QWERTY

I started thinking about typewriters the other day - who knows why. I must have already been fascinated by the age of 2.


When I was a freshman in junior high, I was attending a very large school in Minnesota. I was only there for that one year, then sophomore year in a really large high school, before moving to Nebraska and finishing my last two years in a very small school. One of my favorite classes that year was simply called "Typing." We used something similar to this:





We had a very creative teacher - she challenged us to a speed and accuracy contest. Every five words per minute that we increased in our timed tests put us closer to Miami from Minnesota. If I remember right, 75 wpm got you there.

For the life of me, I can't remember her name, but I had a rival in this contest - she and I were neck and neck the whole way. The competition really motivated us, and I believe we arrived in Miami the same day. Interestingly enough, she and I were also rivals in choir for the position of accompanist. I was honored to be chosen to play for the Christmas concert. I got sick with infectious mononucleosis just before Christmas and was in bed the night of the concert - very sad to miss my chance to play in that concert. It turned out that I got to accompany for the spring concert instead. It's interesting to think of the connection between these two skills, piano and typing - nimble fingers??

The only thing I wanted for high school graduation was a typewriter. I knew it would be the most practical thing I could get for college. It looks like I was very pleased to get my wish.





It turned out to be the best gift I could have received. I really never enjoyed babysitting, so used the skill I enjoyed more for spending money. I typed for alot of guys over those 4 years. I banged out many papers on that little turquoise machine. One day a guy needed a paper done more quickly than usual. He happened to have a portable electric a lot like this:




This friend had a paper due quickly and offered me the use of his typewriter so that I could type faster. He let me use it for the rest of that semester, and I did get a lot of jobs. In fact, my own work suffered because I was helping all these guys.

This typewriter had pica rather than elite "font" - a word we hadn't heard of yet. It meant that you could make less look like more on a page, and the word got around quickly that "Dawn could make your report look longer." The guys came out of the woodwork - too bad it was only for their homework!

I started out this "career" charging 15 cents per page, and supplying my own erasable bond - remember that great invention? I soon realized I was using up my prophets, and started charging 25 cents a page - with them having to supply their own paper. I learned that at the university in the big city down the road, typists charged 75 cents per page. I sure wished that somehow I could post an ad on their bulletin boards and charge 50 cents a page. I could double my prophets, and they could get a really good deal. It never worked out. I didn't have to babysit, though! And I made a lot of new friends - guys who gave me partial credit for their good grades.

I have to say that learning to type well and fast has carried me a long ways in life. I have had several great secretarial positions (now called administrative assistant, of course) because of my typing ability, without any other business course. I'll never forget when I first got to use one of these: IBM Selectric - loved it!

I never lost my speed, because weirdly enough I type everything I see in my head. When I began to use computers, I could type 90+ wpm.





I was working at a bank when I was pregnant with Kristen - I quit that job just as the word processing explosion began - the precursor to the computer explosion. I bought one of these, hoping to find some at-home typing jobs. Turns out I hated it - I wanted one of the above machines so badly.




We had three old Selectrics in our office at Colorado State University. We still had a guy who came in every few months to keep them in good running order - it was fun to watch the work study students try to figure out what in the world to do with them when we asked them to.

Do you remember how much work it was to center something? I was telling some young folks about that process the other day and they couldn't believe it. I typed so many term papers that I could judge how far down on the page to go in order to fit in all the footnotes and still have an inch left at the bottom. They don't know how easy they have it now!

I have enjoyed this journey down word processing memory lane - I hope you have, too.

Have a wonderful week!

Saga of the Jobs - The Finale - Finally!

When I started this series, I thought it was just going to be about the jobs I had to get through college. But as I processed the memories, it began to be about the journey through life, with God providing what I needed when I needed, in His time and His way.

I left the job at Gerry just before the wedding. DC had heard about a position at a bank in the town north of us, where he worked. Right after the honeymoon, I was privileged to begin another phase of my life, again in a position that I never would have been able to foresee. I worked in the marketing department. I never knew there was such a thing. I had a wonderful Christian boss (the one who helped me through this life crisis), and interesting people to work with. We had a great time planning P.R. events. We were on the ground floor of ATMs. We were the first bank in the state to offer cards for cash machines. What a hassle that was! I sold tickets to all the big events - Cheyenne Frontier Days, Elitch's Theater, Central City Opera. We also had a "rental referral service," which meant anyone looking for a rental cold stop by and look through our offerings, which we got from realtors and private parties with apartments and houses. I left there just 4 days before Kristen was born - making the officers very nervous hat I was still there. There were 100 employees at this bank and 12 of us were pregnant at the same time! I wish we could have a reunion with all of our 32 year old babies.

Just as I left, the very first word processing center was established - I left at the cusp of the computer explosion. The person who took my place eventually became a vice president. I often wondered what would have happened if I had stayed there.

But that was the beginning of my best job ever. The perks were not financial, but being a stay-at-home mom was so much fun. I pinched pennies till they squealed. I went without a car for awhile. But I loved it.

I often looked in the paper and found things that sounded really interesting, but I knew the time was not right. I did some home editing for a city directory publishing company. I ended that one when Kevin was born and it was more hassle than it was worth. DC was weary of looking at my back as I worked at the kitchen table every night after the kids were in bed.

