Who am I? – Part One

Part One – “All we want are the facts.” Fact – Jack Webb was great.

Who am I? It is the eternal question that haunts all of mankind. Fortunately I’m not that deep, so the answers are pretty easy. The biggest factor that has influenced my life is that I have been extremely fortunate. Hopefully karma is not real since I have been given so much more than I have earned that if there is karma, I’ve run up quite a debt.

Human, male, well on the downwards slope of life. Married, since I was born I think. At least I really don’t really remember ever not being married; quite possibly because I’m very content with my married life, or perhaps just failing memory, or both.

As a growing boy I discovered that reading and watching sports was safer than participating. If someone wound up injured in a game, odds were high that it was me. Three summers in a row, I attended a child torture camp called Play School run by out of work former prison guards. One of the favorite ‘sports’ was Dodge Ball, where athletically inclined young men threw hard rubber balls at cringing, skinny, four-eyed wimps. You can probably guess where I lined up. Each summer I left Play School to go to the emergency room for my annual concussion. That it took three years for me to stop playing Dodge Ball and hide in the library shows that there was in fact, brain damage. I blame the rest of my poor decisions in life on that hard rubber ball.

I have the usual immediate family elements; wife, children and grandchildren. No great-grandchildren yet, but the grandchildren I do have are indeed great. As far as formal education I had a strict Roman Catholic grade school career, coasted through public high school, but graduated in spite of myself and then was awarded (I hesitate to say earned) a B.S. degree at the age of forty. It was quite a challenge to fit a four-year degree into only twenty-two years, but I managed somehow. Few are as gifted as I am though, so no jealousy please.

For the majority of my life I supported myself and my family by counting beans, or did accounting work if you insist. Counting beans just sounds more manly,exciting and dashing. I’ve also had a number of other positions: delivered newspaper, washed dishes, killed chickens (well someone has to), fried seafood, pumped gas, washed cars, worked construction, pulled clay in a china factory, worked at numerous accounting jobs that only other accounting people can tell apart, worked in IT operations, did telecommunications work, dabbled at financial analysis and then was introduced to severance and unemployment.  In these later years I no longer participate in the job market.

 

 

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