Stephanie Grenon Ms. Hofheimer ENG 120 September 1, 2008
Table of Contents Introduction 3 King Cobra 3-4 Fear and Hollywood 4-7 Choosing a Snake 7-9 Baby vs. Adult 9-11 Caging 12-13 Bedding 13-15 Caging Accessories 16-17 Picking out your snake 17-18
Stephanie Grenon Ms. Hofheimer Eng 120 1 September 2008 Chapbook: All about Snakes Snakes, the word alone puts fear in the hears of over half of the community, according to Harris Poll (Humphrey, par 4). 71% of people are afraid of snakes. Men make up 22% and the other 49% are the women. I can see why people are afraid of venomous snakes, but I don’t understand why they are afraid of non-venomous snakes. Venomous snakes aren’t scary just the thought of getting bitten by one. They are actually beautiful snakes, all with different features, designs, and patterns. The venomous snakes are colorful and exotic looking (Kisoich). Some of the snakes do look a little out of the ordinary, but that is so they are able to catch their prey and live in their particular environment. This site describes them to a “T” (Ophiophigas). What could be one of the most dangerous snakes is the infamous Cobra.
King Cobra
The King Cobra is the largest, most venomous snake and on top of that can stand straight up to two-thirds their body size. There is a picture is of a man (unnamed) holding a large King Cobra. The King Cobra not only is intimidating but also incredibly smart and very curious. In a zoo in Philadelphia, they are described as one of the most intelligent snakes they can recognize the different people that work there and their habits. They know when their enclosure is going to be opened and would wait by the door in order to escape. Although it would be bad if they escaped they wouldn’t go looking for revenge against the people that put them there, they just want to get out and explore some more. Being stuck in the same place for an extended period of time can get boring even to a snake. There are now three doors leading into the Cobras enclosure, and they do not use the same door twice in a row. They have a secret, random way to figure out which door to use so they aren’t greeted by a King Cobra (Ophiophigas, pg5). Snakes are not killing machines they will avoid people if at all possible. Even the most deadly, and the smartest snake known will avoid human contact if possible, so if the King Cobra will avoid human contact why wouldn’t a non-venomous snake avoid contact? Good news! They will.
Fear and Hollywood
I have found even in owning my snakes that people are scared more of the look and the thought more so than the snakes themselves. People have a twisted misconception about snakes, which plays into why they are scared of them. Most of this comes from Hollywood. Just like they do with sharks, wolves, and tigers they know it sells and they know it sells even better when it puts fear in peoples heart and mind. They take these beautiful animals and make people so afraid of them that they kill them on sight instead of leaving them alone. People seem to think that just because they can kill means that they go out of their way to harm people. This just isn’t true. The carnivorous animals help keep the population down on other creatures that aren’t as “scary looking”. Think of it this way; if there were no snakes to eat the mice, rats and other rodents that crawl around everywhere think of what the population would be in your house. There are already countless numbers of mice and rats in peoples houses, whether they know about them or not, that amount would be doubled if the snakes were not around to eat them. If people would take the time to get educated on these animals they might still have the fear of being bitten, which is a good fear to have, but they wouldn’t be afraid of just the thought of a snake. Which means the thought of owning a snake, as a pet would appeal to many more people, and having a snake as a pet would be more understandable to others. I cannot tell you about the looks I get playing with my babies, it is quite entertaining to me. I will have on a nice evening outfit, with my makeup done and five inch heals on looking all cute and “did up”. I will walk outside and have friends and family ooing and awing over me until they see my Jungle Ball Python crawling around my neck and hair. They automatically jump back the moment they see him, get all scared and their attitude goes from aww how cute to “What in the Hell?!” It amazes his me that so many people are afraid of him even though he is only around two feet long and not close to being full-grown. Even more so that they can be around him for five, six minutes with no problem as long as they don’t see him, but as soon as they see him is when they get scared. If he was so mean and scary then he would have tried to do something while they didn’t recognize him. Snakes like any animal will go for easy prey. What is easier than something that doesn’t even see you? I guess it is like when I played Ice Hockey, I would show up in heels a skirt and a nice “fancy shirt” then look on my shoulder to see a stinky hockey bag, with a stick in my hand. It isn’t exactly the look people are used to be seeing in the hockey rink. I loved those looks too because it made me laugh and it made people think that I was to “girly” to play hockey and I was no good on the ice. Yeah right! I was one of the meanest people on my team. I was one of the enforcers, and depending on who the referee was I could live in the box for a good period or two. Not that I tried to get in there, but I was mean I would run people into the boards, check them to get the puck stuff like that. It was so fun then after the game or practice I would get all “dressed up” again. It amazed people. The same goes for the snakes they look all mean and evil, but in reality are so sweet, and fun. They have their own enchantment to them that is different from any other animal. You may not be able to play fetch or comb their hair as you would a dog, or a cat, but they offer a whole new experience people just have to be willing to be open to it instead of cowering in fear. I have found even in talking to people about my snakes at first they are scared and amazed that someone like me would have a snake. I offer them the chance to hold them or touch them, and most of the time I have to persuade people to and ask them more than once. After I convince them to hold and touch them have I changed their opinion because they can see first hand how the snakes are soft, almost silky smooth, and not really dangerous, but curious animals that really mean no harm to anyone, except maybe a rat or a mouse. When you do decide that a snake is the pet for you then you need to consider everything there is that goes along with owning a snake.
Choosing a snake
When thinking about buying a snake you need to first consider what kind of snake you want. Snakes are like dogs; some get bigger than others and require different specifications. For first time owners I would recommend a Ball Python. They, to me, are the easiest to own. Others would recommend a Corn Snake but I do not like Corn snakes, although they do have bright vibrant colors and stay relatively small. I think they are ugly, and very squirmy. I would suggest a Ball because (not only are they one of my two favorite types of snake) they do not get much bigger than seven feet, depending on the sex, and they are quite tame. If they are afraid they will curl up into a ball and you can literally roll them around on the floor (I don’t recommend this), and, most of the time, will not bite. If they hiss just put them back into the cage and don’t mess with them while they calm down a little bit. The other one of my favorites is my next suggestion. Although they can be more aggressive and are not as timid as a Ball, and they do get bigger than a Ball Python will; they also have a beautiful pattern and have their own unique mystery about them. It is the Boa Constrictor. In specific the Red Tailed Boa Constrictor they have a beautiful red tail (hence the name). The Boas are a lot bolder than a Python is but as long as they are treated well, have food, aren’t scared or feel threatened they are just fine, and are quite nice. Now I wouldn’t suggest getting this as a first time owner because the first timer will probably have some nerves going and snakes, just like any animal, can sense fear which in turn can make them on the defensive side. A boa can get up to ten feet long and over forty pounds. When buying a big snake like this there are several things you need to consider. First they will be around for around 30 years. That is a long-term commitment! You need to make sure that there is someone who will help you to handle it when it gets bigger, and you need to make sure you will be able to handle the feeding. What starts out as a mouse and a rat leads into small mammals, rabbits, gunny pigs, etc. Now after you have chosen the type of snake you need to consider whether or not you want a baby or an adult.
Baby vs. Adult
You think about it and decide you want a baby snake to take care of it and watch it grow. Great! Baby snakes are a lot less intimidating and very cute. They have a bright, vibrant color, and are very soft (like freshly shaved skin with baby oil on it). A baby snake as you can see (depending on the kind) can be smaller than a berry! While the babies are very cute they are also timid and shy. A baby Python (any snake really) is more likely to bite, hiss or strike just because it is a baby and doesn’t know any better. The more you handle it the better it will be and the more “friendly” it will become. It will get used to being handled and it won’t stress the snake out as much. Snakes do have their own personality. I have a few that are moody and others that are the sweetest in the world. Justin, my boyfriend, just bought a Spider Ball Python, a baby only 3 weeks old and only had one meal. Man I swear that snake hates Justin he has bitten, hissed, and struck at Justin ever since he got him. I went and picked the snake up before Justin even had a chance to say anything and the snake didn’t do any of that. He loves to get played with by me. He has never even hissed at me before. One time I had him and he was exploring everything calmly and quietly until right when I handed him to Justin then he went nuts and started hissing as Justin. I thought it was so funny because Justin handed the snake back to me and he was calm again. There is just something that the snake doesn’t like about Justin. He wasn’t too happy about that, but now that the snake is older he knows better and he doesn’t hiss or bite him anymore. Even in the same household the snake can play favorites (maybe not to that extreme) but when the snake is out of the cage and one person is holding it; it may slither to another person in the house because there is something that the snake likes better about that other person. Just like any other animal in your house. Take your dogs, when you get home with the others living in your house that does the dog go to first? That is his favorite right, so why wouldn’t snakes be the same? Full-grown snakes are also available for sale as well as the baby ones. You will pay more for a full-grown snake because of the cost to care for it for years, but you will not have to worry about raising it or feeding it pinkie mice or rats. A full-grown snake is good if you want one that is already fully used to being handled and has a good eating habit. You want to breed it right away or just show off your fully-grown large snake. No matter which type of snake you want or what size you want you will have to have proper caging for it.
Caging Requirements
No matter what snake you have an escape proof cage is required. A glass reptile aquarium is the best way to go, unless you want to breed them. I specify reptile because you cannot just go out and buy any aquarium or use your old fish aquarium because there are differences between the two. For instance a fish aquarium is deep but no to wide and the lid just sits on the top because the fish will not climb up to the top and try to escape, as a snake will. A reptile aquarium is not as deep, but it is wider so the snake can grow and the lid has clips on it so when the snake tries to escape (and it will trust me) it cannot push the top off and get out. Now you can get a cheap 20-gallon aquarium for $50 or go all out, like the picture above, and spend thousands of dollars to spoil your snake (you know if you are a millionaire and have nothing better to spend your money on). If you want to breed snakes than having 20 and 30 glass aquariums can get pretty crowded, so there is a better way to house snakes if you plan on keeping a lot of them. It is called a snake rack. It has plastic containers stacked on top of each other and they slide under either a wood rack or plastic rack. It can look something like this. This is fine for a snake as long as you have bedding and water in there. Plus using these they normally have a good shed. After you figure out which cage you are going to use you then need to figure out which bedding you are going to use, but there are some you HAVE to stay away from.
Bedding
Bedding is an important part of any reptile or any animal for that matter. You will want something that is easy to clean up, but something that hides odors well. You also want to make sure that what you use for your snake is not going to be able to get swallowed by the snake because that could cause problems. Here is a few different types of bedding and benefits of each. First is a few types of bedding you should not use for your snake because it could cause serious harm or even kill your pet. Sand: It is fine for lizards’ ad some geckos but not for a snake because the dust could bother the snake and if they swallow it they could get an internal infection. Pine Bark Chips: Not a bad bedding, but if you are going to use it you will want to find a distributor that can tell you for sure that it isn't treated with any chemicals or pesticides first though! This is good bedding for snakes but makes scooping waste a problem. You can't see it as it is the same color as the chips I wouldn't use it for smaller lizards like Leopard Geckos as it looks like it is hard to walk on. The pieces are too big. Bedding Brick: I don't know the exact name for this stuff. It is either made by Zoo-Med or Tetra Terrafauna, not sure. It comes in a brown brick sized package. It is compressed somehow and when you add water to it takes up a lot of room. One brick did it for my 36x18" breeder tank. It is some sort of small wood/dirt fiber not exactly sure. They claim that it is totally digestible which is a good thing; the particles are quite small and soft so I believe that it is digestible. This stuff gets DUSTY when dried out. I stopped using it for this reason. If you have a humidity loving species and keep it damp it is fine though. Pine Shavings: Toxic! Don’t use Pine. They give off fumes that can be harmful. DO NOT EVER USE CEDAR BEDDING!!! Cedar bedding is very toxic to reptiles and will kill them! Actually it is toxic to the small mammals it is generally used for too. Corncob Litter: No! Don't use it! It is indigestible and too large to pass thru the intestines safely. Not to mention it swells when it hits water. Can cause impaction very quickly. Crushed Walnut Shells: This stuff goes by several brand names. Read the ingredients. I think one of them is "Lizard Litter". This stuff is the worst. Right up there with corncob litter as far as dangerous. Crushed walnut shells are NOT digestible as it states on the package. Worse than that the pieces are shaped so they lock together if ingested and can clump up in the animals system. Beddings that you can use are; Newspaper: Unsightly but easy to clean up and healthy by most standards. Some claim that the ink can be bad for the lizard or snake even though most black ink on newsprint is soy-based. I have never had any problems. If you believe the ink to be a problem most newspapers out there recycle a lot of unprinted newsprint. Call around you area and I'm sure you can find some. I work at a weekly paper and we always have some on hand for a small fee. Paper Towels: Also unsightly but easy to clean. Just throw out the soiled pieces and start all over. Cypress Mulch: It is non-toxic; the pieces are large enough to not get ingested. It holds moisture well and cypress is naturally bug resistant. I use this for a lot of my snakes and all my tortoises. This stuff can be hard to find in some locales. Aspen Bedding: I use this stuff with my snakes and I love it! It has a nice texture and isn't dusty. You can scoop out waste as it kind of clumps around it. Although bedding and proper caging is a big part of owning a snake, but if you do not want your snake to be bored or stressed all day then you will need caging accessories.
Caging Accessories
When the cage is set up with all the bedding you will still need a few more things in order to keep your snake from being stressed. First is obvious you will need a water bowl that is big enough for the cage. This will not only provide water for your snake, but also will provide humidity in the cage, which is necessary for proper shedding and to keep the skin in proper condition. The snake may soak in the water bowl so you will want one that is big enough for it to curl up in. It may also defecate in it so you will want to check it on a regular basis and keep clean fresh water in it. You may also want to put a tree branch or something for the snake to climb on and it also provides a rough surface to assist the snake during the shedding process. You will want to put a “hide box” in the cage that is just big enough for the snake because most snakes will look for a dark secluded place to hide in the wild and feel more comfortable and stress free when they have a dark place to hide in. Now that the inside of the cage is set up you will also want to have either a heat pad, or heat lamp in order to keep the temperature of the cage right; because snakes are cold blooded they depend on their environment to keep warm. Normally a 100-watt light is good for a 20-30 gallon tank it can even be used in a 40-gallon tank but I prefer a 150 watt for my 40 gallon tank. If you prefer a under cage heat pad there are different types of heaters available. The temperature will depend on the type of snake you own. A ball python usually needs a cage that is 80 - 85 F (27 - 29 C) during the day, with a basking spot of around 90 F (32 C). Nighttime temperatures can fall to around 75 F (23 -24 C) as long as an area of 80 F is maintained. A Boa needs a cage that is 82-90 F (28-32 C), with a basking area kept at 90-95 F (32-35 C). At night, the ambient air temperature may be allowed to drop down no lower than 78-85 F (26-30 C). Special reptile heating pads that are manufactured to maintain a temperature about 20o higher than the air temperature may be used inside the enclosure. NEVER EVER use a heat rock! Since snakes are cold blooded they cannot tell that a rock is too hot until their body get warm. If the rock gets to hot it can burn the snake. The snake will not even know that it is getting burnt because it doesn’t have feelings like humans, or other animals do. Heat rocks are extremely dangerous and can even, under certain circumstances, can start a fire in the bedding inside the cage. In order to make sure the temperature and the humidity are correct inside the cage you will want to invest in a thermostat and a Hygrometer will be necessary at the bottom of the cage, where your snake lives, to determine whether or not you will need more or less humidity or heat. It does no good to know the temperature at the top of the cage; the snake doesn’t live up there. Now that you know what kind of snake you want and have set the cage up accordingly it is time to go and buy your snake.
Picking out your snake
When you go to the pet store to pick out your snake (which I recommend unless you know the online breeder or online company breeders history) there are a few things you want to do. You do not ever want to just go in and pick one you think looks good and pay for it; you do not know what you are getting. Before buying your snake you want to look at it closely. Pick it up look at its eyes and make sure they are clear and not cloudy (unless they are shedding, you should be able to tell, but ask if the eyes aren’t clear). Pay attention to what it does when you pick it up, does it move around actively and flick its tongue continually, or does it not move and keep its tongue in its mouth? You will want to inspect its skin and make sure that it doesn’t have any mites or ticks. Look inside and outside of the cage for signs of dirty, unhygienic surroundings. No matter how good the shop is, inevitably you will find sloughed skins, feces and other dirty materials in the cage. However, look at the consistency of your findings and excessively dirty surroundings. Overcrowding in tanks should be avoided, and if any dead animals are found in nearby enclosures, stay away from purchasing the animal. Make sure you are buying captive bred stock; wild caught snakes can harbor all sorts of problems and should be avoided by beginners. Look at the shape of the snake in its resting position. Never buy a snake that you see resting sideways, with its head tilted on the floor. If its mouth is slightly agape, stay away. The spine of the snake should be visible, but not to an excessive measure. It the snake looks skinny, do not buy it, regardless of its feeding habits. Most snakes are generally very consistent when sloughing their skin, so if you see one with bits of skin stuck all over it, be cautious. Loose folds in the skin are apparent in dehydrated snakes, advise the shop owner if you see this in their stock but do NOT purchase the animal. ‘Never purchase a snake or any other reptile based on your feelings for that animal. Many pet shops have come and gone, the best have always stayed the longest. Another way to buy a snake is from a specific breeder. Justin and I get ours from a man named Rob and he has been breeding for years. That is where we just recently got our baby Spider Ball Python. We got him when he was only a few weeks old, but that is because we know him and he knows us and recognizes that we know how to handle, and raise snakes. He has not only Pythons and Boas but also Corn. His collection of snakes surpasses $10,000 easily. He is a reputable breeder and does not sell the snakes if they haven’t eaten at least twice and shed once (other than when they come out of the egg). You can buy a snake that was imported over from another country but most of the time they are wild caught and can carry all sorts of parasites. They can even have internal problems that you will not even know about until the snake is already dead or you have to pay three times the snakes worth in vet bills. Another thing to look at when buying a snake is if you want a “normal” snake or what is called a morph. Morphs vs. Normal The only difference (between the same species of snake) is the pattern, and the color. Breeders base their price on this, so if you want a show snake than you will want to invest a little more so you can “show off” your snake. First time owners usually do not care what the snake looks like because they do not pay attention to patterns and designs as long as they can say they have a snake as a pet they are happy and there is noting wrong with that. All the snakes will have morphs so it doesn’t matter if you want a Boa, Corn, or a Python they each have their own set of morphs. Boa Morphs Boas have their own unique features and wonders about them. They typically are going to be more expensive because they will get bigger and cost more to care for, especially a full grown one, think of the upkeep for a pet store.