I sewed for people, did some needlework for a bit of cash, and had a really funky short-term typing job or two. After Kevin got lost at the Pet and Doll Parade (have I written about that?) and was afraid of his shadow, I decided he needed to go to preschool and get over his fears before kindergarten. I applied for a school job. When Kev heard I was planning to go to work, he said, "Can't you just stay home with me, Mommy?" My potential principal boss and I decided it was a good mom decision to stay home for at least another year. I didn't think about it again until he was in first grade. Trying to work any kind of job around kindergarten is ridiculous.

When both kids were in school full-time I took a job in a school cafeteria as the manager. It's a high-falutin' sounding title which meant that I "managed" two other ladies who were old enough to be my mother in the lunch program at an elementary school. I worked 3 hours a day and had all my kids' vacation time off. It wasn't much money, but it helped. After a few years, I decided to substitute in the school district for all of the support staff positions. It was fun to be at a different school every day, with sometimes working a week or more in the same position - or being able to say "no" if I didn't want to work that day. I enjoyed most of the positions, and learned which school I would or would not want to work in someday, and which positions I would like or not. I learned that I could not possibly be a special ed. aide. I have such high regard for anyone who can work with such a special population, and for anyone who can teach in a middle school!

After a few years of that, I took a "real" job - in a middle school, ironically. But again it allowed me to have the same schedule as the kids. It was in the office, and I thought it was going to be great fun. The bad news was that I had to spell the "in house suspension" guy when he had lunch or break. I was given absolutely no respect, in fact was sabotaged by those in authority who could have made my job more bearable. For instance, if I wrote up one of the kids for an infraction, the Dean of Students would tear it up and there was no consequence. So why in the world would they listen to anything I had to say?? It was wretched, and finally I could take it no longer. So I quit.

The good news was that I had been able to take a computer class through the school district, and had just completed it. The timing was right - I had lost the chance at two really good sounding part-time jobs with the city because I didn't have computer skills. I knew I could learn it on the job, but why would they hire somebody who didn't have the skills when there were so many who did??

I went to several employment agencies. The computer class made it possible for me to do very well on the tests given by the agencies - and remember, I had been typing in my head all those years, so my speed was unbelievable, even to me. I scored 90+ words per minute with very few errors. What a blessing.

I soon found myself in a really good long-term temporary job. It was the type of job that allowed me time to work on my brand new skills and learn new ones. What a great set-up. I was there for 6 weeks and really enjoyed it. As soon as it ended, another one began which lasted 3 months. This one was word processing (fancy term for typing) for a lab that was trying to get a new product approved by the FDA. What a nit-picky job that was! But again it allowed me to increase my computer skills dramatically. They offered me a position, but in the meantime I had taken the test for the state system during my lunch hour one day. At the same time they offered me a job, the state system offered me two interviews at the university.

Once again, I could see the hand of God in the timing of my life. I had two interviews the same day. I liked both places. I asked God to help me know which one was right. He's amazing - one was offered to me, the other wasn't.

Once again, I got into a position that I knew nothing about. When my soon-to-be-boss told me what the job entailed I said, "Yes, I can do that." Never mind that I had no clue what working with an MSW program meant!

My position for the last 14 years has been "mothering" applicants through the intense process of getting into this program, then "mothering" them through the intense process of getting through this program - which includes a grad school process that is less than student friendly. It has been my joy to see approximately 700 students make it through. I have processed probably 2000 applications, including computing grade point averages from every college they have been to.

I love keeping in touch with some of the graduates when they leave. I cannot begin to tell you how much I have enjoyed the students. I have had the privilege of being a "soft place to land" for the few Christians who end up in this degree, which can be a difficult place for them to hold on to their values and beliefs. I have been named "Mother Dawn" and have received gifts and tributes every year at graduation. I have often wondered why I was here, but then I remember that I have been able to be light and salt.

The other half of my job, until I went half time 3 years ago, was assistant to the director. It included a lot of event planning, which is no my forte, so I was not reluctant to give that part up and keep the part where I work with the students.

I will have been there 15 years when, in ten more months, I turn in my keys, turn over the students I love to someone else, and begin another phase of this adventure called my life. I wonder what He has in store for me next.

Saga of the Jobs - Part 6

At the end of the last episode, I had resigned my teaching job in southeast Kansas and moved back in with my parents. We got along well, but I was used to having my own place, so this was like going backwards, and I felt stifled. I couldn't afford to live in an apartment in by myself (as in, there were no old houses with an upstairs apartment that cost $65.00 a month!), so this was to be a temporary solution. Eventually, the church bought a different parsonage, and my dad built a little apartment in the basement. The idea was to have a place to house evangelists and missionaries. I was privileged to live in it when it wasn't needed for that purpose. That helped immensely my feeling of claustrophobia.


Mom and Dad's church had a day care center. Mom had been directing it, but the state was cracking down on licensure. Since I had an elementary education degree, I lacked only 3 courses to be a licensed day care center director. I decided to take the position and obtain the credits by correspondence courses. I remember studying nutrition while the kids were napping. To put it in as few words as possible, I didn't like it. I had made a huge mistake.


