Tag: University

The True Blue!

Ever since I was a child I wanted to go to the University of Michigan, but I dropped out of High School in my senior year after missing 33 straight days in a row.  Apparently just “forgetting to go” isn’t an excuse they’re willing to accept. Obviously, I went back and even graduated with honors earning an academic letter from the school I graduated from.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have the money to go to college directly after high school like many of my friends did.  Being the last of five children growing up in a Detroit suburb, college wasn’t the first thing on my mind.  Instead, I went to work in the “salt mines”.  To me it seemed like the right thing to do.  Being naïve, I didn’t understand what a college education could ultimately offer.

I grew up in a blue collar home.  My father went to trade school after he left the military and began his career being a Boiler Technician.  He worked for several good companies, that I am aware of, before he found his niche in the Detroit Public School system.  My dad knew a great many things about carpentry, plumbing, electrical, building, rebuilding, fixing engines, most everything about cars, bicycle repair, cement work, and etc.  My interpretation of my dad was, if he could gain all that knowledge without college then why would I need to go.  So, I used that excuse to not go anywhere, but to start my work life.

My first job out of High School was building and loading software onto computer controlled cash registers (the same kind you see in Target, Hudson’s, Macy’s, Talbots, Maurices, and other stores) and loading the software onto the IBM computers themselves as well as installing hardware and upgrading the RAM, where applicable.  It was easy work, and we had a blast doing it. 

Computers had, basically, just come out for home use only a few years before.  This was my opportunity to work with something that I understood but didn’t own.  I loved working in a warehouse/shipping environment.  To this day I would still be doing this type of work if there were any money in it.  It’s good honest work where I got to build something with my hands, install something using my mind, and package and load the equipment up for shipment to a customer who would start up a new store that would help people acquire something they wanted.  I was an integral part of the cog.

I worked that job for enough years and learned to build my own computer by understanding what was needed.  This position also taught me the basics of troubleshooting computer problems especially when it comes to the software installation process.  Alas, that company eventually was sold to a high bidder and closed.  Fortunately, thanks be to God, I found another job around the corner doing shipping and receiving.  It was nice.  Another good, honest job.  But by this time, I wanted to learn more.  Eventually I became the “crib captain”…not a real title.  I took care of all the equipment required to perform kitting jobs on the CNC’s we built at this company.  I didn’t order any of it.  We used a Kanban system so I would just hand the cards to the Material Coordinator, and she would put the items into her computer along with the customer orders and all that would roll up into EDI information passed on to our customers to acquire more parts that came into the Receiving Department.  Well, obviously I wanted her job because it was yet another step higher.  I just had no understanding of the software or how to use it.

The manager of Purchasing and Shipping & Receiving took a liking to me and taught me everything I needed to move into that position.  And so, I did eventually.  All this being done with no college education, which this company offered to help pay for.  Of course, this is when I started to reconsider my options again.  But I was working and moving into an office position so why would I need college?  The clerk they hired into the position I left in S&R had a family, I didn’t at that time, but I had three years on him with this company.  I knew three different positions in the company and was becoming an asset.  Unfortunately, I found out they hired him in making WAY more money than me and  I was pissed.  Obviously I confronted my manager, yes, the one who trained me.  The money was given to him, he said, “because he had a family” not because he had gone to college, which he didn’t either.  Needless to say, I was out of there. 

I decided I wanted to work at Ford and applied through many temporary agencies.  Eventually I received an interview because I had good extensive experience as a S&R Clerk, a Stockroom Clerk, and a Material Coordinator.  The people with whom I had the interview all commented on it.  They also commented on the fact I had no education, but even that…still, wasn’t the deciding factor.  They told me Ford wouldn’t let me work at any of their offices or plants until I had direct manufacturing experience.  Great, one more thing I needed to learn.  That’s when I applied, and was accepted to, a plant 2+ hours from my home.  Now I had to move.

This position was as a “line dog” but I loved that too.  We worked hard that this place.  It was a mandatory seven day work week.  I worked the night shift, and I was lucky to get that position.  Hundreds of people applied to this factory each month.  Our schedule was twelve hours Monday through Friday, ten hours on Saturday, and eight on Sunday.  It was harrowing to say the least, but I loved the people I worked with.  They were fun and we had fun after work sometimes.  This was yet another company that offered to pay for part of a college education for me.  Needless to say, I still wasn’t smart enough to take them up on the offer, but how could I working those hours.  Of course I was only minutes away from Michigan State at this point in my life.  I worked there for about a year until I had enough experience, plus a desire to move back to my own neighborhood.  Due to some unforeseen circumstances, I ended up quitting my job and applied at Ford again.  This time to great success.