I am a firm believer that certain events in ones’ life define who they are. Some say perseverance and practice creates champions, while others believe champions are born. Some people spend their life in search of greatness, while others give up before they start. Who decides who becomes great and whose left sitting on the bench? You often hear stories of “everyday people” doing something great and are considered heroes for a while. Who decides if that is the only great thing that person has or will ever do? Have we given society the right to define us and create our heroes for us? Why are we only “great” when someone else says we are? I do not consider myself great, mediocre at best, but I have had great things happen in my life and I have had the opportunity to know great people; none famous, instead the unlikeliest of heroes. After all aren’t heroes what we make of them? In my life, I’ll admit it; I’ve done a lot of unintelligent things. I could make a list, and I am certain if you called my parents they could add a few hundred more things to that list. It seems though, for all the trouble there was always someone there for me. Someone was always saving me, mostly from myself. For the last few years I have felt misplaced and have stumbled through life one mistake at a time. But after assessing my life and its many transgressions I have come to realize that after every mistake I have learned to pick myself up and try again and only recently have I had to do this on my own. When I was a child I was considered rambunctious to say that lease, now a day I would probably be diagnosed with A.D.D along with the better have of society. My parents were patient, but slowly going crazy. I was the second of two children. My older was a kind and loving big brother and all I ever wanted from his was his toys. He protected me from everything like good big brothers do. However, instead of heeding his word of caution I took this to mean I was invincible. Because I knew my brother would always protect me, I tried things like climbing on the roof, jumping out of trees, oh and did I mention trying to fly? I was my own death wish. I lived with no fear, instead doing stunts to test my limits and my parents. My parents, knowing their little girl was a hazard to herself came up with a solution. Their solution, enroll me in soccer. This single act helped set me up for the rest of my life, as well as teach me focus, determination, and teamwork. I spent all my time practicing and preparing for the game, I wanted to be the best; slowly my A.D.D went out the window. I straightened up and began to get noticed for it. My teams were good, really good. We played tournaments in Boston, New York, and New Jersey, always bringing home the trophies. I felt a part of something, something bigger than myself and I thrived on it. My soccer team was more than just a team. We became best friends. We had sleepovers and birthday parties and everything in between. We were united and it felt great. I could not imagine my life any better. I was going to be like this forever, grow up and play soccer and have all these best friends. Boy was I in for a treat. A year after my transformation my parents broke me the news, we were moving. Not to a different suburb or town but to Bunker, Missouri, the exact middle of nowhere! Worst of all no soccer! To say the least, this was the worst thing to happen in my 10 year old existence. I was going to run away, live on my own and play soccer. Against my will my parents drug me along to the middle of the Midwest. Bunker Missouri is where all five of my mothers’ brothers and sisters lived. My parents wanted to retire and live near family and have a farm. Only recently have I realized why, but to a 10 year old city girl, this was a nightmare. I had decided to not like Bunker or anyone in it. What was I supposed to do now that soccer, the only thing that I understood, was gone? So I sulked, all day, every day. At least until school started. This is the second event in which my life was turned upside down and now looking back I am better for it! I walked into my new fifth grade class ready to hate everyone. I found my assigned seat next to a few girls who looked nice enough. Suddenly they turned to me, “hey, your Jenna right? Yeah, your cousins told us all about you, we heard you play soccer, do you play basketball? Want to hang out at recess?” Who were these girls? What did they want with me? I agreed, reluctantly, and remained quiet. But that recess changed my life. I met the friends that would stick with me all my life thus far. They didn’t care who or what I was, instead just wanted to be friends and hear stories of living in the big city of Boston. We then became inseparable. When I say inseparable I mean spending all day at school together then coming home and talking on the phone all night. Every weekend was a sleepover or lunch at someone’s house. We used any excuse to hang out and talk. These girls had let me into their group, their lives, and their hearts, and although it took me a little longer to do so, I eventually came around and returned the favor. When basketball came around that year I was scared to sign up. What if I sucked, what if I kicked the ball instead? But the first day of practice came around and I was considered a “natural”. I loved it! Like soccer, basketball became my life, alongside my friends. I began to get noticed for playing basketball and was asked to start playing volleyball also, in junior high. Again, I was a natural. I felt a part of something, a part of the community and the town. Older people were recognizing me and my family would show up to watch me play. In high school as a freshman I started varsity for both teams. In basketball I was team captain and scored the most points that season. In volleyball I played with the seniors, the big girls. I loved it. Sophomore year I was captain of both teams and proud to be. Again like soccer the team was more, it was a friendship, a sisterhood, we were a unit. I felt needed and carried a responsibility to win for the school. These could have been the best days of my life, then. I was unstoppable. The more responsibility they gave the more I took. I received city, district, and even state awards. It seemed everyone knew my name. I was cocky, to an extent, but more, I was thankful. I had learned how to become a leader, to except responsibility, and most of all I learned to have fun. I firmly believe those years taught me a lot about myself and they also taught me not only what I can accomplish but what I am capable of, with a little help. My senior year of high school I received several scholarships to play volleyball and basketball at junior colleges. But I had had several injuries along the way and was scared of more permanent damage, along with the idea that as a college athlete, I would have to adhere to curfews, tutoring, weekend practices, and other such things I considered torture back then. So I chocked, decided against sports and instead attended a huge college a couple hours away. Looking back, my feelings are mixed; do I wish I would have played in college? Yes. I would have stayed in shape, felt the feeling of a team, felt commitment and need, and my life might have skipped a few bumps along the way. But still, I would have missed out on some of the greatest moments of my life. I would not have met the friends in college that I now consider to be sisters. Entering college I knew no one. I was one of a million, it felt alone and only a number to the university. I was scared and felt inferior. Half the people I had met in my dorm were there on academic scholarship. I was just a ball player. I was friendly and waved, made small talk, and even talked about teachers, but I secretly wanted to be anywhere else. I had been under the impression that college was supposed to be the best years of your life. I felt like mine were all behind me. That was all until the third week in, when sitting at my desk pretending to study, I heard giggling, uncontrollable, and loud. I cautiously poked my head out to see five girls on my floor sitting in the hall having the time of their life. I remember wishing and hoping to join them, to sit in the hard floor, lean on those ugly grey walls, and talk with these girls. I made my way to the water fountain, wondering what, if anything, could I say, that would make these girls want to hang out with me. Just then Beth, a girl who had always been friendly, yelled, “Hey, Jenna, right?” I replied, “Uh, yeah” (like I didn’t even know my own name) Beth replied, “Did you see the skater guy try to skate down the stairwell handle? We think he’s stoned, were gonna call him High Mike.” I was thrilled, no, I had not seen him, but it didn’t matter that was an “in”. I stood there asking all the details, prolonging my visit, finally in silence I turned to go, when the rest of the girls started asking me to sit and stay. I was nervous, what do I say, can I be me? But as it turned out two of the girls played basketball, one even tried out to play in Colorado. Two were dancers, who missed it like crazy, and the other, although considered a brainiac, was madly in love with Brad Pitt, to the point of obsession. We sat there all night talking, laughing, judging, and reflecting back on what we all considered “the good ole days”. From that moment on I felt safe; we ate together, shopped together, and even had most classes together. We could tell each other everything, regardless of the fact that we had only known each other for weeks. We staged water fights in the dorm and went to midnight movies downtown. We each had our own routines and lives, but we shared them with each other. My freshman year of college was a dream, maybe not academically, but I made up for it in memories. We laughed, we cried, and we talked about things we could never had with our high school friends. These girls had saved me from myself. I have never quit anything in my life; I don’t consider it an option, but college and being alone came close for me. I was scared, it was a situation that I could not control, it wasn’t a basketball court where I knew the rules and I knew what it took to win, I was out of my element. With these girls by my side I felt the confidence to venture out to the social side of college. We attended comedy clubs, went out dancing, and frequented the movies at least once a week. We attended student government sessions and joined the Big Brothers, Big Sisters program. I learned that no matter how different we all were, we shared a dream of helping others. I actually graduated with a minor in leadership and public service, thanks to the strong will of my friends. Because I had gained confidence in myself outside of sports, I felt it was time to instill that in others. I worked with a little girl, in whom I saw a lot of myself in. She was into sports and had a sort of “tomboy” mentality. We would hang out at the arcade or play basketball at school with her friends. She was really cool and fun, but I quickly learned she was dyslexic and flunking out of school. I asked her about school and she hated it. No wonder. So what to do? Stay her “cool, older, friend” or turn into a teacher? Against all my insecurities I began to focus our time more on school. I could tell she was not thrilled, but I wanted to help her, not just be her friend, but be her mentor; to make her life a little easier, at least for the time being. We would both sit and do homework; I would take her to the public library at first to show her that other children her age also had homework to complete. But it seems that she always felt uneasy being there, I think a little embarrassed. I then began to take her to my college library, she was speechless, I gave her the tour of the six levels stuffed full of books, magazines, and sleep-deprived students just trying to get by. She saw that spending time on school work wasn’t for those with “problems” but a way of life for the normal college student. She did some of her best work there, really buckling down and concentrating. I would check her work and could see the improvement. This became our weekly routine for a while, until one day I arrived at her school to pick her up for our annual library cram session and her teacher pulled me aside. At first she praised me for the change she’d seen in our girls’ math and science grades. I took no credit, just explained our move to the college library. But there was bad news…. Our girl had been missing a lot of school and was in jeopardy of failing. How could this be? I asked. She was beginning to love school. The teacher explained that before I came along our girls’ mother would keep her home from school when she had tests or had projects. To make matters worse, when the school contacted the girl’s mother to talk about their options the mother took it the wrong way and pulled her daughter out of school all together to be home schooled. But the ultimate disappointment was that because our girl was no longer affiliated with the school I was not allowed to mentor her anymore. I was crushed, to say the least. What was I supposed to do? This girl had become a huge part of my life for the last few months. I debated, consulted my friends, and even the director of the program. Finally I decided I needed to say goodbye in person. Her mother allowed me to take her to the park one last time. I didn’t know what to say or what to do. I asked her how she felt about being homeschooled. And to my surprise she wasn’t that thrilled. She said she’d miss her friends and playing ball. I told her that I could not mentor her anymore and she was upset, so was I. The rest of the visit was very subdued, we absently talked about sports and movies until it was time to take her home, we hugged and then I drove away. I felt helpless. I never heard from the girl again. And I can only hope that she was reinstated into school and received the help she so desperately deserved. The one good thing that came out of that whole terrible situation was my new found interest in children, their learning abilities and especially their rights. I researched and wrote a compelling paper on children and homeschooling and its negative social implications in rural areas. I had never given thought to working with children, but after that semester in college I learned that I wanted to protect and give justice to those who cannot ask for it themselves. For the first time I had a glimpse into my future and knew I was supposed to help others, in what capacity I wasn’t sure, but I knew I was supposed to help. I then proceeded to volunteer for Rainbow House, a home for abused and neglected children. I dedicated my time and love to those who were not receiving either. My heart broke every time I left that building, but it flourished every time I walked in. I had learned something about myself that semester. I cared about the well-being of others. I wanted justice for all, especially children. I learned how to be compassionate and how to love without limits. And to this day I am a better person for it. I will never forget the emotions I felt that entire semester. For once, it seemed, I was thinking about someone other than me, a pretty big feet for a 20 year old. The rest of college continued on this path, volunteering my time, and trying to find myself. I made new friends, developed new interests, and had a blast. When my senior year rolled around I was at a loss. What was I going to do with my life? I had never really thought about it. Sure, I always wanted to be in the FBI and be a secret agent, but that wasn’t practical. So what reality did I face? I wanted to have a rewarding career, wanted to help people, and wanted to be part of greatness. So, with a little help from a career fair I signed up for the Missouri State Highway. A few weeks later I received a letter. The Highway Patrol wanted me to come down and take the entrance and fitness test. I was so excited, but at the same time nervous. I spent the next few weeks trying to get in shape, I was so nervous. The night before I couldn’t sleep, so my friends, being as great as they were, stayed up with me, watching movies, and pigging out on popcorn, anything to take my mind off of the following days’ events. The next morning I arrived in Jefferson City at seven a.m. I was joined by a mismatched group of people, all as nervous as me. The test was administered at exactly eight a.m. It took almost two hours to complete. I checked and even rechecked my answers a couple times, before resigning, Knowing I gave it my best. An hour later the results were posted. I scored the second highest out of the group! I was thrilled to hear it. It definitely took some of the pressure off. However, that meant that I had to complete the physical fitness part of the exam in only one hour. Talk about butterflies. But physical activity was the one thing I could always do well. Being a crazy, hyper, child had helped that. I teamed up with one of the other girls in the group to help each other out. We were required to do sit-ups, vertical jumps, shuttle runs, loading and unloading a gun, and finally a mile run. I was so crazy with nerves and adrenaline that I completed every event above and beyond what was asked. My competitiveness had taken over and I had to be the best. Finally, it was over. I drove home drained but content. I had given my all. A couple weeks later I received a notice in the mail, I had made it into the next round. I was to come back and complete a polygraph test, the next phase in the test. I was thrilled my hard work had paid off. I had my reservations about the job itself, could I really pull people over, could I arrive on crash scenes, could I walk up to a mother and tell her that her child had just been killed on the highway? Was I ready for that? My biggest concern, was the most superficial, how would I look in the uniform, and the hat…, really? I finished out my senior year in a blur, until that is, the last day of class. I was going out to celebrate, I mean big time. I was a college graduate with a future ahead of me. My friends and I got dressed up and went out like rock stars. We hit the downtown to live it up with the rest of my fellow good timers. We had set no limits on the night, which I later came to regret for the rest of my life. We decided to call it a night around 2 a.m., so trying to be responsible drunkards called a cab. Since it was not only my last day of class but about 2,000 others the cab companies, to say the least were backed up. They gave a two hour wait time. Hell, we only lived a mile away. My friend had drove us downtown and was insistent on driving us home, she however, could not even form complete sentences, let alone fully open her eyes. I, however, was walking and talking and fully functioning. In my inebriated state decided that I should drive, I could still see the road. Like all tragedies, the heroine has to go through adversity and anguish before she can overcome. So, as you can imagine. I was pulled over, arrested, and spent three hours in the campus “drunk tank” before I was allowed to bail myself out. It was all over, my life, my career, what now, why had I thought I wouldn’t get caught? How was I supposed to face my parents and tell them that I had been arrested when they were coming to see their little girl accomplish their dreams for her? What a disappointment. In one stupid moment I had crushed my own dreams. How could I work in the criminal justice field having been a criminal myself? My graduation was bittersweet, to say the least. Instead of enjoying the moment, I had to find a lawyer for my case and had to apply for a temporary license, just to drive home. Previous to my irresponsible act of stupidity, I had elected to spend the summer in New Hampshire with my aunt, to work and live on the beach. I needed to get away, looking back I was running, just as I had ran away to the farthest college. I saw this summer as a new start. Nobody knew me and I could be whoever I wanted. My summer had looked like a dream. She lived right on the beach and was friends with everybody, it had promised to be a fun filled few months. Now, as reality set in I was screwed. How was I supposed to get a job without a car? I now had huge lawyer fees, court costs and to boot I had to attend 21 hours of Alcoholics Anonymous classes in a neighboring town. What a fun filled summer…. My parents never really expressed disappoint in me when I broke the news. They didn’t have to, I felt it enough for the three of us. My parents rarely, if ever, had shown disappointment in me. But, because they had raised me so well, I felt that when I made bad decisions, which I had a habit of doing…a lot, I wondered why they kept me around. They knew I knew better, I knew I knew better, yet, it seemed I disregarded my conscience regularly for a good time. I never cared about consequences, instead always opting for the immediate pleasure. That was, until the DWI. Those consequences are still haunting me to this day. To my advantage my aunt lived less than a mile from the “boardwalk” a local hot-spot filled with bars and restaurants, and always packed with tourists. I applied to over ten different places, and again thanking God for my aunts’ social abilities I received a job in a restaurant where she knew the bartender and night manager. As excited as I was that my life wasn’t a complete failure, I was again in the situation of having to meet new people. But this time I had no other option. I had to make some money and this was my only hope. I began work, it seemed the staff was all a team, a very close team, “great I thought, they don’t want outsiders” and to my dismay a few of them didn’t. But since most of the girls that worked there were foreign, from places like Poland or Bulgaria, they were friendly and willing to teach me the ropes. We soon became friends and started hanging out after work and since we were forced to spend ten hours a day or more together we became very close. I did return to Missouri to take the polygraph test in the middle of June. I walked in with a defeatist attitude, seeing as how I had no license, instead a piece of paper with my charge and a temporary permit. To say the least they weren’t impressed. When my turn came around I was nervous, I felt little, insignificant, and a failure. How was I supposed to impress them with my knowledge and commitment to justice when I, myself, couldn’t even follow the rules? The instructor was nice enough; he tried to set my mind at ease as best he could, considering I was hooked up to a machine five different ways. He explained the procedure stating that he was going to ask me the same questions once with the machine off, then with it on. He made a statement that at the time seemed like meaningless jargon, but now means the world to me. He said that the purpose of the polygraph test was not to help the Highway Patrol hire those who are perfect, instead to hire those who take responsibility for their actions. What good was a trooper who was perfect? They wouldn’t be able to show compassion or understanding, instead they wanted those who knew the difference between right and wrong, acted in the right, but could understand the wrong. Not until a year later did I truly understand this statement. Needless to say later that month I received a letter stating that I had not been chosen to be a state trooper. I was crushed, now what I thought, if they didn’t want me who would. I had no life plan and no purpose. Looking back at my time in New Hampshire I was able, in the midst of all the events, to have a great summer. I developed a relationship with my aunt that I had never had the opportunity to do before. We became best friends; we went out together and more often just stayed in and hung out. We cooked together and worked together. I know that we both learned a lot from each other that summer. I would not trade it for a single thing. She helped me to see that life happens and that there are always other options. She encouraged me to go back to school, education she said, was always a good investment. Seeing as she was a teacher, I was inclined to take her advice. Suddenly I felt like I had a plan, go back to school, screw the Highway Patrol, I’ll get so much education they’ll be begging me to work for them. I searched and researched schools, programs, and locations. I wanted a hands-on school that could teach me the physical part of criminal justice and help me to gain certifications in the process. Again, I wanted to be the best. With every find, my aunt and I discussed its pros, cons, and success rate. She helped to see that limiting my search to Missouri was not the best idea; I needed a good education, not one out of convenience, broaden my horizons. My best friend had married her high school sweetheart who was enlisted in the United States Navy and moved to Virginia Beach, she told me about a school down there that was always advertising its criminal justice program and its certificates. She picked up and mailed a few brochures to me to look over. After a few phone calls I decided to give it a look. I viewed the school and was immediately pulled in by its curriculum and one of the teachers, who had previously been a profiler for the police, the exact job I wanted. I made up my mind, but still I was a little hesitant. Another issue I had been struggling with in New Hampshire was that for the first time in my adult life I was home sick. It is important to mention at this point that I had been blessed with a very culturally sound background. For family vacations my grandparents often took us on cruises on their yacht to private islands. We took other cruises to Alaska, Panama City, Aruba, Columbia, etc. I was a very lucky kid. I traveled to New Mexico with family, Texas, a couple times, with friends, Ireland once and pretty much everywhere else in the continental United States. In most cases my parents were lucky to get a phone call stating I arrived safe. I always felt if they were okay then why worry? I could take care of myself as well. But this time it was different, my dad had suffered a broken back and several surgeries, and my mom was hormonal. It seemed I was missing the rest of my family, especially my grandmother, my biggest fan. We had just found out she had lung cancer and I felt guilty moving even further away when I knew she needed me. But after talking to both my parents and my grandmother they encouraged me to go back to school. And Here I am. Right before I was to move to Virginia Beach I was involved in an accident. I was hit by a drunk motorcyclist crossing the street in a cross walk. I was thrown about 20 feet landing on my side, in turn dislocating my left knee along with severe contusions and several cuts and bruises. I have the worst luck! The accident was a nightmare and I am not even talking about the level of pain. I could hardly walk and therefore could not return to being a waitress. I went to the doctor and had tests run to be told that surgery was my best option. Great, here I was in a new town, at a new school, without parents or family about to have knee surgery. Thank God for my friend Stacey, without her, I know I would not be here. So I had surgery, fully aware of the irony that my life was. Even if I had gotten in the Highway Patrol I would not be able to go now with a bum knee. Double Whammy. I continued with school, started rehab for the knee, but again began to feel the sweep of disappoint wave over me. I was 23, wasn’t I supposed to have a steady job by now with a daily routine and a paycheck? Why didn’t I just except the fact that I was going to have to settle for less? I was defeated. I needed a break, I needed home. So that’s what I did. I went home for a weekend. I let it all go and just enjoyed myself. I had a blast, I visited family, friends, and had coffee with my dad, something I had always taken for granted. But when I arrived back in Virginia, instead of clearing my head the trip had only clouded it more. Why was I living 18 hours away? Why was I still running away from the things I loved the most? It had never been my intent to move back to Missouri and live there. I wanted adventure, danger, and excitement. But something changed that. No longer did I want that crazy lifestyle. I wanted to see my family and friends and be safe. Don’t get me wrong I still wanted that exciting career, but I wanted it alongside everything else. Why couldn’t I have both? But I was Jenna, the kid who skydives on weekends and flies planes. I was destined for bigger and better, that is what my family used to say. And I believed them I didn’t need to stick around and be like the rest. People in my home town seldom left. They married young, had babies young, and lived a life opposite of the one I wanted for myself. I did not want that life, but I also didn’t want the city life I kept running back too. When I went home for that weekend to clear my head I fell in love. I fell in love with my family, with my surroundings and my friends all over again. I had missed that feeling for so many years, in fact I often ran away from it, scared it would hold me back. But something happened. One night sitting on my parents’ porch with my mom under the stars, the real stars, not pole lights or bar signs, or police cruisers, but star the way God intended them to be seen. My mother had been one of those who wanted better for me. She had gotten out and away from the small town and was damn sure I would too. But that night we did not argue about my life or my plans instead. She simply said, “This is home”. I had been fighting myself for months on that notion. Where was I going to end up? Could I really consider anywhere else home? I didn’t want to. Suddenly it all made sense. I could move closer to home. I could have both an exciting career, and a close family life. I have begun to crave the slower way of life that Missouri holds for me, the river, camping, my friends, my family, and especially that feeling I get every time I get close to home. It is peaceful and serene, calming and safe. It is home. I found out recently that my grandmothers cancer had came back. Talk about a blow to the heart. This woman had grown up on the river, raised five children through good times and bad and had a hand in raising all 15 of her grandchildren. She, herself was a childlike in many ways. She held the ability to love and forgive in an instant. She was sincere and honest, except when she cheated at cards, and had the biggest heart I’d ever seen. I credit her with the crazy streak all us grandkids inherited. She also taught me that I was invincible, as she often that she was. She was 65 and still jumping off of creek bluffs, she was sledding on car hoods, and in the floor wrestling her grown grandkids. She had no fear and taught all of us the same. She was always our biggest fan and was never afraid to speak her mind, whether you wanted to hear it or not. She was our escape from both reality and our parents. Her house was a safe haven to run to, and I often frequented it for advice. She wanted everything for us. She wanted adventure, and excitement and she was always the first one I called after I had done something irrational and crazy. But most of all she wanted us to be happy. That was her only wish. She wanted us to live our dreams, even if it took us to New Hampshire, Virginia, or Memphis. She instilled in us the importance of family. Something as you have read that has finally set in for me. But through her sickness my cousins and I have become closer. We talk, recount memories, and joke constantly, most often about our grandmother. She is the glue that holds us together, we know that and it scares us to death. But for being there for us, me especially, she has shown us what love is, and what it can overcome. Honestly she is a huge part of my decision to move home. I may have grown up around her but I cannot imagine my life without her. It is selfish, but I am not ready. I have finally realized my life goal and direction and here my safety net is about to be pulled out from under me. I am sure you are wondering what my “life goal” has now become. Well, I finally have a plan, even a backup plan. Talk about being overly prepared. I will be done in Virginia Beach in October, I then plan to move to Springfield Missouri, a rural, but growing city where a few of my cousins and friends live. I am going to once again try out for the highway patrol, but this time I am ready to take full responsibility for my actions and transgressions, no excuses, no regrets. I am ready once again to be a part of a team, especially a team that shares the common goal of saving others. It is about time I start returning the favor. And as for the uniform and hat, why not, I look good in blue. I know now that I am capable of performing the duties of a trooper, with both honor and commitment. I know it takes work but I am ready to commit myself to the cause. The first time around I was scared, unsure of what I could contribute, now I know, compassion, understanding, and knowledge, both hands on and life lessons. I strive on activities that involve both body and mind to succeed. Let’s just hope they are ready for me. My backup plan takes a different step in direction. If the highway patrol does not pan out for my future I would like to give working with children a chance. Probably not permanently due to the amount of mental strain it can create, but to give back to children who were dealt an unfair hand in life. Outside of the job realm I want to get back to the basics of life. I want to see my family more; I want ride horses with my dad and brother and watch old musicals with my mom. I want to make every moment count with my family and I want to have no regrets about it. I want to become an example of hard work and perseverance. I want others who knew me then to know me now and to be able to see the difference. I want to work hard and be rewarded and most of all I want to be happy. It seems that I want for a lot, but in reality if I given a chance to prove myself these things will come automatically.