The biggest reason for my unhappiness had nothing to do with the position, or living back home, or making less money. The boyfriend I mentioned in the last chapter broke up with me two weeks after I got home. He had tried to tell me over Christmas that he wasn't ready to settle down. I didn't believe it. I just thought he needed me nearby to see that he couldn't live without me. Wrong! He really meant it. I was devastated. (I tell more of this story in my "100 Things About Me" on my sidebar). Now add a broken heart to an unhappy job situation, living situation, and financial situation!


I lasted through that semester, then began looking for something else. I looked into several things that sounded promising, including trips to Pueblo, Colorado; Kansas City, MO; and back to Oklahoma to my college town. Nothing worked out.


At the end of the summer I began applying for jobs in the Denver area through various employment agencies. I was sent all over the metro area to some really horrible places. I got lost so many times. I am a bit directionally challenged, and couldn't see the mountains in the midst of those tall downtown buildings, which was the only way I could get my bearings. There were a couple of interesting places, but I knew I could not afford to live down there by myself, and I knew I didn't want to have to drive downtown or pay for parking down there. My dream was to get a job, find a good church in the north Denver area, and find a roommate at the church, after which I would move.


Finally, I was sent to the interview that would result in a position that would bring me great enjoyment. It was a company called "Gerry Outdoor Sports Industry."

I was hired as the secretary to the Personnel Manager. This was another situation where that one lone typing course I took in high school stood me in very good stead. I had landed in a very good spot. It was quite a drive down the Interstate every morning, but it was far enough north that I didn't get into heavy traffic, and my little green Mustang got pretty good mileage. I actually made it to work better on snowy days than the people who lived in the Denver area communities, and was there to take their calls telling me they couldn't make it in, or were stuck somewhere in the snow. I'll never forget one morning when I was running late. I was the only one on the road (that would never happen now, no matter how early in the morning it is), when suddenly there was a guy in the middle of the interstate lane waving his arms over his head. Somehow he'd clocked me speeding, and was stopping me. I could've killed him! As he was giving me the ticket, I was trying to evoke sympathy by telling him I was running late for work. He drolly remarked, "You're gonna be later now!"

I worked for Mary Cook, and we had our office area in the factory side of the company. There were approximately 100 garment seamstresses making down-filled sleeping bags and jackets, as well as nylon tents. I had a wonderful time working with these women who worked 8 hours a day at industrial sewing machines. There were times when it became my job to take one of them to the emergency room a few miles north of us when the incredibly heavy-duty needle would go through a finger. Not the most pleasant aspect of the job! It makes me cringe to think of it these many years later!

Mary and I had fun organizing social events for the plant and the office. I felt the difference immediately when I would cross that entry way to the rest of the office suite. I was the designated "key operator" for the Xerox machine. I'm sure they always gave it to the new kid on the block, because it was a nasty job. It was particularly ridiculous since my office was totally separated from the main office area, but I had to run over there several times a day to un-jam the crazy machine, add paper, etc. They wouldn't touch it when something went wrong.

There were so many ethnic groups represented on the sewing floor. We had some wonderful pot lucks with all of their specialties. They loved taking note of what I wore every day, and I had fun sewing outfits that they would enjoy seeing.

Mary gave me so many opportunities for growth. One of my duties was processing the insurance claims for all of the employees. She sent me over the mountains on a very bumpy, airsickness-inducing flight on a small plane to the sister plant in Alamosa to try to straighten out the mess in their office. She sent me to business meetings she could not attend. It was a great experience.

Mary had clawed her way up the ladder from an impoverished single mom working in an office, pushing the "goodie cart" around to the employees - and she took the left-overs home to survive. She was now on the highest level of male-dominated corporate leadership. She was an author of several books, she dressed so beautifully - a very classy lady. I'll never forget making myself a navy pin-stripe suit, to emulate her dress style.

I really enjoyed working at Gerry. I acquired some great camping equipment, and ski jackets for everyone in my family at employee sales of seconds and returned products. The product was so great that the Denver Broncos all wore these jackets. Their practice field was just north of our office building, and often we'd go to lunch where they ate lunch as well. All of the higher-ups in this company were on a first name basis with the coach and the players. You could identify the products by the "G" in the triangle, embroidered on the left lower arm of the jacket.

When I met DC, he couldn't believe I drove 100 miles round trip for work every day. But when he learned what kind of product I worked with, he got really excited! When we became engaged, he began to encourage me to get a job closer to home.

The "girls" in the factory, who had become such good friends, were so excited about my new romance. DC sent flowers once a month. They were so involved in the evolution of our relationship. They gave me a wonderful shower, and some attended the wedding.

It was bittersweet when I left that position after 16 months. But the company moved into downtown not long after I left. Though it was a wonderful product, the administration was not up to par, and the company struggled financially. I think I left just at the right time - just more evidence of God's providence over my life.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

Saga of the Jobs - Part 5

I do not know if anyone is still interested in this history of my work life, but I feel the need to complete what I started, if only for my family history's sake.

Graduation - Finally! What an exciting day it was, as we gathered around the Lamp of Learning in the middle of our campus, each of us holding ivy, which had been laboriously tied together. The president of the college then cut the ivy between each graduate, signifying our leaving each other and launching our new lives. The married couples who were graduating together did not have theirs clipped between them.