Again, no college degree required but now I was in my early thirties.  I worked under contract for Ford.  They wouldn’t hire me in because I didn’t have a degree.  I started as their Material Coordinator but ended up being their Material Manager because I moved everything into a warehouse by the airport and consolidated multiple lots of inventory located in five or six places around the US.  Prior to my arrival, they had their Purchasing Manager and team controlling their inventory.  If you know anything about the differences between Purchasing and Material Control, then you know they are on opposite sides of the spectrum.  They purchased so much material that I had to scrap millions of dollars of old, unusable, material.  Regardless, the consolidation provided me an opportunity to do some good for a major company. 

The contract company I worked for also offered college; however, the hoops to leap through were extensive and the payout wasn’t that great.  Fortunately, I did take them up on their offer…finally.  I went to junior college and earned an Associate degree in Business Management.  Most of my classes were in Accounting though, which oddly enough I had a knack for and seemed to like it.  I graduated Magna Cum Laude and a member of the Phi Theta Kappa International Honor Society.  I was quite happy when I achieved the degree; however, I didn’t “walk” because I told myself I would walk when I graduated from the University of Michigan, which yes, I still wanted to go to.

I applied to UofM and was accepted based on my previous grades.  Fortunately, they also took all my credits.  This saved me a ton of money.  I took my first, and subsequently only class at the University and then I lost my job.  My thinking was if I were to be more involved with Ford’s money, they would have to hire me, so I tried to move into their Purchasing Department.  I trained my replacement for just over six months.  Once he was up to speed, I moved into a position, still contracted, with their Purchasing team.  I figured it would only be days before they hire me in.  I was now an analyst working in their Cost Reduction Idea Database system (CRID).  It appears the manager of that department was three months away from retirement so their largest cost reduction would be to disband the entire department.  They “fired” me and one other contracted employee and moved their two permanent employees to part time.

I was devastated but, again, the good Lord provided for me and got me the position I still hold to this day (19 years and a couple of weeks as I write this).  The issue was, after Ford I didn’t go back to college until late 2016.  I was now in my late forties.  I had a manager at my company who appeared to absolutely hate me.  Always riding me, micromanaging everything, yelling about not doing business any other way but his.  It was horrible, but one of the things he rode me about was completing my education.  The offer was, if I received an “A”, the company would pay for half the tuition.  This still didn’t entice me to go back.  It wasn’t until a blow came to my wife’s family that changed my mind.

During my time in this career, I had many life-changing experiences and events happen.  Of course, they are all stories for another time but one was when my Father-In-Law was let go from his position and no one wanted to hire him because he was a Technical Engineer who only had an associate degree.  To this day he only works temporary jobs.  Of course, that’s ok now because he finally retired, but they ended up losing their home and most of their savings from the change to their lives.  He was over 50 with no degree.  It was at that time I made a vow to graduate with a degree in Business before I turned 50.  Well, I didn’t make it…exactly.

As I said, the offer from work was fantastic.  But my wife is to “blame” for my final decision to go back to school and for the fact I did well.  She sacrificed time and money, while allowing me to devote all my spare time to school and all while we were going through matters related to having a baby and eventually the adoption of our daughter.  Because of her help I aced every class but one in which I received an A-.  I ended up graduating from the University of Michigan in December of 2019.  My degree was a tri-major, which is no longer offered as I understand it.  I was a Business, Journalism, and Communications major.  My class was the last class allowed to “walk” for over a year because Covid-19 hit the country. 

Because I didn’t want to walk in junior college this event was something special to me.  They recorded the event, but I was told we weren’t allowed to have a copy of it.  That was frustrating.  I was even asked, “Why is this so important to you?” by the people telling me I couldn’t have a copy.  I guess if one doesn’t know the whole story and all the context I left out of this story one wouldn’t understand why it was so important.  I now have the video of the commencement, yes, there were a few hoops to jump through because I wanted the raw video and not the YouTube version I found.  I only watched the part when I walk across the stage a few times, but it makes me happy that I was fortunate enough to be allowed to do this.  I was the first one in my family to achieve a formal college education and what made it more sweet is that it was from my university, the best university, the only choice in universities…the University of Michigan.

When I registered to graduate, I was asked to speak at commencement (which turned out was another competition to do better than the other candidates whose grades were also very high), but it was nice being asked, nonetheless.  I graduated with a 3.98 GPA because of that one A-, so that grinds me a little.  But like they say on Whose Line is it Anyway?, “The points don’t really matter.” in the end.   

In all honesty, I wish I would have gone to school much sooner but I know I wouldn’t have done as well with my grades.  I was quite the screwup in my younger years.  I also did it at half the cost of the education itself because of the kickback I received from the policy at my company.  For anyone who chooses to go to college and graduate, I believe it will pay off in the end and everyone will be a winner at that point.  Another kick in the butt is, had I of gone when I was supposed to go, I believe I would be making more money than I do now.

A Long Time Coming!

