The "Walter Mitty" Career Ideas In My Life

     Walter Mitty is a fictional character in a short story The Secret Life of Walter Mitty by James Thurber that was first published in a magazine in 1939.  In the story Walter Mitty spends most of his time in a fantasy world about some adventure rather then spending time in reality.  

     Growing up I had a few careers in mind for myself.  As I got older my career options changed, as do most people.  As children, when adults ask them what do they want to be when they grow up, mostly say a doctor, lawyer, president, professional athlete, rock star, actor or actress, teacher, firemen, police officer, etc.  but not all actually pursue it.  As they get older their likes start to change and they go down different paths in life.  Don't get me worng, there are those who, at a young age, know what they want and have the drive to see it out to the end.  There is nothing wrong with changing career ideas or what you want out of life.  It is part of growing up.

     When I was young, probably around 5 years old, there was a show called Real People.  I don't remember much of the show but they showed people doing bizzare stunts and shocking things.  One episode I seen was women mud wrestling and jello wrestling.  I wasn't much of a girly girl growing up.  I seen this and thought, WOW!  I can wrestle and get dirty too!  As a child it looked like fun.   Who wouldn't want to wiggle and squirm and try to tie someone down in a pool full of jello?! 

     My grandpa used to watch wrestling shows and I would try to copy the moves on my older sibilings.  They would sit there watching TV and I would leap across the room when they didn't notice me and pounce on them and try to hold them down for the count.  My grandpa's friend gave me the nickname Jake the Snake (after the wrestler) and it stuck.  To this very day my sister still calls me Jake or Snake.  I don't mind it.  I like it. 

     I would go places with my mom and someone would ask, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

    As proudly as I could I would hollar back, "A mud and jello wrestler!"  My mom was horrified when I would say that and the person would get a look of shock not expecting that type of answer.  When other people would ask the same question my mom would just start to cringe knowing what I was going to say.  At the time I didn't realize there was a sexual innuendo to it.  No wonder she hated it when people would ask what I wanted to be.

     By the time I was in second grade my attention turned from mud and jello wrestling to space.  I think my grandparents took a trip to Florida and went to the Kennedy Space Center.  They came back with pictures they bought of astronauts in outer space and dehydrated ice cream which was nasty.  But it all facsinated me.  I wanted to go up and view the majestic Earth down below.  I wanted the feeling of walking on air.  That must be the most blissful feeling in the world, or outside of the world at least.  Soon talk was in the news about sending a teacher into space and everyone was talking about astronauts and space.  In career day at school that year I talked about how I wanted to be an astronaut and I explained what they did.  Then in 1986 when I was in the third grade the Challenger exploded killing all, including the teacher, aboard.  (See blog entry 1/24/12 26th Anniversary of the Challenger explosion)  That still didn't stop me from wanting to go into space.  My mom finally told me that I needed to know a lot of math and science, both were subject I didn't do well at.  At 8 or 9 years old when someone shows you algebra or geometery it will scare you!  I thought I will never learn this stuff and that was the end to my space career.

     Near the end of 4th grade we had an assignment of writing a short story of a leprechaun and illustrate it.  Mrs. Dickinson, my teacher at St. Thomas Aquinas, handed us a few pages of clover shaped paper to write the story on.  Half of the clover was lined for our story and the top half was blank to draw a picture on.  I don't remember exactly what my story was about.  Something along the lines of a boy capturing a leprechaun and the leprechaun had to give him 3 wishes.  The leprechaun didn't want to give out the wishes but eventually did.  I do remember sitting there and crafting the story, putting life into the words, having a beginning, middle and an ending with a plot involved.  This was something I did.  This was my creation.  This was my thoughts down on paper.  I was hooked on writing.  The illustrating part....well....let's just say artist was never in my thoughts as a career option.

     I had a bright green hard plastic folder with a round Michigan State Spartan sticker on the front that I would carry around holding my story ideas and my pens.  Any chance I got I would be writing.  I would write in school, in church, at home, outside and inside.  I remember this one story I was writing was about space aliens who come to Earth and befriends a brother and a sister.  The aliens names were Orcho and Maesue.  They had their own alien language which they would teach to the kids and the kids would help them learn English.  I had a table of contents, chapters, even a dictionary of alien language.  I must of had 11 or 12 chapters that I wrote down.  I was very proud of this story.  Every time I ended a new chapter I would reread the whole thing to my mom and she would listen to it and give me a pointer here and there.  As much heart and sole a 5th grader has I put it all into this story.  Then one day I couldn't find my folder.  I searched high and low.  A few weeks went by.  Then I noticed the bright green folder between my sister's school books.  I pulled out the folder and opened it up excitedly.  As I open it I noticed it was my sister's classwork.  It felt like a part of me died.  I was so crushed.  I confronted my sister about it but she said when she found the folder there was nothing inside.  I don't know if I believed her then, or if I still do.  I tried to recreate the story but I couldn't.  It was too painful because I couldn't get it exactly how I had it.

