CHAPTER 1
So It Begins
I started this journey fifty-four years ago, and through many bumps in the road, I have come to a place to stop, reflect, and share my thoughts before I begin the final journey: the remaining years of my life. Some people say they could never live a long life; they don't want to age. I find that selfish because I want to live as long as I can and, of course, be as healthy as I can be too. I want to see my own family grow and be a part of their lives to share my stories of success and failures, the same as my grandparents did many years ago.
When I look back at my childhood, I can honestly say I have no regrets. Sure, I made mistakes, pick the wrong friends, or shut out the good friends we got mad at for a stupid reason. Of course at the time, we thought the reason seemed good, but now, maybe not. If I have a regret, it's not being able to hit Rewind sometimes. I would like to live some of those special moments over and over.
As kids, our feelings got hurt for silly reasons. We said things that were not necessarily true, and we tried to stretch the truth. We were creative in making up stories to stretch the truth — not to hurt anyone — but we used our imaginations. I would never encourage people to lie to each other.
Think about past conversations on the front porches of our parents' homes, in the backyard, or on bike rides to the local store with our childhood friends. We talked about our plans to be a doctor, teacher, or the next all-star athlete. On those bike rides, we used to pretend our bikes were the newest Cadillacs or a sports car we saw on TV. Growing up, we had imaginations; we had fun turning that two-wheeler into our first car or truck. Do you remember clipping playing cards onto your wheel spokes so your bike made a cool sound? It was fun using our imaginations and simple things at our disposal to enhance our experiences; we still remember them today. At least, I remember.
In the evenings, we sat as a family and had dinner at the table; we talked about our day and listened as our parents advised us. Mom and Dad were cool then. I remember helping to clear the table and asking my parents what our plans were for the weekend. Of course, they included visiting grandparents, having dinner together, and being a family. It's funny to think back and remember "making plans," "family," "together," and "listening." I rarely hear those words today.
As the days grew into months and those months into years, it seemed our childhood lessons and experiences quickly moved into young adulthood. Those long years of preschool and grade school now seemed like they never happened, but in the moment, I counted down the years until I could drive. In those years, we chose our friends because we wanted to be accepted at the cool lunch table. It was easier then because no one judged you for how you dressed or the bad haircut your mother gave you. Speaking of dress, I remember my parents telling me I could not go to school without a tie on. I was also into plaid. Okay, well, that has not changed, but at least I don't wear a tie.
Even as children, we looked to the future and never seemed to accept the current moment. Is that how we are programmed from the beginning? At that point, we wanted to know more, but that was normal for young adults back then. Our family values were drilled into our minds, and the expectations for our future still had to be determined.
CHAPTER 2
Growin' Up
I remember wondering what the next floor of the school was like. As we moved from grade to grade, it was our goal to get on those upper floors. As you moved up, you earned more respect, and now I was there. I was one of the cool kids. Or so I thought. I had the same friends but with a new look and different attitudes. Young adulthood brought a lot of questions about who I was and what I wanted to do with myself. Do I plan my future, and will I know what the right path is for me? So many questions and so little time to think it all through.
Those conversations around our dreams began to focus on reality. My bike was no longer the new Cadillac; it was just my bike that I used to ride to the store for Mom. I now had responsibilities. I was growing up. Going to the store gave me the responsibility of making sure I only bought what was on Mom's list, and she knew the costs too. Mom wanted the receipt, and if I decided to buy some penny candy, I had to budget that in. Sure — she would always give me an extra buck or two.
I used to dream of my first real job. I remember looking at cars with my dad and thinking that I would own the latest model someday. He and I would drive out to different dealerships on Sunday afternoons and look at the cars and compare prices and colors. It was our time to bond, which I value to this day. I am certain not many fathers and sons have that type of bond today. Kids are hung up on video games and don't use their imaginations. Do they even dream? We all have dreams, whether we are young or old. Some, of course, we want to forget, but others we cherish for a lifetime. As we looked at each new model of car, I would fantasize about the color combination I wanted and all the extras. In those days, you were lucky to get power windows.
I cannot imagine the millennials having to manually roll their windows down or move their seats to adjust them. If only we could send people back in time.
My ultimate dream was thinking about my first apartment and moving out to share a place to live with my friend: staying up late, going out for dinner, and eating anything I wanted. But in some ways, I knew those were dreams because right then, I wanted everything to stay the same. Living at home was my safety, and I liked it.
