On this evening on Cape Cod the periodic rain is falling in sheets reminiscent of the monsoon rains of southeast Asia, or so I am told. I actually look forward to nights like this. The rain provides the back drop needed when contemplating the direction of one's life. And on this night I am contemplating direction, or more specifically the lack there of in my own life.
At forty years old I have had the privilege to work in many diverse industries. From Aircraft Mechanics to Concert Production to being an overnight Harbormaster, well ... assistant anyway. One thing that those many jobs have taught me is that there are always options. And tonight while I sit listening to the patter of rain (interspersed with the roar of a deluge) I am weighing my options.
I will always be a writer, that much is certain, whether or not I am a successful writer or not remains to be seen, yet also remains unimportant in the direction of my life. But only so because the major divining factor in my life's direction is my ability to produce a consistent income. I always have said that money is not the most important thing in life, and it still isn't, but it is a necessary evil in today's society.
As many of you know, I spent some time in 2008 as a truck driver. It was a difficult life, made more so because the woman I am in love with (my wife) was virtually abandoned while I was on the road. Since our move back to Cape Cod, this is no longer the case, and the road beckons yet again. Many of you will think that I am insane to consider going back to driving a truck; many because of the stigma that truck drivers have gotten over the years, and many more because of the distance between love, life and job. But considering all factors, real and imagined, I am going to be making the move back into driving for a living.
Before I came to this decision I did the standard pro / con analysis and was only able to come up with three solid cons. Distance from family. Missing events. And missed opportunities. The rest were emotionally based or imagined. The pros are numerous. My mother will say that I am giving up on a college education. My wife understands, and that is all that matters. I could tell my mother that I will continue taking classes while on the road, but she may not hear me. She tends to buy into the modern stigma that truck drivers are dirty, out of shape, uneducated, and more. Mostly she will be worried, and I am sure she won't be alone.
I look at driving again as an opportunity. As a driver I have the ability to determine the direction (both literal and figurative) of my life. Since I was a child I have looked at truck drivers in the romantic light they once basked in as the Knights of the Road. My uncle was a truck driver, more specifically ... the rarer of the species ... a flat-bedder. It was always fascinating to hear about the places he'd been and the highways he'd driven ... even more so because those stories were rationed, and were usually gleaned from the top of the stairs when I should have been in bed.To me, even though he was never the hug-able teddy bear, he was always a hero.
The non-romantic in me sees driving as a stable career with options earned with experience. I have spend the last two years working as an Assistant Harbormaster in the summer time, and begging for work in the winter. This past winter I spent three months living on the good graces of my mother and wife. I was going to school (full time), but I still felt the weight that I placed on the shoulders of others during this time. This is something that I can not impose on my family again, and so my decision is made. Now the only question is how to make it happen.
I have a couple of options that I am considering. One is to join a training company and work in legal indentured servitude for a couple of years. The other is to find a way to fund another trip through CDL school. The second option is by far the best, but is also the most impractical.
So, here I sit, listening to the rain ... hoping for some sign ... some direction post ... some help with making this decision a reality again. But the rain offers no advise, no absolution in my quandary. I must do this for me, but doing it will hurt others that I love. I suppose it's best to tear the bandage off as if from the wounded knee of a youngster on a rainy afternoon.
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