You Heard it Here First: Press Release It's Time to ROCK YOUR BOTTOM!

Rock Your Bottom Concert:

A Free Family Event for a Cause

New Jersey, September 17th, 2010 —  A Life Unexpected, in volunteer partnership with The National Latina Health Network and Preschool of Rock, is proud to announce a fun, FREE family concert to benefit the  Community Food Bank of New Jersey, in support of the Huggies® Every Little Bottom Campaign. 

In 2010, a study commissioned by Huggies and Kimberly Clark showed that mothers are making choices between diapers and other necessities when they can't afford both. This study showed that one out of every three mothers in America has, at one point, struggled with diaper need, which is the struggle to provide babies with a basic need - diapers. Moms struggling with diaper need run out of clean diapers monthly or more often. Babies may be kept in wet, dirty diapers for extended periods of time or, in more extreme cases, made to wear used diapers which have been cleaned or dried out. Forty-three percent of mothers struggling with diaper need say they need 14 or more extra diapers per week to feel they have enough. Yet there is little help for these mothers and babies as many community-based organizations don't provide diapers.

After learning about the impact and prevalence of diaper need, Jason Maikos, the primary author behind the popular Old Bridge, New Jersey-based blog, “A Life Unexpected”, offered to lend his time and talent to support the National Latina Health Network’s local diaper drive efforts. A Biomedical Engineer who was laid-off due to corporate down-sizing in August 2009, Maikos has been blogging about his experience as a well-educated husband/father navigating the waters of a tumultuous economy. In his blog, Maikos writes,

            “Despite all of our concessions, we’ve been relatively fortunate. We could always provide food and a comfortable, safe environment for our family. …Many families have sacrificed basic necessities, such as food, electricity, and even shelter. One of the most over-looked sacrifices is diapers. When families have to choose between food, rent, electricity, or diapers, they are forced to cutback on this basic child necessity.”

Thinking strategically about how he can help New Jersey families struggling with diaper need, Maikos contacted Michael Napolitano, the founder of the Preschool of Rock, who readily agreed to support the cause.  Preschool of Rock’s original music, infectious energy and understanding of children brings happiness to tons of families in New Jersey and New York. “We give our students a moment to embrace, celebrate and create music in a fun and free atmosphere. We encourage investigation, discovery and creativity with different instruments, dancing, singing, drumming, strumming and lots of laughing out loud,” said Napolitano.  With Preschool of Rock on the stage, the Rock Your Bottom Concert is sure to provide attendees with an opportunity to celebrate life and community.

To reserve your spot go to: http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/rockyourbottom
Registration is quick and simple. 

Attendees are encouraged to donate an unopened package of diapers of any size to support the cause. It doesn’t have to be much (and it doesn't have to be Huggies) because every diaper helps. Of course, large boxes will be greatly appreciated as well.

Rock Your Bottom Concert hopes to contribute over 2,500 diapers to New Jersey families. All contributions will be donated to the Community Food Bank of New Jersey which distributes over 23 million pounds of food and groceries a year, ultimately serving 1,656 non-profit programs including 436 programs served by its Partner Distribution Organizations (PDOs). Through their combined efforts, they assist three-quarters of a million low-income people in 18 of New Jersey’s 21 counties.

Rock Your Bottom Concert is being facilitated in part by the leadership of the National Latina Health Network.  As a national partner in the Huggies ® Every Little Bottom campaign, the network is partnering with individuals and organizations across the country to increase awareness about the prevalence and impact of diaper deprivation and to help facilitate the implementation of diaper drives across the country.

Event details:

Date:               November 6, 2010

Time:              3:30 – 5:00 pm

Location:        Community Food Bank of New Jersey

                        31 Evans Terminal

                        Hillside, NJ 07205

Cost:               Rock Your Bottom Concert is FREE.  However, attendees are encouraged to donate an unopened package of diapers of any size to support the cause. All diapers will be donated to the Community Food Bank of New Jersey as part of the Huggies® Every Little Bottom Campaign.