For some reason, my friends began to be busy with other things. There was no time for those long talks about what life would be like. We had a social life now. We had responsibilities, which came to be known as chores. Watching Dad cut grass from the front porch was over; I was doing it now. Dad was on the porch watching me and drinking an ice cold beer. Beer! When will that happen? Mom had chores for me too. I helped with cleaning or taking laundry to the basement. Washing cars was the ultimate.
I never had fears for the future; it all seemed exciting. I knew life would be kind, but would it go smoothly? At that point in life, we all expected smooth sailing. I had life by the balls, and it was mine to live.
Was I truly prepared for the next phase of life? Honestly, I was not. I had feelings of fear, anxiety, and uncertainty. I think that's normal for anyone. You can never predict what comes next, but I had it in my mind I could control every aspect of it.
In elementary school, things seemed to be secure because the same classmates I started with in first grade continued on the journey with me. We were a team; on occasion, a new player joined it, but not often. We helped each other through so many life events. It was a family, and I feared what would happen after eighth grade. There were choices to make, and I knew my choice was not one that I would welcome.
CHAPTER 3
Moving On
The people I grew up with and spent eight years of my childhood with moved on to another high school, and that was hard for me to accept. We said goodbye and went in different directions. I was alone now, thinking I had to work hard and start over building friendships. I had never really known the emotion of loneliness until now. I was scared. But I had to tell myself it was only four years, and if I had made it through eight, I could do this.
Talking to my parents about my first day at a new high school made it somewhat better, but I was not happy. I remember thinking that I had to endure this hell for four years. It was not easy, and I hated every day. After eight years of a Catholic grade school, I was now into another four years in a Catholic high school. That was not the entire issue, but it played a part.
During this transition, my dad became devoted to the Catholic church. He was ordained a deacon in our parish and the city of Pittsburgh. So what would this mean to my sister and me? I had so many questions and was proud of him. But I sensed changes in our family, and it would include our church. This was a commitment for him and for us too.
In my mind, I related this to "Sit, Stand, and Kneel." Not just on Sunday but on every holiday, dedication Mass, and holy day — sometime multiple times during the week. At one point I thought, Is this reality? Back then, we could have created a reality show. Good thing the Kardashians weren't around then. The name of my show would have been Sit, Stand, Kneel with the Beckers.
Of course I was the rebel; I pushed the button and asked a lot of questions. Not that I did much to cause issues, but I wanted to understand things. The icing on the cake was our parish priest came on vacations with us. I believed and certainly said my prayers, but why did we need to have Sunday services in our hotel room? Oh, and we used Town Talk bread as our hosts. Really? That is the point I started to wonder and began to ask questions. Even though I was young and still learning, I knew my time would be limited in this religious upbringing. I had to know.
So eight years of Catholic grade school, and now four years of Catholic high school. Was this really who I would become? Was I on the path to begin a religious life of Sit, Stand, and Kneel? Nope. It was not for me, but I do respect anyone who chooses that life. I can see how people get wrapped up in the community; it has to become an individual choice.
On Saturday evenings, my father used to write his Sunday homilies at the dining room table. He would write and rewrite the words until he was able to effectively communicate it without reading word for word on Sunday. Of course we had to attend the Mass he was speaking at: family support. My mind would drift back to my dreams and what I had planned for the day. I could never concentrate enough to grasp the concept. Maybe it was the repetitive words every Sunday that never seemed to change and we were programmed to recite.
As I got settled in a routine and became more familiar with my new surroundings in high school, I was able to settle in for the next adventure. I made friends and had a close group that I spent time with. They were cool. I took time to learn the ins and outs of school and got myself familiar with who were the outcasts. I was not a jock or a geek, so I fit in the middle. I learned early on to keep all groups in my network, whether I fit in or not. I was playing the game to survive.
I had great times with friends, but now it was time to get a part-time job. I wanted to make money. My first job was at an ice cream shop near where I grew up. It was clear from day one I was not going to be behind the counter making cones; I was immediately escorted to the kitchen and told to scrub the dirty pots and pans. So I was not the soda jerk. I was the kitchen help. I remember getting my first paycheck and could not decide what I wanted to buy. I think my first big purchase was a new shirt for school. That's when I started to get my own sense of style.