A Career Viewpoint A topic that is known by many along with points of view that varies as much as the lay of the land. In the next few pages please try to interpret my analogies of how the economic trends are similar to that of past eras of financial difficulties. Also, I will share some insight of my experiences of working in the real estate and new home construction industry. In the past twenty years I have in one form or another participated in building homes or selling homes. Whether drawing plans, subcontracting, filing permits, digging ditches, or framing a wall, I can certainly respect each level of affiliation involved during the home building process. For the past sixteen years I have sold both existing homes and new home construction from one side of the price range to the other. Please allow me to formulate my thoughts and experiences and have patience as I may set off on tangents that I may so often do. If you find this material boring, I will not be offended. From one side of the spectrum to the other with the appearance of an unsystematic process may be a way to describe this documentation. Just when you think that the story I am writing about is so far off the topic…the correlation of aspects will eventually make sense. It has been said that history repeats itself. The similarities of the great depression, the gas crisis of the seventies, the recession of the early nineties, and the bungled economic mess that we are in today appear to the results of war. The war debts from other countries that never seem to be repaid and if there is payment the public is not made aware of payments when received. Oil prices always spike after these events, thus sending more money back out of the country. When the United States has done so much to assist other countries in their times of need, the lack of appreciation creates a broad insult that affects the entire country. Either oblivious or overwhelmed with other issues it seems that this continual event recurs constantly. If you don’t pay your bills here in America the government will help the debt collectors recover lost revenue. What is the end result when such large amounts of debts are forgiven that are owed to this country? One might pay more taxes or government services may be cut that benefits taxpayers. The interest alone for the money that has been sent abroad in the past century could possibly be enough to operate our countries expenses each year. Think about it…fewer taxes and expenses for all would allow more people to have affordable housing and live more comfortably. Our competitive society sometimes balances between the security and investments of the stock market and the housing market. I have spent the majority of my career in the real estate and construction industry. In the past twenty years I have seen a lot of changes as well as the cycle of the fluctuating markets. The domino effect that is created with the construction of one home floods not only the local economy with labor, taxes, material purchases and services provided by people located within the region but with others abroad. Numerous materials, tools, and goods used to outfit a home are purchased from America as well as the other countries. The delivery, production, and consumption of these products provide a living for so many people on such a broad level it is staggering. The effect of our local economy staggers down to the level of basic housing need which ultimately generates lasting effects across the globe. The great depression is a perfect example of these factors. The mounting unpaid war debts combined with the stock market crash pitched our financial system into a tail-spin. Seventy years later we are still having the same results. I am not trying to teach a history lesson but examine how real estate cycles do repeat themselves. The American housing market affects everyone across the globe. Trends will come and go but customs and styles do reemerge. As a real estate agent there are many codes of ethics and rules that I must adhere to in all walks of life. The additional rules are governed by state and local boards. So clearly this essay is more of a viewpoint or an opinion, not always the rule to follow. I will share some experiences throughout this writing that may seem boring but may have created positive experiences either for others or myself. There are many learning curves that are difficult, challenging, timely and frustrating. If one learns by their mistakes my IQ should be staggering, but I digress because points are not excessive when added together. Every day brings another opportunity to learn. I will admit it is always uphill for me. Statistics and regulations will change so if I quote a source or number this may not hold as a constant value for another day. Theories and opinions vary just like the lay of the land. So these are just thoughts of mine and not a debate. And guess what tomorrow I might change my mind and say something different. Buy low…sell high; an investors golden rule. This may not always be the best policy. If one property sells too high or too low it will affect the rest of the area negatively. So who cares? Everyone else in the community will care when the adverse influence is not in their best interest. When I first started selling real estate “fair market value” was promoted as the basis establishing price. Of course price is ultimately determined by what two parties agree upon. Until recent times a real estate agent primarily represented the seller to get the highest and best price for a property. However the agents that worked with the buyers typically never met the seller and would establish a loyalty with the buyer. While doing this the buyers negotiating positions can be somewhat compromised. Eventually real estate agency relationships were created hastily in an effort to protect the consumer. While in doing this the ones who wrote the rules were typically attorneys who practice the representation of one party solely. These policies were not practical in real world settings where numerous situations would arise where an agent would have to assist both a buyer and a seller in some circumstances. New rules and disclosures were soon created to accommodate certain situations. With every resolution a case always arises that circumvents the goal to assist all parties fairly. Changes will once again occur with policies, disclosures and the representation of all. Instead of the old saying “buyer beware”, soon the language will be similar to: buyer, seller, and everyone beware of the sky falling. One can scrutinize every thing the way they want to. I always joked that I was going to ask prospective clients to sign a document acknowledging that dogs, sharks and mosquitoes bite. But of course this is just my way of making light of ridiculous, discordant and litigious people. Upon showing many homes to a couple relocating to the area one home we previewed had a large yard with barns and fields. We walked back to the barn to find a pen full of excited puppies happy to see people. Everyone had to reach in and pet the hounds after we saw the eagerness of their attempts to gain our attention. The puppies were just weeks old and could harm anyone. However, I received a phone call late that night with a disgruntled buyer screaming and carrying on. Well apparently one of the puppies had nicked his hand and broke the skin. After thinking about it this individual called the person renting the house to check to see if the dogs had received there shots yet. “Not yet the renter responded, they are still too young but they have a visit already scheduled to visit the veterinarian”. I am not sure what happened next but apparently opinions were communicated and tempers flared. As silly as this real life example appears the mediation to resolve unnecessary conflicts such as this do not pay in the form of a paycheck. It is a reminder to prompt ones clients to always be cautious. Another piece of advice I share with new agents is to show the home prior to walking through the yard and around the property. That lesson was also one that I learned the hard way. The home owner may not have a dog but the neighbors might so watch your step. Of course these types of situations are now funny to reminisce about. In the two decades that I have been in the real estate and construction industry, property values have been mostly stable except in three independent situations. This brings me back to the fair market value concept. How it is determined and what are the ramifications of driving up prices with no basis. When determining the value of properties the main factors are established by using the sales prices of properties that have actually sold. Using the asking price of properties that are currently for sale and chattels which are under contract is not an accurate measurement of establishing value. During a real estate boom when the demand is apparent, a reasonable boost of the asking price for a property can be justified. If the sales price of a property is too much higher than that of similar homes that have sold certain problems will arise. After a buyer commits sometimes thousands of dollars toward loan applications, home inspections, and other services as well as their valuable time, misery will take over when the home does not appraise. If a home buyer does not mind paying a little more in addition to what can accurately be financed there is no problem. When the demand sets in and buyers are willing to do this appreciation can be accurately measured. If an appraisal does not reflect the true value by other sales then some of the results can be reflected by the foreclosures seen as in today’s market. In a faltering market as we see today numerous people are selling for a lot less than what the home was worth at one time just too get out of debts. Sometimes these sellers have to sell for less than debts that are owed on the property creating what is called a short sale. Yes that is right some unfortunate sellers have to go to the closing table with cash to pay off the remaining debts as opposed to walking away with the proceeds of the closing. A competent real estate agent will take the necessary steps on the front end to alert a seller of all the closing cost involved and unexpected expenses that could be a part of the sale. One may find it hard to believe but many people don’t even take into consideration the selling expenses of a property sale prior to marketing the home. I have found it to be amazing how many agents will not even discuss the cost with a seller prior to listing a property for sale what cost will be taken away from the actual sales price. Take into consideration that the selling cost may range from ten thousand to one hundred thousand dollars. These figures are somewhat staggering but a large percentage of agents will not disclose this to a prospective seller out of fear of losing the listing or out of pure incompetence. If you are considering “flipping a home” you better seek advice from an accountant because of the tax ramifications that you may be subject too. So many people with have been influenced by this concept with no idea of the cost involved with the purchase, the rehab, the sale, and don’t forget uncle Sam’s share only to realize that have only wasted time and money in this futile attempt. My advice would be to research the tax consequences, speak with an accountant, and discuss one’s goals with several competent agents who understand investment properties and reliable contractors who know the cost to perform certain task prior moving forward. Regardless of the current market conditions and the negative tone that is currently being used to describe the real estate market, the benefits of home ownership have never been better than before. Just this summer a new housing stimulus bill was passed in Washington in an effort to bring greater stability to housing markets nationwide. This temporary first-time home buyer tax credit would offer $7,500 for the purchase of any home and can be used for purchases between April 9, 2008 and July 1, 2009 (AP 7/30/08). This bill will also allow up to 400,000 homeowners refinance into affordable government backed loans. The incentives are expected to reduce the high inventory of unsold homes. Congress and the president were able to agree upon the terms of the legislation to assist with affordability. The National Association of Realtors and members have been promoting for changes since the signs of the downturn a few years ago. The bill H. R. 3221, The Housing and Economic Recovery Act of 2008, also includes reform such as permanent increase in FHA Loan Limits. This is a great time to invest in a home for you and your family, so take advantage of the low interest rates, an immense inventory, motivated sellers, and numerous incentives available to the buyer!
THE LIFE OF WILLIAM DOCKERY On April 6, 1972, during the many showers of April, a baby named William Terrell Dockery was born in Fayetteville, North Carolina. My parents are William Dockery and Merland Dockery both out of North Carolina. My mother was raised by her father because her mother passed away when she was just a child. She would tell me some stories about her mother. She would tell me how my grandmother was a mean person with a very short temper. I really don’t know that much about my father’s side. All I know is his parents passed away while he was young. While my mother gave birth to me, I was born with pneumonia because she had the flu at the time of giving birth. I was a very fortunate and blessed baby because while I was sleeping in my crib one night, a bullet came through the window of the very room I was in. Lets just say, the Lord was watching over me even then. When I was old enough to walk, I would take my diaper off outside and run around naked. Our next-door neighbor would always let my mother know what I was doing at all times. There was a dog in the neighborhood that would lie around and sleep by people’s cars. So one day, I took it upon myself to lie next to the dog and we both were asleep under someone’s car. The driver was about to start the car and put it in gear to drive when he noticed the dog and I under the car. So he immediately informed my mother and she gave me spanking and to this day, we would laugh about it. Growing up in a house and being the youngest of seven children had its good points and bad ones. Especially, if your older siblings are all girls, that is definitely something to deal with. There was never a dull moment in my household. There was always someone in the bathroom. We had only one bathroom and to share it with six sisters was very hectic. Now the upside to having older sisters, I always had a place to go because they would take me with them. I had to walk to school everyday, but the good thing was my school was located behind my neighborhood. So it didn’t take long to get to school. Once I started kindergarten, it was a very fun place to be. I truly enjoyed snack time and playtime. We would have learning games or songs that our teacher would go over with us. The would allow us arts and crafts time to make necklaces, cup holders, and do drawings. Every child had their own cubby with his or her belongings in the cubby. After lunch, we would have or nap time, which was for about an hour or so. Then our teacher would wake us and continue with the rest of the school day. Then the bell would ring to release the students for the day. My mother is in an abusive marriage also. My father would leave for work and come home drunk to my mom on a regular basis. He would start by asking where’s his food and why it wasn’t prepared a certain way. The two of them would start arguing and then it would get physical at times. There were a lot of times where my father would hit my mom and she would fight back. Also, my sisters would join in to help my mother by picking up whatever they can to hit my father with. They mainly used pots and pans to hit my father to keep him away from my mother. All of these events took place while I was still a baby. Some of my older sisters were at the age where they could move out on their own if they liked. A few of them were married at a young age also. They really didn’t have the proper role model in their lives at the time, so they made a lot of mistakes in the process. My mother was a strong person to go through the struggles she had to endure. She had distanced herself from my father because she didn’t want me to continue to grow up in that type of environment any longer. So at age six, my mother, my youngest sister, and me moved into a low income neighborhood or public housing if you will. Being new to any environment is something to get used to, but in the projects is where your survival begins. I literally had to go through fights almost everyday to prove myself worthy of being in this particular neighborhood. Survival of the fittest truly kicked in because now I finally understood what it meant to be poor. I grew up getting food stamps and government cheese every month. I also didn’t have many opportunities to enjoy some of the cereals and milks that we have today. Instead of eating Frosted Flakes, Honey Smacks, Fruit Loops, etc., I would have puffed wheat in a bag and corn flakes on a white box in bold black letters that would be the only thing on the box. A lot of times we used powdered milk or the carnation milk to put in the cereal. For sugar, we would use sweet and low or equal. All this would take place after our food stamps were done for the month. Then we would have to wait until the first of the next month. Now months have gone by and I was starting to make more friends. It didn’t seem so bad because everyone was in the same situation as I was in. The majority of neighborhood consisted of single mothers with children or the elderly. My mother had me at the age of thirty-seven, so by the time I was ten or eleven, the other kids mothers were in their late twenties or early thirties. My mother was in her late forties and some kids at school would think she was my grandmother. My mother and father stopped going to school at very early ages; therefore, they didn’t graduate from high school like most. A few years later, mother started taking night classes where she received her GED. That was one of the proudest days of my life because before then she could not really help me with my work. I had always wondered why I had many wrong answers on my work. That’s when I found out she didn’t complete high school, but she did the best she could with what she knew. As a child, I was in church constantly. When I say I had to go all the time, I mean all the time. It was to the point where I didn’t like going anymore. My summers would be spent going to summer camp at Fayetteville State University. There would be an activity bus that would come and pick us up in our neighborhood. I always looked forward to it because we would swim, play basketball, tennis, and play softball. I liked swimming the best though because it was all about getting in the pool. I didn’t do much traveling when I was young so going to summer camp was the highlight of the summer. During my elementary school years, I have encountered some interesting things. I had some good teachers, but there was an area where I struggled. It was my comprehension. I was a great speller and that was the only thing I had going for me. I grew up in a household where proper grammar was not used at all. So, I adopted the bad habits of improper grammar and it caused me to struggle once it came to take standardized tests. As I would read the passages, my mind would wander because the passages were so boring. Then a section of the test, I would have to either make grammatical corrections to the paragraphs or no corrections would be needed. I couldn’t decide which corrections to make at that time. It was confusing because I was on the A-B honor roll throughout elementary school. I didn’t like to give oral reports because of stage fright and I was a very shy person. I grew up in a time where discipline was highly enforced. I had a math teacher who was known for paddling students when their behavior was out of control. He would walk them out of the classroom and go around the corner. He would have the person to lean forward against the wall and spank him or her with the paddle. See, it was acceptable by parents back then. You would have to run laps around the track too. I had to run some laps myself because I would always be the one laughing in class. I didn’t get into trouble for talking, just laughing. My school was located across the street from my neighborhood, although we had to walk about a mile and a half to and from everyday. Like I said before, the guys in my neighborhood were pretty close. We would walk together in packs as if we were wolves. There would be moments where fights would break out, but other than that everyone got along with one another. I looked forward to report cards coming home because my father would give me five dollars if my grades were very good. The teacher would give me my report card and I would look it over with a big smile on my face because I would have A’s, B’s, and a few C’s on there. I would smile all the way home, and I would show my parents the grades and wait for my reward. I was a well-behaved student and my report card would always reflect it. My mother would go to the parent-teacher conferences, and the teacher would tell her how much he or she loved me in their classroom. My mom would joke and say, “Are you talking about my child?” If there was no homework to be done, I would either watch cartoons on television or go outside and play with my friends. My father was a diabetic, and I would watch him take his insulin early in the morning. Saturdays were special days for my father and me because we would watch wrestling on television. He introduced it to me and I have been watching it ever since. It would also come on at eleven o’ clock at night. Well, I would be sleeping at that time, where he would wake me to watch it with him. Sometimes I would watch it and other times, I would remain asleep. I recalled a time when my mom, sister, and I were with my father and he had a stroke to where he was temporarily blinded. This had surprised me because I had never seen anything like this before. We had to call the ambulance to pick my father up and take him to the hospital. My sister cried her eyes out as the ambulance drove away. His vision was restored and he was released from the hospital. I was so happy because he was home again. I loved my mother to death, but there was one thing she would do that I could not stand. If she was lying down on the couch and her purse was next to her on the floor, she would call me from across the room just to pick it up and give it to her. I would think there would be more, and she would say, “That’s it.” Now I would have to go back across the other side of the room. Afterwards, I would go outside before she would call me to do anything else. I would run to the park to get away, although that would not work at times. My mom still yelled for me to come home for whatever reason. That occurred every-time I was having a good time with my friends. Mostly, it would be a good game of basketball and the score would be tied and we needed one basket to win. She would call and I had to get someone to replace me before I left. I would run all the way home and complain at the same time. My mom had worked out an agreement with the office manager in our neighborhood about selling icy cups for extra money. Of course, the office had to receive a percentage of the earnings. That experience was kind of fun because all the kids in the neighborhood found out and they were coming by for icy cups. They called my mom the “icy lady” and we would charge fifty cents per icy cup. You would have a lot of kids coming by as early as eight o’ clock in the morning for icy cups. I thought we were doing pretty good, but after you subtract for sugar, cool-aid, cups, and giving the office their cut, we were left with just a little bit. I understand that each little bit helps, yet I didn’t see any progression. Our business experience lasted for a couple of months and kids were asking if we were going to sell the icy cups again. My mother and father had reconciled their differences and we were a family again. One Sunday, I pretended to be sick just so I can stay home and be with my dad. I had succeeded by lying to my mother and she let me stay home. As soon as she left for church, I suddenly started feeling better and my father let me go outside and play with my friends. I was ten years old at the time when all this happened. My friends and I were playing basketball at the basketball court. We played until we got bored of playing and someone suggested we go throw rocks at cars. There was some woods located near the basketball court. My friends and I gathered some rocks and waited in the woods for cars to drive by. As the cars would go by, we would throw rocks at them and hide. After about twenty minutes of doing that, we walked by this house that had rabbits in it. Just behind that house was a couple of mobile homes and beside the mobile homes was an air conditioning company. The company had a lot of marble cut rocks in front of it. There was a barbed-wire fence between the air conditioning company and the woods we were hiding in earlier. We gathered those rocks and started throwing them at the mobile homes. We broke a lot of windows and also caused hundreds and hundreds of dollars worth of damage to the different properties. There were cars driving by as we were throwing the rocks and one car pulled over yelling. The driver said, “Hey you kids, what are you doing?” So I immediately dropped the rest of my rocks and ran. All of us were able to jump the fence except one and he was caught. The rest of us were hiding out in the woods as the police showed up. The boy rode with the police taking them to everyone’s house and telling their parents. By this time, my mother was home from church and she was very upset with me. My mother suddenly yelled at the top of her lungs for me to come home. Once I got home, she told me to go straight up to my room and wait for her. I knew what was coming next. She went and got a switch and brought it up to me. I was stretched out across the bed where my shorts kind of raised up a little exposing the back of my thighs. I tried to psych myself up by being tough and take the spanking. As my mother was hitting me with the switch, it felt like my skin had split open from all of those licks. I immediately started crying because I thought my legs were bleeding. Lets just say, I never thought about throwing a rock ever again. My mother has always been the disciplinarian in our family and my father has been the laid back one. One afternoon, my father and I were riding in the back seat of a car and I kept sitting up from my seat while the car was moving. In other words, I was being nosy and trying to see everything. My father said, “Son, sit down.” He was just as calm when he said it, so he said it again. I was still not listening to what he was saying. Now this time, my father took his hand and he popped me right on the legs. I was so shocked he hit me that I didn’t say a word or move the rest of the car ride. That was the only time my father ever spanked me, and I was glad. The difference between my mother and father is this, my mother is definitely a yeller. She would yell if you did something you had no business doing. Sometimes that would be worse than getting a spanking. Depending on what was done, she would combine the two and you really would be hating life at that moment. My father was the calm one of the two. He would talk to you and not at you about what it was you did wrong. I received both styles and both styles were very effective. When I moved on to junior high, I was this short and skinny boy, trying to fit in a new environment. Most of the kids were taller than me, so I had to try a little harder when came down to doing competitive events. I went out for the boy’s basketball team, but was cut from the team because of my height. That didn’t keep me from working on my skills though. So in the meantime, I wrestled on the school team. I shocked myself because I was a pretty good wrestler, but basketball was my passion. I even ran track through junior high, which was a very interesting experience. Just about every guy in my neighborhood fantasized about being in the NBA when they get older. I watched a game as soon as the game was over, I would be out there practicing some of the moves from the game. Then afterwards, the guys and I would talk about the game that was on. We analyzed every move, shot, and call that was made throughout the game. For every kid, Michael Jordan was a player everyone wanted to pattern their game after. He would do things in a basketball game that no one would ever think of doing. The thing is, not too many people could do the things he did in basketball. Even on the playground, I always wanted to be the one to take the last shot because Michael Jordan did it each and every game. That’s when my dreams of becoming a professional basketball player became even more intense. I still had my height to consider, but it didn’t stop my desire. I remember the summer before my sophomore year, we were playing a game of basketball. One of my teammates shot the ball and me and this guy went up for the rebound and the guy had elbowed me in the mouth. He caused my two front teeth to go half-way back into my mouth. The were actually knocked out of place. I began spitting up blood and the game stopped. Some of my teammates came to see if I was all right. Now the guy that elbowed me in the mouth was in a state of shock. He just stood there not saying anything. I immediately noticed and saw he wasn’t trying to apologize, so I got upset and started to hit the guy. They stopped me from hitting the guy, and I