Daily Read #7: By the Sweat of your Brow

Those of you in Utah may have caught on the news last night that the 222, Ryan's guard unit has received mobilization orders for late spring 2011. The mission specifics haven't been announced, but there isn't much chance of them being sent somewhere that didn't have a lot of wind and sand. As anyone using means of vision correction can attest. Getting Lasik before being caught in a wind storm in a war zone would be awesome. Not to mention those military glasses.

One more reason to vote:http://www.hoopesvision.com/contest/vote.html

One more reason to bring your friends over to be entertained by my wit and charm convincing them do the same.
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I have a hard time admitting publicly I was a boy scout for fear that somehow I'm going to end up in a situation where someone's life depends on my tying of a clove hitch. All heads turn to me and say in unison quick, 'You're a boy scout do your duty!' My clove hitch naturally fails--a life is lost; I'm taken to the towns square where they tear my merit badges off one by one as the towns people take turns kicking my shins and screaming 'For Shame! You Sham!'

I shudder to find out what would happen if the townspeople were to discover I was a [nervous gulp] Eagle Scout.* *[A credit to a mother and three excellent scout leaders who would have seen that a house plant made it to that Eagle's nest had it been under their stewardship].

Anyway I bring it up merely because my therapist thinks that it will help me overcome some panic issues associated with parades, the color combination of tan and olive and the word Jamboree. Don't even mention the whole 'Friends of Scouting' drive that makes me as comfortable as a career criminal being brought in for questioning by the FBI.

So that's not exactly where I was intending to take this but it does kind of feel good to get that off my neckerchief.

The real reason is one of the awards in scouting that I was actually enthused about getting was a round Zion national parks patch. The real honor was getting the three pieces that encircled the central patch when you completed three major hikes in the park. Kolob Arch, West Rim, Narrows (?). At the time I was a boy scout, my aerobic threshold was similar to what it is now--meaning looking at stairs winded me--so I considered making it through these hikes a major accomplishment.

Okay so the point. Let's say that we started giving out patches for fatherhood. I would estimate there would be a similar patch to the ZNP that I would call the breadwinner patch. Surrounding the patch would be the various posts of employment that you had held to fulfill this obligation. These surrounding patches would increase in size depending on the ick factor to earnings ratio of your position so that people could pat you on the back for your efforts in executing your paternal/husbandal duties.

From my vantage point, Ryan would need to wear another shirt just to accommodate his breadwinner badge and the encircling pieces. I know he wouldn't want to toot his own horn* about how admirable he's been in this regard but that's why I'm here.

There are likely some real 'job' winners before I met Ryan, but we'll start at the point of meeting Rachel. Ryan was working at a plumbing supply store. As glamorous as that sounds trust me it's not all it's cracked* up to be [pun totally intended]. It was a good job for a college student* and he gained some good expertise that his in-laws will continue to exploit for a long time. *[Granted with a mission and two National Guard activations, Ryan was a college student for a decade so it kind of ended up being like me trying to still wear my clothes from high school, covering the vitals but a little short where you would hope things would meet]

After the Iraq deployment, Ryan returned to finally graduate until which got an on-campus janitorial job buffing floors and did a lot of athletic trainering* for university sports teams. [I know this isn't a word but it should be and I'm not sure he got paid for this or if it was just part of his education and a genuine passion. All I know is that he did and that he liked it].

After graduating, Ryan was able to get a job working with a physical therapist in Richfield. Perfect fit for what he wanted to do with his degree, only draw was that as you can imagine there is only so much physical therapy needed by the citizens of Sevier county and MWF* employment for a family man is a recipe for an empty kitchen. [This is deceivingly unrepresentative of the amount Ryan was working, spending tens of hours weekly as a volunteer trainer for the high school and managing a blackhole of a property protected by the State Historical society that deserves it's own post, but it does represent the days and time he was actually getting paid for].

Rachel and Ryan will both admit divine intervention in finding the bridge employment that got them to today. Most people would have a hard time becoming humble enough to be grateful when prayers for employment are answered by the heavens handing you a mop, but when Ryan was able to get a job doing night janitoral work for a cleaning agency that cleaned the DI (a local thrift store) and a sheet rock factory to supplement his other job it was a definite blessing.

Maybe it's the result of SEOP career counseling of sixth graders but I think there are some unhealthy perceptions of 'acceptable' employment held by a sector of the working class [or unfortunately for many, currently the 'needing to work'ing class]. A job is at its core meant to provide you with the income necessary to support yourself and your family. If it gives you more than this be grateful. If you happen to love it or derive great personal fulfillment at the same time, Awesome. If it validates your level of education or experience all the better. If you get to test ice cream at Ben & Jerry's or product test mattresses, you are the envy of many.

But the root of the word recession is not recess and the job market today is not conducive for fun and games. As the Palmers could cross-stitch on a pillow, 'You get what you get and you don't throw a fit'. Ryan's taken it a step further and not only done the dirty job but I'm sure done it very well.

Good things happen to those who don't stand around waiting for them to show up. The dark ages of cleaning toilets sat on by those outside his own gene pool have passed. Ryan was able to get a great job working at the National Guard Armory in Richfield and he's continued working some at the PT clinic and doing some volunteer work with the high school as well.

Here is a picture of Ryan as he walked in the door after his final night of cleaning.



Just because you are happy to have a job doesn't mean you can't be even happier when it's over.

Now for 'the rest of the story'.

Apparently there is a lot of dust in the air at a sheet rock factory--dust made of very fine razorlike particles. Ryan began having problems with extreme eye irritation earlier this year while still rocking the coveralls and pushing a garbage can around. He stopped wearing his contacts and expected to see a full recovery after finishing up. This hasn't been the case. I'm making the inference that this eye problem is likely the primary reason why Rachel stumbled into the Hoopes Vision site and consequently this competition.

Just something to make you feel even better when you click this link and vote for My Dad's Eyes.
http://www.hoopesvision.com/contest/vote.html
If this encourages you to think of a couple of people who would also like to help a recovering custodian out, we wouldn't mind (in fact we would love it).