To register:    http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/rockyourbottom

Contact:          alifeunexpected.jtm@gmail.com

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On the Road to Responsibility, a Job and Dignity

During my channel surfing yesterday, I happened to catch a news clip covering the acceptance speech of a gubernatorial primary winner. His speech was largely about envisioning a New York that he can restore to past prominence. Naturally, he spoke to the woes of unemployment and helping those without jobs return to the workforce. In his speech, he said, “I see a New York where people who are down on their luck can get back on the road to responsibility, a job, and dignity.”

It saddens me to hear a potential leader of a powerful and progressive state suggest that the unemployed do not have a sense of responsibility or dignity because they don’t have a job. I understand his message was meant to inspire – to show he has some magical fix for a major problem. However, his judgments about dignity and responsibility paint a broad stroke that our self-respect is tied to our business cards.   

As I’ve written before, as an unemployed person, I have struggled with issues of self-worth and the fact that identities are linked to a job. However, during my time on unemployment, I have changed my perspective on life. My priorities have shifted.

• I am not my job.
• My sense of dignity is linked to my actions, not my employment.
• I gain my sense of responsibility from raising my son to be a good person.
• I strive to create a meaningful life for myself and my family.

During my unemployment I have tried to live an intentional life. I have tried to find the light during the darkest hours. I have attempted to provide optimism for those struggling and I have helped mobilize a community to aid those in need. We received such a tremendous response to our diaper drive that we are currently planning a second, much larger and impactful event. These are the things that help instill pride, a sense of community, and a responsibility to something greater. It’s what I do with my time that defines me.

When I return to work, my job will not consume my identity. My self-worth will be derived from so much more. My hope is to have a meaningful job that is in line with my core values of love and family. Jobs will come and go…but my dignity will not vanish and reappear with each passing position.

I’ve learned a lot about pride, responsibility, and my life’s purpose while unemployed. I’m a changed man with different priorities. I’m thinking of inviting the above-mentioned politician to my next philanthropic event. If he doesn’t win the election, he might find himself struggling with a crisis of identity and loss of dignity.

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Does Practice Really Make Perfect?

Raising a child is rewarding. It is also equally as difficult. Lessons of patience, understanding, and tolerance are a part of our daily experience – both for toddlers and parents. I answer the question, “Why?” as if it were on a constant repeat. I survive multiple tantrums each day (sometimes all day). I struggle with potty training. As I spend my days with my son, I can plan for quality time, but even the best laid blueprints are fallible. Tantrums can ruin a good lunch. Fighting over a dump truck can end a nice day at the pool. “Quality” is often lost amidst the chaos of toddler unpredictability.

As an unemployed person, it is easy to let each day blend into the next with no real structure. Time can slip by in a muted blur. One day. One month. One year. All unemployed. The one thing driving me each day is my desire to maximize my quality time with my son while I have it.

I’ve been told “practice makes perfect” a million times in my life. It was drilled into my head as a kid – playing sports, studying for tests. Now, as an adult, I’ve tried to apply a new twist to the old adage. If I “practice” things with my son (like sharing), it can lead to more quality time together. Hence, quantity can lead to quality.

Through my life I’ve learned, however, it is too simplistic to say that practice makes perfect. If I practice bad habits, I develop bad habits. If I practice them enough, I get really good at them. Thus, it is not enough to just be with my son. I need to be more then just…there.

The reality is that there are times when we just “go through the motions”, letting time just pass. We’ve all done it before – at work, at the gym, even with our kids. We squander opportunities. Today, I witnessed a mom at the local pool who sat and read a book, instead of interacting with her toddler who was swimming in the water…alone. Did it matter that she was even there? When I take a good look at my life, I am extremely fortunate to be a “stay at home dad” and spend a lot of time with my son. But, am I a good dad just because I am there?

For me, simply being present is not synonymous with “quality”. It is important for me to be intentional with my son. I want my actions to have true meaning for him. I want to be in the moment with my son. I know his mood is unpredictable. I know he will have tantrums that can interrupt quality time. I know he will fight with his friends over toys. However, if I treat every moment as a teaching moment, to let him learn about life, right from wrong, good from bad, then I believe that he can develop into a remarkable person. Because it’s not that practice makes perfect, but rather perfect practice makes perfect, it follows that productive quantity can lead to quality.

