As I get older, I think a lot about growing up in Ohio. What great, amazing people I met. So proud to be an Ohioan.

But there are also hard memories. To look back on as an adult. I adore my parents, more than anything. I am grateful for the opportunities they gave me.

I think they would agree, my parents, that these memories were formative. And I look back at those days fondly. Because they shaped who I am.

Owning a house we could not afford. Renting it to college students while we lived upstairs, and didn’t have a working oven.

Making cup-o-noodles out of the coffeemaker, because of the oven. I still love cup-o-noodles.

Working construction, or really demo & upkeep for countless rentals. Working on a farm, hauling brush, day after day. A family farm we could no longer own, because we ran out of money.

My grandfather’s ashes were buried on that farm. My father didn’t even have the heart to tell me, after I left Ohio. Took him 3 months. Told me on Father’s Day.

And as a parent, I understand why.

And as a college student, coming home to work in a factory during the summer. A paint factory. Blowing my nose after work, before I tried to make myself go to the gym. Having it come out bright orange, mixed with blood. Who knows why. No idea.

Be thankful for masks :)

But the people I met there were amazing. Hardworking, honest people. They used to call me “college boy.” Always grateful to know them. The entire day centered around coffee and cigarettes. Two fifteen minute breaks, and a 30 minute lunch...

Filling quarts, gallons, and 3 gallons with deck sealant, wood stain, and wood finish. Wrapping the pallet with plastic wrap. Seeing if we could beat the previous record, set like a week or two before.

Always a new record to beat :)

The early shift was the best. Had to be there by 5am. To open the floor for everyone. I guess because they trusted us “college boys.” And then we could leave earlier, by 2. To sneak into a local pool, to try to wash off that strange orange skin. Never really worked though.

Bill, who I worked the quart machine with, fell backwards over a pallet, he filled the quart twice, & it geysered into his mouth and eyes. A Vietnam veteran. His leg was turned backwards from a “toe popper.”

So, they fired him. I was the only one he shook hands with as he left.

And bizarre memories, walking through the parking lot, exhausted. Seeing a man sell pornography out of the back of his ancient Cadillac to factory workers. Having my car stall any time it stopped, and having to get out and pound on the battery connections, secured with duct tape.

The air conditioning was broken in that car, as were the windows. Just a sweat box in August. But we made it work. It’s funny to look back on, but those were some of the greatest years of my life. Real friends, real work, real conversation.

So forgive me if I’m not patient with folks on social media sometimes. I regret that. Trying to do better.

To be honest, it’s often hard for me to listen to pampered elitists tell me with their aliases just how pampered and elitist my upbringing has been.

I had one saving grace, the only thing I really had going, I outworked people. Even if I lacked their intelligence, and many of their talents.

I’m very grateful to my alma mater, a double alum. What an incredible honor it is to be a teacher there now. No words can do it justice.