was given a towel to stop the bleeding. I went home and my mother took me to the emergency room, where the doctors popped my two front teeth back in place. Then the doctor had wrapped some wiring around them and told me I had to eat soft foods for about two weeks. My teeth and gums finally healed and I was ready to start my sophomore year. I honestly thought I would have to get false teeth, but it’s a good thing everything worked out for the better. I had some interesting summer jobs during those times, where I would never ever think lightly of again. I remember picking blueberries. This bus picked us up and we rode through two counties to get there. The temperature was between 95 degrees to 100 degrees easily. You were paid three dollars for every crate of blueberries you have. I figured that would be a piece of cake, but no one told me that within each crate were twelve cartons that needed to be filled and then you fill up the crate. The fields were very long and the sun was scorching hot. I was quite embarrassed because there were elderly women out there outdoing all the youngsters there. They had a special technique they were using, which made things a lot easier for them. The elderly women would be out in the heat all day long and would make hundreds of dollars a day doing this. I only ended up doing two crates and walked away with six dollars. The other job was picking watermelons. A couple of guys tried to pick watermelons with me one summer. Our ride came about 5:30 in the morning and took us in the country to pick watermelons. The guy lived on a farm, where he had watermelon fields for miles. I remember getting out there and grabbing them and picking up the melons to see if they were ripe enough to eat. I quickly learned how to thump the melons to check for a hollow sound. If you heard that sound then you knew you had a good melon. I didn’t realize how exhausting that would be ,so when I got home, I immediately jumped in the shower. Shortly afterwards, I took a nap to relax. Then later on I would get up and play with my friends. Now while in high school, my father became very sick. He was in and out the rest homes or the hospital. By this time, the strokes that he had took over his body. It was to the point where he need assistance to do a lot of things. I would go visit him from time to time, but as a child I didn’t like it because I didn’t like to see my father in a helpless state. Sometimes, I didn’t go see him on purpose because it was too hard for me. I had an aunt who would try to make me feel guilty because I wouldn’t go see him. I tried to tell her how that situation made me feel, but she was not trying to hear what I had to say. I went to my mom and explained the situation to her. She totally understood where I was coming from and did not pressure me to go if I didn’t want to. At one point in my sophomore year, my grades had plummeted big time. My mom had informed my teachers about what I was enduring at that time, so the teachers were quite patient with me. Once I started growing a little more and being on the basketball team, my popularity sky-rocketed and I was having the time of my life. Just about everyone in my high school of 1500 students knew who I was. During those days, that experience was like a child in a candy store. I was so excited and my confidence increased as time went on. The females started noticing me and I thought I was the man because I would hear how cute and intelligent I was. Now I have them wanting to become closer than friends, which was a good thing for me. I started loving high school then because it gave me something to look forward to. Going to the proms and school dances was a blast and I sometimes wish I could go back in time and relive those moments. When I graduated high school, a major milestone was accomplished, but I was very scared also. I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life. I ended up being accepted to Mount Olive College, which was located in Mount Olive, North Carolina. It was a quiet little community and there were about 600 students that attended the school. I also went to Army basic training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina five days after graduation. While I was doing my training, some of the students who were in my class had received orders to go to Iraq for “Operation Desert Shield, Desert Storm”. That kind of shook me up some because that was when I realized that this is the real deal. A lot of those students I never heard of again. You know how life has a way of your paths crossing with someone or some people. Well lets just say, I never saw them again. My unit had deployed over there and I just knew they were going to send for me, but they didn’t. I did my training there and I entered college during the spring semester. College was an overwhelming experience because it took me away from home. So I had all kinds of freedom and I became very excited, but there was a down side to that. I would have to do a lot of things on my own where I had depended on my mother for a lot of things. That’s when I knew I was being introduced to life and all the things it brings. With me being the new kid on the block, many of the students had to feel me out to see where I was coming from. So, now I was an Army Reservist and college student. I would do my reserve training one weekend a month and two weeks during the summer. Being in college, I didn’t realize how important it was to have money. After your money ran out from buying food for your room, you had to wait until your parents either send you money, or your next payday. I was annoyed with a lot of the students because all they would do is play cards the whole weekend. That is why I made it my business to go home to visit my mom every weekend. With the town being as small as it was, there was not much to do there as far as entertainment. I used to look forward to going home and seeing my girlfriend just to have some fun. All the girls at my college were either dating someone or they just wasn’t attractive enough to approach. My college tenure came to an end when my financial aid ran out. So I had to drop out and get a job to make ends meat. Although I was still in the reserves, I wasn’t making the money I would like to. So after about another year of working in factory-type jobs, I decided to join the navy where I could travel and see the world. I was very anxious to leave the state of North Carolina because if I had stayed, I probably would not have left. This was a great decision for me, and all I had to do was transfer my army information to navy. The next thing I knew, I was on my way to Great Lakes, Illinois. When I left the state of North Carolina, it was 85 degrees. I had shorts on and living it up. By the time the plane landed in Chicago, it was 55 degrees. I’m used to a warm climate, so you can imagine what I was going through. I noticed people staring at me once I got off the plane. I guess they were like, look at this fool for wearing shorts in Chicago. This was basically my first time out of North Carolina. I figured since it was hot where I was it would be hot everywhere else. Boy, was I wrong! There was a bus waiting to take us the navy base, and it was cold on the bus also. I froze the whole trip there, which took almost forty-five minutes to get there. It was in the middle of May when all this took place, I didn’t realize the weather would be cold in one state and hot in the others. Then when June 1st came, it’s like someone just turned on the heat. It stayed hot until I finished my training. Then from there, I had to go to Orlando, Florida to learn my job in the navy. They closed that base down some years later. I received my orders to the USS PORTLAND (LSD-37), which was here in Norfolk, Virginia. I was onboard that ship for a total of 5 years. I had some good times and bad, while being onboard. We have traveled and seen many different countries and learned about that country’s cultures. A lot of the places I visited, I only read about or saw on television. Two of my most memorable places were Haifa, Israel and Dakar, Senegal. In Israel, I went on a tour to Jerusalem and visited the “Wailing Wall”. That was a place where the Israelis would go to pray, but they would also write down their prayer and stick it in the wall. In Senegal, I was able to experience the African cultures and admire some of the great craftsmanship there. I also saw the women carrying bundles of laundry on their heads. That was something I always saw on television and to actually see it up close was amazing. I met my wife when she was attending Norfolk State University. This was back in October 1993. I was in Norfolk for only a month and then we met. I had intentions to date many women, and I wanted to have one in every city in Virginia. That was my initial plan, but it didn’t work out that way. My wife and I dated, and I had proposed to her once I had returned from my first deployment. She said yes and we were married in 1994 in New York. Shortly afterwards, my oldest daughter, Bria was born. Then two years later, my son came. I was on top of the world at that time because I was a family man and I was having fun in the military. The bad part about all this was it took me away from my family. That was the hardest thing for me because I hated saying goodbye to my wife and kids. My wife understood I had a job to do, but my kids could not. It would tear me up inside each time they shed any tears. Finally in September 1998, my time was up on the PORTLAND and it was time for me to work closer to my family. Before that could happen, I had to leave and go to school in San Antonio, Texas for law enforcement training. My training was six weeks long; however, I had the time of my life. I recall when it had rained for two days straight , which caused a flood in San Antonio. The sun came out all of a sudden, and the water had evaporated. It looked as if it never rained at all. Once my time was up there, I received orders to work at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. I had to commute from Virginia Beach to Washington, D.C. a lot. I was doing security for the Chief of Naval Operations, who was the top four star admiral in the navy. The work schedule was set up for me to work only fifteen days a month. I loved that schedule, even though it required a lot of hours.
My life started on a small island in the Pacific. My father was stationed at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. I was born in a big pink hospital that sits on the side of a small mountain. Mom said I came out with the cord wrapped around my face. Dad said I looked like an alien and that once they unwound it, I had funny creases on my face. I wish I had pictures, because it just sounds like a sight to see. Nothing all that special happened for the first few years. I lived on an island but was terrified of the ocean. I had an insatiable love for all things chocolate, especially Junior Mints. I formed a friendship with a sailor who supported that addiction, much to the chagrin of my folks. Apparently, chocolate mints did not agree with me and the outcome was not pretty. That’s the joy of other peoples’ children; you can fill them up with explosive sweets and give them back before the fuse reaches the payload. I had an unconditional trust in everyone. I would leap from high places and trust in the fact that the closest person would catch me. Thankfully, there was always someone there; at least that’s what they tell me anyway. Most of my early birthdays were gathered around a character shaped cake that my mother skillfully baked and decorated. These I actually do have pictures of. I’ll try to get a hold of the albums and scan some in for this chapbook. That should be interesting and embarrassing. Everything up to this point is what I have been told by family or showed in pictures. I believe them.
The next place we lived was New York. I formed some of my first memories there. We lived in a split level house; a raised ranch as my mother just corrected me. We had a Siamese cat named Saimin. I let him out the front door one day and we never saw him again. We did receive word that he was fine and decided that he would be better off with his new family. He wasn’t really all that nice anyway. We also had two Dalmatian puppies, Heidi and Topper. We lost Topper early, but I remember that he could jump really high. Mom kept a garden in the back yard. I liked to help her pick the veggies. I would make a pouch out of my shirt and fill it will beans and carrots and radishes. I never quite made it back to the house with many though. I ate them on the way. Hey, it was a long walk from the garden for my short little legs and all that picking sure works up a hunger. Mom knew that she couldn’t count my pickings in with the rest, but I think she didn’t mind cause she was happy that I was eating veggies. I started kindergarten while we lived there. I don’t remember my teacher’s name, but I do remember sitting around her singing songs while she played a piano. I followed my older brother around a lot. He didn’t seem to mind it, yet. Eventually, he would. I learned to read earlier than most because my big brother would teach me his homework. I really should thank him for that. We moved into a rental before the next transfer. I really don’t remember much about that house, except that it had a pool table. Figures, I was five or so and couldn’t really play.
Back to Hawaii we went. This time I can recall things from my own memories. I got a baby brother while we were there. He was born in the same pink hospital I was, just a few rooms down the hall. We lived in the same housing complex, but that’s not unusual when you are a military brat. I went to Iroquoi Point Elementary School. I could walk there from my house. It sure felt like a long walk one I was that small. I went back as an adult and found out it wasn’t so far. It’s amazing the perspective change that takes place as you grow. I mean, it really felt like it took forever to get there. You had to walk all the way to the end of the street (a couple of houses down). Then you had to cross a long grass/dirt field (maybe one sports field). Again I remember singing songs in class. This time, some of them were in Hawaiian. There were kids who came to school without shoes, and that was okay. I had my first boyfriend there. A little cutie named Gregory. He used to get so protective of me when I’d spin around it my twirly skirt (you could see my undies, oops!). Our neighbor Jenny was more of an adopted cousin. She spent more time at our house than hers. Thinking back on things now, I’m glad that we were there for her. She didn’t have it so great, but that’s not my story to tell. Our car was a lemon yellow Mazda 626. Her name was Gerty. I remember that sitting in the back got tight when my little brother came along. The carseat went in the middle and my older brother and I sat on either side, kinda squished. I guess that’s why my parents decided to buy the minivan. Man, I thought that thing was cool. All that space. No more crowding. Folks got a great deal on it. Another sailor transferring had to unload it, and fast. One of my favorite pastimes was pouring salt on slugs. That is as far as my childhood torture story goes. I think that’s more of a ‘boy’ thing to do. I was still following my brother around, but he didn’t care for it much anymore. I got the hand-me-down things he didn’t want anymore; the hot wheels trike that had a rock stuck in one wheel. It went ca-chunk ca-chunk as I rode it down the street. I learned to ride a two wheeler without training wheels on that street. Dad wiped out on a skateboard while eating a bowl of chilli. That was too funny to watch. Dad has always been a silly one. We made a lot of great friends there. Amber was my favorite. She had almost white hair, bleached by the sun. I had the best tan while we lived there. I don’t remember spending a whole lot of time indoors. Ah, the good ole days. I liked the beach a lot better this time around. We would cut through the school to get there, and we’d stop by Baskin Robins on the way back. I don’t remember wearing shoes much either, now that I think about it. We had a great going away party when we left this time, but I’ll save that story for later. I may even try to get the video converted so I can share. Grade School
Let’s rewind a bit from where I left off last. In 1985, my baby brother was born, on Mothers’ Day no less. I don’t remember a whole lot about that event. What I do remember is that my grandmother came to stay with us for a while and that mom had to stay in the hospital for some extra time. Having a new baby in the house probably changed a lot, but I just remember being stoked that I was a big sister. I think I would have preferred the bouncing bundle had been pink instead of blue, but what little girl doesn’t? I tried to help out as much as I could, but I’m not sure how much assistance I actually was. After all, I was only six years old. Mostly I just went and got things for mom; blankets, burp rags, pacifiers. As a mom now myself, I know that she appreciated even the smallest effort.
Fast forward a couple of years. It’s now time to leave Hawaii for the second time. Like I said before, the party was pretty cool. Let’s just say that wet slip-n-slide plus inebriated sailors equals one hell of a muddy good time. The only real downer for me was my pool. While being used as the rinse area, it became a casualty. Ah well, we were moving anyway.
We flew from Hawaii to California, where we met our cars and then drove the rest of the way to Florida. I have to say, I think that is still the most memorable road trips I’ve ever taken. Dad and my older brother took the two door car while mom, my younger brother, and myself were in the caravan. I thought that thing was awesome. Three rows of seats and one of them was all mine, when I wanted it. Mostly, I sat up front and played navigator. We stopped at the Grand Canyon. Wow! What a sight. Of course, the mood was ruined by my prankster big brother pretending he would shove me over the edge. Good thing he wasn’t riding in the van, otherwise that could have made the trip a lot more intense. We didn’t have cell phones back then, but we always managed to stop at the same places. I thought it was pretty magical. I learned later that the magic was a cool thing call triple A trip-tiks. Mom and Dad planned ahead where they wanted to stop. Most of the time, we stayed close enough to see the other car. The two door Mazda was canary yellow, so its not like it was that hard to see. One morning we got McDonalds breakfast. I can’t remember if we got it to go or if Mom just saved some of hers for the ride. Anyway, While she was enjoying her hashbrown later in the car, a bee flew into the car and landed on it. She screamed and threw it out the window, all the while trying very hard to stay on the road. She pulled over to get her wits about her. One night during our trip, we kids were killing time in the hotel room jumping from bed to bed. At some point in the fun, my little brother’s training pants ended up on his head. I’m pretty sure they were clean, at least I hope so. He ran around screaming and we were all laughing like crazy. I wrote a poem about it for school later on and won a prize. That’s really about all I can remember from that trip. I’m sure my Mom will read this and remind me of something later on, which I’ll be sure to add later.
So, we made it Florida. I think it took us about ten days. We moved in to this tiny, two bedroom apartment. In all of my nine years, I never had to share a room with anyone. Now, I was sharing with BOTH of my brothers. Yuck! We spent several months there while we waited for our new house to be built. It was pretty cool. I was in elementary school and my older brother was in middles school. The schools had different schedules and Mom drove us in each day, since we lived outside of the zoning for the school. The staggered schedules turned out to be a pretty cool thing. Mom would drop one of us off at school and then take the other to the house site to check the builders’ progress. Then, on the pick-up trip, the other sibling got to visit the site. Mom video taped most of the construction. It was pretty cool to see. It started out as an empty lot. Then there was a foundation, walls, roof, and everything else. It was actually quite fortunate that we made daily visits, because the builders messed up one the changes my parents had made to the floor plan. I almost had to share a room again, or sleep in the dining room. Good eye, Mom.
The neighborhood we moved into was brand new. We were one of the few houses on the block and there were no houses on the lots behind us. Not yet, anyway. I had my own room again, ah. I still love that house. Maybe it’s because I have to most childhood memories there. I almost cried when my parents finally sold it. So, now that we were in the new house, I could take a bus to school. The community was growing though and, within no time, there was a new school going up just down the street. I loved being able to walk or ride my bike to school. It wasn’t all that far and I never had to worry about missing the bus. Rainy days were a bummer though.
The fifth grade is when I started having vision issues. I blame it on poor development planning on the school’s part. Who installs brick read chalk boards and then supplies the teachers with yellow chalk? My last name was at the end of the alphabet then, so I say in the back of the classroom. After days and days of having to move to the front just to take my notes, someone sent word home to my folks that maybe I should have my eyes checked. Enter the awkard four-eyed stage of my life, which lasted well into high school. Somewhere during that year I fell and broke my wrist. Running around with my next door neighbor, I tripped and landed on the concrete with a snap. Mom didn’t believe it was as bad as it was and she didn’t take me to the doctor right away. I still like to bring that little stinger up every now and then. Mom knows I’ve really let it go though.
Sixth grade brought a new school and new experiences. I had to get used to changing classes all the time. Suddenly, I had some say in what electives I got to take. I sat through one or two art classes before I realized that it just wasn’t for me. I decided I might like to try the band on for size. And size had a lot to do with my instrument choice. Dad wanted me to play the French horn, but I just didn’t feel like I could hold it for long periods of time. The flute was an alternate choice, but holding it up the way you have to seemed it might me too tiring. I decided on the clarinet, and I loved it. I have to agree with the studies that show music enhances learning. I’m not sure exactly how it works, but I know that school subjects seemed even easier once I started playing an instrument. This was also the year I discovered a great love of math. During a regular class, the teacher gave us a test of some things we had not worked on before. It was a pre-algebra placement test. I had a natural talent for it, and was assigned to pre-algebra the next year with several of my other classmates. Man, math was my best subject. Still is. I love the problem solving. I even love when I get things wrong because I get to go back and figure out where I made the mistake. Very few subjects in school, or in life, are that cut and dry.
Seventh and eighth grade kind of blended together. I don’t remember a whole lot of things about that time. I do remember standing outside in the courtyard to watch shuttle launches. I also remember my science teacher, Mr. Hall, taking me aside and telling me how much he knew I was capable of and pushing me to do better. I will admit it, I was a lazy student. I hated to do homework (except math, of course) and I really never studied for tests. He must have made an impact, maybe not immediately, but he is one of the few teachers whose name I still remember. Eighth grade was also when I met my best friend, Jen. She and I stayed close through high school, even after my family moved away from Florida. This year I was taking Algebra and Spanish I, both counted for high school credit. The Spanish class was actually at the high school. I would ride the high school bus to the high school in the morning and they would bus us from there to the middle school. It was a long school day for me, but I enjoyed it. I think I did a summer school semester for gym class, but I could be wrong. Like I said before, my memory is a little sketchy sometimes.
High School
Next came high school. I went to three of them. I started my freshman year in Florida. Dad got orders to transfer again, and we were set to move to Pittsburgh, PA. Dad went ahead of us. Mom stayed back with my little brother and me while we tried to sell the house. Now a teenager, I had a lot of angst about the situation. Eventually, as a geographically single mother, Mom decided I may be better off going on to meet my dad. Around April, Dad flew down to pick up our old car and I drove back to Pittsburgh with him. I finished off my freshman year at a high school near my dad’s new work. Mom and my little brother followed around the beginning of summer. I flew back to visit that summer. It was a strange visit, being a guest where I used to live. I had planned to stay with one friend, but things didn’t go as planned. Ah well. Unexpected changes tend to make things more interesting. Some time in here we moved into an apartment close to where my parents wanted to buy a house. I changed schools, again, but for the last time. Looking back I think I did a pretty good job adjusting. I made friends, but not easily. It was hard to be the ‘outsider’. Most of the people at the new school had lived there all their lives. In fact, most of their families had lived there for at least three generations. Here I was, a well-travelled teen. I made friends with other fellow outcasts; vo-tech kids mostly. While in the apartments we decided we wanted a dog. Well, there were guidelines on size, so we had to choose a breed that was kind of small. Mom did a lot of research and found a breeder for Miniature Pinschers. We took a road trip to go see them. I remember that day pretty well. It seemed like it took us forever to get there. Mom could probably tell me how long it really was. So, we get there and there are two litters to choose from. These dogs are small fully grown, so the puppies were tiny. I just sat on the floor and played with them. My dog ended up choosing me. She just came over, looked up at me with those sappy gray eyes, and sat down in my lap. I was hooked. This was the one I was taking home. My parents agreed and paid for her and we headed home. I remember that we had brought a brown towel with us, just in case she got carsick. I honestly can’t remember if she did though. We spent the trip trying to come up with a creative name. She was a reddish brown color, with a pale belly. We finally came up with Pale Brandy Sue, but we just called her Brandy. She was a great dog. While she was still fairly small, she would sleep across my neck at night. Eventually she became too heavy for that though, so she moved down to the crook of my knees. I loved that dog. I had a blast teaching her to sit and speak and shake. We bred her once, which produced three puppies. They were all different colors. One red, one black, and one sandy colored with a peppering a black. There were two girls and a boy, if I remember right. Mom decided to keep the black male. We named him Winston. Not sure if he has a proper full name. Brandy lived a long and happy life. We lost her recently, last year or the year before. It was a sad day for me, especially since I hadn’t seen her in a while. Winston still lives with my folks. He’s a sweet old dog. Let’s see, back to school. High school wasn’t all that exciting. I got decent grades, but I could have done a lot better. I got lazy. I didn’t participate in the band any longer. I wasn’t fond of the marching and playing. At my school in Florida I was on the flag corps during games and they didn’t offer that in the Pennsylvania school. I wasn’t athletic enough to be a cheerleader either, or at least I didn’t have the desire to be one. I did discover photography at that school though. I just adored that class. I spent a lot of free time there; became a bit of a teacher’s pet. I still love photography. I would take pictures more often, but life always seems to get in the way.
I got my first job while in high school, as most kids do. Fast food, of course; Wendy’s. I loved that job. My manager was awesome. He would always give me the schedule I asked for so I could earn the most money I could. And I was always the one he would call if they were short handed and I wasn’t already there. I worked there for around two years. By the time I left, I knew every job but manager. It’s not like it was that hard, but you’d be surprised how many people just can’t work in food service. I took my learner’s permit test shortly after my fifteenth birthday. Failed it. It was an electronic touch test. As soon as you missed the maximum number of questions, it cut you off. How embarrassing. Had to go back to take it a second time. Same thing happened with my actual driver’s test. Failed the first time up. I couldn’t even drive home from the testing center I was so upset. We bought my first car from a friend of my mother’s. A 1987 brown Nissan Sentra. Small and easy to drive. Mom and Dad split the cost with me. I had that car until 1997. It saw a lot of miles, a few states, and a lot of good times.
Graduation came and went. Nothing special there. The previous November I had signed up to join the Navy, much to the chagrin of my folks. I waited out the time after graduation working and spending time with friends. I quit my job about a month before heading to basic training just to relax. I was almost an adult, and I couldn’t wait.