But…in the end, as I sift through my thoughts about the time I spend with my son, it no longer becomes about quality over quantity. If I choose to be truly intentional with our time together (no mater how long or short) and live in the moment with my son, all our time together becomes quality…even if he’s throwing a tantrum.

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2 Years, 8 Months, 30 Days

November 2007 was the last time we went on vacation. Actually, it can be more accurately described as a babymoon since my wife was 5 months pregnant. At the time, we assumed this vacation would be our last for awhile. Because I had finally finished graduate school (and vacations can be less than relaxing with a newborn), it was a good time to start saving for our future. We never thought, however, that our next vacation would be almost 3 years later.

Vacations were never a priority for my childhood. We rarely just went away to experience a new place. I do remember visiting family friends in Massachusetts and New Hampshire. However, most of our summer vacations consisted of traveling to my sister’s softball tournaments across the country.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to appreciate peaceful (even restful) vacations that allow for time away from the stresses of life. It doesn’t even matter where I spend my time - I could enjoy a vacation in my own house. But, since my son was born, my wife and I have really tried to let our son experience the world – to let him know that life exists outside of New Jersey. Even if he doesn’t fully grasp our time together on vacation, we were still making memories as a family. We will remember his excitement as he witnessed things for the first time.

However, it became difficult to balance the need/desire for a vacation and the uncertainty of working for a fledgling company. It was never the “right time” to go on a vacation when in the background there was a constant looming fear of unemployment. And then finally, when my company officially went under, providing for our basic necessities became a much higher priority than taking a vacation.

But, after a year of unemployment, I came to the realization that there will never be the “right time” to take vacation. My son, at almost 2.5, had never been on vacation. As his parents, we owe him the opportunity to witness the world and participate in life outside of our home. Furthermore, it was important for me to give my wife the opportunity to enjoy time as a family. As the only working parent for a grant funded non-profit, her days are often spent trying to solidify her professional future in an uncertain economy. While, I’m off daily with my son enjoying our adventures, she’s working diligently at home only getting to enjoy her time with my son and I in short snippets. Thus, it was important for me to let us spend time together, uninterrupted.

The challenge for us became finding an affordable vacation on a one-income household. Combining our desire for peace with our need to explore, we decided to rent a house on a lake in the Poconos. It was a perfect vacation spot to spend some quality time as a family, including our dogs. It was a simple vacation that allowed my son to explore nature, make his first s’mores on a campfire, and learn how to row a canoe. It was too short, as most vacations are, but we made life-long memories and have a ton of pictures to remember them by (614 pictures, to be exact!).

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Basic Needs

Making concessions and cutting back have been constant themes in my life for the past two years. It’s been a sad reality of the current economic time. Even when I had a job, there was a persistent looming fear of impending unemployment. When my archaic, non-flat screen TV broke, my wife scowered her online community (thank you Nesties) for a new TV. Not only were we given a TV that was even better than the one that broke, we were also offered a couch and a bed (which we didn’t need, but appreciated the offer!). The kindness of “strangers” has helped a lot of people in need.

My first job out of graduate school was for a small start-up company. Right before I started, money was poured into the company from outside investors to develop a cool technology aimed to revolutionize certain sleep disorders. But here’s the truth about “other people’s money”: they control you…and your fate. They can pull the funds without notice. This is hardly unprecedented.

When the subprime bubble burst, it didn’t take a genius to know our greener days were over. The outside money, which had been staked in real estate, immediately dried up and soon after, so would my company. I agreed to take a drastic pay cut just to help us all stay afloat longer…or until I could find another job. However, other, more stable companies were having massive layoffs. Even if a job opening was posted, the competition flooded the market. Some weeks I got paid. Most weeks I didn’t.

