Day 362 - My Assignment 1: Major Branching Points in My Life

First, there was one

 As the oldest child, I am lucky to have memories of being the most important person in Mom and Dad's life. And those memories are likely the basis for the most fundamental branching points in my life: the addition of each successive child changed my life, four times, and I still learn more each year about the impact of each of those changes.

My earliest memories of Wayne don't include baby pictures. I remember that he had to go into the hospital for a few nights when he got pneumonia. I remember playing with an elaborate set of plastic farm pieces -- fences, cows, horses -- on the living room floor. I remember a Captain Hook puppet that we used to tell each other stories.  And I remember having to share my time with Dad at basketball games, baseball games, and fishing with Wayne. So, with the arrival of Wayne, I learned, perhaps not gracefully, that I had to share.

Then there were two

Joan's arrival is much more memorable for me. I even remember Mom being pregnant, and that I had to help her wash the kitchen floor when Joan's birth was near. I wanted a sister so that I could say I had a brother and a sister, so I was very pleased when Mom brought Joan home. I remember Joan's blonde blonde hair which contrasted strongly with the brown blonde that Wayne and I had. And I remember how cute everyone thought she was (I even thought she was). In fact, only recently I realized that Joan's arrival probably sparked my need for competition because Wayne and I didn't spend so much time with Dad once Joan arrived. I may not have realized then that I was jealous, but I realized since Joan was the cute one, I had to find some other way to excel -- and thus was born my need to win and be the smart one.

And then three

By the time Roger arrived, I began to think more of my being part of a family. I remember Mom telling us that we were going to have a new brother or sister. And I know I wanted another brother -- to keep the genders even I said, but perhaps I didn't want even more competition from another sister. Roger's arrival brought opportunities. I got to "help" Mom give Roger his daily bath. I don't recall doing much more than watching, but being in the room during the ritual made me feel part of it. And I even got to babysit on Saturday evenings when Mom and Dad went out, however infrequently. I felt that I had passed some magic point of growing up with Roger's arrival.

And then came the twins, the biggest impact of all up to then. While my role in taking care of them was really quite small, the impressions on me were enormous. Where taking care of Roger was an opportunity, helping Mom feed, change, and clothe the twins became more of a chore. Thank goodness they were both so cute!

And four

But their arrival also meant I couldn't babysit for all the kids alone. Mom always arranged for neighbors, not always that much older than I, to babysit and for me to help. From this I learned that all responsibilities are not equal and growing up was going to take a lot longer.

Those lessons -- the need to share, the desire to compete, the opportunity to accept responsibilities, and to recognize that I might need help now and then -- probably explain my decisions throughout high school and college.

The additional goal -- I wanted to find something special in myself -- was motivation that made me seek out the opportunity to go to New Jersey for the summer of 1968. That experience within a Cuban immigrant community so close to New York City brought me many life-changing decisions. First, I realized I already knew a foreign language that I could teach, so I changed my major from German to English. Second, I knew I wanted to spend my life in big cities so I shrank away from anything that I thought would keep me in Fargo and Moorhead, including the wonderful man I had promised to marry before those life-changing events.

And more

And that led me to meet Don, a symbol of anywhere else. Don became my means to get to the big city when we headed west to California. And for all the pain that relationship brought, Don ended up the most important influence for me when I needed to find confidence to stay in California. He told me I could stand on my own (not necessarily in a tone of voice I welcomed), so I dared to try. Joan's arrival later that summer was just what I needed to conclude that I really could continue my California life instead of returning to an old life.

Remaining in California made it possible for me to get the opportunity to go to Iran to live and work. And the evenings I spent while in San Francisco at folk dancing halls turned on my interest in Eastern Europe which led me to Romania. While these two events started out as adventures to spice up my life, they transformed into the goal for a new life. And I thought I had found a partner who shared that goal in John. I think the slow realization that his goals were actually so different from mine -- and from what he had told me when we met -- was the unraveling of that relationship. When he asked me why I couldn't just love him for himself, I could only respond that I had no idea who he was -- he changed his story in every situation.

With my entry into the State Department's Foreign Service, I had reached the most significant branching point. I realized when I got the phone call asking me if I wanted to be part of the January class or the March class that having the choice was more difficult than having no choice. Until that point, getting into the Foreign Service had been a goal that consumed an enormous amount of my effort. Once the call came, the dilemma was that I realized it didn't matter whether I joined or not -- I needed a new goal. And I spent the first four years questioning whether I had made the right choice.

And then I met Alex, who helped me realize that my personal life is more important than work. Of course, that has been a lesson long in the learning. We have had many discussions about why I have had to work so late -- or why I have chosen to work so late. But eventually we have both come to realize we each work in order to live, not live in order to work.