The following is the original essay on which the book is based. It was written during my one of my college classes, in which a very dear man named Professor Tobin convinced me to "just write with your heart". When I finally became comfortable with writing my feelings, he convinced me they were worth publishing. I'm sure that's a debatable issue, but nevertheless here is the first. Scroll on down this page for links to other articles and publications from the Second-Class Hero.
Second-Class Hero
I was awarded a scholarship to attend Purdue University and at the same time a job with the federal government. Of course, being so impressed with myself at receiving federal attention, I left Purdue and went to work as an audit supervisor for the Government.
I carried my childhood reputation into my work. I was a rebel with TOO many causes. I felt it was MY obligation as an American and a federal employee to battle red tape, faulty budgets, regulations and protocol. On one occasion, I had spent weeks planning and implementing a trip for 90 corps members. The morning of the take-off, the post's commanding General awakened me at 0500 to return to the post and re-schedule the seating arrangements. I grabbed my clothes from the night before and hit the road, arriving from the 30 minute drive in just 14 minutes. (That's what one does when awakened at home by the Post Commander) Unfortunately, that was not good enough. I was in old jeans with holes throughout the legs, a tank top and a pony-tail to be told by the General that he would "Not have some half-dressed teenager seating him on a bus with enlisted men." Being tired, and much a rebel, I promptly replied, "EXCUSE ME sir, but with all due respect, I put my darned pants on the same way you did this morning, and those two stars on your sagging chest do NOT give you the right to undo my work, which by the way, you paid me to do, so get on that bus or prepare to stand there all day, because I'm NOT redoing this thing." I then turned to the drivers, and yelled "Pull 'em out boys, or I'm NOT signing your paychecks!" He got on the bus, but I was in his office being reamed royally Monday morning at 0600. But it was well worth it for the standing ovation I got from the enlisted men as I entered the General's office that day.
Months later, after my office had been broken into, I then attemped to correct the inefficiencies of the entire military police corps which I felt was inadequate to handle cases such as mine. Needless to say, the corps supervisor and I became mortal enemies. However, six months after the investigation was completed, I married that hard-headed man. Three promotions and two years later, I quit my job, feeling a need to be the epitome of motherhood.
I gained three daughters within one year and set forth to be the perfect wife and mother. Now I spend most of my days cleaning house, doing laundry and cooking. My spare time is spent as a taxi-driver for three girls involved in karate, swimming and dance lessons, field trips and church outings, preschool and girl scouts. In the evenings, I try to find time to do my own homework in spare moments between baths, first grade reading and third grade math assignments and playtime with the three year old. Whatever happened to "me"?
I was supposed to be successful! What happened to the fighter who refused to be intimidated, frightened or beaten? I have not become president or a famous doctor. I am not even employed at the moment! So where is my success? How can I ever go back to a high school reunion and say I am merely a student, mother, and wife? Where is the glory?
Last year I was really down on life and who I had become. My grandmother always told me that I would leave a mark on the world. But until I read a theme my daughter had written for school, I had not found my mark. The theme was entitled "My Hero". It referred to a lady who last year had "fought the entire police department over boundary lines and won. She started the Crime Watch and Neighborhood Association of Brookhaven. The high school boys don't fight on the bus anymore because this lady got on the bus one day and marched them home by their ears." Tracy stated her hero "has only three kids, but at least twenty kids in the neighborhood call her "mom" because she is so special. She is the most popular room-mother in the school. And all the kids beg to come home with her because she bakes the best lasagna and cookies in the world." Tracy closed her theme by saying "My mom is the most important hero in the world, and I can prove it" I do not doubt myself anymore; maybe I AM successfully leaving my mark on the world.
�1986 Senati All Rights Reserved