My wife and I were no strangers to living “cheaply”. Our entire relationship had survived the financial realities of a graduate student income paired with a non-profit salary. Some concessions were easy. That LCD TV could wait. That weeklong vacation could be substituted for a short weekend getaway at a friend’s house. Other cutbacks were difficult. Stopping payments into our son’s college fund was tough. That new house would have to wait despite the fact that we were bursting out of the seams of our current home. All of these cutbacks were a means to an end. It was temporary until something better came along.

Despite all of our concessions, we’ve been relatively fortunate. Thanks to the kindness of friends, family and even strangers, never once did we have to sacrifice basic necessities of life. We could always provide food and a comfortable, safe environment for our family.

However, many people have it worse. Many families have sacrificed basic necessities, such as food, electricity, and even shelter. One of the most over-looked sacrifices is diapers. When families have to choose between food, rent, electricity, or diapers, they are forced to cutback on this basic child necessity. Instead, many of these families who struggle with diaper need reuse soiled or wet diapers. Furthermore, daycare facilities often require a day’s worth of clean diapers, so instead of sending their children to daycare, they stay home with them unable to work. It can be a vicious cycle.

The lack of clean diapers is a serious health risk that has often been overlooked. Most public resources focus solely on food and nutrition for families, but do not cover the cost of diapers. Children are forced to wear wet, dirty diapers for extended periods of time, which can result in physical and emotional suffering.

A Life Unexpected is proud to be volunteering in partnership with the National Latina Health Network, to shed light on this unmet need. Huggies has created a program, called Every Little Bottom, to help get diapers to babies in need. In the next eight months, Huggies will donate up to 22.5 million diapers to babies in the U.S. and Canada, with many of these diapers going to diaper and food banks.

With your help, A Life Unexpected aims to contribute at least 500 diapers to the cause!

This is our chance to help make a difference. A Life Unexpected is organizing our second outing, but this time, in addition to fun, we aim to aid those in need. We will host two separate play dates at Holmdel Park – one on a weekday and one on a weekend. To help support families struggling to provide the basics for their children, we ask that you bring an unopened package of diapers. It doesn’t have to be much (and it doesn't have to be Huggies) because every diaper helps. Of course, large boxes will be greatly appreciated as well. All diapers will be donated to the Huggies Every Little Bottom campaign.

Holmdel Park features the Historic Longstreet Farm, where we can visit with horses, cows, pigs, and other animals. It’s a great place to let the kids explore nature while we socialize and have fun!

Send an email to alifeunexpected.jtm@gmail.com to receive an official evite. The evite will include additional information, including dates and directions. I’m really excited to help make a difference – I hope you’ll join us!

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A Chance Encounter

I was sitting in a dank waiting room waiting for my name to be called. The room had no windows; there was no natural light. The fluorescent ceiling lights flickered above. The irony of room decor – posters about getting help for depression - was not lost on me. I sensed a certain feeling of dread in the room. No one wanted to be there. There was no eye contact for fear of striking up an unnecessary conversation. This must have been an ‘unspoken’ rule of the room. There was a faint buzzing sound that filled the room.

I had been waiting for about 30 minutes. It seemed like a long time to wait. The people were a blur to me, being herded into and out of the room. I just sat there with my head in my chest, following the rules - not making eye contact and no conversations. A surly receptionist sat at the front of the room spelling last names out loud instead of trying to pronounce them. It was hard to follow. I jumped every time he spoke a letter in my name praying to just get out of there. He looked discontented, like he was inconvenienced to even be there. I guess this was his job.

I decided to be daring and approach the surly receptionist to ask how much longer. He barely glanced at me. He was short with his non-committal answer, almost pretending I wasn’t even there. I retreated back to my seat, which was now occupied by someone else. Where did this guy even come from? Was he scouting out my chair while I was sitting there? Did I miss a memo about assigned seats? That was my chair! I sat in the next seat and waited, not daring to move again. I couldn’t lose this seat too.

There was a woman next to the surly receptionist who didn’t seem to do anything. She was just taking up space. She pretended to be busy. I can tell when people are pretending to be busy. There was a sudden influx of people who flooded the waiting room. They needed to be checked in. I don’t think they knew the rules of the room – one person was on a cell phone. The surly receptionist became quickly overwhelmed. Perhaps he didn’t like the rule violation. Multitasking was also not his strong suit. The woman next to him decided to help, probably because he became flustered. The surly receptionist didn’t appreciate her help. Apparently this was not her job.