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ALL ABOUT SNAKES
Stephanie Grenon
Ms. Hofheimer
ENG 120
September 1, 2008
Table of Contents
Introduction 3
King Cobra 3-4
Fear and Hollywood 4-7
Choosing a Snake 7-9
Baby vs. Adult 9-11
Caging 12-13
Bedding 13-15
Caging Accessories 16-17
Picking out your snake 17-18
Stephanie Grenon
Ms. Hofheimer
Eng 120
1 September 2008
Chapbook: All about Snakes
Snakes, the word alone puts fear in the hears of over half of the community, according to Harris Poll (Humphrey, par 4). 71% of people are afraid of snakes. Men make up 22% and the other 49% are the women. I can see why people are afraid of venomous snakes, but I don’t understand why they are afraid of non-venomous snakes. Venomous snakes aren’t scary just the thought of getting bitten by one. They are actually beautiful snakes, all with different features, designs, and patterns. The venomous snakes are colorful and exotic looking (Kisoich). Some of the snakes do look a little out of the ordinary, but that is so they are able to catch their prey and live in their particular environment. This site describes them to a “T” (Ophiophigas). What could be one of the most dangerous snakes is the infamous Cobra.
King Cobra
The King Cobra is the largest, most venomous snake and on top of that can stand straight up to two-thirds their body size. There is a picture is of a man (unnamed) holding a large King Cobra. The King Cobra not only is intimidating but also incredibly smart and very curious. In a zoo in Philadelphia, they are described as one of the most intelligent snakes they can recognize the different people that work there and their habits. They know when their enclosure is going to be opened and would wait by the door in order to escape. Although it would be bad if they escaped they wouldn’t go looking for revenge against the people that put them there, they just want to get out and explore some more. Being stuck in the same place for an extended period of time can get boring even to a snake. There are now three doors leading into the Cobras enclosure, and they do not use the same door twice in a row. They have a secret, random way to figure out which door to use so they aren’t greeted by a King Cobra (Ophiophigas, pg5). Snakes are not killing machines they will avoid people if at all possible. Even the most deadly, and the smartest snake known will avoid human contact if possible, so if the King Cobra will avoid human contact why wouldn’t a non-venomous snake avoid contact? Good news! They will.
Fear and Hollywood
I have found even in owning my snakes that people are scared more of the look and the thought more so than the snakes themselves. People have a twisted misconception about snakes, which plays into why they are scared of them. Most of this comes from Hollywood. Just like they do with sharks, wolves, and tigers they know it sells and they know it sells even better when it puts fear in peoples heart and mind. They take these beautiful animals and make people so afraid of them that they kill them on sight instead of leaving them alone. People seem to think that just because they can kill means that they go out of their way to harm people. This just isn’t true. The carnivorous animals help keep the population down on other creatures that aren’t as “scary looking”. Think of it this way; if there were no snakes to eat the mice, rats and other rodents that crawl around everywhere think of what the population would be in your house. There are already countless numbers of mice and rats in peoples houses, whether they know about them or not, that amount would be doubled if the snakes were not around to eat them. If people would take the time to get educated on these animals they might still have the fear of being bitten, which is a good fear to have, but they wouldn’t be afraid of just the thought of a snake. Which means the thought of owning a snake, as a pet would appeal to many more people, and having a snake as a pet would be more understandable to others.
I cannot tell you about the looks I get playing with my babies, it is quite entertaining to me. I will have on a nice evening outfit, with my makeup done and five inch heals on looking all cute and “did up”. I will walk outside and have friends and family ooing and awing over me until they see my Jungle Ball Python crawling around my neck and hair. They automatically jump back the moment they see him, get all scared and their attitude goes from aww how cute to “What in the Hell?!” It amazes his me that so many people are afraid of him even though he is only around two feet long and not close to being full-grown. Even more so that they can be around him for five, six minutes with no problem as long as they don’t see him, but as soon as they see him is when they get scared. If he was so mean and scary then he would have tried to do something while they didn’t recognize him. Snakes like any animal will go for easy prey. What is easier than something that doesn’t even see you? I guess it is like when I played Ice Hockey, I would show up in heels a skirt and a nice “fancy shirt” then look on my shoulder to see a stinky hockey bag, with a stick in my hand. It isn’t exactly the look people are used to be seeing in the hockey rink. I loved those looks too because it made me laugh and it made people think that I was to “girly” to play hockey and I was no good on the ice. Yeah right! I was one of the meanest people on my team. I was one of the enforcers, and depending on who the referee was I could live in the box for a good period or two. Not that I tried to get in there, but I was mean I would run people into the boards, check them to get the puck stuff like that. It was so fun then after the game or practice I would get all “dressed up” again. It amazed people. The same goes for the snakes they look all mean and evil, but in reality are so sweet, and fun. They have their own enchantment to them that is different from any other animal. You may not be able to play fetch or comb their hair as you would a dog, or a cat, but they offer a whole new experience people just have to be willing to be open to it instead of cowering in fear. I have found even in talking to people about my snakes at first they are scared and amazed that someone like me would have a snake. I offer them the chance to hold them or touch them, and most of the time I have to persuade people to and ask them more than once. After I convince them to hold and touch them have I changed their opinion because they can see first hand how the snakes are soft, almost silky smooth, and not really dangerous, but curious animals that really mean no harm to anyone, except maybe a rat or a mouse. When you do decide that a snake is the pet for you then you need to consider everything there is that goes along with owning a snake.
Choosing a snake
When thinking about buying a snake you need to first consider what kind of snake you want. Snakes are like dogs; some get bigger than others and require different specifications. For first time owners I would recommend a Ball Python. They, to me, are the easiest to own. Others would recommend a Corn Snake but I do not like Corn snakes, although they do have bright vibrant colors and stay relatively small. I think they are ugly, and very squirmy.
I would suggest a Ball because (not only are they one of my two favorite types of snake) they do not get much bigger than seven feet, depending on the sex, and they are quite tame. If they are afraid they will curl up into a ball and you can literally roll them around on the floor (I don’t recommend this), and, most of the time, will not bite. If they hiss just put them back into the cage and don’t mess with them while they calm down a little bit. The other one of my favorites is my next suggestion. Although they can be more aggressive and are not as timid as a Ball, and they do get bigger than a Ball Python will; they also have a beautiful pattern and have their own unique mystery about them. It is the Boa Constrictor. In specific the Red Tailed Boa Constrictor they have a beautiful red tail (hence the name). The Boas are a lot bolder than a Python is but as long as they are treated well, have food, aren’t scared or feel threatened they are just fine, and are quite nice. Now I wouldn’t suggest getting this as a first time owner because the first timer will probably have some nerves going and snakes, just like any animal, can sense fear which in turn can make them on the defensive side. A boa can get up to ten feet long and over forty pounds. When buying a big snake like this there are several things you need to consider. First they will be around for around 30 years. That is a long-term commitment! You need to make sure that there is someone who will help you to handle it when it gets bigger, and you need to make sure you will be able to handle the feeding. What starts out as a mouse and a rat leads into small mammals, rabbits, gunny pigs, etc. Now after you have chosen the type of snake you need to consider whether or not you want a baby or an adult.
Baby vs. Adult
You think about it and decide you want a baby snake to take care of it and watch it grow. Great! Baby snakes are a lot less intimidating and very cute. They have a bright, vibrant color, and are very soft (like freshly shaved skin with baby oil on it). A baby snake as you can see (depending on the kind) can be smaller than a berry!
While the babies are very cute they are also timid and shy. A baby Python (any snake really) is more likely to bite, hiss or strike just because it is a baby and doesn’t know any better. The more you handle it the better it will be and the more “friendly” it will become. It will get used to being handled and it won’t stress the snake out as much. Snakes do have their own personality. I have a few that are moody and others that are the sweetest in the world. Justin, my boyfriend, just bought a Spider Ball Python, a baby only 3 weeks old and only had one meal. Man I swear that snake hates Justin he has bitten, hissed, and struck at Justin ever since he got him. I went and picked the snake up before Justin even had a chance to say anything and the snake didn’t do any of that. He loves to get played with by me. He has never even hissed at me before. One time I had him and he was exploring everything calmly and quietly until right when I handed him to Justin then he went nuts and started hissing as Justin. I thought it was so funny because Justin handed the snake back to me and he was calm again. There is just something that the snake doesn’t like about Justin. He wasn’t too happy about that, but now that the snake is older he knows better and he doesn’t hiss or bite him anymore. Even in the same household the snake can play favorites (maybe not to that extreme) but when the snake is out of the cage and one person is holding it; it may slither to another person in the house because there is something that the snake likes better about that other person. Just like any other animal in your house. Take your dogs, when you get home with the others living in your house that does the dog go to first? That is his favorite right, so why wouldn’t snakes be the same?
Full-grown snakes are also available for sale as well as the baby ones. You will pay more for a full-grown snake because of the cost to care for it for years, but you will not have to worry about raising it or feeding it pinkie mice or rats. A full-grown snake is good if you want one that is already fully used to being handled and has a good eating habit. You want to breed it right away or just show off your fully-grown large snake. No matter which type of snake you want or what size you want you will have to have proper caging for it.
Caging Requirements
No matter what snake you have an escape proof cage is required. A glass reptile aquarium is the best way to go, unless you want to breed them. I specify reptile because you cannot just go out and buy any aquarium or use your old fish aquarium because there are differences between the two. For instance a fish aquarium is deep but no to wide and the lid just sits on the top because the fish will not climb up to the top and try to escape, as a snake will.
A reptile aquarium is not as deep, but it is wider so the snake can grow and the lid has clips on it so when the snake tries to escape (and it will trust me) it cannot push the top off and get out. Now you can get a cheap 20-gallon aquarium for $50 or go all out, like the picture above, and spend thousands of dollars to spoil your snake (you know if you are a millionaire and have nothing better to spend your money on).
If you want to breed snakes than having 20 and 30 glass aquariums can get pretty crowded, so there is a better way to house snakes if you plan on keeping a lot of them. It is called a snake rack. It has plastic containers stacked on top of each other and they slide under either a wood rack or plastic rack. It can look something like this. This is fine for a snake as long as you have bedding and water in there. Plus using these they normally have a good shed. After you figure out which cage you are going to use you then need to figure out which bedding you are going to use, but there are some you HAVE to stay away from.
Bedding
Bedding is an important part of any reptile or any animal for that matter. You will want something that is easy to clean up, but something that hides odors well. You also want to make sure that what you use for your snake is not going to be able to get swallowed by the snake because that could cause problems. Here is a few different types of bedding and benefits of each. First is a few types of bedding you should not use for your snake because it could cause serious harm or even kill your pet. Sand: It is fine for lizards’ ad some geckos but not for a snake because the dust could bother the snake and if they swallow it they could get an internal infection. Pine Bark Chips: Not a bad bedding, but if you are going to use it you will want to find a distributor that can tell you for sure that it isn't treated with any chemicals or pesticides first though! This is good bedding for snakes but makes scooping waste a problem. You can't see it as it is the same color as the chips I wouldn't use it for smaller lizards like Leopard Geckos as it looks like it is hard to walk on. The pieces are too big. Bedding Brick: I don't know the exact name for this stuff. It is either made by Zoo-Med or Tetra Terrafauna, not sure. It comes in a brown brick sized package. It is compressed somehow and when you add water to it takes up a lot of room. One brick did it for my 36x18" breeder tank. It is some sort of small wood/dirt fiber not exactly sure. They claim that it is totally digestible which is a good thing; the particles are quite small and soft so I believe that it is digestible. This stuff gets DUSTY when dried out. I stopped using it for this reason. If you have a humidity loving species and keep it damp it is fine though. Pine Shavings: Toxic! Don’t use Pine. They give off fumes that can be harmful. DO NOT EVER USE CEDAR BEDDING!!! Cedar bedding is very toxic to reptiles and will kill them! Actually it is toxic to the small mammals it is generally used for too. Corncob Litter: No! Don't use it! It is indigestible and too large to pass thru the intestines safely. Not to mention it swells when it hits water. Can cause impaction very quickly. Crushed Walnut Shells: This stuff goes by several brand names. Read the ingredients. I think one of them is "Lizard Litter". This stuff is the worst. Right up there with corncob litter as far as dangerous. Crushed walnut shells are NOT digestible as it states on the package. Worse than that the pieces are shaped so they lock together if ingested and can clump up in the animals system.
Beddings that you can use are;
Newspaper: Unsightly but easy to clean up and healthy by most standards. Some claim that the ink can be bad for the lizard or snake even though most black ink on newsprint is soy-based. I have never had any problems. If you believe the ink to be a problem most newspapers out there recycle a lot of unprinted newsprint. Call around you area and I'm sure you can find some. I work at a weekly paper and we always have some on hand for a small fee. Paper Towels: Also unsightly but easy to clean. Just throw out the soiled pieces and start all over. Cypress Mulch: It is non-toxic; the pieces are large enough to not get ingested. It holds moisture well and cypress is naturally bug resistant. I use this for a lot of my snakes and all my tortoises. This stuff can be hard to find in some locales. Aspen Bedding: I use this stuff with my snakes and I love it! It has a nice texture and isn't dusty. You can scoop out waste as it kind of clumps around it. Although bedding and proper caging is a big part of owning a snake, but if you do not want your snake to be bored or stressed all day then you will need caging accessories.
Caging Accessories
When the cage is set up with all the bedding you will still need a few more things in order to keep your snake from being stressed. First is obvious you will need a water bowl that is big enough for the cage. This will not only provide water for your snake, but also will provide humidity in the cage, which is necessary for proper shedding and to keep the skin in proper condition. The snake may soak in the water bowl so you will want one that is big enough for it to curl up in. It may also defecate in it so you will want to check it on a regular basis and keep clean fresh water in it. You may also want to put a tree branch or something for the snake to climb on and it also provides a rough surface to assist the snake during the shedding process. You will want to put a “hide box” in the cage that is just big enough for the snake because most snakes will look for a dark secluded place to hide in the wild and feel more comfortable and stress free when they have a dark place to hide in. Now that the inside of the cage is set up you will also want to have either a heat pad, or heat lamp in order to keep the temperature of the cage right; because snakes are cold blooded they depend on their environment to keep warm. Normally a 100-watt light is good for a 20-30 gallon tank it can even be used in a 40-gallon tank but I prefer a 150 watt for my 40 gallon tank. If you prefer a under cage heat pad there are different types of heaters available. The temperature will depend on the type of snake you own. A ball python usually needs a cage that is 80 - 85 F (27 - 29 C) during the day, with a basking spot of around 90 F (32 C). Nighttime temperatures can fall to around 75 F (23 -24 C) as long as an area of 80 F is maintained. A Boa needs a cage that is 82-90 F (28-32 C), with a basking area kept at 90-95 F (32-35 C). At night, the ambient air temperature may be allowed to drop down no lower than 78-85 F (26-30 C). Special reptile heating pads that are manufactured to maintain a temperature about 20o higher than the air temperature may be used inside the enclosure. NEVER EVER use a heat rock! Since snakes are cold blooded they cannot tell that a rock is too hot until their body get warm. If the rock gets to hot it can burn the snake. The snake will not even know that it is getting burnt because it doesn’t have feelings like humans, or other animals do. Heat rocks are extremely dangerous and can even, under certain circumstances, can start a fire in the bedding inside the cage. In order to make sure the temperature and the humidity are correct inside the cage you will want to invest in a thermostat and a Hygrometer will be necessary at the bottom of the cage, where your snake lives, to determine whether or not you will need more or less humidity or heat. It does no good to know the temperature at the top of the cage; the snake doesn’t live up there. Now that you know what kind of snake you want and have set the cage up accordingly it is time to go and buy your snake.
Picking out your snake
When you go to the pet store to pick out your snake (which I recommend unless you know the online breeder or online company breeders history) there are a few things you want to do. You do not ever want to just go in and pick one you think looks good and pay for it; you do not know what you are getting. Before buying your snake you want to look at it closely. Pick it up look at its eyes and make sure they are clear and not cloudy (unless they are shedding, you should be able to tell, but ask if the eyes aren’t clear). Pay attention to what it does when you pick it up, does it move around actively and flick its tongue continually, or does it not move and keep its tongue in its mouth? You will want to inspect its skin and make sure that it doesn’t have any mites or ticks. Look inside and outside of the cage for signs of dirty, unhygienic surroundings. No matter how good the shop is, inevitably you will find sloughed skins, feces and other dirty materials in the cage. However, look at the consistency of your findings and excessively dirty surroundings. Overcrowding in tanks should be avoided, and if any dead animals are found in nearby enclosures, stay away from purchasing the animal. Make sure you are buying captive bred stock; wild caught snakes can harbor all sorts of problems and should be avoided by beginners. Look at the shape of the snake in its resting position. Never buy a snake that you see resting sideways, with its head tilted on the floor. If its mouth is slightly agape, stay away. The spine of the snake should be visible, but not to an excessive measure. It the snake looks skinny, do not buy it, regardless of its feeding habits. Most snakes are generally very consistent when sloughing their skin, so if you see one with bits of skin stuck all over it, be cautious. Loose folds in the skin are apparent in dehydrated snakes, advise the shop owner if you see this in their stock but do NOT purchase the animal. ‘Never purchase a snake or any other reptile based on your feelings for that animal. Many pet shops have come and gone, the best have always stayed the longest. Another way to buy a snake is from a specific breeder. Justin and I get ours from a man named Rob and he has been breeding for years. That is where we just recently got our baby Spider Ball Python. We got him when he was only a few weeks old, but that is because we know him and he knows us and recognizes that we know how to handle, and raise snakes. He has not only Pythons and Boas but also Corn. His collection of snakes surpasses $10,000 easily. He is a reputable breeder and does not sell the snakes if they haven’t eaten at least twice and shed once (other than when they come out of the egg). You can buy a snake that was imported over from another country but most of the time they are wild caught and can carry all sorts of parasites. They can even have internal problems that you will not even know about until the snake is already dead or you have to pay three times the snakes worth in vet bills. Another thing to look at when buying a snake is if you want a “normal” snake or what is called a morph.
Morphs vs. Normal
The only difference (between the same species of snake) is the pattern, and the color. Breeders base their price on this, so if you want a show snake than you will want to invest a little more so you can “show off” your snake. First time owners usually do not care what the snake looks like because they do not pay attention to patterns and designs as long as they can say they have a snake as a pet they are happy and there is noting wrong with that. All the snakes will have morphs so it doesn’t matter if you want a Boa, Corn, or a Python they each have their own set of morphs.
Boa Morphs
Boas have their own unique features and wonders about them. They typically are going to be more expensive because they will get bigger and cost more to care for, especially a full grown one, think of the upkeep for a pet store.
I am a firm believer that certain events in ones’ life define who they are. Some say perseverance and practice creates champions, while others believe champions are born. Some people spend their life in search of greatness, while others give up before they start. Who decides who becomes great and whose left sitting on the bench? You often hear stories of “everyday people” doing something great and are considered heroes for a while. Who decides if that is the only great thing that person has or will ever do? Have we given society the right to define us and create our heroes for us? Why are we only “great” when someone else says we are? I do not consider myself great, mediocre at best, but I have had great things happen in my life and I have had the opportunity to know great people; none famous, instead the unlikeliest of heroes. After all aren’t heroes what we make of them?
In my life, I’ll admit it; I’ve done a lot of unintelligent things. I could make a list, and I am certain if you called my parents they could add a few hundred more things to that list. It seems though, for all the trouble there was always someone there for me. Someone was always saving me, mostly from myself. For the last few years I have felt misplaced and have stumbled through life one mistake at a time. But after assessing my life and its many transgressions I have come to realize that after every mistake I have learned to pick myself up and try again and only recently have I had to do this on my own.
When I was a child I was considered rambunctious to say that lease, now a day I would probably be diagnosed with A.D.D along with the better have of society. My parents were patient, but slowly going crazy. I was the second of two children. My older was a kind and loving big brother and all I ever wanted from his was his toys. He protected me from everything like good big brothers do. However, instead of heeding his word of caution I took this to mean I was invincible. Because I knew my brother would always protect me, I tried things like climbing on the roof, jumping out of trees, oh and did I mention trying to fly? I was my own death wish. I lived with no fear, instead doing stunts to test my limits and my parents. My parents, knowing their little girl was a hazard to herself came up with a solution. Their solution, enroll me in soccer. This single act helped set me up for the rest of my life, as well as teach me focus, determination, and teamwork. I spent all my time practicing and preparing for the game, I wanted to be the best; slowly my A.D.D went out the window. I straightened up and began to get noticed for it. My teams were good, really good. We played tournaments in Boston, New York, and New Jersey, always bringing home the trophies. I felt a part of something, something bigger than myself and I thrived on it. My soccer team was more than just a team. We became best friends. We had sleepovers and birthday parties and everything in between. We were united and it felt great. I could not imagine my life any better. I was going to be like this forever, grow up and play soccer and have all these best friends. Boy was I in for a treat.
A year after my transformation my parents broke me the news, we were moving. Not to a different suburb or town but to Bunker, Missouri, the exact middle of nowhere! Worst of all no soccer! To say the least, this was the worst thing to happen in my 10 year old existence. I was going to run away, live on my own and play soccer. Against my will my parents drug me along to the middle of the Midwest.
Bunker Missouri is where all five of my mothers’ brothers and sisters lived. My parents wanted to retire and live near family and have a farm. Only recently have I realized why, but to a 10 year old city girl, this was a nightmare. I had decided to not like Bunker or anyone in it. What was I supposed to do now that soccer, the only thing that I understood, was gone? So I sulked, all day, every day. At least until school started. This is the second event in which my life was turned upside down and now looking back I am better for it!
I walked into my new fifth grade class ready to hate everyone. I found my assigned seat next to a few girls who looked nice enough. Suddenly they turned to me, “hey, your Jenna right? Yeah, your cousins told us all about you, we heard you play soccer, do you play basketball? Want to hang out at recess?” Who were these girls? What did they want with me? I agreed, reluctantly, and remained quiet. But that recess changed my life. I met the friends that would stick with me all my life thus far. They didn’t care who or what I was, instead just wanted to be friends and hear stories of living in the big city of Boston. We then became inseparable. When I say inseparable I mean spending all day at school together then coming home and talking on the phone all night. Every weekend was a sleepover or lunch at someone’s house. We used any excuse to hang out and talk. These girls had let me into their group, their lives, and their hearts, and although it took me a little longer to do so, I eventually came around and returned the favor.