I mentioned before that I had to stay on campus for a couple more weeks to finish up my student teaching, but then I headed home for the summer. I bought my first car, a hunter green 1969 Mustang. Man, I loved that car! (Obviously, this is not a real picture of mine, but just an idea of what it looked like).

The second graduation picture is of my senior year roommate and myself. She is the one that was RA on Second South when I was on Third South, when we called ourselves upstairs/downstairs roommates. Linda and I went job hunting together, hoping to end up in Colorado. It wasn't to be, and we took jobs in a small rural town in southeast Kansas. She taught high school English and I taught 4th grade. I had the much better deal! Her job situation was very stressful, with very disrespectful students, besides advising the drama club and the yearbook, neither of which she'd ever done, on top of first year lesson plans. She came home with a headache almost every Friday night and headed for her bed.

We rented the upstairs of an old house. We just about melted that first few weeks. We thought we were going to be "rich schoolteachers." What a shock - after paying the rent (the apartment was $65.00 per month, divided between us), the utilities, the groceries, the car and insurance payments, and the NEA dues, we barely squeaked by. She went back home to western Kansas the next year, mainly because of the job situation. I'll never forget - we left town for Halloween week-end because some of her roughneck students threatened to egg her brand new baby blue Ford LTD. We parked my car in our pastor's garage, to protect it if they made good on their threats. They did - we found our house covered with sticky dried eggs when we got back.

My job was much nicer. I was in a country school, with one class of each grade. Fourth graders were old enough to really engage in conversation, but they were still young enough to love their teacher. I was as green as my car, but we learned together.

The little guy on the top row in the red shirt, third from the right was Greg - a brilliant little guy. He would ask the most intriguing questions and get a look of dismay when I couldn't answer them. He thought I was a walking encyclopedia, I think. The other red shirted boy on the right end of that row was Patrick. He was from a Jeh*vah's Witness family, and they were quite evangelistic - he and his brother showed up at my apartment early one Saturday morning selling doughnuts. I had his brother the next year and one Thursday he told me that in their group study that night he was bringing the lesson on marriage. That threw me for a bit of a loop!

Jack is the portly young guy in the blue shirt on the middle row. Since it was such a small school, there was no special education option. Jack needed extra help. I worked so hard to find alternate ways for him to pass tests, since he had been passed along this far without having learned to read. His mom did his math homework for him and they both wondered how I knew. Disregarding the fact that the handwriting was legible and adult, there was the fact that I was teaching them "modern math," which required LONG answers for LONG division - showing every step, while she did the shortcuts that all of us in our age group were taught. I actually lost sleep over Jack and his problems.

The tiny little girl beside me on the front row was Tammy. Her mother came to my room the very first day of my very first year of teaching, before classes began. She told me that Tammy had cystic fibrosis - a disease I had never heard of before. I know a lot about it now because one of my son's best friends from church is a CF survivor at age 30, having been a "guinea pig" for an FDA trial, and then a recipient of a double lung transplant. But at that time the life expectancy was 14-15. When Tammy's mom told me of the possibilities that I might encounter during the year, I was scared spitless. The thoughts of the episodes she may have made me want to run and hide. She spent much time out of school, in an oxygen tent. I thought of Tammy every year after I left that town. I called the assistant superintendent of that school district, who was our choir director at church, and learned that she had indeed died in the 9th grade.

It is amazing to me that I can remember a story about almost every one of those children. It was a good year. But when Linda left and I was alone in that town and that apartment and that church (and had left a boyfriend back home that I had met the previous summer), and my expenses doubled, I was really unhappy. I longed to go to Colorado. I made a career-damaging move, resigning after the first semester and moving back home. I kind of made up a contract for God, giving Him all the logical reasons I should make this move, and asked Him to sign it. In hindsight, I should have definitely stuck it out the rest of that year.

Since so many of us had received the National Defense Student Loan that I mentioned in the last episode, teachers were a dime a dozen at that time. Even if I didn't have "career leprosy", I don't think I could have gotten a job in Colorado. I had a flashback to one of my interviews a few days ago that I hadn't thought of in many years. The superintendent of the school district in the town just north (where I now work at the university), came to Kansas City to interview for teachers. I went up there and stayed with a friend, dressed to the nines, and headed for the hotel where he was holding the interviews. Imagine my shock, even as naive and trusting as I was, when he opened the door to his room and invited me in for the interview. I can't even fathom what he was thinking - this was just asking for trouble - a closed door, himself, and a young female applicant. Not a good idea.

I did not get that position, nor did I get one in my home town. Maybe the fact that I didn't really love teaching came through. Ya think?? It was a shock to myself that I didn't, because it had been my dream since I was a little girl. I played teacher all the time, teaching my brother and sister after school when I was in first grade. But I also played secretary ---

TO BE CONTINUED.

Saga of the Jobs - Part 4

I survived that summer in the deep freeze, not too much the worse for wear - and with a bit of money. As I mentioned, I spent the boring hours of the job planning my dorm room's decor. I found the most beautiful blue bedspread, curtains, rugs, and "doo-dads." Imagine, if you will, everything in that room in this color - and I'm still using this piece in my bedroom.