As the line eventually thinned, the surly receptionist struck an argument with the woman next to him. It was loud enough to drown out the buzzing sound, yet no one in the waiting even looked at them. Was I the only one who thought that this was inappropriate? I was in a surreal dream of mundane cruelty. Maybe I could just wake up. I was about to.

A large unkempt man with a bushy beard and tattered clothes walked into the room. He looked homeless. In fact, most people in this waiting room looked homeless. Something was different about this unkempt man. He was smiling. That certainly wasn’t allowed. As he approached the check in, the surly receptionist and the woman stopped arguing. They both anguished to smile, still reeling from their argument. It seemed like their facial muscles had lost the memory of this foreign action, but I swear I saw it.

The unkempt man knew them both. He had been here before. They politely chatted, exchanging the usual pleasantries. Was this even allowed? I felt a slight change in the atmosphere.

As the man finished chatting with the receptionist, he started to walk in my direction. I didn’t make eye contact as he approached me. After all, this was a rule of the room. He’s been here before, so he must know that. He settled on the seat in front of me. He immediately turned and smiled. Was he testing me? I’m not the most personable of people, but I cracked a quick smile and turned my head. I’d broken the rules and was waiting to be reprimanded.

“It’s a good day”, he said, being persistent. I nodded my head, not knowing if I was allowed to speak. It was one thing to make eye contact briefly, but to speak must have been a capital crime.

“This place saved my life”, he quickly added. “I was given less than a year to live. That was five years ago.”

I was intrigued. Damn the rules, my curiosity got the best of me. We started talking. I think everyone was listening to us. Five years ago he got sick. He was dying. After a battery of tests, doctors told him he needed a risky heart surgery to repair a faulty aorta. Without the surgery, he was given a grim prognosis – he was certain to die within a year. What choice did he have? Soon thereafter, he chose the risky surgery to put in a mechanical heart valve. Five years later, he’s sitting in front of me in this room.

The man will be on blood thinners for life for fear of an embolized clot that could lodge in his lungs. He will have future valve replacement surgeries within the next few years since the mechanical valve has a shelf life. None of this mattered to him.

He was alive…and happy. Life had given him a second chance and he was thankful for every day that his manufactured heart valve continued to do its job. And that’s what he chose to focus on. He didn’t fit with the spirit of this room. He didn’t mind waiting in the dank room with the flickering lights for his monthly tests. He even somehow infected the surly receptionist with optimism – or at least selective optimism. These details of his “new” life were all trivial. He was simply happy to be alive.

Just like that, my name was called – actually spelled. At that point I wished they had forgotten me. This was more important. My conversation with the man came to an abrupt end. He wished me luck as I parted through the waiting room doors. I didn’t even get his name. But, it didn’t matter. I didn’t need to know his name. I needed his message. The impact of his words left a lasting impression on my brain.

Life is hard – clearly harder on some then others. I can choose to let my unemployment define me – to feel like a failure at the numerous rejections of job hunting. In fact, it would be easy blame the economy or poor management. It would even be understandable.

Or, I can define my own course through life. I can choose to be thankful that I get to spend all day with the people that matter most. I can appreciate that I get to see my son grow into a little boy. I can dream of the life that we have – simple, honest, and pure. Sometimes we just need a little jolt to remember what is important.

As I finished my appointment, I happened to walk past that same waiting room. It was empty, so the surly receptionist was in the hallway. He looked at me and asked, “Did you get what you needed?”

I made eye contact and answered him:

“I got exactly what I needed.”

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The Pursuit of Happiness

From time to time, A Life Unexpected will bring you guest blog entries. Today’s entry was written by my lovely and talented wife, who offers a unique perspective as the spouse of an unemployed person. Often times, the spouse is overlooked, but it’s important to remember that unemployment affects everyone. During my unemployment, she has handled a difficult situation nearly flawlessly. She has been an incredible source of inspiration. I encourage everyone to show your support and leave her a comment or even email us at:

alifeunexpected.jtm@gmail.com

Enjoy!