When basketball came around that year I was scared to sign up. What if I sucked, what if I kicked the ball instead? But the first day of practice came around and I was considered a “natural”. I loved it! Like soccer, basketball became my life, alongside my friends. I began to get noticed for playing basketball and was asked to start playing volleyball also, in junior high. Again, I was a natural. I felt a part of something, a part of the community and the town. Older people were recognizing me and my family would show up to watch me play. In high school as a freshman I started varsity for both teams. In basketball I was team captain and scored the most points that season. In volleyball I played with the seniors, the big girls. I loved it. Sophomore year I was captain of both teams and proud to be. Again like soccer the team was more, it was a friendship, a sisterhood, we were a unit. I felt needed and carried a responsibility to win for the school. These could have been the best days of my life, then. I was unstoppable. The more responsibility they gave the more I took. I received city, district, and even state awards. It seemed everyone knew my name. I was cocky, to an extent, but more, I was thankful. I had learned how to become a leader, to except responsibility, and most of all I learned to have fun. I firmly believe those years taught me a lot about myself and they also taught me not only what I can accomplish but what I am capable of, with a little help.
My senior year of high school I received several scholarships to play volleyball and basketball at junior colleges. But I had had several injuries along the way and was scared of more permanent damage, along with the idea that as a college athlete, I would have to adhere to curfews, tutoring, weekend practices, and other such things I considered torture back then. So I chocked, decided against sports and instead attended a huge college a couple hours away. Looking back, my feelings are mixed; do I wish I would have played in college? Yes. I would have stayed in shape, felt the feeling of a team, felt commitment and need, and my life might have skipped a few bumps along the way. But still, I would have missed out on some of the greatest moments of my life. I would not have met the friends in college that I now consider to be sisters.
Entering college I knew no one. I was one of a million, it felt alone and only a number to the university. I was scared and felt inferior. Half the people I had met in my dorm were there on academic scholarship. I was just a ball player. I was friendly and waved, made small talk, and even talked about teachers, but I secretly wanted to be anywhere else. I had been under the impression that college was supposed to be the best years of your life. I felt like mine were all behind me. That was all until the third week in, when sitting at my desk pretending to study, I heard giggling, uncontrollable, and loud. I cautiously poked my head out to see five girls on my floor sitting in the hall having the time of their life. I remember wishing and hoping to join them, to sit in the hard floor, lean on those ugly grey walls, and talk with these girls. I made my way to the water fountain, wondering what, if anything, could I say, that would make these girls want to hang out with me. Just then Beth, a girl who had always been friendly, yelled, “Hey, Jenna, right?” I replied, “Uh, yeah” (like I didn’t even know my own name) Beth replied, “Did you see the skater guy try to skate down the stairwell handle? We think he’s stoned, were gonna call him High Mike.” I was thrilled, no, I had not seen him, but it didn’t matter that was an “in”. I stood there asking all the details, prolonging my visit, finally in silence I turned to go, when the rest of the girls started asking me to sit and stay. I was nervous, what do I say, can I be me? But as it turned out two of the girls played basketball, one even tried out to play in Colorado. Two were dancers, who missed it like crazy, and the other, although considered a brainiac, was madly in love with Brad Pitt, to the point of obsession. We sat there all night talking, laughing, judging, and reflecting back on what we all considered “the good ole days”.
From that moment on I felt safe; we ate together, shopped together, and even had most classes together. We could tell each other everything, regardless of the fact that we had only known each other for weeks. We staged water fights in the dorm and went to midnight movies downtown. We each had our own routines and lives, but we shared them with each other. My freshman year of college was a dream, maybe not academically, but I made up for it in memories. We laughed, we cried, and we talked about things we could never had with our high school friends. These girls had saved me from myself. I have never quit anything in my life; I don’t consider it an option, but college and being alone came close for me. I was scared, it was a situation that I could not control, it wasn’t a basketball court where I knew the rules and I knew what it took to win, I was out of my element.
With these girls by my side I felt the confidence to venture out to the social side of college. We attended comedy clubs, went out dancing, and frequented the movies at least once a week. We attended student government sessions and joined the Big Brothers, Big Sisters program. I learned that no matter how different we all were, we shared a dream of helping others. I actually graduated with a minor in leadership and public service, thanks to the strong will of my friends.
Because I had gained confidence in myself outside of sports, I felt it was time to instill that in others. I worked with a little girl, in whom I saw a lot of myself in. She was into sports and had a sort of “tomboy” mentality. We would hang out at the arcade or play basketball at school with her friends. She was really cool and fun, but I quickly learned she was dyslexic and flunking out of school. I asked her about school and she hated it. No wonder. So what to do? Stay her “cool, older, friend” or turn into a teacher? Against all my insecurities I began to focus our time more on school. I could tell she was not thrilled, but I wanted to help her, not just be her friend, but be her mentor; to make her life a little easier, at least for the time being. We would both sit and do homework; I would take her to the public library at first to show her that other children her age also had homework to complete. But it seems that she always felt uneasy being there, I think a little embarrassed. I then began to take her to my college library, she was speechless, I gave her the tour of the six levels stuffed full of books, magazines, and sleep-deprived students just trying to get by. She saw that spending time on school work wasn’t for those with “problems” but a way of life for the normal college student. She did some of her best work there, really buckling down and concentrating. I would check her work and could see the improvement. This became our weekly routine for a while, until one day I arrived at her school to pick her up for our annual library cram session and her teacher pulled me aside. At first she praised me for the change she’d seen in our girls’ math and science grades. I took no credit, just explained our move to the college library. But there was bad news…. Our girl had been missing a lot of school and was in jeopardy of failing. How could this be? I asked. She was beginning to love school. The teacher explained that before I came along our girls’ mother would keep her home from school when she had tests or had projects. To make matters worse, when the school contacted the girl’s mother to talk about their options the mother took it the wrong way and pulled her daughter out of school all together to be home schooled. But the ultimate disappointment was that because our girl was no longer affiliated with the school I was not allowed to mentor her anymore. I was crushed, to say the least. What was I supposed to do? This girl had become a huge part of my life for the last few months. I debated, consulted my friends, and even the director of the program. Finally I decided I needed to say goodbye in person. Her mother allowed me to take her to the park one last time. I didn’t know what to say or what to do. I asked her how she felt about being homeschooled. And to my surprise she wasn’t that thrilled. She said she’d miss her friends and playing ball. I told her that I could not mentor her anymore and she was upset, so was I. The rest of the visit was very subdued, we absently talked about sports and movies until it was time to take her home, we hugged and then I drove away.
I felt helpless. I never heard from the girl again. And I can only hope that she was reinstated into school and received the help she so desperately deserved. The one good thing that came out of that whole terrible situation was my new found interest in children, their learning abilities and especially their rights. I researched and wrote a compelling paper on children and homeschooling and its negative social implications in rural areas. I had never given thought to working with children, but after that semester in college I learned that I wanted to protect and give justice to those who cannot ask for it themselves. For the first time I had a glimpse into my future and knew I was supposed to help others, in what capacity I wasn’t sure, but I knew I was supposed to help. I then proceeded to volunteer for Rainbow House, a home for abused and neglected children. I dedicated my time and love to those who were not receiving either. My heart broke every time I left that building, but it flourished every time I walked in.
I had learned something about myself that semester. I cared about the well-being of others. I wanted justice for all, especially children. I learned how to be compassionate and how to love without limits. And to this day I am a better person for it. I will never forget the emotions I felt that entire semester. For once, it seemed, I was thinking about someone other than me, a pretty big feet for a 20 year old.
The rest of college continued on this path, volunteering my time, and trying to find myself. I made new friends, developed new interests, and had a blast. When my senior year rolled around I was at a loss. What was I going to do with my life? I had never really thought about it. Sure, I always wanted to be in the FBI and be a secret agent, but that wasn’t practical. So what reality did I face? I wanted to have a rewarding career, wanted to help people, and wanted to be part of greatness. So, with a little help from a career fair I signed up for the Missouri State Highway. A few weeks later I received a letter. The Highway Patrol wanted me to come down and take the entrance and fitness test. I was so excited, but at the same time nervous. I spent the next few weeks trying to get in shape, I was so nervous. The night before I couldn’t sleep, so my friends, being as great as they were, stayed up with me, watching movies, and pigging out on popcorn, anything to take my mind off of the following days’ events. The next morning I arrived in Jefferson City at seven a.m. I was joined by a mismatched group of people, all as nervous as me. The test was administered at exactly eight a.m. It took almost two hours to complete. I checked and even rechecked my answers a couple times, before resigning, Knowing I gave it my best. An hour later the results were posted. I scored the second highest out of the group! I was thrilled to hear it. It definitely took some of the pressure off. However, that meant that I had to complete the physical fitness part of the exam in only one hour. Talk about butterflies. But physical activity was the one thing I could always do well. Being a crazy, hyper, child had helped that. I teamed up with one of the other girls in the group to help each other out. We were required to do sit-ups, vertical jumps, shuttle runs, loading and unloading a gun, and finally a mile run. I was so crazy with nerves and adrenaline that I completed every event above and beyond what was asked. My competitiveness had taken over and I had to be the best. Finally, it was over. I drove home drained but content. I had given my all.
A couple weeks later I received a notice in the mail, I had made it into the next round. I was to come back and complete a polygraph test, the next phase in the test. I was thrilled my hard work had paid off. I had my reservations about the job itself, could I really pull people over, could I arrive on crash scenes, could I walk up to a mother and tell her that her child had just been killed on the highway? Was I ready for that? My biggest concern, was the most superficial, how would I look in the uniform, and the hat…, really?
I finished out my senior year in a blur, until that is, the last day of class. I was going out to celebrate, I mean big time. I was a college graduate with a future ahead of me. My friends and I got dressed up and went out like rock stars. We hit the downtown to live it up with the rest of my fellow good timers. We had set no limits on the night, which I later came to regret for the rest of my life. We decided to call it a night around 2 a.m., so trying to be responsible drunkards called a cab. Since it was not only my last day of class but about 2,000 others the cab companies, to say the least were backed up. They gave a two hour wait time. Hell, we only lived a mile away. My friend had drove us downtown and was insistent on driving us home, she however, could not even form complete sentences, let alone fully open her eyes. I, however, was walking and talking and fully functioning. In my inebriated state decided that I should drive, I could still see the road. Like all tragedies, the heroine has to go through adversity and anguish before she can overcome. So, as you can imagine. I was pulled over, arrested, and spent three hours in the campus “drunk tank” before I was allowed to bail myself out.
It was all over, my life, my career, what now, why had I thought I wouldn’t get caught? How was I supposed to face my parents and tell them that I had been arrested when they were coming to see their little girl accomplish their dreams for her? What a disappointment. In one stupid moment I had crushed my own dreams. How could I work in the criminal justice field having been a criminal myself? My graduation was bittersweet, to say the least. Instead of enjoying the moment, I had to find a lawyer for my case and had to apply for a temporary license, just to drive home.
Previous to my irresponsible act of stupidity, I had elected to spend the summer in New Hampshire with my aunt, to work and live on the beach. I needed to get away, looking back I was running, just as I had ran away to the farthest college. I saw this summer as a new start. Nobody knew me and I could be whoever I wanted. My summer had looked like a dream. She lived right on the beach and was friends with everybody, it had promised to be a fun filled few months. Now, as reality set in I was screwed. How was I supposed to get a job without a car? I now had huge lawyer fees, court costs and to boot I had to attend 21 hours of Alcoholics Anonymous classes in a neighboring town. What a fun filled summer….
My parents never really expressed disappoint in me when I broke the news. They didn’t have to, I felt it enough for the three of us. My parents rarely, if ever, had shown disappointment in me. But, because they had raised me so well, I felt that when I made bad decisions, which I had a habit of doing…a lot, I wondered why they kept me around. They knew I knew better, I knew I knew better, yet, it seemed I disregarded my conscience regularly for a good time. I never cared about consequences, instead always opting for the immediate pleasure. That was, until the DWI. Those consequences are still haunting me to this day.
To my advantage my aunt lived less than a mile from the “boardwalk” a local hot-spot filled with bars and restaurants, and always packed with tourists. I applied to over ten different places, and again thanking God for my aunts’ social abilities I received a job in a restaurant where she knew the bartender and night manager. As excited as I was that my life wasn’t a complete failure, I was again in the situation of having to meet new people. But this time I had no other option. I had to make some money and this was my only hope. I began work, it seemed the staff was all a team, a very close team, “great I thought, they don’t want outsiders” and to my dismay a few of them didn’t. But since most of the girls that worked there were foreign, from places like Poland or Bulgaria, they were friendly and willing to teach me the ropes. We soon became friends and started hanging out after work and since we were forced to spend ten hours a day or more together we became very close.
I did return to Missouri to take the polygraph test in the middle of June. I walked in with a defeatist attitude, seeing as how I had no license, instead a piece of paper with my charge and a temporary permit. To say the least they weren’t impressed. When my turn came around I was nervous, I felt little, insignificant, and a failure. How was I supposed to impress them with my knowledge and commitment to justice when I, myself, couldn’t even follow the rules? The instructor was nice enough; he tried to set my mind at ease as best he could, considering I was hooked up to a machine five different ways. He explained the procedure stating that he was going to ask me the same questions once with the machine off, then with it on. He made a statement that at the time seemed like meaningless jargon, but now means the world to me. He said that the purpose of the polygraph test was not to help the Highway Patrol hire those who are perfect, instead to hire those who take responsibility for their actions. What good was a trooper who was perfect? They wouldn’t be able to show compassion or understanding, instead they wanted those who knew the difference between right and wrong, acted in the right, but could understand the wrong. Not until a year later did I truly understand this statement. Needless to say later that month I received a letter stating that I had not been chosen to be a state trooper. I was crushed, now what I thought, if they didn’t want me who would. I had no life plan and no purpose.
Looking back at my time in New Hampshire I was able, in the midst of all the events, to have a great summer. I developed a relationship with my aunt that I had never had the opportunity to do before. We became best friends; we went out together and more often just stayed in and hung out. We cooked together and worked together. I know that we both learned a lot from each other that summer. I would not trade it for a single thing. She helped me to see that life happens and that there are always other options. She encouraged me to go back to school, education she said, was always a good investment. Seeing as she was a teacher, I was inclined to take her advice. Suddenly I felt like I had a plan, go back to school, screw the Highway Patrol, I’ll get so much education they’ll be begging me to work for them. I searched and researched schools, programs, and locations. I wanted a hands-on school that could teach me the physical part of criminal justice and help me to gain certifications in the process. Again, I wanted to be the best. With every find, my aunt and I discussed its pros, cons, and success rate. She helped to see that limiting my search to Missouri was not the best idea; I needed a good education, not one out of convenience, broaden my horizons. My best friend had married her high school sweetheart who was enlisted in the United States Navy and moved to Virginia Beach, she told me about a school down there that was always advertising its criminal justice program and its certificates. She picked up and mailed a few brochures to me to look over. After a few phone calls I decided to give it a look.
I viewed the school and was immediately pulled in by its curriculum and one of the teachers, who had previously been a profiler for the police, the exact job I wanted. I made up my mind, but still I was a little hesitant. Another issue I had been struggling with in New Hampshire was that for the first time in my adult life I was home sick. It is important to mention at this point that I had been blessed with a very culturally sound background. For family vacations my grandparents often took us on cruises on their yacht to private islands. We took other cruises to Alaska, Panama City, Aruba, Columbia, etc. I was a very lucky kid. I traveled to New Mexico with family, Texas, a couple times, with friends, Ireland once and pretty much everywhere else in the continental United States. In most cases my parents were lucky to get a phone call stating I arrived safe. I always felt if they were okay then why worry? I could take care of myself as well. But this time it was different, my dad had suffered a broken back and several surgeries, and my mom was hormonal. It seemed I was missing the rest of my family, especially my grandmother, my biggest fan. We had just found out she had lung cancer and I felt guilty moving even further away when I knew she needed me. But after talking to both my parents and my grandmother they encouraged me to go back to school. And Here I am.
Right before I was to move to Virginia Beach I was involved in an accident. I was hit by a drunk motorcyclist crossing the street in a cross walk. I was thrown about 20 feet landing on my side, in turn dislocating my left knee along with severe contusions and several cuts and bruises. I have the worst luck! The accident was a nightmare and I am not even talking about the level of pain. I could hardly walk and therefore could not return to being a waitress. I went to the doctor and had tests run to be told that surgery was my best option. Great, here I was in a new town, at a new school, without parents or family about to have knee surgery. Thank God for my friend Stacey, without her, I know I would not be here. So I had surgery, fully aware of the irony that my life was. Even if I had gotten in the Highway Patrol I would not be able to go now with a bum knee. Double Whammy. I continued with school, started rehab for the knee, but again began to feel the sweep of disappoint wave over me. I was 23, wasn’t I supposed to have a steady job by now with a daily routine and a paycheck? Why didn’t I just except the fact that I was going to have to settle for less? I was defeated. I needed a break, I needed home. So that’s what I did. I went home for a weekend. I let it all go and just enjoyed myself. I had a blast, I visited family, friends, and had coffee with my dad, something I had always taken for granted. But when I arrived back in Virginia, instead of clearing my head the trip had only clouded it more. Why was I living 18 hours away? Why was I still running away from the things I loved the most?
It had never been my intent to move back to Missouri and live there. I wanted adventure, danger, and excitement. But something changed that. No longer did I want that crazy lifestyle. I wanted to see my family and friends and be safe. Don’t get me wrong I still wanted that exciting career, but I wanted it alongside everything else. Why couldn’t I have both? But I was Jenna, the kid who skydives on weekends and flies planes. I was destined for bigger and better, that is what my family used to say. And I believed them I didn’t need to stick around and be like the rest. People in my home town seldom left. They married young, had babies young, and lived a life opposite of the one I wanted for myself. I did not want that life, but I also didn’t want the city life I kept running back too. When I went home for that weekend to clear my head I fell in love. I fell in love with my family, with my surroundings and my friends all over again. I had missed that feeling for so many years, in fact I often ran away from it, scared it would hold me back. But something happened. One night sitting on my parents’ porch with my mom under the stars, the real stars, not pole lights or bar signs, or police cruisers, but star the way God intended them to be seen. My mother had been one of those who wanted better for me. She had gotten out and away from the small town and was damn sure I would too. But that night we did not argue about my life or my plans instead. She simply said, “This is home”. I had been fighting myself for months on that notion. Where was I going to end up? Could I really consider anywhere else home? I didn’t want to. Suddenly it all made sense. I could move closer to home. I could have both an exciting career, and a close family life. I have begun to crave the slower way of life that Missouri holds for me, the river, camping, my friends, my family, and especially that feeling I get every time I get close to home. It is peaceful and serene, calming and safe. It is home.
I found out recently that my grandmothers cancer had came back. Talk about a blow to the heart. This woman had grown up on the river, raised five children through good times and bad and had a hand in raising all 15 of her grandchildren. She, herself was a childlike in many ways. She held the ability to love and forgive in an instant. She was sincere and honest, except when she cheated at cards, and had the biggest heart I’d ever seen. I credit her with the crazy streak all us grandkids inherited. She also taught me that I was invincible, as she often that she was. She was 65 and still jumping off of creek bluffs, she was sledding on car hoods, and in the floor wrestling her grown grandkids. She had no fear and taught all of us the same. She was always our biggest fan and was never afraid to speak her mind, whether you wanted to hear it or not. She was our escape from both reality and our parents. Her house was a safe haven to run to, and I often frequented it for advice. She wanted everything for us. She wanted adventure, and excitement and she was always the first one I called after I had done something irrational and crazy. But most of all she wanted us to be happy. That was her only wish. She wanted us to live our dreams, even if it took us to New Hampshire, Virginia, or Memphis. She instilled in us the importance of family. Something as you have read that has finally set in for me. But through her sickness my cousins and I have become closer. We talk, recount memories, and joke constantly, most often about our grandmother. She is the glue that holds us together, we know that and it scares us to death. But for being there for us, me especially, she has shown us what love is, and what it can overcome. Honestly she is a huge part of my decision to move home. I may have grown up around her but I cannot imagine my life without her. It is selfish, but I am not ready. I have finally realized my life goal and direction and here my safety net is about to be pulled out from under me.
I am sure you are wondering what my “life goal” has now become. Well, I finally have a plan, even a backup plan. Talk about being overly prepared. I will be done in Virginia Beach in October, I then plan to move to Springfield Missouri, a rural, but growing city where a few of my cousins and friends live. I am going to once again try out for the highway patrol, but this time I am ready to take full responsibility for my actions and transgressions, no excuses, no regrets. I am ready once again to be a part of a team, especially a team that shares the common goal of saving others. It is about time I start returning the favor. And as for the uniform and hat, why not, I look good in blue. I know now that I am capable of performing the duties of a trooper, with both honor and commitment. I know it takes work but I am ready to commit myself to the cause. The first time around I was scared, unsure of what I could contribute, now I know, compassion, understanding, and knowledge, both hands on and life lessons. I strive on activities that involve both body and mind to succeed. Let’s just hope they are ready for me. My backup plan takes a different step in direction. If the highway patrol does not pan out for my future I would like to give working with children a chance. Probably not permanently due to the amount of mental strain it can create, but to give back to children who were dealt an unfair hand in life.
Outside of the job realm I want to get back to the basics of life. I want to see my family more; I want ride horses with my dad and brother and watch old musicals with my mom. I want to make every moment count with my family and I want to have no regrets about it. I want to become an example of hard work and perseverance. I want others who knew me then to know me now and to be able to see the difference. I want to work hard and be rewarded and most of all I want to be happy. It seems that I want for a lot, but in reality if I given a chance to prove myself these things will come automatically.