Things were much better for me financially at school that year. I had the position back in my freshman dorm as the RA (resident assistant) even on the same floor, Third South. The Second South RA and I developed a wonderful friendship - we would stand on the steps between our two floors, long after the girls had been "checked in" and talk - we called each other "roommates." That was the first year of the experiment - requiring freshman girls to be in their rooms from 8-10 p.m. for "study hours." Now, the guys didn't have to be in, but the theory was that if the girls were in, the boys would be, too. HA!! It essentially ruined my social life, because I was in the dorm at 8:00 as well, with no time to be "circulating." But I sure got good grades! Then from 10-11, they were free to roam, do their night-time rituals, with lights out at 11:00. Oh, my goodness, what a challenge it was to get them to settle back down after that hour of "freedom."

Besides that position, which again covered my room and half board (which meant meals), I was able to obtain a spot in the Registrar's Office. I really enjoyed working there. What a civilized job that was. It was there I discovered that my freshman boyfriend, who had since dropped out, had 31 hours of F on his transcript. I could never have stayed with anyone who cared that little about his grades! I still wonder whatever happened to him - he went into the service and probably ended up in Viet Nam, but nobody knows where he landed. If he survived.

That summer when I went home, it was to a place where I had never lived before. My folks had taken a new church and moved from Nebraska to Colorado. I had visited at Spring Break, but never spent much time in the "new house." I was short a few credits to be able to graduate the next year, so I took 3 English classes at Colorado State University, little dreaming that someday it would become my place of employment. I was totally intimidated by the huge campus, compared to my small intimate Christian school. I was also horrified by some of the class discussions, after my wonderful Christian professors. But it was a good eye-opening experience, and I spent every non-working moment reading, because all of the courses were literature. I landed a job at a grocery store down the street from our house. It wasn't a great job, by any means, but it brought in a bit of money, and was workable around the school schedule. Believe it or not, we had to wear pink uniforms to check out groceries in those days. And - we had to memorize the produce prices every day.

There was another young guy working there that summer, and he and I became friends. I actually went on one date with him. Years later, I worked in the school where his kids attended - oh, my goodness, he had changed drastically - and NOT for the better. I was very happy that one date didn't go any further! (As a matter of fact, as I look back, I had 3 guys I was interested in at one time or another who all grew to immense proportions as they aged - I am blessed to have a husband who takes such good care of himself!)

During my senior year I was really unable to carry a job - my class load was large and very full of time-intensive projects as an elementary ed. major. Second semester I went into student teaching, which extended into the summer. I was chosen for an honor, which didn't turn out so well for me after all. There were 30 of us from the state of Oklahoma (3 from my school) who were put into an experimental program called CUTE (Cooperative Urban Teacher Education). We spent quite a bit of time in sessions with psychologists, sociologists, and other "experts" who were to help us learn to work in the inner city with economically and educationally disadvantaged children. We had to present lessons in front of a camera, to critique ourselves and attempt to improve. Not fun!

Unfortunately, I was assigned to a young teacher who had somehow managed to have 3 student teachers by her second year of teaching - not only unwise, but against the rules. I don't know how she managed it, but she didn't have to spend much time teaching. Consequently, she did not do a good job of supervising or teaching me. I was so frustrated that I changed placements with only 5 weeks left of school. This teacher was very old and ready for retirement. She was not about to turn over her classroom to a novice for the last few days of school!

Besides teaching in these run down buildings, working with kids who had great needs, we had to volunteer at their youth centers in the evenings. We never had time to have a decent dinner, had to eat lunch with them in the school cafeteria, and were generally run ragged and exhausted. On top of it all, it extended into the summer, so I graduated on a Sunday and had to go back to teaching the next day while everyone else packed up and went home.

The miracles that came about in my life during that last year of school are the stuff of family legends. I found a scrapbook recently which had my school bill from sophomore year glued in. The note below says, "The financial situation is alleviated! By the time I left school, the school owed me $.19!" This was accomplished by lots of hard work, some scholarships, the National Student Defense Loan (which was given to those preparing to teach - one year was forgiven for each year you taught, up to 5 years, so you only had to pay back half), and some grants.

My entire college experience was one of depending on the Lord for day to day needs. Mom and Dad couldn't help us - as much as they could they'd get us needed supplies when we were home on breaks. But we were on our own - with the Lord's help. And that was what we needed! The daily needs were met by babysitting, which I mentioned before I did not like. Those jobs were announced over the P.A. system in the dorm - if you were free that evening and wanted the job, you'd answer the phone call and get the job. One night, the guy brought me back to the dorm in a less than sober condition - I was scared to death. I would get a somewhat regular job, and if I couldn't do it one night I'd send my sister instead. I never got the job back, because she was a really good babysitter - she liked playing with the kids, while I wanted them to go to bed so I could study or read a good book!