A Guest Blog by Trish aka Hungry Dog Heaven

It was 2007 when my husband finished his PhD. For years we had been patient, understanding that after all of the long hours of schooling and scraping-by on my non-profit salary, we would reap the rewards of stability…space...security.

Also for years, my own job with a national organization had been subject to the perils of a struggling economy. I had been working without any support staff since December 2006. In March 2009, in an effort to reduce organizational overhead costs, I agreed to close our New Jersey office and moved operations to our tiny beach bungalow by the bay.

I took conference calls in my pajamas. I did laundry while writing grant proposals. I snuggled with our dogs while creating training curricula and started dinner in-between sending and receiving emails. There were some perks, for sure.

Then the economy really started to take a turn and the state funding for my husband’s post-doctoral fellowship was not renewed. Then…he was unemployed.

This was last August.

Since then, working from home has taken on a different feel as I take conference calls locked in my bedroom, praying my colleagues on the other end don’t hear my son in the background. I repeatedly fight my mama-urge to throw open the door and swoop-in with healing smooches and comforting cuddles when I hear him crying. My bed does double-duty as a desk on days when it is too hot to work in my make-shift office in the attic.

There are days where I crave the peace and structure of an office – to remember what “normal” life was like. Life before this life - this life of uncertainty and fear and chaos and doubt.

But…there are other days. Days where I take a lunch break with my son at his kiddie-sized table. I read him books about ocean animals as he eats alphabet-shaped tater-tots. I run out to get a glass of water and am able to steal a quick kiss from my two favorite guys. I can hear them outside playing – throwing balls, laughing, squealing….living!

Maybe this is the life we’re supposed to live. A life with little means, but full of heart. Maybe we don’t need a bigger house. Maybe we can make things work. Often, I think…I don’t want this to end.

When my husband returns to work, our house will be quiet again. Our son will return to school. I will be able to take conference calls with ease and we will be on-track – working towards that life for which we had been longing. We will be back into the routine of the working-world. The world where we see our colleagues more than we see each other, where our son sees his teachers more than he sees us and we rush-around trying to squeeze the most into our limited time together.

I think, perhaps, I’m on the brink of a perspective shift. Why do we need a bigger house if, in order to afford it, we have to work so hard we’re rarely there to enjoy it? Why can’t we take this experience and turn it upside down? Why can’t we say that this time, this time of economic uncertainty, was the time that changed our life for the better? We can do that, right? When life hands you lemons…

It’s challenging – reconciling dreams lost and being bold enough to carve new dreams out of current realities. The fear of failure is palpable. The stress of uncertainty is oppressive. But, the reality is that the dreams we had when we were in our twenties do not have to be the dreams we work to fulfill in our thirties and beyond. They are our dreams – to be achieved, dismissed, dismantled and reassembled as we please.

My dream is for us to be happy. To laugh loudly without apology. To embrace the joy in the little things – the wind in our hair, the sun on our face, the smell of the seasons. Life gives us the ability to be happy!

I’m shifting perspectives in pursuit of this happiness and the thing is, I think we’re there. We just need to be brave enough to hold onto it.

I thought it was me

After losing my job (again), my confidence was shot. I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, experienced enough…you name it, I felt it. “Failure” sums it up pretty well.

Being unemployed, it’s hard to even face people sometimes. It’s hard to simply look them in the eye during a normal conversation. Are they judging me? Inevitability, that question is always asked: “What do you do?”

Normally, I try to avoid the question or talk my way around it. In fact, I’ve gotten pretty good at it. Can I add that skill to my resume? I often try to keep my conversations short with new people so it doesn’t come up. However, most times that question just can’t be avoided because it is often the first thing asked after an introduction. It’s only natural to ask what others do. Sometimes it is conversation filler. Sometimes it can be more probing. Sometimes we are truly interested, or not. In many ways, we judge people by what they do.