I stayed for some time but wanted a new career. So I applied for a job at a shoe store. It seemed to be a little more glamorous; at least my hands were not soaked in dirty grease water all night. The plus side was I got to wear a tie every day. Now that was cool. I learned the business and was working the register. My manager now wanted to train me on inventory. That came with a new appreciation for adult magazines. The manager had a vast collection at his desk in the back room. They opened my eyes up to new things. My mind raced but that Catholic upbringing was saying "Sit, Stand, and Kneel." Oh, that Catholic guilt gets you every time.
Honestly, I would eat my lunch at his desk just so I could glance at those magazines.
After several months, it was time for a new adventure. There was an ad in our local paper for a fast food clerk. A new mall was opening, and the restaurant was looking to hire. I called, set up an interview, and immediately got the job. Training in two weeks. So this was the first time I really understood the need of giving your employer notice. I realized I had to tell them but never got the idea of two weeks. Made sense.
When I got to work and gave my notice, the butterflies in my stomach were going crazy. I was never so nervous. I did understand that was the right thing to do, and I was following protocol. I guess I was not sure how my boss would feel, but then I realized it must happen often because people move on. I obviously got the job when someone resigned, so it's the way it goes.
My first day on the new job was so exciting: a brand-new store and people I never met in my life. In some way, we all had something in common. I fit in here. Training was scheduled for 8:30 a.m., and I was ten minutes early. The manager told me to wash my hands and someone would be by to get me started. Did you need to wash your hands to run a register?
So my first experience was fileting raw chicken. Was that in the job description? Soon, a second new hire joined me, and we began talking about this experience. I just kept thinking, This is a job, and I am making money. I did the job and finally moved to other tasks, including working the front end.
I worked hard and handled any shift I was put on: Some evenings and weekends, but since I was still in high school, I only worked a limited number of days. That was good with me. Eventually, I worked my way up to shift leader. Now I felt success. I was responsible for closing the store, counting the money, and making bank deposits.
I met so many awesome people who became great friends. This was finally the connection I wished to have. It was also my introduction to networking, even though at this point, I had no idea what that really meant for me. But sure enough, I would get to know that later.
CHAPTER 4
Choices
Prom season came and went. I went to high school dances, assemblies, and the occasional date to the movies. My friends were more important, but having a steady girl looked good too. At least to my family, friends, and coworkers. We want to fit into a mold growing up that best fits everyone else. Even our families try to gear us toward a standard format of what life should look like. As young adults, we need to grasp our existence and become the drivers for the future. I realize it's hard to do, or we never think about it, but honestly, it helps your futures. I failed to take ownership and let other influences take over, and I was doing my best to go along with it.
It was now time to take another leap toward my future. Four years of high school seemed to go fast, but no fast enough. Those four years were the worst; I could never explain to anyone how I truly felt. Each day was harder than the next. In my mind, the thought of fileting chicken seemed to relieve the pressure. Funny how we look at small tasks to ease the pressures of life. Chicken? Really? This was my place to escape and dream of bigger and better. It was therapy.
Early on, we don't know what direction we should take; how can we?
My big decision was business or self-employment? Do I pursue franchise opportunities or skate through on my experience, which would lead me to the big job? I chose business. I began the task of looking into college. I was not exactly sure if I was ready but figured I had to do it; all my friends and family were going.
I kept my job at the mall and began my adult learning, or as some call it, college. I never forgot my past and the people who I felt a close bond to. After four years of pure disappointment, my connection with friends from the past seemed to diminish. Those I did keep in touch with became close friends for life. Some of those friends I helped to get a job fileting chicken; not sure they appreciated it. That was my first experience helping someone land employment. The rush was nice and satisfying. I helped someone. I was beginning to build a network, and I had connections. People respected my opinion enough to hire one of my friends.
After college, I worked toward landing a more secure position. I was networking and finally landed a night shift position with a financial institution in Pittsburgh. For me, that was big time. I really had no idea what the position involved, but I would give it my all. I actually went to a temp agency, and they placed me in this position. I needed a foot in the door, and this was it. I learned that applying for positions in person (especially in the 1980s) was difficult at best. From the beginning, I learned that you had to take an entry-level position and lower pay to get yourself recognized. Now the hard work starts. It was going to be a long road to success, but I was ready for the challenges.