I also typed assignments for people - mostly guys. I had a portable, elite font, Smith Corona manual typewriter. One of the guys I typed for would loan me his portable electric, pica font typewriter sometimes. The pica was larger, so their papers looked longer when typed on this machine. I developed the reputation for being able to "stretch" their papers! I would help the preacher boys in their writing by correcting some of their errors and editing a bit, but their English papers were left as they wrote them - good, bad, or indifferent. I made lots of good friends that way! And a bit of spending money. One guy became a pastor here in Colorado and I'd see him and his wife often for years. One night he brought me his paper in bits and pieces all night long - in fact, I had to go over to the upper class dorm, which was connected to our freshman dorm, to get his "pieces" - the last pages were turned over to me at 6:30 or so, out the back door, to be ready for a 7:30 class. A few days later, he met me on campus with a big grin on his face and said, "We got a B!" He still tells people that I typed his papers in college because his girlfriend (who became his wife and a good friend of mine), wouldn't do it for him! Hilarious.

That one typing class I took my sophomore year in high school was probably the most valuable class I ever took, in terms of how much it has helped me get through life. More on that to come.

NEXT UP: BEYOND GRADUATION

Saga of the Jobs - Part 3

I left school that sophomore year in a somewhat better financial condition than when I got there. But there were two more years to go, and one of those semesters would include student teaching, during which it's pretty hard to hold down a job.

It was always great to go home at the end of the school year, but the pressure was on to find a summer job. That summer had my whole church praying for my employment. We found an ad in the paper for openings at Campbell Soup Company. They had a plant in downtown Omaha, something I had never known before. I got a spot on the night shift - 4:00-12:30 - not my favorite idea!

The first night, Dad took me downtown. He didn't think it would be safe for me to drive home by myself from that part of town after midnight. That first 8 hour shifted lasted at least 4 days, I am sure.

Campbell's Soup Company in Omaha did not make soup. They made Swanson frozen dinners. The fact that Swanson was my maiden name did not make this job any less horrible! The first night saw me sent into exile - in the potato peeling room! I could not believe my eyes - a couple of dozen women were standing around this high table, taking the eyes out of thousands of potatoes! If you were fast enough and dug enough eyes out of enough potatoes in a certain amount of time, you got a stool!

Well, I could not believe my fate. It was an endless night. I decided that I was not going to look at the clock for an hour, because I seemed to be looking at it every two minutes. I was sure it was an hour the first time I looked after making this decision - it was 15 minutes! The only thing that kept me sane that night was reliving the enjoyment of my college days. I started back at the first day of freshman year and tried to remember every good thing. Thank the Lord there were a lot of good memories, because they kept me going through that long shift. Obviously, I never merited a stool!

When my dad picked me up, I told him I was NEVER going back to that place. EVER. He informed me that I couldn't quit. First of all, he didn't raise quitters, and second, everyone in church had prayed for me to get a job, I had a job, and I had to keep it.

I prayed a lot that next day for grace and endurance. God answered that prayer - and put me in a different place that next night. It wasn't a good place, but it was far better than the potato room.

The job was in the shipping area of the frozen food division. They created small, individual-sized portions of frozen entrees for sale to hospitals, nursing homes, schools, etc. We packaged them in plastic bags, a dozen entrees per bag, if I recall correctly. Then the bag was sealed, put in a box, and sent to the freezer. Needless to say, it was very nippy in that big room. Again, I had to engage my memory and imagination to keep myself going during those long hours. I was making fairly decent money, and I spent a lot of time planning how I was going to decorate my new dorm room, and actually had the money to be able to buy the supplies. At least there were a couple of other college students there to help the time pass more quickly and enjoyably. There was a Peyton Place scenario going on with two of the supervisors that was pretty disgusting. But I can tell you for sure that if you want to motivate your child to stay in college and get a good job someday, forcing them to stay at such a job will do the trick!

About halfway through the summer, I developed a terrible case of tonsillitis - I blamed it on the fact that I working in a freezer, and they didn't even supply the jackets they were supposed to.

The memory that stands out the most of the entire summer - it was one of the nights we had packaged stuffed green peppers. Picture trying to package such an unwieldy entree, first of all. At the end of the shift, everyone had to gather in the steam room, where the little plastic containers went through the dishwasher for the next day's entree. Imagine the green pepper smell steamed into your pores. Then imagine my dad, who HATES green peppers, coming to drive me home. All the way through Omaha, my dad driving with his head out the window, was one of my most embarrassing moments. The good news is that it was past midnight, so not too many people were out on the streets. He assured me that he would throw up if he had to smell peppers all the way home.

My sister was working for Kellogg's that summer, and her job was in the lab measuring vitamins for the cereals. We made quite a pair as we came home from our late shifts and our various odiferous clothing hit the floor as we hit the beds.

That was a tough summer for all of us - everyone in my large family was going different directions to earn enough money to keep going - there were 3 of us in college that fall and two younger ones left at home.

I really hated that job, but Dad was right. He didn't raise a quitter, and I realized I could endure just about anything if the goal was important enough. And there is no more apropos verse in scripture than Philippians 4:13 (New International Version) "I can do everything through him who gives me strength."

TO BE CONTINUED

Saga of the Jobs - Part 2

Where was I? Oh, yes, at the Dairy Queen, gaining much more than the Freshman Fifteen by the end of the summer of that first year of college. With a significant school bill hanging over my head. If you missed Part 1, go HERE.

Going to a private Christian college was cost prohibitive to folks of our means - impoverished preachers! They didn't have much in the way of financial gain to call them to the ministry - it had to be a deep-seated conviction that it was where God wanted them to be - raising 5 kids in a parsonage that did not belong to them, on a salary that would be laughable if it were not so sad. But God never ever let us go hungry - or unclothed!