When someone gets to a certain age it appears some people think they are too old to do a great many things.  Turning 50 had confirmed and denied part of this for me as well.  What does it mean to turn 50 years old?  Well, there is a stereotype that goes with it.  Many consider you “done” at this point.  “Well, he’s going to go through his mid-life crisis.”, “He’s too old to play a sport.”, or “He probably can’t hear you too well, you’ll have to shout.”.  This last one is kind of true, but only because I can’t get my ears cleaned out well enough anymore…but that’s another story for…well…never.

 

Does 50 mean I’m old?  Well…sort of.  I prefer to think of it as experienced though.  I’ve been around the block a few million times and I could teach someone things if they wanted to listen but therein lies the problem.  The attention span of people, not just children, has diminished greatly in the last two decades.  It has gotten much worse since COVID-19 nearly decapitated the human condition a few years ago.  Perhaps it is that I’m too old.  I remember when I was a child and talking back to my parents meant I was going to get disciplined in some way, shape, or form.  I recall having conversations with my friends, teachers, family, and even lite acquaintances in passing which involved face to face interaction with light eye contact.  Try holding a conversation with anyone these days.  People don’t look you in the eye anymore and can barely think of enough to say that I find interesting long enough to pay attention.  Of course, the fact someone cannot look me in the eye when they speak to me already makes me leery of anything they are saying as it is.

 

In speaking with one of my colleagues the other day and it was brought up that I teach children.  One of the things I teach them is confidence and how to be in control of themselves and be weary of their surroundings.  It came to pass in our conversation a mention of my first job.  When I was twelve years old I started a paper route.  Being the youngest boy of five there was no “help” with this.  My parents didn’t get me up early on weekends, they didn’t drive me on my route when it rained, snowed, or was too cold for the busses to run.  I delivered papers everyday after school and at 06:00hrs. on the weekends.  My route was about a mile from my home, and I had about 100 customers.  The worst day was Sunday because those papers were so thick, but the money overall was great for a young person. 

 

I managed my “business” by picking up my inventory, paying for it, delivered the stock, collected and managed the money, and maintained my “vehicle” (20” no name brand BMX bike I built from spare parts).  I see very few kids today who could handle such a simple task as a paper route on their own much less a child of that age who is even allowed to be out late enough at night collecting money or even early in the morning like that.  Not to mention the commitment it took.  The NEWS didn’t have a day off and neither did I.  The other Newsies and I delivered papers 365.  We did sub when others took a vacation but rarely were we “sick”.  Even if we got a cold, or something, we still had to do our job.

 

I recall one winter I was about a mile from home.  There was a minimum 6 inches of snow on the ground, so I had to walk my bike through the route because it was impossible to pedal.  It was early Sunday morning, and the temperature was around 20 degrees Fahrenheit.  I had great boots, but my gloves and jacket were crap, and I was freezing…literally.  It got so bad that I huddled up inside a store entryway off the main road.  The opening was about four feet wide but only about three feet deep, so it didn’t help with the constant gusting winds.  Snow piled up at my feet and blew across my face.  My hands were getting colder and colder each second.  I huddled there shivering and attempting to warm myself up for about 15 minutes until I realized that wasn’t going to happen.  So, I picked up my bike, walked it home, added additional layers of clothing, work gloves under my winter gloves, a new winter hat that wasn’t soaked, and an extra sweatshirt over my hoodie under my jacket and I headed back out to finish the job.

 

When I turned 50 it meant having a colonoscopy.  That was fun.  Thank God for anesthesia.  Turning 50 meant getting spammed by AARP.  Turning 50 also meant filling out advanced directives, HIPAA Authorization, and my Last Will & Testament as well as making sure all of my assets were defined with beneficiaries.  Turning 50 showed me that I only had a few years left on this planet but I’m not too old at this point to make sure I enjoy them.  I work out still just not as much as I used to.  I try to walk/jog a 5k at least three times a week…more if I have the time.  I teach karate twice a week, cut my lawn, clean the house, wash my clothes, work out in the backyard, and attend Church and try to help there too.  I try to remain as active as possible.  

 

I have two sets of exercises that I perform at my school.  One I simply call “50, 40, 30, 20, 10” and the other I call “The 10’s”.  I think it is important to do these exercises as often as one can.  I want to get it to where I’m doing them at least once each on interval weeks and then work to doing them twice a week each and so on.  The first one, “50, 40, 30, 20, 10” is simply 50 jumping jacks, 40 side squats (20 on each leg), 30 squatting jumping jacks, 20 burpees, and 10 ninja jumps (where you jump as high as you can lifting your knees up to your chest and punching straight down between your legs).  The one I call “The 10’s” is a little more involved but simple enough.  You do a lap around our gym between each exercise.  Obviously, there are 10 exercises, so you will do 10 laps.  After each lap you will do 10 each of sit-ups, push-ups, squats, leg lifts, burpees, ninja jumps, front straight leg stretch kicks on each leg, leg bounces, squatting jumping jacks, and lastly, 10 Spiderman pushups.  These exercises help keep me in check with the kids I teach.  Some of them can’t make it through these and none of them have ever done every exercise to the fullest and made it all the way through, but the first one that does will be so much stronger for it.  I know I feel well about doing these.  I just don’t want to end up not being able to navigate a stairwell in 15~20 years.