     As hurt as I was for losing that story I didn't let it defeat me.  I still loved writing.  I would dabble with small stories here and there.  I think I am on my 9th or 10th diary that I have kept while growing up.  I don't write in it so much anymore but it is always like a good friend waiting for my pen to transcribe my thoughts unto it.  It is interesting to go back and see how my thoughts have changed and to read different events that happened in my life, some that I forgot totally about.  I am just glad I wrote them down to remember.

     In the summer of 2008, knowing my love for writing, my husband gave me a great story line to write.  I don't want to say too much about it but the story line drew me in.  Right away we put together an outline and I started writing it.  Then I would type it out on the computer.  Juggling 5 kids and 7 months pregnant with our 6th child I didn't have much time to sit and write but when I could I would.  Then one day our computer crashed.  I lost everything.  Losing pictures was bad enough but then when I realized my story was on there I cried.  My story that I was putting my heat into was gone....again!  I couldn't find the beginning part or the outline that I wrote down on paper either.  The same crushed, depressed feeling swept over me.  I tried to recreate the story but like before it wasn't the same.  Without my outline I didn't know which way the story was going that Brian and I had planned out. 

     A few months ago I was cleaning out a junk drawer.  In it was a notebook with papers shoved in.  I opened it up and I stopped breathing.  There was the outline and the beginning part of the story.  I stood there staring at the papers, my mind not believing what I was holding on to.  For about 3 years this story was missing.  3 years I have looked on and off for this story and now it is back in my hands.  It was too good to be true.  Rereading the outline brought a whole new excitment over me.  I wanted to write again, to create.

     I went out and bought a 3-ring binder, bright green in color in honor of my first writing folder.  I put my story in there, along with 2 other story outlines I have for stories I have in mind.  No more typing it out on the computer until I am finished writing it.  There is nothing like curling up in bed with my paper, pen, dictionary and thesaurus next to me crafting my thoughts.  If only I wasn't too tired when I go to bed at night so I can write more before I drift off to sleep.

     For a brief moment in middle school I wanted to be a private secretary.  I would imagine myself being the secretary of a CEO of some important company in New York City, following the person around with a notebook and pen scribbling down notes and delivering messages.  At the end of the day I would take the company limo back to my skyrise apartment in the city and my apartment would be furnished with black leather furniture, glass and brass tables and huge exotic painting would hang on my walls.  What was I thinking?!  Looking back now it sounds so lonely and depressing.  I didn't have future thoughts of children or a husband.  Just me.  I am so glad I did not venture down that path.

     My careers drifted back to writing.  What can I do, that is stable, but involved writing?  Journalist.  I could be a newspaper reporter.  In high school I was part of an organization called Explorers.  In a nutshell different occupations (firemen, policemen, journalists, radio dj's etc) meet with teens every other week and shows them how to do the job, what requirements need to be done for the profession,  and small projects to do.  I remember going to the Saginaw News in the evening with several other teens and getting a walk around the building.  She explained how it worked and it seemed fun until she mentioned one thing.  "It has long hours which can be very hard if you have a family." 

     For a brief moment I thought who is going to watch the kids if I have to work to midnight?  It was the first time that I really thought about having a family in my future.  I didn't seem to mind the long hours but it dawned on me that if I have a family it will be those hours that I am taking away from them.  I didn't want to trade my family in for my career.  I didn't know I would eventually be a stay at home mom but I knew I didn't want to be gone for a long time from my children like that. 

     Perhaps photography would be easier.  I like taking pictures after all.  I signed up for another Explorers group.  Back to the Saginaw News for the meetings but this time with a photojournalist.  Teens would show up with their high fancy camera with attachments and tripods and I am standing there with my pocket size 35mm camera.  The leader didn't care.  He showed us the dark room and how to develop pictures.  As much as I enjoyed photography my heart wasn't into it.  I loved it, but not as a career. 

     Finally late in my high school year I realized what I wanted to become.  A high school history teacher.  Deep down I had always loved history.  The books I read, the movies I watched leaned mostly towards a historical genre.  I enjoyed working on family trees and people of the past.  I want to express that love of history to others.  I know history isn't everyone's cup of tea but I at least want children, or young adults, to know about and have a respect for the past.  I want to make it fun for them.  I am passionate about education and I am passionate about history.  My mom tells me that history teachers are a dime a dozen.  That may be true but this is where my heart is at. 

