nothing was handed to me. Ever. I didn't have an allowance. I had to sell Kool-Aid so I could raise $4 bucks to rent a Nintendo game at Blockbuster video or get a value meal at Wendy's. When I needed glasses, my parents got me glasses, so I could see, but they weren't exactly the most stylish frames. They were Steve Urkel frames because they were literally the cheapest ones in the store. Ask my brother or sisters, if you know them, they'll HAPPILY tell you how retarded I looked.
I had to mow lawns and deliver papers and work for my uncle's landscaping company. There was no such thing as, "Hey ma, my friends are going to the movies, can I have $10 bucks?" (For you kids out there, $10 got you into the movies and paid for snacks back then!) If I wanted to see the movie, my friends bought tickets with money they got from their parents, and snuck me in through a side entrance. My friends let me "borrow" money for a soda or a snack at lunch during school. If nobody had any money for me to borrow, I stole shit. Nothing major, mostly just candy bars or a Maxim magazine. I jumped the wall at concerts to get in. I snuck past security to get into football games, (before 9/11.) I FOUND ways to get shit. After my parents got divorced, we wound up living in towns where most families had much more money than us, meaning our friends had much more money than us. They had things bought for them. They got "help" buying stuff or were given money for taking the trash out. I had to save up my own money by working if I wanted to buy a new video game. I had to save $500 to buy my first car, a red, 1987 Plymouth Reliant hatchback. It was a beautiful machine. Automotive engineering at it's finest. I once had sex in it while driving down the highway, like Charlie Sheen did in "The Chase." Off track, sorry. My friends had their cars given to them as Christmas presents. Maybe I didn't have all the coolest things or live in a big fancy house or have brand new clothes every school year, but growing up like that instilled in me the fact they I would have to work to get the things I wanted. I would have to work HARD.
Wherever I worked, I climbed the "corporate ladder." I am a natural leader, whether it was moving from a cashier to a store manager at a supermarket, to what I do know, managing dozens of other individuals in a high paced, high stress job, (most of the people I manage, by the way, went to college.) I got this from my father, who is also a go-getter, type A personality. He's a guy that people like to be around. I try to be like that, and for the most part, I think I DO emulate my father in that way. He likes to be in control. He likes to be the boss. He wants to be the man wherever he works. When he played softball, he was the coach of the team and the president of the league. I was a leader when I played sports in high school. I want to be the man, the boss, wherever I go. I'm good at it. I have my dad to thank for a lot of it, but I taught myself a thing or two along the way also.
I suppose I have my dad to thank for the Irish drinking "gene" too, but that's a whole other story. I'm not saying he's an alcoholic but...well, ya he's an alcoholic. Not a bad one, like described above, just one who likes to drink a little bit mostly every single day, and then usually a lot on the weekends. He likes to have fun, and I love that about my dad. You only get one life, and as long as you don't do anything in excess and you're having fun doing it, and you're not hurting anybody, fucking do it. I joke about the alcoholic thing, but it's a bullshit label. We don't get plastered and drive home, we leave our cars at the bars and have someone drive us to it the next day. We don't get in bar fights, (anymore.) We don't act like pricks and piss people off and act obnoxious. We have fun, and people have fun being around us, so I'm proud to be like my father that way. I'm a lot like him when it comes to work, and a lot like him when it comes to play.
I'm not saying all this to pat myself on the back or be arrogant, though I am incredibly confident in everything I do, and I walk the line of cockiness in many different situations. I'm also not stating all of the above to disrespect those who obtained degrees and worked DAMN hard to get them. Having a degree is a wonderful thing. It's an excellent accomplishment. I hope that my kids go to college...but if they don't, that's OK too. As long as they work hard to be the best people they can be, that's fine with their dear-old-dad. I just reasoned at the time that I could start with a company, make money, and with my work ethic, do well and move up wherever I worked and in whatever profession I chose. My thought was, "why owe money for a majority of my life in college loans instead of MAKE money right now?" I never had money in my whole life, so when I finally had the opportunity, I didn't want to wait 4 years to go through school, THEN find a job, if there were any out there. The opportunity I DID have was to go to work, find a job where I could move up, and not have to pay back college loans. Remember the part of this now-too-long coming of age tale where I had to pay my own way for everything? Yeah, that included college. There was no "McRoberts children college fund" hidden away in some bank somewhere. If I was going to college, I was figuring out how to pay for it myself. Bottom line.
I tried it out though. I went through the motions, I scored high on my SAT's, and got into a good school. I just was told that that was the way to do things. There are pro's and con's, like I stated before. The way I worked it, since some of my close friends DID go to school, was that I was able to start my life in the working world, while STILL going to college parties, meeting college friends, and going on spring break vacations. The way I saw the world, I was getting the best of both situations.
So parents out there, don't get discouraged if your kids don't go to college after high school. Get discouraged if your kids turn out to be assholes, because if they DID, it's YOUR fault. Just raise your kids to be good people, the rest will fall into place. You'll be proud of them. My parents are proud of me, and it's the best feeling in the world. And there's no framed piece of paper in my office that's needed to prove it.