How are the unemployed judged, especially by those who have never been unemployed? As a member of that distinguished class, I am probably not the right person to answer that question. On the flip side, I can say that no matter the situation I always feel judged for being unemployed and it is hard not feel ashamed. I’m told that I should not feel embarrassed because most of those things are just “out of my control”. I like to think I am in control of my own destiny…that the things I do mean something. The reality is that I am ashamed. Can I do more to help myself? Should I volunteer more? Can I even do more? Should I just do something…anything?

So, when people who don’t know that I’m unemployed ask that question, it just adds to my embarrassment. I either have to explain it or talk around it, which can be awkward. And it’s not their fault for asking either. It just is…

However, today I had a bittersweet chance to feel a little better about myself; a chance to regain some of that lost confidence. I received an unexpected email from my successor at my previous job. We’ve never met, nor have we ever interacted. I only knew his name because of a passing conversation while on the job. I learned that I got the job over him in the first place.

The email reads, “I saw on some papers that you may have worked here before. I can tell you that it is a very different place to work than any that I have worked for. My last day here is this Friday because evidently, I am not the perfect candidate either…..”

After a few short weeks on the job (which I’m sure also included a ton of unfulfilled promises), he was let go. That’s two people hired and let go in a span of four months. He reached out to me because I have literally been in his position. I know what it feels to have the world in front of you, only to have it unexpectedly ripped away.

Perhaps they are looking for a particular type of employee and we weren’t the answer. Ordinarily, I would agree that there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s important to find the right fit for both sides. It’s equally important to be given a legitimate chance to succeed. This never happened. A clear pattern has emerged. What’s the point? Why waste our time?

The company was sold to me as a tight-knit family, especially since they only have a few employees. Was that just a bill of goods? In reality, I feel they only considered the “professional worker” and not the whole person. Maybe they are a family, but then I must have been the black sheep. And so must have my successor.

But, I am not just a professional. I take pride in my work, but that is only one part of the whole. I have a family to support. I have bills to pay. My life is not their trial. As a “family” company, that’s what they don’t get. We are not toys to play with and discard when bored.

Since I received that unexpected email today, I have felt completely conflicted. I may take solace in the fact that losing my job may have been beyond my control. It’s a little clearer now that I may have been a true victim of the fabled “it’s not you, it’s me” syndrome. It really might not have been me. I’ll take my small victory and move on. However, another person lost his job. It’s a sad day.

Who says you can never go home again?

This weekend, the “Pennsylvania Experiment” will come to an unceremonious conclusion. After 3 long (and short) months, we are heading back home to New Jersey. Unfortunately, I am not returning as a triumphant hero, but rather a humbled man.

It was a Monday when we decided which house we wanted to buy. On Tuesday, I was let go from my job. The house was everything we ever wanted. It was quiet and beautiful. It was a place where my son could thrive. We were supposed to grow old in that house. That house is now a symbol of what could have been.

The sad truth is that I saw my future here, or at least a future here. I was proud to be a Pennsylvanian. It represented an opportunity to lay down our roots – a chance to finally start our lives. As an added bonus, we were no longer going to be the punch line for the myriad of NJ jokes, no matter how untrue most (or just some) of them are.

My whole life has been about NJ. I was born in NJ. I did all my schooling in NJ. My first job was in NJ. I practically bleed NJ (and a little NY Yankees). It is entirely possible that Pennsylvania simply rejected my NJ blood. NJ people are of a different breed. Not everyone can handle us. It’s true that we have a certain way about us. Now, I will return to NJ.

I keep telling myself that there’s nothing wrong with coming home again. It’s a place where I can be accepted despite my shortfalls. However, I’d rather not return under these circumstances where I had no other choice but to retreat. I always thought that if I came back to NJ, it would be on my own volition – I would choose to come back. But, because of things out of my control, the direction of my life has changed again. This time, I feel as though I am not in control of my own destiny, but rather at the mercy of a system and circumstances that don’t offer rewards for hard work, good intentions, and honesty. As far as I can tell, there is no pot of gold at the end of my elusive rainbow.