     Years from now they are going to find some small obscure career chromosome dna.  I think of the family I know.  My dad is a teacher, my aunt is a teacher, I have 3 cousins who are teachers, one cousin is finishing up his teaching degree and another cousin is starting college soon for a teaching degree.  A lot of teachers in my family.  After high school I started to pursue my teaching degree but put it on hold while children came along.  My husband and I wanted me to stay at home with the children.  College and career will always be there.  My children will not.  This summer I will actually start to resume classes and soon earn my teaching degree.

    As I look at how my life is now I think how lucky I am to have a bit of all these careers in my life.  I do educate my children along side with their public schooling by telling them historical events of the day, talking to them about historical people and places, showing them math in the everyday world when cooking or doing the bills.  I enjoy watching some of my kids arguing about who gets the computer because they want to add another chapter to a story they are writing on their own.  I get to journal down the events that happen in our family in my diaries for them to remember and recall long after I am gone.  I am the secretary by taking down appointment times, signing papers and filling out the calendar of the events to remember.  I may not have the leather furniture or the brass and glass tables but I do have the unique artwork on my walls, designed by my favorite artists - my children.  The photographer in me loves taking pictures of my family and the places we go and things we do.   At night I fulfill my space dream by going out with my family and looking for the satellites up in the sky or the space station when it comes around.  We look for the different constellations and shooting stars up in the twinkling night sky.  At times we try to view the lunar eclipse or the beautiful colors of the Northern Lights.  As far as the jello and mud wrestling, well, have you ever tried to change a diaper of a squirmy 18 month old who would rather run and play, or give a bath to a child who doesn't want a bath?  Close enough. 

Houston, We Have A Problem (Part 2)

     In a short recap from part 1 (blog posted on January 23, 2013 - Houston We Have A Problem Part 1), our water pipe that connected the house to the city water broke underground and our insurance company paid for our hotel stay at the Residence Inn in Grandville, Michigan.  We were at the hotel just over a week while a crew was at our home in Allegan fixing the water lines.  Brian came "home" from working half way into our hotel stay. 

     One night Brian and I were laying in the queen size bed flipping through the channels on the TV that sat on the long dresser in one of the bedroom in our hotel suite.  Some shows caught our interest for a moment but we mostly couldn't find anything impressive to watch.  We came across one station that did catch our attention.  Before our eyes we were watching astronauts moving about on a shuttle out in space.  Confused, we watched a bit more.  We looked at the corner of the screen where it gave the call letters NASA TV.  We grabbed the hotel TV listing card and realized it was the station live programing of what is going on at NASA.  We had Directv at home and we didn't receive this station, nor did we know it existed. 

     I looked over at Brian.  "Did you know we had a shuttle up in space?" I asked him.

     Without taking his eyes of the TV, "No, I had no idea." 



The crew of the Columbia. 





     I resumed watching the NASA TV.  We seen people wearing blue suits working on something.  You couldn't hear what they were saying.  Every now and then a speaker radio would break the silence and ask the astronauts a question and the astronauts would reply back.  It wasn't overly enjoyable to watch yet there was something intriguing about knowing these astronauts are in outer space doing their work and we are watching them in the comfort of the bed.  We must of fallen asleep because we woke up in the morning with the TV on and more of NASA TV was playing.  We had Christian to take to school and things to do so we shut off the TV and went on with our day.

     It was January 31, 2003.  We couldn't wait for the kids to fall asleep so we can "spy" on what the astronauts are doing.  We found out it was the Columbia that launched January 16.  Their mission was to do an Earth Science research.  They had over 60 different science experiments that involved spiders, insects, bees, and other animals.  They were also working on microgravity research as well.  The camera would go back and forth from the Columbia to Mission Control.  The camera would give a wide angle shot of Mission Control and you can see people walking about and some seated at their posts doing minor things. 

     February 1, we wake up to start another day.  On the radio we heard of the Columbia disintegrated upon re-entry into the atmosphere.  A numb feeling swept across us.  This can't be right, I thought, We were just watching them last night on TV. 

     We got back to the hotel and turned on the NASA TV station.  There was a picture of an empty Mission Control room and a recorded message saying the station is temporarily down for the moment.  Dread fell upon us.  We sat staring at the picture not able to move.  Several hours prior we were watching them move about on the shuttle and now all seven on board perished.  One minute they are coming home and the next minute they are a memory. 

     The cause of the Columbia accident all started from the moment the shuttle took off for outer space.  A hole was made in the shuttle's wing when a piece of foam broke off from the external fuel tank during lift-off.  At the time it didn't seem like a big deal.  It was normal for bits to break off with the stress of lift -off.  When the Columbia was re-entering the atmosphere hot gases entered in the wing of the shuttle causing it to disintegrate.  Parts of the shuttle were found throughout the northeastern part of Texas and into Louisiana.  Over 84,000 pieces have been collected and they are still finding parts of the Columbia to this day. 

Workers piecing the shuttle debris together.