But trying to send kids to college was a challenge, to say the least. But I was convinced that I was where God wanted me to be. At the end of that freshman year summer and holding down two awful jobs, I didn't know if I was going to be able to return to school. I desperately wanted to. I loved it there.

In God's incredible timing, an amazing phone call came just in the nick of time. My dorm mom, whom I had not particularly liked (she was pretty cranky and old), realized how much I needed help. She had a heart that she hid pretty well under that gruff exterior. There were so many more girls coming to school as freshmen that year that there was not enough housing. The old war vintage boys' dorm that was targeted for demolition that year was brought back into active duty, even though it had been condemned! The college was asking me to be the resident assistant (RA) for the girls on the second floor of this antiquated dorm. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of living in old Fanning Hall, but I could not turn down this gift - room and 1/2 board paid, plus a cash job as receptionist at the front desk that fit into my schedule.

I think I had approximately 20 girls in my care that semester. We really bonded in a unique way, because of our less-than-desirable living conditions. I keep reiterating the same thing, but this was really a terrible place to live. If it weren't for the good memories I have of the girls, I would have no good memories of that semester. I had broken up with my boyfriend, I had no classes that I really enjoyed. I was away from my good friends from the year before, because I was in a freshman dorm and they'd gone on to bigger and better places to live.

So what was so bad about this place? For starters, it was a boys' dorm - it seems that boys don't mind showering all together in one huge, gross shower room. Add the fact that the drains didn't work well - are you getting the picture? Suffice it to say, I was physically and mentally incapable of showering with 20 girls. I chose to come back in the quiet of the afternoon, when they were in class, to gamble on showering alone.

The good news was that I had a nice large room to myself - my first room alone in my life. I had always roomed with my sister. I love my sister, but still craved solitude. The bad news - I had a bit too much solitude that year. I slept through my 7:30 class often, because nobody was there to make noise and wake me up. (I made the only C of my college career that semester because I missed that 7:30 World History class so often).

This old dorm didn't have a central heating system (and of course, no air conditiong). Each room had its own space heater. Each night I had to do a room check to be sure everyone was there and safely tucked in. The girl next door to me (who also had no roommate) was even more modest than I. There was no evidence that she ever availed herself of the community shower room - with or without company. And there was sufficient evidence that she did not - when she opened her door a crack each night to assure me she was there, the "aroma" coming through that crack was overwhelming - she must have been really cold-blooded, because she kept that heater going at full blast, and it was not a good combination with lack of cleanliness!

Those girls and I grew to know each other very well. I have notes from them that I discovered this summer in my old scrap book. Looking at the autographs in the yearbook for that year have also brought back great memories. It also brought back some less-than-fun happenings.

There were several unused rooms on our floor. Somehow someone planted cherry bombs, wrapped in girls' underwear, in an unoccupied room down the hall from me. They somehow lit them and escaped before they exploded. It was terrifying. All of us were concerned about the bizarre packaging and frightened that boys were breaking in and planting the devices. There was much discussion of "panty raids." There was great suspicion that the girls were helping the boys. There were all sorts of rumors rampant on the campus. One week-end the entire second floor was "grounded", or what was called "campused" in that setting. More punishment for me than for them! The other name for RA in those days was "floor monitor." My girls liked to call me "monster" instead at this time in our history together.

We eventually suspected an inside job, though nobody ever confessed and nobody was ever "convicted" of the crime. The case was never solved, but it certainly caused us to bond as partners in fear and trembling. I still wonder who did it!

The picture from my 1967 yearbook shows old Fanning Hall as it appeared before demolition. At the end of the first semester, enough girls had dropped out of their freshman year to open up spaces in the other dorms. I had moved into an upper class dorm. It was a strange sensation one day as I was walking by the old place and saw the door to my Room 127, still standing tall, as rubble lay all around it.

I only stayed in the new dorm for a few weeks before a similar RA job opened up in the dorm I lived in as a freshman. I moved onto the first floor and was able to continue paying my school bill. I have to say it was a much calmer second semester than the first had been. Almost to the point of boredom.

NEXT: ANOTHER DELIGHTFUL SUMMER JOB

Getting Through Life, One Job at a Time

Remember when you were a kid and you couldn't wait to get a job? My first employment was far too easily gained. It gave me false expectations for the future. It was definitely a case of "it's not what you know, but who you know that counts." A lady in our church got me into her real estate office for the summer between my junior and senior years of high school. It was great. I rode with her to and from work. I got to use my new typing skills. It was cool in the office and I didn't have to serve food to anyone.

This was my first experience with an electric typewriter - the highest form of technology for the time. This was before copy machines. Does anyone remember carbon paper? I had to do 5 copies of contracts on legal sized paper. Everything had to be perfect - no strike-overs or corrections of any sort allowed (this was also before white-out, which would not have been allowed even if it were available). I can't even tell you how many copies of those contracts I ruined and wasted that summer. I was afraid I'd lose my job if they found out, so I went from one trash can to another when I threw away whole sets of 5 ruined pages. But it was an invaluable experience and I made some money.

