I have known few people more dedicated than my father. Growing up, he would come home from work every day around dinner time and, until we kids got older, we would always sit down to eat as a family. Afterwards he would always go out and play catch in the back yard if we wanted him to. He helped with pinewood derbys, was a scout master/pack leader, a softball coach, and fixer of all things broken. And almost every night, as we kids went to bed, he would be asleep in his chair in the living room, exhausted from the day's work. But the next day he always got up and did it all again.
I remember there was a point in my childhood when my parents were struggling for money. It was the Reagan era when the rich got richer and the poor got poorer and we certainly didn't qualify as rich. Three children five years apart didn't make things any easier, either. So at this point, my father took on a second job. Add this to all of the other things he was doing and you can imagine how tired he was. But I never heard him complain.
During my lifetime, I've only known my father to have just a handful of jobs. That's because he never leaves them. As I said, he's dedicated. Work is simply a way of life for my father. He's always worked. Starting out as a paper boy, moving to a gas station attendant, on to a draftsman position, and finally to a job as an engineer which he's had for the last thirty years; my father's been employed every single working day of his life since he was twelve years old.
Until yesterday.
He called me Friday afternoon with the details. It turns out that on Friday morning, he was called into his bosses office at 10:30 am and told that the company was "making some cuts" and he was one of them. He'd had no warning that cuts were coming, not that he'd have expected to be cut. He hardly ever misses a day and has often worked late and even gone in to work on weekends despite being a salaried employee. When asked why he was cut and not someone else, he was told that they were only looking to keep the most qualified employees. Apparently thirty years with the company doesn't make one qualified. He went back Saturday and cleaned out his desk. So, for the first time since he was twelve years old, my father woke up Monday morning unemployed.
I worry about my father because work has always been important to him. His work, whatever it was he was doing, was a source of pride for him. But he's now fifty-eight years old and he came from a generation where he could work his way up in his job. He only has a two-year college degree and, at his age and in this economy, I can't imagine that his prospects of finding gratifying work are good, Nonetheless, I'm sure he's wasted no time getting started on his search. Over the years, my parents have managed to save a little money and when I've spoken to him over the phone he seems to have a positive attitude about things. He is hoping that this is "just the nudge he needed" to make some changes in his life. I hope he's right.