     Some of the odd things that have been recovered is the Caenorhabditis elegans worm, one of the worms the Columbia crew was doing an experiment on.  It was in a petri dish that was in a container that was in a locker.  The worms, actually the decendants of the original worms since they don't live very long, were amazingly found alive.   Astronaunt Kalpana Chawla brought with her 2 Deep Purple CD albums.  The CD's ended up surviving the distruction of the Columbia.  Deep Purple ended up making a song dedicated to the Columbia called, "Contact Lost". 

     If our pipes didn't break we would of never known about the Columbia being up in outer space working on a mission.  We would of found out about it by watching the news like most of America that fateful February 1, day.  We enjoyed being able to watch what they were doing on the shuttle and how Mission Control connected with them.  We felt honored to step inside NASA albeit via TV station but to get an inside look of what went on in the Columbia. 

     

    

Remembering the Challenger Explosion

     There are times in our lives when an event impacts us so much that when we hear about it, we are transported directly back in time to that day.  We remember small details that would seem meaningless any other time.  It could be a personal memorable moment or a national moment.  One of those moments for me happened on January 28th 1986 - The Challenger Explosion.

     This blog entry is dedicated to those who died in the Challenger. 
 In the back row, from left, mission specialist Ellison S. Onizuka, Teacher in Space Participant Sharon Christa McAuliffe, Payload Specialist Greg Jarvis and Mission specialist Judy Resnik. In the front row, from left, Pilot Mike Smith, Commander Dick Scobee, and Mission specialist Ron McNair.

     I was two weeks shy of my 9th birthday, in the third grade at St. Thomas Aquinas School in Saginaw, Mi.  Sister Sandy was one of the third grade teachers.  A lot of our class discussion that year was about how the space program was on a mission to send a teacher up and teach a class from space.  The teacher, Christa McAuliffe, we learned, was an average person, a wife, mother and teacher, that was selected by NASA to be a part of this historic event.  We were all mesmerized by the romance of the space program.  Many of my classmates wanted to become astronauts, myself included.  We would study all about the space program, first man on the moon, first air walk, how spacecrafts evolved.  Sister Sandy was one of the first teachers who discussed current events in our classroom. 

     It was the day of January 28th, 1986.  The day was like any other day.  I knew many of the adults were getting excited about the launching of the Challenger.  The junior high school students at St. Thomas Aquinas were all gathering together to watch it on TV.  We were a bit disappointed that we wouldn't be able to watch it ourselves.  Our lunch hour was at 11:30 and Sister Sandy excused herself to watch it with the other teachers in the teacher's lounge.  It was common for the students to eat lunch in the classroom and the teacher would go to the lounge before we would head outside to play.  On this day, it was biter cold and our recess was to be indoors. 

     We played and ran around the room and goofed off like what any other third grader would do on their indoor lunch break.  Everyone was enjoying their break.  Sister Sandy came into the classroom and we all scurried to our desks, even though we knew it was still a lunch break but no one wanted to be caught horsing around and getting into trouble.  We could tell she had been crying.  The room got serious real fast.  Something was the matter we just didn't know what. 

     Sister Sandy explained that there was terrible news.  The other teachers and herself were watching the launch in the lounge.  She informed us that something went wrong and the shuttle exploded and they believe everyone on board died.  A numbness filled the room.  It was so quiet that the ticking of the clock seemed loud at that moment.  Lesson plans were put away for the rest of the day.  We focused on talking about the accident.  I think Sister Sandy needed to talk about it as much as we students did. 

     Soon it was time to get ready to go home.  Usually we rush out to the hallways to get our snowgear, boots and bookbags.  Instead I grabbed my friend, Melissa, and told her we need to pray.  Under the crucifix hanging on the wall we knelt down, made the sign of the cross, In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen, and prayed for those who had died in the explosion and comfort for their families.  We followed it by reciting the Our Father Prayer then arose and walked quietly out to the hallway to gather our belongings.  Sister Sandy stopped us at the doorway and wondered what we were doing.  I simply told her we were praying.  She gave us huge hugs. 

     I got off the bus and went inside.  My mom, and my grandparents were already gathered in front of the the console TV.  They watched the whole thing and couldn't pull themselves away from the TV.  I sat myself on the couch and that is when I first seen the pictures of it.  I think I must of gasped by the horror of it all and then the realization that their families were probably in the crowd of people watching right there in Florida.  I couldn't imagine what it would be like seeing someone you loved, either a friend or a family member die like that and they were watching, powerless to help.  How do you walk away from something so tragic like that?  They would of had to scrape me off the stands. 

     Time marched on and as a nation we healed our wounds.  Five years later I was able to go to Washington D.C. for a class trip.  Walking through Arlington National Cemetery I came upon the Challenger Memorial.  I paused for a moment reliving the day all over again.  Their faces etched on the memorial gave tribute to those that lost their lives that day will never be forgotten.