 

I titled this article “A Long Time Coming!” because turning 50 means it took me that long to get to the point where I do realize that life is closing out, but it sure as heck isn’t over.  It appeared as if it took a long time to get to that age, but not soon after time began to speed up.  I’m not sure how that happens but everyone over the age of 50 will tell you they have less and less time to do anything.  I didn’t write this article to discourage anyone about becoming 50, but hopefully to encourage you to take to heart that 50 isn’t old.  50 is a second chance to change things that need changing (health, relationships, hobbies, or whatever sparks your fire). 

 

So go out there and be 50 if you already are.  If you aren’t look forward to becoming 50.  Either way, give up your knowledge.  Find someone who wants to hear it or better yet, someone who needs to hear it.  The fact that you have achieved this wonderful age means you have something to share.  Most people today don’t even know they want to hear a good story or something about how to fix a leaky faucet.  The knowledge we have is unmistakable and different than what anyone today will experience just the same as it was for the last generation who got to see Woodstock live or fight in WWII. 

 

Your experiences may do someone some good.  It doesn’t matter if it is a story of when you used to Breakdance and got into a 50 person all out braul in a hall where chairs were thrown through the air, or the time when you and your friends jumped onto a moving trains and rode them too long and the speeds they got up to were nearly impossible to jump off, or how you played Nintendo for hours to the same Metallica albums over and over, or the time you picked up a hitchhiker and he robbed you, or even the time when you were on 8 Mile, saw the most beautiful car (1967 Camaro in mint condition) for sale, asked a nearby hooker if she knew where the owner stayed and she told you “Yes” but you had to drive her to the shadiest part of Detroit to a crack house where you were the only (mostly) white person for miles around but you walked in to speak to the “owner” who didn’t actually live there and saw only guns, crack, and heroine needles on the small round wooden table in the kitchen where four extremely large gentlemen were playing cards.  Any of your experiences could help someone else if they are willing to listen. 

 

Hopefully, you have a great ride up and down this hilly road.  I know I have.

Finish What You Started

I want to tell you about a young man I once knew. His story takes place many years ago in November of 1986. His name isn’t important, but I have always referred to him as ‘Din’. That was his nickname on the streets where we grew up. It was a short derivative of the song “Din Daa Daa” by George Kranz. On one brisk Fall November morning ‘Din’ woke from his own bed.  Nothing strange about that except this was something he hadn’t done in 33 days. You see, he and Pollyanna, the young lady he had fallen madly in love with and just couldn’t stand to be apart from, had been living together at her parents house that whole time.  Well, just the day before her parents found out they hadn’t been going to school at all during that time and they promptly threw ‘Din’ out of their house. But, as he was getting ready to go back to High School on this specific morning, what he didn’t realize was, like Polly’s parents, the school would also throw him out that day.

This chain of events started when ‘Din’ graduated from Middle School to High School in 1984.  For him, this was starting all over. Bottom of the pile. Low man on the roster. A feeling many children experience.  New place. New faces. New surroundings. During this change, he didn’t know what group would accept him. So he tried to fit in anywhere and everywhere.  ‘Din’ tried all the different cliques. The “druggies”, the “jocks”, the “nerds”. Eventually he settled into a new group that formed – the “Breakdancers”.

Back in the 1980’s the average suburban neighborhoods were being consumed by the new Rap culture.  ‘Din’ grew up the youngest of five children in one such neighborhood. He was raised Christian.  Two parents, dinner at 6:00 p.m, and Church on the weekends. A good part of the whole American dream. 

According to several of his friends I interviewed for this story, he was smart.  Book smart and street smart.  When he was in 6th Grade he was able to perform 9th Grade level mathematical equations but had never been taught how to do them.  His street knowledge was better than average too. Once when confronted by 9 other children on the streets of Detroit, while he was delivering flyers for Amico’s Pizza, the local pizza place, he almost got his butt kicked.  He noticed the kids following him from a house where he had just delivered a flyer.  Inside the house someone had yelled at him to get off of their porch. He put the flyer in the door and left immediately. 

They followed him down the street quietly behind him. He heard the whispers and glanced around to see all of them standing there, but before they could jump him, and without speaking any words, he pulled out a pair of nunchucks hidden in his bag of flyers and began working them.  He swung them around his neck, back and forth in front of himself. Flipping them up and around frantically so all one could hear was the sound of them breaking the wind. After he was finished, he turned around and simply walked away without saying a word. One of the kids yelled to him, “Next time you come to Detroit, don’t bring those!”  

