Growing up, my father owned a roofing company that serviced the southwest side of Chicago. In the summers – when me and my brother weren’t in school – we’d be expected to work for the company.
Picture a hot, humid, Chicago summer day.
Now, picture a hot, humid, Chicago summer day – on a roof, with tar shingles and the sun beating down on you!
It wasn’t enjoyable work and, being someone who consistently fails to keep my thoughts to myself, on occasion I would make my dissatisfaction known. At such times – which were more frequent than I’d like to admit – my father would walk up to me and demand that I hold out my hands.
This was not a good sign you see, because even though my father had a soft side, was quick to laugh and loved the moments of joy that life sprinkled in, he also had a side that demanded compliance. So, I would sheepishly hold out my hands, and he would do the same. The difference between the two sets of hands couldn’t have be more obvious! My hands were soft and smooth. His hands were rough and calloused, bearing witness to the toll taken by years of hard manual labor.
We would stand quietly like that for a few moments, and then he’d say, “Your hands will not look like mine. You are going to college!”
Simply put, my father and mother believed that a university degree would not only unlock opportunities for us that were not available to them, but also introduce us to diverse cultural exchanges and higher levels of knowledge and thought. They believed that the pursuit of such things, regardless of whatever vocation we pursued, would make us not only better citizens, but better people. They were not intimidated by new thoughts, or insecure when their kids “knew more” than them. In fact, they encouraged and took pride in it, cheering us on relentlessly – even when those thoughts were different than their own or they couldn’t fully understand or appreciate them.
Because of their view of education, commitment and sacrifice, my mom and dad witnessed all three of their children graduate with bachelor’s degrees, and they were there when my brother and I went on to achieve master level studies as well! My brother pursued aeronautical engineering and was working on the Dream Chaser shuttle replacement program when he lost his battle to cancer ten years ago. Yes, it’s true. My brother literally was a rocket scientist! My education? Well, it unlocked an eclectic vocational journey that spanned public and private sectors in three countries and two continents, and my sister has enjoyed a consistent career in retirement communities.
Before his death, my brother and I often spoke of how we had “hit the lottery” with parents who were committed to education and how grateful we were for the sacrifices they made; for the many things they went without so that all of us could attend university. I remember one specific time when my parents were out visiting my brother and I in Colorado; a time when we both happened to live there. Following a meal in his backyard, and as the afternoon transitioned to the cooler evening, we had the opportunity to share with them how grateful we were, and how indebted to them we will always be for the opportunities we had because of their long-term view and understanding of what an education would and could provide. It was one of those moments I wish I could have frozen in time, and I feel my eyes well up even now as I type these words.
This past May, my mom was present when our children continued the legacy as my youngest graduated with her bachelor’s degree, and my oldest with her master’s. I simply cannot describe the feeling of seeing two generations standing with the matriarch of our family who, back in the late 50s and early 60s – along with my father – cultivated a posture in their children that embraced education, welcomed challenging and different ways of thinking, and forged an appreciation and the courage to want to know more rather than fear and villainize the unknown.
So, to my mother I can only say “thank you” for the sacrifices that you and dad made to afford us the privilege of an education. I can’t even begin to fathom the many levels of sacrifice you made so that we could enjoy the opportunities we’ve had and the many adventures they unlocked. I hope you felt it was worth it and that we are making you and dad proud. I hope you both see and appreciate the legacy you started, now being lived out through your grandchildren.
And to my daughters, while university is not for everyone for a variety of reasons[1], thank you for resisting those that are perpetrating a current societal narrative; a narrative that is insecure around knowledge, fearful of broader thinking, and hiding behind the flimsy claim that education is a scam they avoided versus a goal not achieved.
We are so proud of you both and encourage you to never stop striving to cultivate an ability to think in new and broadening ways. Continue to be intellectually courageous, if for no other reason than the next generation is watching her mom and auntie!
[1] I recognize cost and access remain an inexcusable barrier for many in the United States, and so continue to advocate when and where I can for budget allocations – state and federal – that would reflect a belief that a college degree should be accessible and affordable for all who so desire it. I also understand that there are those who have a natural bent for vocational and technical training, an acumen I simply don’t possess. This, among many other reasons, is why I have such respect for the trades! Trust me! I know how much I pay a mechanic, electrician, plumber, etc…