A Career Viewpoint
A topic that is known by many along with points of view that varies as much as the lay of the land. In the next few pages please try to interpret my analogies of how the economic trends are similar to that of past eras of financial difficulties. Also, I will share some insight of my experiences of working in the real estate and new home construction industry. In the past twenty years I have in one form or another participated in building homes or selling homes. Whether drawing plans, subcontracting, filing permits, digging ditches, or framing a wall, I can certainly respect each level of affiliation involved during the home building process. For the past sixteen years I have sold both existing homes and new home construction from one side of the price range to the other. Please allow me to formulate my thoughts and experiences and have patience as I may set off on tangents that I may so often do. If you find this material boring, I will not be offended. From one side of the spectrum to the other with the appearance of an unsystematic process may be a way to describe this documentation. Just when you think that the story I am writing about is so far off the topic…the correlation of aspects will eventually make sense.
It has been said that history repeats itself. The similarities of the great depression, the gas crisis of the seventies, the recession of the early nineties, and the bungled economic mess that we are in today appear to the results of war. The war debts from other countries that never seem to be repaid and if there is payment the public is not made aware of payments when received. Oil prices always spike after these events, thus sending more money back out of the country. When the United States has done so much to assist other countries in their times of need, the lack of appreciation creates a broad insult that affects the entire country. Either oblivious or overwhelmed with other issues it seems that this continual event recurs constantly. If you don’t pay your bills here in America the government will help the debt collectors recover lost revenue. What is the end result when such large amounts of debts are forgiven that are owed to this country? One might pay more taxes or government services may be cut that benefits taxpayers. The interest alone for the money that has been sent abroad in the past century could possibly be enough to operate our countries expenses each year. Think about it…fewer taxes and expenses for all would allow more people to have affordable housing and live more comfortably.
Our competitive society sometimes balances between the security and investments of the stock market and the housing market. I have spent the majority of my career in the real estate and construction industry. In the past twenty years I have seen a lot of changes as well as the cycle of the fluctuating markets. The domino effect that is created with the construction of one home floods not only the local economy with labor, taxes, material purchases and services provided by people located within the region but with others abroad. Numerous materials, tools, and goods used to outfit a home are purchased from America as well as the other countries. The delivery, production, and consumption of these products provide a living for so many people on such a broad level it is staggering.
The effect of our local economy staggers down to the level of basic housing need which ultimately generates lasting effects across the globe. The great depression is a perfect example of these factors. The mounting unpaid war debts combined with the stock market crash pitched our financial system into a tail-spin. Seventy years later we are still having the same results.
I am not trying to teach a history lesson but examine how real estate cycles do repeat themselves. The American housing market affects everyone across the globe. Trends will come and go but customs and styles do reemerge.
As a real estate agent there are many codes of ethics and rules that I must adhere to in all walks of life. The additional rules are governed by state and local boards. So clearly this essay is more of a viewpoint or an opinion, not always the rule to follow. I will share some experiences throughout this writing that may seem boring but may have created positive experiences either for others or myself. There are many learning curves that are difficult, challenging, timely and frustrating. If one learns by their mistakes my IQ should be staggering, but I digress because points are not excessive when added together. Every day brings another opportunity to learn. I will admit it is always uphill for me. Statistics and regulations will change so if I quote a source or number this may not hold as a constant value for another day. Theories and opinions vary just like the lay of the land. So these are just thoughts of mine and not a debate. And guess what tomorrow I might change my mind and say something different.
Buy low…sell high; an investors golden rule. This may not always be the best policy. If one property sells too high or too low it will affect the rest of the area negatively. So who cares? Everyone else in the community will care when the adverse influence is not in their best interest. When I first started selling real estate “fair market value” was promoted as the basis establishing price. Of course price is ultimately determined by what two parties agree upon. Until recent times a real estate agent primarily represented the seller to get the highest and best price for a property. However the agents that worked with the buyers typically never met the seller and would establish a loyalty with the buyer. While doing this the buyers negotiating positions can be somewhat compromised. Eventually real estate agency relationships were created hastily in an effort to protect the consumer. While in doing this the ones who wrote the rules were typically attorneys who practice the representation of one party solely. These policies were not practical in real world settings where numerous situations would arise where an agent would have to assist both a buyer and a seller in some circumstances. New rules and disclosures were soon created to accommodate certain situations. With every resolution a case always arises that circumvents the goal to assist all parties fairly. Changes will once again occur with policies, disclosures and the representation of all. Instead of the old saying “buyer beware”, soon the language will be similar to: buyer, seller, and everyone beware of the sky falling. One can scrutinize every thing the way they want to. I always joked that I was going to ask prospective clients to sign a document acknowledging that dogs, sharks and mosquitoes bite. But of course this is just my way of making light of ridiculous, discordant and litigious people.
Upon showing many homes to a couple relocating to the area one home we previewed had a large yard with barns and fields. We walked back to the barn to find a pen full of excited puppies happy to see people. Everyone had to reach in and pet the hounds after we saw the eagerness of their attempts to gain our attention. The puppies were just weeks old and could harm anyone. However, I received a phone call late that night with a disgruntled buyer screaming and carrying on. Well apparently one of the puppies had nicked his hand and broke the skin. After thinking about it this individual called the person renting the house to check to see if the dogs had received there shots yet. “Not yet the renter responded, they are still too young but they have a visit already scheduled to visit the veterinarian”. I am not sure what happened next but apparently opinions were communicated and tempers flared. As silly as this real life example appears the mediation to resolve unnecessary conflicts such as this do not pay in the form of a paycheck. It is a reminder to prompt ones clients to always be cautious. Another piece of advice I share with new agents is to show the home prior to walking through the yard and around the property. That lesson was also one that I learned the hard way. The home owner may not have a dog but the neighbors might so watch your step. Of course these types of situations are now funny to reminisce about.
In the two decades that I have been in the real estate and construction industry, property values have been mostly stable except in three independent situations. This brings me back to the fair market value concept. How it is determined and what are the ramifications of driving up prices with no basis. When determining the value of properties the main factors are established by using the sales prices of properties that have actually sold. Using the asking price of properties that are currently for sale and chattels which are under contract is not an accurate measurement of establishing value. During a real estate boom when the demand is apparent, a reasonable boost of the asking price for a property can be justified. If the sales price of a property is too much higher than that of similar homes that have sold certain problems will arise. After a buyer commits sometimes thousands of dollars toward loan applications, home inspections, and other services as well as their valuable time, misery will take over when the home does not appraise. If a home buyer does not mind paying a little more in addition to what can accurately be financed there is no problem. When the demand sets in and buyers are willing to do this appreciation can be accurately measured. If an appraisal does not reflect the true value by other sales then some of the results can be reflected by the foreclosures seen as in today’s market. In a faltering market as we see today numerous people are selling for a lot less than what the home was worth at one time just too get out of debts. Sometimes these sellers have to sell for less than debts that are owed on the property creating what is called a short sale. Yes that is right some unfortunate sellers have to go to the closing table with cash to pay off the remaining debts as opposed to walking away with the proceeds of the closing. A competent real estate agent will take the necessary steps on the front end to alert a seller of all the closing cost involved and unexpected expenses that could be a part of the sale. One may find it hard to believe but many people don’t even take into consideration the selling expenses of a property sale prior to marketing the home. I have found it to be amazing how many agents will not even discuss the cost with a seller prior to listing a property for sale what cost will be taken away from the actual sales price. Take into consideration that the selling cost may range from ten thousand to one hundred thousand dollars. These figures are somewhat staggering but a large percentage of agents will not disclose this to a prospective seller out of fear of losing the listing or out of pure incompetence. If you are considering “flipping a home” you better seek advice from an accountant because of the tax ramifications that you may be subject too. So many people with have been influenced by this concept with no idea of the cost involved with the purchase, the rehab, the sale, and don’t forget uncle Sam’s share only to realize that have only wasted time and money in this futile attempt. My advice would be to research the tax consequences, speak with an accountant, and discuss one’s goals with several competent agents who understand investment properties and reliable contractors who know the cost to perform certain task prior moving forward.
Regardless of the current market conditions and the negative tone that is currently being used to describe the real estate market, the benefits of home ownership have never been better than before. Just this summer a new housing stimulus bill was passed in Washington in an effort to bring greater stability to housing markets nationwide. This temporary first-time home buyer tax credit would offer $7,500 for the purchase of any home and can be used for purchases between April 9, 2008 and July 1, 2009 (AP 7/30/08). This bill will also allow up to 400,000 homeowners refinance into affordable government backed loans. The incentives are expected to reduce the high inventory of unsold homes. Congress and the president were able to agree upon the terms of the legislation to assist with affordability. The National Association of Realtors and members have been promoting for changes since the signs of the downturn a few years ago. The bill H. R. 3221, The Housing and Economic Recovery Act of 2008, also includes reform such as permanent increase in FHA Loan Limits. This is a great time to invest in a home for you and your family, so take advantage of the low interest rates, an immense inventory, motivated sellers, and numerous incentives available to the buyer!
THE LIFE OF WILLIAM DOCKERY
On April 6, 1972, during the many showers of April, a baby named William Terrell Dockery was born in Fayetteville, North Carolina. My parents are William Dockery and Merland Dockery both out of North Carolina. My mother was raised by her father because her mother passed away when she was just a child. She would tell me some stories about her mother. She would tell me how my grandmother was a mean person with a very short temper. I really don’t know that much about my father’s side. All I know is his parents passed away while he was young.
While my mother gave birth to me, I was born with pneumonia because she had the flu at the time of giving birth. I was a very fortunate and blessed baby because while I was sleeping in my crib one night, a bullet came through the window of the very room I was in. Lets just say, the Lord was watching over me even then. When I was old enough to walk, I would take my diaper off outside and run around naked. Our next-door neighbor would always let my mother know what I was doing at all times. There was a dog in the neighborhood that would lie around and sleep by people’s cars. So one day, I took it upon myself to lie next to the dog and we both were asleep under someone’s car. The driver was about to start the car and put it in gear to drive when he noticed the dog and I under the car. So he immediately informed my mother and she gave me spanking and to this day, we would laugh about it.
Growing up in a house and being the youngest of seven children had its good points and bad ones. Especially, if your older siblings are all girls, that is definitely something to deal with. There was never a dull moment in my household. There was always someone in the bathroom. We had only one bathroom and to share it with six sisters was very hectic. Now the upside to having older sisters, I always had a place to go because they would take me with them. I had to walk to school everyday, but the good thing was my school was located behind my neighborhood. So it didn’t take long to get to school. Once I started kindergarten, it was a very fun place to be. I truly enjoyed snack time and playtime. We would have learning games or songs that our teacher would go over with us. The would allow us arts and crafts time to make necklaces, cup holders, and do drawings. Every child had their own cubby with his or her belongings in the cubby. After lunch, we would have or nap time, which was for about an hour or so. Then our teacher would wake us and continue with the rest of the school day. Then the bell would ring to release the students for the day.
My mother is in an abusive marriage also. My father would leave for work and come home drunk to my mom on a regular basis. He would start by asking where’s his food and why it wasn’t prepared a certain way. The two of them would start arguing and then it would get physical at times. There were a lot of times where my father would hit my mom and she would fight back. Also, my sisters would join in to help my mother by picking up whatever they can to hit my father with. They mainly used pots and pans to hit my father to keep him away from my mother. All of these events took place while I was still a baby. Some of my older sisters were at the age where they could move out on their own if they liked. A few of them were married at a young age also. They really didn’t have the proper role model in their lives at the time, so they made a lot of mistakes in the process. My mother was a strong person to go through the struggles she had to endure. She had distanced herself from my father because she didn’t want me to continue to grow up in that type of environment any longer. So at age six, my mother, my youngest sister, and me moved into a low income neighborhood or public housing if you will.
Being new to any environment is something to get used to, but in the projects is where your survival begins. I literally had to go through fights almost everyday to prove myself worthy of being in this particular neighborhood. Survival of the fittest truly kicked in because now I finally understood what it meant to be poor. I grew up getting food stamps and government cheese every month. I also didn’t have many opportunities to enjoy some of the cereals and milks that we have today. Instead of eating Frosted Flakes, Honey Smacks, Fruit Loops, etc., I would have puffed wheat in a bag and corn flakes on a white box in bold black letters that would be the only thing on the box. A lot of times we used powdered milk or the carnation milk to put in the cereal. For sugar, we would use sweet and low or equal. All this would take place after our food stamps were done for the month. Then we would have to wait until the first of the next month.
Now months have gone by and I was starting to make more friends. It didn’t seem so bad because everyone was in the same situation as I was in. The majority of neighborhood consisted of single mothers with children or the elderly. My mother had me at the age of thirty-seven, so by the time I was ten or eleven, the other kids mothers were in their late twenties or early thirties. My mother was in her late forties and some kids at school would think she was my grandmother. My mother and father stopped going to school at very early ages; therefore, they didn’t graduate from high school like most. A few years later, mother started taking night classes where she received her GED. That was one of the proudest days of my life because before then she could not really help me with my work. I had always wondered why I had many wrong answers on my work. That’s when I found out she didn’t complete high school, but she did the best she could with what she knew. As a child, I was in church constantly. When I say I had to go all the time, I mean all the time. It was to the point where I didn’t like going anymore.
My summers would be spent going to summer camp at Fayetteville State University. There would be an activity bus that would come and pick us up in our neighborhood. I always looked forward to it because we would swim, play basketball, tennis, and play softball. I liked swimming the best though because it was all about getting in the pool. I didn’t do much traveling when I was young so going to summer camp was the highlight of the summer.
During my elementary school years, I have encountered some interesting things. I had some good teachers, but there was an area where I struggled. It was my comprehension. I was a great speller and that was the only thing I had going for me. I grew up in a household where proper grammar was not used at all. So, I adopted the bad habits of improper grammar and it caused me to struggle once it came to take standardized tests. As I would read the passages, my mind would wander because the passages were so boring. Then a section of the test, I would have to either make grammatical corrections to the paragraphs or no corrections would be needed. I couldn’t decide which corrections to make at that time. It was confusing because I was on the A-B honor roll throughout elementary school. I didn’t like to give oral reports because of stage fright and I was a very shy person.
I grew up in a time where discipline was highly enforced. I had a math teacher who was known for paddling students when their behavior was out of control. He would walk them out of the classroom and go around the corner. He would have the person to lean forward against the wall and spank him or her with the paddle. See, it was acceptable by parents back then. You would have to run laps around the track too. I had to run some laps myself because I would always be the one laughing in class. I didn’t get into trouble for talking, just laughing. My school was located across the street from my neighborhood, although we had to walk about a mile and a half to and from everyday. Like I said before, the guys in my neighborhood were pretty close. We would walk together in packs as if we were wolves. There would be moments where fights would break out, but other than that everyone got along with one another.
I looked forward to report cards coming home because my father would give me five dollars if my grades were very good. The teacher would give me my report card and I would look it over with a big smile on my face because I would have A’s, B’s, and a few C’s on there. I would smile all the way home, and I would show my parents the grades and wait for my reward. I was a well-behaved student and my report card would always reflect it. My mother would go to the parent-teacher conferences, and the teacher would tell her how much he or she loved me in their classroom. My mom would joke and say, “Are you talking about my child?” If there was no homework to be done, I would either watch cartoons on television or go outside and play with my friends.
My father was a diabetic, and I would watch him take his insulin early in the morning. Saturdays were special days for my father and me because we would watch wrestling on television. He introduced it to me and I have been watching it ever since. It would also come on at eleven o’ clock at night. Well, I would be sleeping at that time, where he would wake me to watch it with him. Sometimes I would watch it and other times, I would remain asleep. I recalled a time when my mom, sister, and I were with my father and he had a stroke to where he was temporarily blinded. This had surprised me because I had never seen anything like this before. We had to call the ambulance to pick my father up and take him to the hospital. My sister cried her eyes out as the ambulance drove away. His vision was restored and he was released from the hospital. I was so happy because he was home again.
I loved my mother to death, but there was one thing she would do that I could not stand. If she was lying down on the couch and her purse was next to her on the floor, she would call me from across the room just to pick it up and give it to her. I would think there would be more, and she would say, “That’s it.” Now I would have to go back across the other side of the room. Afterwards, I would go outside before she would call me to do anything else. I would run to the park to get away, although that would not work at times. My mom still yelled for me to come home for whatever reason. That occurred every-time I was having a good time with my friends. Mostly, it would be a good game of basketball and the score would be tied and we needed one basket to win. She would call and I had to get someone to replace me before I left. I would run all the way home and complain at the same time.
My mom had worked out an agreement with the office manager in our neighborhood about selling icy cups for extra money. Of course, the office had to receive a percentage of the earnings. That experience was kind of fun because all the kids in the neighborhood found out and they were coming by for icy cups. They called my mom the “icy lady” and we would charge fifty cents per icy cup. You would have a lot of kids coming by as early as eight o’ clock in the morning for icy cups. I thought we were doing pretty good, but after you subtract for sugar, cool-aid, cups, and giving the office their cut, we were left with just a little bit. I understand that each little bit helps, yet I didn’t see any progression. Our business experience lasted for a couple of months and kids were asking if we were going to sell the icy cups again.
My mother and father had reconciled their differences and we were a family again. One Sunday, I pretended to be sick just so I can stay home and be with my dad. I had succeeded by lying to my mother and she let me stay home. As soon as she left for church, I suddenly started feeling better and my father let me go outside and play with my friends. I was ten years old at the time when all this happened. My friends and I were playing basketball at the basketball court. We played until we got bored of playing and someone suggested we go throw rocks at cars. There was some woods located near the basketball court. My friends and I gathered some rocks and waited in the woods for cars to drive by. As the cars would go by, we would throw rocks at them and hide. After about twenty minutes of doing that, we walked by this house that had rabbits in it. Just behind that house was a couple of mobile homes and beside the mobile homes was an air conditioning company. The company had a lot of marble cut rocks in front of it. There was a barbed-wire fence between the air conditioning company and the woods we were hiding in earlier.
We gathered those rocks and started throwing them at the mobile homes. We broke a lot of windows and also caused hundreds and hundreds of dollars worth of damage to the different properties. There were cars driving by as we were throwing the rocks and one car pulled over yelling. The driver said, “Hey you kids, what are you doing?” So I immediately dropped the rest of my rocks and ran. All of us were able to jump the fence except one and he was caught. The rest of us were hiding out in the woods as the police showed up. The boy rode with the police taking them to everyone’s house and telling their parents. By this time, my mother was home from church and she was very upset with me. My mother suddenly yelled at the top of her lungs for me to come home. Once I got home, she told me to go straight up to my room and wait for her. I knew what was coming next. She went and got a switch and brought it up to me. I was stretched out across the bed where my shorts kind of raised up a little exposing the back of my thighs. I tried to psych myself up by being tough and take the spanking. As my mother was hitting me with the switch, it felt like my skin had split open from all of those licks. I immediately started crying because I thought my legs were bleeding. Lets just say, I never thought about throwing a rock ever again.
My mother has always been the disciplinarian in our family and my father has been the laid back one. One afternoon, my father and I were riding in the back seat of a car and I kept sitting up from my seat while the car was moving. In other words, I was being nosy and trying to see everything. My father said, “Son, sit down.” He was just as calm when he said it, so he said it again. I was still not listening to what he was saying. Now this time, my father took his hand and he popped me right on the legs. I was so shocked he hit me that I didn’t say a word or move the rest of the car ride. That was the only time my father ever spanked me, and I was glad. The difference between my mother and father is this, my mother is definitely a yeller. She would yell if you did something you had no business doing. Sometimes that would be worse than getting a spanking. Depending on what was done, she would combine the two and you really would be hating life at that moment. My father was the calm one of the two. He would talk to you and not at you about what it was you did wrong. I received both styles and both styles were very effective.
When I moved on to junior high, I was this short and skinny boy, trying to fit in a new environment. Most of the kids were taller than me, so I had to try a little harder when came down to doing competitive events. I went out for the boy’s basketball team, but was cut from the team because of my height. That didn’t keep me from working on my skills though. So in the meantime, I wrestled on the school team. I shocked myself because I was a pretty good wrestler, but basketball was my passion. I even ran track through junior high, which was a very interesting experience. Just about every guy in my neighborhood fantasized about being in the NBA when they get older. I watched a game as soon as the game was over, I would be out there practicing some of the moves from the game. Then afterwards, the guys and I would talk about the game that was on. We analyzed every move, shot, and call that was made throughout the game.
For every kid, Michael Jordan was a player everyone wanted to pattern their game after. He would do things in a basketball game that no one would ever think of doing. The thing is, not too many people could do the things he did in basketball. Even on the playground, I always wanted to be the one to take the last shot because Michael Jordan did it each and every game. That’s when my dreams of becoming a professional basketball player became even more intense. I still had my height to consider, but it didn’t stop my desire. I remember the summer before my sophomore year, we were playing a game of basketball. One of my teammates shot the ball and me and this guy went up for the rebound and the guy had elbowed me in the mouth. He caused my two front teeth to go half-way back into my mouth. The were actually knocked out of place. I began spitting up blood and the game stopped. Some of my teammates came to see if I was all right. Now the guy that elbowed me in the mouth was in a state of shock. He just stood there not saying anything. I immediately noticed and saw he wasn’t trying to apologize, so I got upset and started to hit the guy. They stopped me from hitting the guy, and I was given a towel to stop the bleeding. I went home and my mother took me to the emergency room, where the doctors popped my two front teeth back in place. Then the doctor had wrapped some wiring around them and told me I had to eat soft foods for about two weeks. My teeth and gums finally healed and I was ready to start my sophomore year. I honestly thought I would have to get false teeth, but it’s a good thing everything worked out for the better.