Even growing up in a fairly good environment ‘Din’ still made choices that would take him to bad places.  His breakdancer friends were a wild group of kids. Much like the Hippies of the 1960’s they had their own wants and desires.  Some of which were gang related, based on how the Rap culture was represented. True, the genre participated, but was in no way to blame for the finite event that would unfold at school in the morning that Fall day in 1986.

Now, the Breakdancers were a tight group of friends who hung out all the time.  From 1984 through 1986 they had developed an equal amount of influence on each others lives.  Sometimes good. Sometimes bad. In the 1980’s there were plenty of places for teenagers to spend time.  They had the mall, local recreation centers, and clubs designed for young adults. Unfortunately getting into trouble of various kinds was something this group appeared to have a proclivity for.  And many times they preferred trouble to recreational activities.

In total, two incidents happened.  Both in 1986. One during the spring and the other during the summer.  Each event involved stolen articles. Now what actually happened isn’t important because, in ‘Din’s’ words, he was “innocent, for the most part.”  The actual records say different though; and that’s what matters. In short, ‘Din’ was caught and put on two years probation, with provisions. The first: he had to live at his parents’ house.  The second: he had to stay in and finish high school.

Now having been in trouble, ‘Din’s’ perception was that everyone looked at him differently.  Mainly those in positions of authority like his parents and teachers. It was because of this inner feeling that his attitude toward everything changed.  He became bored with school and stopped going to church. All he wanted to do was hang-out with his friends and party.

Even after school started up for his Senior year, ‘Din’s’ group of friends continued to do a lot of partying.  They caused an immense amount of trouble at school too. This drew the attention of the Assistant Principal, who, too ‘Din’, appeared to hate him for all of the trouble caused, and possibly a few other reasons that were actually justified like drinking at school and destroying school property.  

Now outside of school the one thing the Breakdancers loved to do, was dance.  They would go to local clubs and burn off their destructive energy.  One club in particular was the Grande Ballroom in Westland. This is where ‘Din’ and Pollyanna met, not long after the two incidents.

To ‘Din’, Pollyanna was an Aztec goddess.  She stood 5 feet 4 inches tall and had a perfect athletically slender build.  She had the most amazing raven curly hair cresting over her extremely beautiful face.  Her eyes were the lightest brown with a small fleck of green in them. Her skin was as soft as silk with the most angelic golden hue to it.  On a scale of 1 to 10, she was probably only an 8; although, not in ‘Din’s’ eyes. To him everything about her was as melodic and beautiful to behold as any Mozart composure.  She was the most perfect girl in the world.

And, outside of that she could move her body! This girl could dance, which was huge back in those days! 

‘Din’ and Pollyanna became exclusive and they spent an unprecedented amount of time together.  They were inseparable. Pollyanna had a car so they drove everywhere and did everything they could think of, or afford, to do. They were doing what every kid their age was supposed to be doing.  They went on dates, hung out at parties, and went to dance clubs. There were no issues until…well, let’s just say they began to spend too much time together and had trouble keeping their hands off of each other.

Overall, they were just two kids who had fallen in lust with each other.  But, yes, they loved each other too. The problem was, the only things they thought about were dancing and having sex.  Those two things became problematic.

It wasn’t that they didn’t like school.  School was where their friends were. That was ‘Din’s’ main reason to continue going.  It was ‘Din’s’ lack of enthusiasm with school that created issues. The teachers handed out their assignments.  He did them and handed them back the next day. On occasion he would work weeks ahead and wait until they finally caught up.  School became more of a social function to him and less of an educational one.

Eventually ‘Din’ just stopped doing his school work.  Part of this was due to boredom and another part because of his attitude change from the events of the summer of 1986.  He began to feel trapped.  He only wanted to invest his time in Pollyanna.  All they thought about was each other. So, together, they stopped going to school.  For 33 days straight they stayed at her parents’ home and did other things.  That is, until Pollyanna’s parents found out.  

Now, it wasn’t as if they just threw him out of their house and forbid them from seeing each other. No, they kicked ‘Din’ out of their daughters life.  Or to be more correct, they actually kicked her out of his.  Polly’s parents sent her to live with her grandmother in Texas.  There she would finish her High School career. He had no choice but to go on without her. Obviously he didn’t know it, but it would be decades before they would ever see each other again. 

In 1986, ‘Din’ slept in the basement of his parents’ house, in a room his dad built for him.  His bedroom was always dark and a little cold, much like his heart would quickly become after being separated from Pollyanna.  There was a light above his bed but he never turned it on. He would let his eyes slowly adjust to the tiny sliver of light he allowed to come through the window that looked out into the rest of the basement, which he covered with a blanket.  Thinking this Fall day would be like any other school day he previously experienced he eventually got up. He showered. He got dressed. And he headed off to his first day back to school where he would, once again, see his friends.