I'm not saying by any means that other people didn't go through much tougher times, not saying that at all. I didn't have to get my ass out of the ghetto. My parents didn't die in a horrific car accident. My mom wasn't addicted to meth. My dad didn't come home drunk every night.....let me rephrase that last one, he didn't come home drunk every night and beat us kids with a serving spoon and throw a lamp at my mom. My sister wasn't abducted and never seen again. You get the idea. I didn't have to overcome any terrible tragedies. My parents were 20 years old when I was born. They had 4 kids by the time they were 27. My dad worked hard, and we did OK. My parents fulfilled all of our needs, shelter, nourishment, love. When it came to wants, or luxuries, not so much. I'm not complaining. I was happy playing wiffle ball and street hockey and tag wars with the neighborhood kids We lived in a two-family home with a backyard in a decent neighborhood. We were above the poverty line, lower-middle class, I guess you'd say. I'm just making the point that nothing was handed to me. Ever. I didn't have an allowance. I had to sell Kool-Aid so I could raise $4 bucks to rent a Nintendo game at Blockbuster video or get a value meal at Wendy's. When I needed glasses, my parents got me glasses, so I could see, but they weren't exactly the most stylish frames. They were Steve Urkel frames because they were literally the cheapest ones in the store. Ask my brother or sisters, if you know them, they'll HAPPILY tell you how retarded I looked.
I had to mow lawns and deliver papers and work for my uncle's landscaping company. There was no such thing as, "Hey ma, my friends are going to the movies, can I have $10 bucks?" (For you kids out there, $10 got you into the movies and paid for snacks back then!) If I wanted to see the movie, my friends bought tickets with money they got from their parents, and snuck me in through a side entrance. My friends let me "borrow" money for a soda or a snack at lunch during school. If nobody had any money for me to borrow, I stole shit. Nothing major, mostly just candy bars or a Maxim magazine. I jumped the wall at concerts to get in. I snuck past security to get into football games, (before 9/11.) I FOUND ways to get shit. After my parents got divorced, we wound up living in towns where most families had much more money than us, meaning our friends had much more money than us. They had things bought for them. They got "help" buying stuff or were given money for taking the trash out. I had to save up my own money by working if I wanted to buy a new video game. I had to save $500 to buy my first car, a red, 1987 Plymouth Reliant hatchback. It was a beautiful machine. Automotive engineering at it's finest. I once had sex in it while driving down the highway, like Charlie Sheen did in "The Chase." Off track, sorry. My friends had their cars given to them as Christmas presents. Maybe I didn't have all the coolest things or live in a big fancy house or have brand new clothes every school year, but growing up like that instilled in me the fact they I would have to work to get the things I wanted. I would have to work HARD.
Wherever I worked, I climbed the "corporate ladder." I am a natural leader, whether it was moving from a cashier to a store manager at a supermarket, to what I do know, managing dozens of other individuals in a high paced, high stress job, (most of the people I manage, by the way, went to college.) I got this from my father, who is also a go-getter, type A personality. He's a guy that people like to be around. I try to be like that, and for the most part, I think I DO emulate my father in that way. He likes to be in control. He likes to be the boss. He wants to be the man wherever he works. When he played softball, he was the coach of the team and the president of the league. I was a leader when I played sports in high school. I want to be the man, the boss, wherever I go. I'm good at it. I have my dad to thank for a lot of it, but I taught myself a thing or two along the way also.
I suppose I have my dad to thank for the Irish drinking "gene" too, but that's a whole other story. I'm not saying he's an alcoholic but...well, ya he's an alcoholic. Not a bad one, like described above, just one who likes to drink a little bit mostly every single day, and then usually a lot on the weekends. He likes to have fun, and I love that about my dad. You only get one life, and as long as you don't do anything in excess and you're having fun doing it, and you're not hurting anybody, fucking do it. I joke about the alcoholic thing, but it's a bullshit label. We don't get plastered and drive home, we leave our cars at the bars and have someone drive us to it the next day. We don't get in bar fights, (anymore.) We don't act like pricks and piss people off and act obnoxious. We have fun, and people have fun being around us, so I'm proud to be like my father that way. I'm a lot like him when it comes to work, and a lot like him when it comes to play.
I'm not saying all this to pat myself on the back or be arrogant, though I am incredibly confident in everything I do, and I walk the line of cockiness in many different situations. I'm also not stating all of the above to disrespect those who obtained degrees and worked DAMN hard to get them. Having a degree is a wonderful thing. It's an excellent accomplishment. I hope that my kids go to college...but if they don't, that's OK too. As long as they work hard to be the best people they can be, that's fine with their dear-old-dad. I just reasoned at the time that I could start with a company, make money, and with my work ethic, do well and move up wherever I worked and in whatever profession I chose. My thought was, "why owe money for a majority of my life in college loans instead of MAKE money right now?" I never had money in my whole life, so when I finally had the opportunity, I didn't want to wait 4 years to go through school, THEN find a job, if there were any out there. The opportunity I DID have was to go to work, find a job where I could move up, and not have to pay back college loans. Remember the part of this now-too-long coming of age tale where I had to pay my own way for everything? Yeah, that included college. There was no "McRoberts children college fund" hidden away in some bank somewhere. If I was going to college, I was figuring out how to pay for it myself. Bottom line.
I tried it out though. I went through the motions, I scored high on my SAT's, and got into a good school. I just was told that that was the way to do things. There are pro's and con's, like I stated before. The way I worked it, since some of my close friends DID go to school, was that I was able to start my life in the working world, while STILL going to college parties, meeting college friends, and going on spring break vacations. The way I saw the world, I was getting the best of both situations.
So parents out there, don't get discouraged if your kids don't go to college after high school. Get discouraged if your kids turn out to be assholes, because if they DID, it's YOUR fault. Just raise your kids to be good people, the rest will fall into place. You'll be proud of them. My parents are proud of me, and it's the best feeling in the world. And there's no framed piece of paper in my office that's needed to prove it.
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