In an aside, I will never forget where my very first paycheck went - to pay a speeding fine. I was a brand new driver. I was going after someone for Sunday school, for Pete's sake! I had not driven on the interstate much, and I was thinking deep thoughts about something and neglected to slow down when I went from the speedway into the residential area - doing 45 in a 30, so the officer said. I was sure I'd get off easily, since it was my first offense. I had to take off work to go to court. Everyone else was getting $10 fines, so I breathed a bit easier as the day went on. The judge looked at my offense, asked me if I was guilty. Then he said, "If you drive like a man, and you speed like a man, I'm going to fine you like a man. $50 and court costs!" Bang of the gavel - all of my first check gone. A very sexist judge, by today's standards, and a very hard lesson learned. (I wish I could say it was my last speeding ticket).

So - the next year, I coasted through the spring semester, sure that I had that job sewed up for the summer after graduation. Imagine my shock when I was told their business wasn't doing well enough that year to warrant summer help. I was heading to college, as I wrote about here, and desperately needed money. I could not find a job anywhere that summer - you realize this was pre-McDonald's. I ended up going to several weeks of church camp, both as a worker and as a camper. It was a wonderful way to spend the summer, but not helpful for my upcoming expenses.

When I got to college that hot summer day in 1969, I immediately went to to "employment office." It wasn't much in those days. There really wasn't much available for someone without a car and who wanted to have some fun as a student! I was determined to not work in the school cafeteria - I'd been there, done that in elementary school and at camp. I know I should have been willing to take what I could get, but I REALLY did not want to do that.

I did manage to land a "little" job. It involved spending the night with an elderly lady who was bedfast. It definitely wasn't ideal, because it involved going over to her house, across the street from the dorm, at about 9:00 in the evening and sleeping there. My role was to be sure she had someone there to help her with any needs during the night. I won't go into details about the very worst night of this short-lived career, but suffice it to say it involved changing bedding and everything else in the middle of the night.

The good news? A whole $5.00 per night. The bad news? I was already paying to sleep on campus, and now I was being paid not to. I was missing all the fun of the nighttime ritual in the dorm. I was very lonely.

And - I wasn't really very good at this job. I slept too soundly. I'll never forget the morning that I finally awoke to this poor little old lady hollering as loudly as her ancient little voice could muster - and never woke me up. I didn't awaken until her daughter came pounding on the door to relieve me to go to class - late for my 7:30. I thought she'd fire me on the spot, but she must have been desperate.

I did this on Monday through Thursday, and on Saturday, if I remember. My boyfriend and I walked for our dates, and we were walking past her house on a Friday evening when I noticed a wreath on her front door - a black wreath. That didn't seem quite right. When I called the next morning to see what was up, I learned that Mrs. Ridings had died that Saturday. I was ever so thankful that it wasn't on my watch! I felt bad - for the family - and for myself. Though I didn't enjoy the job and really wanted to be back with my friends in the dorm at night, I was now unemployed after only 5 weeks. Back to the employment office.

Job #2 to get through college - a laundromat down the highway needed someone to work several afternoons/early evenings a week. My job was to give change and keep the machines cleaned out. The problem? They had no business! Nobody needed change. The machines were never used. It was another very lonely job. I had plenty of time to study and knit. I had to walk home in the dusk and dark over a mile down busy Route 66 (yes, that Route 66). That job ended when the boss came in one night to check on things. I went back to get the broom - he followed me in there. He backed me up against the wall - we were kind of back behind the dryers. I had the broom in my hands, kind of keeping him from me. But I came really close to being violated behind those dryers that night. I must have prayed, though I don't remember it. Or somebody was praying for me. I remember being afraid, but not hysterical. I said, "Don't you have a wife?" He said, "Yes, I do." I said, "Why don't you go home to her?" God must have given me that courage, because it wasn't my own.

I really don't remember what happened at that point - I think the other guy who was with him came back. It seemed to me that the other guy knew what was going on. I remember shaking all the way back to campus on that busy highway. It didn't hit me until later that night how close I came to disaster.

After those two experiences, I didn't get another job that school year. I knew I should. I needed one. But I just didn't have the heart. I just totally enjoyed being a freshman, confident that God would take care of my needs. I did some occasional babysitting, which I did not enjoy. But it was a bit of cash for hose and toothpaste.

That summer I managed to snag two jobs - causing me to work 7 nights a week. I hated missing Wednesday night and Sunday night services, but I really needed the money. Four nights I worked at the Dairy Queen in our neighborhood - for $.75 per hour! My plan to lose the Freshman Fifteen was derailed daily, as we were allowed to sample our wares. Oh, my goodness! This DQ was the summer hang-out for a large group of really nasty junior high aged latch key kids, who made my life miserable.

The other nights were spent at a grocery store, the name of which I totally cannot recall, nor can I remember what I did there. It is all a blur. Obviously, it wasn't too enjoyable either. Bottom line - I worked 7 nights a week and barely dented my freshman year's school bill.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

P.S. Please head over to Kristen's place to see a pictorial diary of Care Bear's first day of school. Note the bling she's wearing - 5 necklaces and 4 rings, early birthday presents from Kevin and Sema, who noticed that she always likes to wear jewelry. As Sema said, she's going to be High Maintenance for some guy someday!