As this chapter comes to an abrupt end, I’m hopeful for a new start in an old, yet familiar place - a place where the local pizza joint doesn’t close at 9pm and I can do my grocery shopping at 1am. I am hopeful that this is a true American tale where the protagonist is at his lowest point of the story with his back against the wall, only for a drastic turnaround into something bigger…and better. And let’s face it…New Jersey is way better than Pennsylvania.

Finally, a life unexpected has opened a new email address:

alifeunexpected.jtm@gmail.com

I understand that leaving comments on a public forum is not always the ideal situation for everyone. However, as I share my experiences during this uncertain time in my life, my goal is to show that we are not alone. Everyone struggles through life at times, whether it is fatherhood or motherhood, unemployment, or just the ups and downs of daily life. I’ve been overwhelmed by the response to this blog. There are so many people in a similar situation. Some of us have made it through the tough times and it helps to know that it will get better. Writing this blog has been a cathartic experience that has allowed me to verbalize my feelings.

So…I want to hear from you. Feel free to leave a comment or email me and share your story. We can trade advice. Tell me what you like or don’t like. I look forward to hearing from you!

Second Chances

Second chances can be an obscure commodity. When given a second chance, even if it is shrouded in uncertainty and fear, I can choose to dwell on my unfortunate circumstance and wonder “why me?”, or I can make the most of this opportunity to do something great.

I’ve heard it a million times, “It could always be worse”. In fact, it’s something I hear on a daily basis. I’m not even sure what that really means. Of course it could be worse. In reality, no matter what is going on in your life, someone will always have it worse. However, it doesn’t minimize the impact my current situation has on my life. The fact that somebody has it worse than me shouldn’t invalidate my feelings. I can, however, gain some perspective.

Life is hard…some days more than others. As humans, we are constantly in search of things that we can control. We desire control. Chaos ensues without control. But here’s the bad news…we can’t control it all, or even much of it. So, why not embrace the things we can control?

The best I can do is value the good times…and survive the bad. I can safely say that my life has been fairly cyclical. It pours…a lot (lately). Then it stops. And it gets better. I am constantly humbled by life. I hear the tale of the couple who both lost their jobs. I hear stories of sick children. I hear of people losing it all every day. It hurts my heart. But, I gain perspective. When I hear these stories, I can’t even imagine a life with so many struggles, yet none of these stories minimize the current impact of my struggles on my life.

Today, I blurted out that damn cliché. It was just filler for an awkward pause in a seemingly normal conversation. I didn’t even really mean it. Instead of the usual response of, “that’s true”, today I was called on it. I was told, “It doesn’t have to be worse for you”.

I wasn’t expecting that…

It resonated with me because it was true. It doesn’t have to be worse…it doesn’t even have to be whatever this is. I can do something…anything. I may not have control over my employment opportunities, but I have control over my life and what I choose to do with it. I have a second chance to truly embrace something more important than my job. I can be great for my son.

Before being laid off the first time, I tried to maximize my time with son. This usually occurred during the hour or so before his bedtime and on weekends. It was never enough. When I lost my job, I was given the amazing opportunity to stay at home with my son – to have a truly great impact on his life. And I think that I did. Viewing life through the eyes of a 1-year old is a gift - one that I got to live daily. However, my unemployment was always in the back of my head as a constant reminder of my shortcomings. It consumed me at times. When I finally went back to work, it was too late to live in the moment with him. I missed what I had.

This is what most people don’t understand. When I get a job again, I will be congratulated on my resolve and told my persistence paid off. But, by going back to work, I will lose something more. The sad part is, this time I already know it. It’s a silent, often misunderstood struggle that I don’t think I will ever balance.

So, that’s where I’m at. My employment may be uncertain and I may be filled with “professional” self-doubt. But today, I choose not to dwell on my misery. This time around I can appreciate the moments as they happen. I know it won’t last forever, but until that day, I get to enjoy things like this:

It may not seem like much, but doing arts and crafts with my son as his mind absorbs everything, is priceless to me…and his mom. My time with my son is unmatched.

I will continue to hear woeful stories of loss and I will continue to sympathize. Someone will always have it worse. One day, perhaps I can help…or maybe I can’t. Perhaps, the least I can offer is some solace in my words.