Stewart Hardcastle was the Assistant Principal.  Because of the previous trouble ‘Din’ was involved in he didn’t appear to want him in his school.  When he saw ‘Din’ coming up to the school doors he got up from his desk and raced to stop him from coming into the school altogether.  A conversation along these lines ensued: “Where do you think you’re going Mr. ‘Din’?” the Assistant Principal requested. “I’m going to class.” ‘Din’ replied.  “You haven’t attended this school for more than 30 days and are no longer welcome here.” ‘Din’ immediately took the offensive and started yelling at the Mr. Hardcastle.  ‘Din’ told him that he didn’t “need this school” and it would be “a cold day in hell” if he “ever came back to this dump”. A few other words were exchanged between them but eventually they both turned and walked away.

No girlfriend.  No school. Now no friends.  ‘Din’s’ senior year was over before midterms even started.  This boy thought he was bored when he was able to still go to school.  Well, take school away and all that he was left with was a lot of disappointment.  From every angle. Parent’s, teachers, and himself. Now he had nothing but time to think about everything that went wrong and how he got to this point in his life.

For nine months he sat around pondering what type of future a person without a High School diploma has.  Fortunately, he allowed his parents to influence him. A few of his friends that he still hung out with brought him around to see things the right way too.  During that time he spent out of school, he grew to understand what he was missing out on. He also figured out what he would miss out on had he continued down the path he was on.  During this time away from school his friends, like me and of course, his family helped make him understand that he needed school. 

Before Fall 1987 came, ‘Din’ registered for classes, again, at the same High School.  He had even began going back to church.  

I don’t have the specifics on the exact day, but on a drizzly Fall day in September 1987 ‘Din’ started back for the first day of his second Senior year.  On this approach to the school doors the Assistant Principal was, again, ready to greet him. This time, just inside the main lobby.  

This would be the second conversation in just under a year these two would have.  I was there and I recall it went something like: “Where do you think you’re going Mr. ‘Din’?” “I’m here to go to school Mr. Hardcastle.”  Hardcastle took a quick step to his left to block ‘Din’s’ continued entrance. ‘Din’ continued walking toward him and said, “It’s my right to be here Mr. Hardcastle.  And you can’t stop me from getting my education!” ‘Din’ began to circle around the Assistant Principal but at the same time Stewart Hardcastle moved back to his right and let him pass.  No other words were exchanged between the two.

For the most part, ‘Din’s’ Senior year was uneventful, which was a good thing.  ‘Din’ helped paint the Christmas Windows in Senior hall. He rode on the Senior float for the Homecoming game.  He even helped on the Entertainment committee with all of the school dances. No drinking. No drugs. No destruction of property.  No fights. No distractions. Just school.   

It appears after what had happened to ‘Din’, the whole Breakdancing group had settled down a bit.  ‘Din’ worked hard to stay focused and finish his senior year. He didn’t play any sports but he still earned a letter.  He lettered in academics. On graduation day, as ‘Din’ walked across the commencement stage, Mr. Hardcastle grabbed his hand, shook it, and said, in the most sincere and earnest way, “I knew you could do it.”  ‘Din’ smiled at him and continued on his path.

You Never Stop Learning How To Write

If you peruse my blog, you will know that I just finished attending undergraduate school. During my final semester I took a class on writing. It was a very beneficial class and it helped me out quite a bit.

Before I attended JASS 436, Memoir and Travel Writing, I wasn’t sure what benefits it would have for me.  I was a tri-major student with a focus on Business Management.  Where would a course like that fit in? What memories do I have that I could write about?  Do I even want to write? Who would even want to hear my stories? I don’t do a whole lot of traveling.  I hardly ever write anything down. And I read even less.

Those questions and issues were all posed by me before the class opened my mind giving me ideas on how to improve myself as a writer, a thinker, and (dare I say) as a person.  This class proved to be different than other composition classes I previously attended. The class also helped my writing by teaching me how to overcome obstacles, identify areas I (still) need to work on, and it has given me the tools to do all of this with.

I am currently attempting to improve my writing technique.  I recognized several areas requiring my immediate attention though.  One being, to get to the point. I need to shorten my sentences and remove unnecessary words.  Overall, my thought process wasn’t that good. I tried to write too much, without creating some version of a timeline and before figuring out what parts of my stories to tell and when.  This tended to make my first drafts wordy. From the first day of class until now, based on knowledge obtained from activities and discussions in class, as well as instructions given in the book The Art of Memoir by Mary Karr, I have been attempting to adjust my thinking regarding what I write about.  I found a need to concentrate on how it develops in my head and how I will process that on paper.

My hope is that the stories within my blog will be interesting, concise, and provide some level of entertainment or knowledge to those who read them. – The additional information below this paragraph is about the class. Feel free to continue reading if you would like to know more about writing and what I went through in the class.