I had some interesting summer jobs during those times, where I would never ever think lightly of again. I remember picking blueberries. This bus picked us up and we rode through two counties to get there. The temperature was between 95 degrees to 100 degrees easily. You were paid three dollars for every crate of blueberries you have. I figured that would be a piece of cake, but no one told me that within each crate were twelve cartons that needed to be filled and then you fill up the crate. The fields were very long and the sun was scorching hot. I was quite embarrassed because there were elderly women out there outdoing all the youngsters there. They had a special technique they were using, which made things a lot easier for them. The elderly women would be out in the heat all day long and would make hundreds of dollars a day doing this. I only ended up doing two crates and walked away with six dollars. The other job was picking watermelons. A couple of guys tried to pick watermelons with me one summer. Our ride came about 5:30 in the morning and took us in the country to pick watermelons. The guy lived on a farm, where he had watermelon fields for miles. I remember getting out there and grabbing them and picking up the melons to see if they were ripe enough to eat. I quickly learned how to thump the melons to check for a hollow sound. If you heard that sound then you knew you had a good melon. I didn’t realize how exhausting that would be ,so when I got home, I immediately jumped in the shower. Shortly afterwards, I took a nap to relax. Then later on I would get up and play with my friends.
Now while in high school, my father became very sick. He was in and out the rest homes or the hospital. By this time, the strokes that he had took over his body. It was to the point where he need assistance to do a lot of things. I would go visit him from time to time, but as a child I didn’t like it because I didn’t like to see my father in a helpless state. Sometimes, I didn’t go see him on purpose because it was too hard for me. I had an aunt who would try to make me feel guilty because I wouldn’t go see him. I tried to tell her how that situation made me feel, but she was not trying to hear what I had to say. I went to my mom and explained the situation to her. She totally understood where I was coming from and did not pressure me to go if I didn’t want to. At one point in my sophomore year, my grades had plummeted big time. My mom had informed my teachers about what I was enduring at that time, so the teachers were quite patient with me.
Once I started growing a little more and being on the basketball team, my popularity sky-rocketed and I was having the time of my life. Just about everyone in my high school of 1500 students knew who I was. During those days, that experience was like a child in a candy store. I was so excited and my confidence increased as time went on. The females started noticing me and I thought I was the man because I would hear how cute and intelligent I was. Now I have them wanting to become closer than friends, which was a good thing for me. I started loving high school then because it gave me something to look forward to. Going to the proms and school dances was a blast and I sometimes wish I could go back in time and relive those moments. When I graduated high school, a major milestone was accomplished, but I was very scared also. I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life. I ended up being accepted to Mount Olive College, which was located in Mount Olive, North Carolina. It was a quiet little community and there were about 600 students that attended the school.
I also went to Army basic training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina five days after graduation. While I was doing my training, some of the students who were in my class had received orders to go to Iraq for “Operation Desert Shield, Desert Storm”. That kind of shook me up some because that was when I realized that this is the real deal. A lot of those students I never heard of again. You know how life has a way of your paths crossing with someone or some people. Well lets just say, I never saw them again. My unit had deployed over there and I just knew they were going to send for me, but they didn’t. I did my training there and I entered college during the spring semester. College was an overwhelming experience because it took me away from home. So I had all kinds of freedom and I became very excited, but there was a down side to that. I would have to do a lot of things on my own where I had depended on my mother for a lot of things. That’s when I knew I was being introduced to life and all the things it brings. With me being the new kid on the block, many of the students had to feel me out to see where I was coming from. So, now I was an Army Reservist and college student. I would do my reserve training one weekend a month and two weeks during the summer. Being in college, I didn’t realize how important it was to have money. After your money ran out from buying food for your room, you had to wait until your parents either send you money, or your next payday. I was annoyed with a lot of the students because all they would do is play cards the whole weekend. That is why I made it my business to go home to visit my mom every weekend. With the town being as small as it was, there was not much to do there as far as entertainment. I used to look forward to going home and seeing my girlfriend just to have some fun. All the girls at my college were either dating someone or they just wasn’t attractive enough to approach.
My college tenure came to an end when my financial aid ran out. So I had to drop out and get a job to make ends meat. Although I was still in the reserves, I wasn’t making the money I would like to. So after about another year of working in factory-type jobs, I decided to join the navy where I could travel and see the world. I was very anxious to leave the state of North Carolina because if I had stayed, I probably would not have left. This was a great decision for me, and all I had to do was transfer my army information to navy. The next thing I knew, I was on my way to Great Lakes, Illinois. When I left the state of North Carolina, it was 85 degrees. I had shorts on and living it up. By the time the plane landed in Chicago, it was 55 degrees. I’m used to a warm climate, so you can imagine what I was going through. I noticed people staring at me once I got off the plane. I guess they were like, look at this fool for wearing shorts in Chicago. This was basically my first time out of North Carolina. I figured since it was hot where I was it would be hot everywhere else. Boy, was I wrong! There was a bus waiting to take us the navy base, and it was cold on the bus also. I froze the whole trip there, which took almost forty-five minutes to get there.
It was in the middle of May when all this took place, I didn’t realize the weather would be cold in one state and hot in the others. Then when June 1st came, it’s like someone just turned on the heat. It stayed hot until I finished my training. Then from there, I had to go to Orlando, Florida to learn my job in the navy. They closed that base down some years later. I received my orders to the USS PORTLAND (LSD-37), which was here in Norfolk, Virginia. I was onboard that ship for a total of 5 years. I had some good times and bad, while being onboard. We have traveled and seen many different countries and learned about that country’s cultures. A lot of the places I visited, I only read about or saw on television. Two of my most memorable places were Haifa, Israel and Dakar, Senegal. In Israel, I went on a tour to Jerusalem and visited the “Wailing Wall”. That was a place where the Israelis would go to pray, but they would also write down their prayer and stick it in the wall. In Senegal, I was able to experience the African cultures and admire some of the great craftsmanship there. I also saw the women carrying bundles of laundry on their heads. That was something I always saw on television and to actually see it up close was amazing.
I met my wife when she was attending Norfolk State University. This was back in October 1993. I was in Norfolk for only a month and then we met. I had intentions to date many women, and I wanted to have one in every city in Virginia. That was my initial plan, but it didn’t work out that way. My wife and I dated, and I had proposed to her once I had returned from my first deployment. She said yes and we were married in 1994 in New York. Shortly afterwards, my oldest daughter, Bria was born. Then two years later, my son came. I was on top of the world at that time because I was a family man and I was having fun in the military. The bad part about all this was it took me away from my family. That was the hardest thing for me because I hated saying goodbye to my wife and kids. My wife understood I had a job to do, but my kids could not. It would tear me up inside each time they shed any tears. Finally in September 1998, my time was up on the PORTLAND and it was time for me to work closer to my family. Before that could happen, I had to leave and go to school in San Antonio, Texas for law enforcement training.
My training was six weeks long; however, I had the time of my life. I recall when it had rained for two days straight , which caused a flood in San Antonio. The sun came out all of a sudden, and the water had evaporated. It looked as if it never rained at all. Once my time was up there, I received orders to work at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. I had to commute from Virginia Beach to Washington, D.C. a lot. I was doing security for the Chief of Naval Operations, who was the top four star admiral in the navy. The work schedule was set up for me to work only fifteen days a month. I loved that schedule, even though it required a lot of hours.
The Beginning
My life started on a small island in the Pacific. My father was stationed at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. I was born in a big pink hospital that sits on the side of a small mountain. Mom said I came out with the cord wrapped around my face. Dad said I looked like an alien and that once they unwound it, I had funny creases on my face. I wish I had pictures, because it just sounds like a sight to see. Nothing all that special happened for the first few years. I lived on an island but was terrified of the ocean. I had an insatiable love for all things chocolate, especially Junior Mints. I formed a friendship with a sailor who supported that addiction, much to the chagrin of my folks. Apparently, chocolate mints did not agree with me and the outcome was not pretty. That’s the joy of other peoples’ children; you can fill them up with explosive sweets and give them back before the fuse reaches the payload. I had an unconditional trust in everyone. I would leap from high places and trust in the fact that the closest person would catch me. Thankfully, there was always someone there; at least that’s what they tell me anyway. Most of my early birthdays were gathered around a character shaped cake that my mother skillfully baked and decorated. These I actually do have pictures of. I’ll try to get a hold of the albums and scan some in for this chapbook. That should be interesting and embarrassing. Everything up to this point is what I have been told by family or showed in pictures. I believe them.
The next place we lived was New York. I formed some of my first memories there. We lived in a split level house; a raised ranch as my mother just corrected me. We had a Siamese cat named Saimin. I let him out the front door one day and we never saw him again. We did receive word that he was fine and decided that he would be better off with his new family. He wasn’t really all that nice anyway. We also had two Dalmatian puppies, Heidi and Topper. We lost Topper early, but I remember that he could jump really high. Mom kept a garden in the back yard. I liked to help her pick the veggies. I would make a pouch out of my shirt and fill it will beans and carrots and radishes. I never quite made it back to the house with many though. I ate them on the way. Hey, it was a long walk from the garden for my short little legs and all that picking sure works up a hunger. Mom knew that she couldn’t count my pickings in with the rest, but I think she didn’t mind cause she was happy that I was eating veggies. I started kindergarten while we lived there. I don’t remember my teacher’s name, but I do remember sitting around her singing songs while she played a piano. I followed my older brother around a lot. He didn’t seem to mind it, yet. Eventually, he would. I learned to read earlier than most because my big brother would teach me his homework. I really should thank him for that. We moved into a rental before the next transfer. I really don’t remember much about that house, except that it had a pool table. Figures, I was five or so and couldn’t really play.
Back to Hawaii we went. This time I can recall things from my own memories. I got a baby brother while we were there. He was born in the same pink hospital I was, just a few rooms down the hall. We lived in the same housing complex, but that’s not unusual when you are a military brat. I went to Iroquoi Point Elementary School. I could walk there from my house. It sure felt like a long walk one I was that small. I went back as an adult and found out it wasn’t so far. It’s amazing the perspective change that takes place as you grow. I mean, it really felt like it took forever to get there. You had to walk all the way to the end of the street (a couple of houses down). Then you had to cross a long grass/dirt field (maybe one sports field). Again I remember singing songs in class. This time, some of them were in Hawaiian. There were kids who came to school without shoes, and that was okay. I had my first boyfriend there. A little cutie named Gregory. He used to get so protective of me when I’d spin around it my twirly skirt (you could see my undies, oops!). Our neighbor Jenny was more of an adopted cousin. She spent more time at our house than hers. Thinking back on things now, I’m glad that we were there for her. She didn’t have it so great, but that’s not my story to tell. Our car was a lemon yellow Mazda 626. Her name was Gerty. I remember that sitting in the back got tight when my little brother came along. The carseat went in the middle and my older brother and I sat on either side, kinda squished. I guess that’s why my parents decided to buy the minivan. Man, I thought that thing was cool. All that space. No more crowding. Folks got a great deal on it. Another sailor transferring had to unload it, and fast. One of my favorite pastimes was pouring salt on slugs. That is as far as my childhood torture story goes. I think that’s more of a ‘boy’ thing to do. I was still following my brother around, but he didn’t care for it much anymore. I got the hand-me-down things he didn’t want anymore; the hot wheels trike that had a rock stuck in one wheel. It went ca-chunk ca-chunk as I rode it down the street. I learned to ride a two wheeler without training wheels on that street. Dad wiped out on a skateboard while eating a bowl of chilli. That was too funny to watch. Dad has always been a silly one. We made a lot of great friends there. Amber was my favorite. She had almost white hair, bleached by the sun. I had the best tan while we lived there. I don’t remember spending a whole lot of time indoors. Ah, the good ole days. I liked the beach a lot better this time around. We would cut through the school to get there, and we’d stop by Baskin Robins on the way back. I don’t remember wearing shoes much either, now that I think about it. We had a great going away party when we left this time, but I’ll save that story for later. I may even try to get the video converted so I can share.
Grade School
Let’s rewind a bit from where I left off last. In 1985, my baby brother was born, on Mothers’ Day no less. I don’t remember a whole lot about that event. What I do remember is that my grandmother came to stay with us for a while and that mom had to stay in the hospital for some extra time. Having a new baby in the house probably changed a lot, but I just remember being stoked that I was a big sister. I think I would have preferred the bouncing bundle had been pink instead of blue, but what little girl doesn’t? I tried to help out as much as I could, but I’m not sure how much assistance I actually was. After all, I was only six years old. Mostly I just went and got things for mom; blankets, burp rags, pacifiers. As a mom now myself, I know that she appreciated even the smallest effort.
Fast forward a couple of years. It’s now time to leave Hawaii for the second time. Like I said before, the party was pretty cool. Let’s just say that wet slip-n-slide plus inebriated sailors equals one hell of a muddy good time. The only real downer for me was my pool. While being used as the rinse area, it became a casualty. Ah well, we were moving anyway.
We flew from Hawaii to California, where we met our cars and then drove the rest of the way to Florida. I have to say, I think that is still the most memorable road trips I’ve ever taken. Dad and my older brother took the two door car while mom, my younger brother, and myself were in the caravan. I thought that thing was awesome. Three rows of seats and one of them was all mine, when I wanted it. Mostly, I sat up front and played navigator. We stopped at the Grand Canyon. Wow! What a sight. Of course, the mood was ruined by my prankster big brother pretending he would shove me over the edge. Good thing he wasn’t riding in the van, otherwise that could have made the trip a lot more intense. We didn’t have cell phones back then, but we always managed to stop at the same places. I thought it was pretty magical. I learned later that the magic was a cool thing call triple A trip-tiks. Mom and Dad planned ahead where they wanted to stop. Most of the time, we stayed close enough to see the other car. The two door Mazda was canary yellow, so its not like it was that hard to see. One morning we got McDonalds breakfast. I can’t remember if we got it to go or if Mom just saved some of hers for the ride. Anyway, While she was enjoying her hashbrown later in the car, a bee flew into the car and landed on it. She screamed and threw it out the window, all the while trying very hard to stay on the road. She pulled over to get her wits about her. One night during our trip, we kids were killing time in the hotel room jumping from bed to bed. At some point in the fun, my little brother’s training pants ended up on his head. I’m pretty sure they were clean, at least I hope so. He ran around screaming and we were all laughing like crazy. I wrote a poem about it for school later on and won a prize. That’s really about all I can remember from that trip. I’m sure my Mom will read this and remind me of something later on, which I’ll be sure to add later.
So, we made it Florida. I think it took us about ten days. We moved in to this tiny, two bedroom apartment. In all of my nine years, I never had to share a room with anyone. Now, I was sharing with BOTH of my brothers. Yuck! We spent several months there while we waited for our new house to be built. It was pretty cool. I was in elementary school and my older brother was in middles school. The schools had different schedules and Mom drove us in each day, since we lived outside of the zoning for the school. The staggered schedules turned out to be a pretty cool thing. Mom would drop one of us off at school and then take the other to the house site to check the builders’ progress. Then, on the pick-up trip, the other sibling got to visit the site. Mom video taped most of the construction. It was pretty cool to see. It started out as an empty lot. Then there was a foundation, walls, roof, and everything else. It was actually quite fortunate that we made daily visits, because the builders messed up one the changes my parents had made to the floor plan. I almost had to share a room again, or sleep in the dining room. Good eye, Mom.
The neighborhood we moved into was brand new. We were one of the few houses on the block and there were no houses on the lots behind us. Not yet, anyway. I had my own room again, ah. I still love that house. Maybe it’s because I have to most childhood memories there. I almost cried when my parents finally sold it. So, now that we were in the new house, I could take a bus to school. The community was growing though and, within no time, there was a new school going up just down the street. I loved being able to walk or ride my bike to school. It wasn’t all that far and I never had to worry about missing the bus. Rainy days were a bummer though.
The fifth grade is when I started having vision issues. I blame it on poor development planning on the school’s part. Who installs brick read chalk boards and then supplies the teachers with yellow chalk? My last name was at the end of the alphabet then, so I say in the back of the classroom. After days and days of having to move to the front just to take my notes, someone sent word home to my folks that maybe I should have my eyes checked. Enter the awkard four-eyed stage of my life, which lasted well into high school. Somewhere during that year I fell and broke my wrist. Running around with my next door neighbor, I tripped and landed on the concrete with a snap. Mom didn’t believe it was as bad as it was and she didn’t take me to the doctor right away. I still like to bring that little stinger up every now and then. Mom knows I’ve really let it go though.
Sixth grade brought a new school and new experiences. I had to get used to changing classes all the time. Suddenly, I had some say in what electives I got to take. I sat through one or two art classes before I realized that it just wasn’t for me. I decided I might like to try the band on for size. And size had a lot to do with my instrument choice. Dad wanted me to play the French horn, but I just didn’t feel like I could hold it for long periods of time. The flute was an alternate choice, but holding it up the way you have to seemed it might me too tiring. I decided on the clarinet, and I loved it. I have to agree with the studies that show music enhances learning. I’m not sure exactly how it works, but I know that school subjects seemed even easier once I started playing an instrument. This was also the year I discovered a great love of math. During a regular class, the teacher gave us a test of some things we had not worked on before. It was a pre-algebra placement test. I had a natural talent for it, and was assigned to pre-algebra the next year with several of my other classmates. Man, math was my best subject. Still is. I love the problem solving. I even love when I get things wrong because I get to go back and figure out where I made the mistake. Very few subjects in school, or in life, are that cut and dry.
Seventh and eighth grade kind of blended together. I don’t remember a whole lot of things about that time. I do remember standing outside in the courtyard to watch shuttle launches. I also remember my science teacher, Mr. Hall, taking me aside and telling me how much he knew I was capable of and pushing me to do better. I will admit it, I was a lazy student. I hated to do homework (except math, of course) and I really never studied for tests. He must have made an impact, maybe not immediately, but he is one of the few teachers whose name I still remember. Eighth grade was also when I met my best friend, Jen. She and I stayed close through high school, even after my family moved away from Florida. This year I was taking Algebra and Spanish I, both counted for high school credit. The Spanish class was actually at the high school. I would ride the high school bus to the high school in the morning and they would bus us from there to the middle school. It was a long school day for me, but I enjoyed it. I think I did a summer school semester for gym class, but I could be wrong. Like I said before, my memory is a little sketchy sometimes.
High School
Next came high school. I went to three of them. I started my freshman year in Florida. Dad got orders to transfer again, and we were set to move to Pittsburgh, PA. Dad went ahead of us. Mom stayed back with my little brother and me while we tried to sell the house. Now a teenager, I had a lot of angst about the situation. Eventually, as a geographically single mother, Mom decided I may be better off going on to meet my dad. Around April, Dad flew down to pick up our old car and I drove back to Pittsburgh with him. I finished off my freshman year at a high school near my dad’s new work. Mom and my little brother followed around the beginning of summer. I flew back to visit that summer. It was a strange visit, being a guest where I used to live. I had planned to stay with one friend, but things didn’t go as planned. Ah well. Unexpected changes tend to make things more interesting. Some time in here we moved into an apartment close to where my parents wanted to buy a house. I changed schools, again, but for the last time. Looking back I think I did a pretty good job adjusting. I made friends, but not easily. It was hard to be the ‘outsider’. Most of the people at the new school had lived there all their lives. In fact, most of their families had lived there for at least three generations. Here I was, a well-travelled teen. I made friends with other fellow outcasts; vo-tech kids mostly. While in the apartments we decided we wanted a dog. Well, there were guidelines on size, so we had to choose a breed that was kind of small. Mom did a lot of research and found a breeder for Miniature Pinschers. We took a road trip to go see them. I remember that day pretty well. It seemed like it took us forever to get there. Mom could probably tell me how long it really was. So, we get there and there are two litters to choose from. These dogs are small fully grown, so the puppies were tiny. I just sat on the floor and played with them. My dog ended up choosing me. She just came over, looked up at me with those sappy gray eyes, and sat down in my lap. I was hooked. This was the one I was taking home. My parents agreed and paid for her and we headed home. I remember that we had brought a brown towel with us, just in case she got carsick. I honestly can’t remember if she did though. We spent the trip trying to come up with a creative name. She was a reddish brown color, with a pale belly. We finally came up with Pale Brandy Sue, but we just called her Brandy. She was a great dog. While she was still fairly small, she would sleep across my neck at night. Eventually she became too heavy for that though, so she moved down to the crook of my knees. I loved that dog. I had a blast teaching her to sit and speak and shake. We bred her once, which produced three puppies. They were all different colors. One red, one black, and one sandy colored with a peppering a black. There were two girls and a boy, if I remember right. Mom decided to keep the black male. We named him Winston. Not sure if he has a proper full name. Brandy lived a long and happy life. We lost her recently, last year or the year before. It was a sad day for me, especially since I hadn’t seen her in a while. Winston still lives with my folks. He’s a sweet old dog.
Let’s see, back to school. High school wasn’t all that exciting. I got decent grades, but I could have done a lot better. I got lazy. I didn’t participate in the band any longer. I wasn’t fond of the marching and playing. At my school in Florida I was on the flag corps during games and they didn’t offer that in the Pennsylvania school. I wasn’t athletic enough to be a cheerleader either, or at least I didn’t have the desire to be one. I did discover photography at that school though. I just adored that class. I spent a lot of free time there; became a bit of a teacher’s pet. I still love photography. I would take pictures more often, but life always seems to get in the way.
I got my first job while in high school, as most kids do. Fast food, of course; Wendy’s. I loved that job. My manager was awesome. He would always give me the schedule I asked for so I could earn the most money I could. And I was always the one he would call if they were short handed and I wasn’t already there. I worked there for around two years. By the time I left, I knew every job but manager. It’s not like it was that hard, but you’d be surprised how many people just can’t work in food service. I took my learner’s permit test shortly after my fifteenth birthday. Failed it. It was an electronic touch test. As soon as you missed the maximum number of questions, it cut you off. How embarrassing. Had to go back to take it a second time. Same thing happened with my actual driver’s test. Failed the first time up. I couldn’t even drive home from the testing center I was so upset. We bought my first car from a friend of my mother’s. A 1987 brown Nissan Sentra. Small and easy to drive. Mom and Dad split the cost with me. I had that car until 1997. It saw a lot of miles, a few states, and a lot of good times.
Graduation came and went. Nothing special there. The previous November I had signed up to join the Navy, much to the chagrin of my folks. I waited out the time after graduation working and spending time with friends. I quit my job about a month before heading to basic training just to relax. I was almost an adult, and I couldn’t wait.
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