A typical paper, for me, was purely academic.  Here’s what I’m going to tell you, here’s me telling you, and here’s what I told you.  I have been taught this method of essay writing in every other class I’ve ever taken. I still fight with that concept of thinking because it comes naturally.  Much of what I’ve written for this class has started out in this same fashion. Often I have written from the perspective that what’s in my head is relayed in my writing.  Unfortunately, I’ve noticed in my reviews for papers I’ve written, I interjected outside information from my mind to fill blank spots. These experiences were never written into my work.  Obviously I haven’t mastered this yet, but at least I recognize this fault and was taught something that will help me in the future.   

The tool that will help is one of the most amazing activities for writing I have ever been taught.  This activity helps me adjust how I tackle a project; although, it comes after the initial idea is on the page.  The activity is called side-shadowing and has been most useful to me. It is this method of defining, questioning, and suggesting that works really well to help further define, expand, or contract my writing.  I had never heard of this method of revision before and when I first read through the process I wasn’t on board. It appeared quite extensive and time consuming; however, after using this exercise on my first article I found it to be extremely useful.  Someday I hope to write a book, or a slew of articles or blogs, about my life experiences and side-shadowing will help. I have heard people say “you are your best critic”, so I hope there’s truth in that statement.

I enjoyed the writing exercise we performed in class on being descriptive.  Unfortunately, this exercise made me realize I need to use more of my imagination.  Not to make things up, but to describe situations, surroundings, people, places, and everything I write about much clearer than I do.  This, in and of itself, will take a lot of practice for me. In the exercise I wrote about my garage. A place I go into everyday. I gutted the building and rebuilt it inch by inch.  I know how many screws are in each shelving unit, exactly how the units are secured to the walls, where each stud is located behind the OSB and how much insulation is contained within each wall and between each stud.  The problem was, I couldn’t provide a better description than it was dark and smelled like gasoline and oil. I need to take a few lessons from Haruki Murakami and his methods of describing scenes. He described an event in his book What I Talk About When I Talk About Running where on a run in Greece he encountered a mass of dead animals on the road while he ran.  His descriptions of the road, the animals, and the countryside were very well done, not too graphic, and they helped to bring me into his story.

 I also believe that getting a better handle on describing my stories to people will allow for a little more interest in the story itself, which might make me seem more interesting as a person too.  Haruki Murakami’s book was well written but I feel the most helpful reading from this class was Mary Karr’s book, The Art of Memoir.  

Karr’s book reads as a story and it contains a plethora of viable information.  Her methods will help me on my path to becoming a better writer.  Murakami’s book will help with the display of my words and ideas if I review his examples and consider how he uses his words to describe events and places.  Karr’s book contains an intense amount of valuable information. Karr provides several lists to remember and think about when writing such as: expressing your voice, setting emotional stakes, not using exaggeration, express the inner enemies, verbalizing one’s outer conflict, and more.  To write well one should use her examples and incorporate them into their writing. Her book also mades me realize I have much to overcome on my path to becoming a better writer.

In reviewing other writings of mine, I noted that starting my articles and essays has been difficult for me.  I have found it hard to get the reader on board initially by giving enough cause for investment without revealing too much at the same time.  I recognize the need to write a much better opening as well as the need for bread-crumbing. My trouble is figuring out what people don’t know, and what they need to know, to keep them interested.  I also don’t want it to be too boring or the polar opposite causing an information overload. Working on these challenges has been a good place to start, pun intended.  

Another challenge I face is grammar logistics.  I need to improve this as well as sentence punctuation.  In speaking with the Professor, a good method for me to use came up.  Reading out loud. When I vocalize the article or essay it should flow based on the writing, not on the reading of it.  If I insert a comma or forget one and don’t pause at a certain point the sentence may read incorrectly. A good example of this comes from a journalism class I took in a previous semester where the professor used the sentence, “Stop clubbing, baby seals.”  He indicated that it should have read “Stop clubbing baby seals.” Overall, this class has uncovered viable areas for me to focus on and I hope future students will gain insight as I have.

Along that same line, the most important advice I can give to any future students of this class, is to not feel overwhelmed.  The syllabus indicates quite a few written assignments and a fair amount of reading but it is all manageable. Karr’s book reads like a story and the other two books are good reads as well.  Most importantly, don’t get too caught up with your own personal interests, or even the story itself, when reading the articles or books. Each lesson is just that – a lesson. There is knowledge to be acquired.  Future students should use the knowledge in Karr’s writings to be more analytical with the other assigned books.

The second bit of advice I can give about this class is to read the materials and take notes for discussions.  Simply put, do the work! While in class, I noticed if a student doesn’t do their work, and we form into groups for discussion, they have nothing to offer and are often a hindrance on the group.  Personally I want to remember what I’m being taught and take something away from this. I anticipate mental value from all of the classes I have taken at this University. If someone isn’t doing his part then he can’t expect there to be any value from these lessons for him to take away.

Will I ever be a great writer?  I don’t know. With the challenges I have discovered I realize I have much work to do.  This class is far from over – in the universal sense of that word – over. Joe Bunting, a British television presenter, producer, and writer once said: “No one is born a writer.  You must become a writer. In fact, you never cease to becoming [one], because you never stop learning how to write.” In my case, in order to truly learn, I need to continue practicing what I have been taught long after I complete this class.  But, I will continue to improve – because I won’t stop trying.  

(Not) Without You

At the age of 50 I have finally graduated from University. I wasn’t “smart” enough to go when I graduated from High School. I was too busy having fun. Overall, I’m very glad that I was finally able to complete this milestone of my life. It has to be said that this achievement only came to me because of my wife. She carried me through this journey and if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish as much as I did.

Going to college is hard enough at any age. Of course, the older one gets the more difficult it becomes to complete because life gets in the way. Work, wife, kids, holidays, family gatherings, and friends. It all piles up on us and before you know it you’re 50 years old and thinking about the AARP and retirement.

Three years ago my wife and I became Foster parents. I was attending school at the time and decided to drop out so that we could acclimate the little 7 month old girl into our home and our lives. I was registered for classes and went to the first few in January but I dropped before the first deadline so that I wouldn’t have to pay for the classes (roughly $2k for each class).

As I mentioned, I didn’t go to college after High School. It took me years before I would go. It was around the time the Trade Center was attacked. Just before actually that I had started. I would complete my Associates degree in Business Management around 2005. I took my credits over to University and accepted whatever they would acknowledge.

At that time I was single and working full-time so I paid cash for the classes I had already taken. I continued that way until my first semester at University was over. I couldn’t afford to do that anymore because the cost was more than double and my workplace wasn’t willing to help pay for school, so I dropped out (seems to be a lot of that in my school history).

Every few years I would try again, but the expense was too much. At that time I wasn’t willing to seek government help because I had heard so many horror stories about student loans and how people ended owing for years and years. So I took, pretty much, a decade off.

I was at my current job when my new G.M. asked me how much I had left to go and he wanted to know why I didn’t finish. At that time my college credits placed me as a Junior. I had 40+ credits I needed to fill to graduate. The G.M. offered to have the company help pay if I would go back. That was 2016. My wife and I had been married for seven years but we didn’t have any children (which is a whole other story). So my wife and I discussed my going back and we worked out how it would go down.

Obviously I would go after work one or two days a week. Then I would need time to study during the week and one day on the weekend. She picked up the slack at the house. Cleaning, washing clothes, cooking meals, and pretty much everything else that needed to be done. I spent most of my time studying because I wanted to get good grades and learn something. I figured that I was paying for it, I might as well take something away from all of it.

Before all of this talk about University even came about we had already been registered to become Foster Parents. Nothing had been happening with that in a few years so I figured that going back to school would only help our status. So I went back in 2016 and did pretty well for that whole year. In January of 2017 we finally heard that there might be a chance that we would receive our first Foster child, so as I mentioned, I stopped going.

In 2018, when I started back up I was told, by the University, that my degree was no longer valid and that I would have to, pretty much, start all over. They wanted to remove all but 40 of the 90 credits I had at that time and set me back to Sophomore status. I wanted to quit altogether but my wife wouldn’t let me. I checked into other colleges and universities but everyone said the same thing…I would have to start all over.

So I “fought” the system. I wrote a letter to the Dean of my college and copied a few other individuals on it. Basically I told them we had just become Foster Parents. I said that it appeared Fostering a child was the worst thing anyone could do for their academic career. I also mentioned, had I known the University would do this, I would have probably sent the little girl packing because apparently Fostering a child doesn’t fall in line with the Universities agenda. I don’t fully recall, but I think I alluded to the fact it might possibly be a good human interest story for local TV.

I received a letter and a phone call asking me to come in and see the Associate Dean of Admissions. The “problem” was quickly resolved and I was admitted, once again, with my full credit standing.

In 2018 I started back. The only issue was cost. The money the company I work for would pay me wouldn’t cover the full cost of this University, so I became a FASFA aficionado. Again, my wife and I discussed this. Being that we had so many more responsibilities with the kid, my going back would leave a VERY large burden on her. She wore the increased burden like a badge.

From 2018 through 2019 I spent an exuberant amount of time studying, writing, and memorizing (where necessary) and in December of 2019 I graduated with High Distinction (Summa Cum Laude) from the University of Michigan. I also received the Honor’s Scholar award, which is an award given to only one recipient in each college of the University for each degree.

If it wasn’t for my wife taking up my slack and encouraging me to do better and to complete what I started I would never have finished. If not for her, none of that would have been possible. When I was graduating I kept looking over at her and, in my head, “my” accomplishment was our accomplishment. I could not have done any of this without her.