(Billy Idol)
Grandson asks: “Why did you choose to move to Denver after living in Illinois your whole life?”
Dear Evan:
You, along with many of your cousins between the ages of 20 – 26, already know how difficult it is to decide on the right career and job after college. On the one hand, being employed has so many uncontrollable aspects that job changes can be frequent and unanticipated. On the other hand, you might find work satisfaction with one employer for a very long period of time.
By the time I was 45, I had worked for two different high schools and two different colleges. My longest stint was with Lewis University for eleven years, first in athletics and then in student affairs. While at St. Francis for 8 years, my jobs moved from student affairs to working with non-traditional learners. This is noteworthy because even with the same employer there may be significant role changes that are possible.
In all of these job changes and career adjustments, no actual re-location had been required. Thus, our growing family had only one impactful physical move: 30 miles from Joliet to Wilmington.
My decision to change employers after St. Francis was different. It was 1986 and I was in mid-life, 46, and the five kids were in various stages of high school and college. Your grandmother was happy with her jobs at Providence High School and a local pharmacy. Now in our 13th year living in Wilmington, we had wonderful friends and neighbors plus our relatives were within a car ride. In short, our lives were familiar, comfortable, and predictable.
Why change?
Now established in higher education leadership and administration, my niche was in developing new educational programs that addressed the needs of adult non-traditional learners and corporate employees. Although narrower in scope, this field seemed to naturally align with my personal life mission: education for those people on the margins. In order to continue this new professional path, I would have to explore other higher educational institutions, near and far, that might be interested in my services.
My search produced two competing and intriguing job offers: one in Dubuque and the other in Denver. Dubuque would be 3 hours away; Denver would be 15 hours. In either case, the family would be disrupted like never before.
Rather than going into the job details, please allow me to describe the decision-making process as written into my journal from November of 1985. (Reading it now reveals much more ego than I care for… but, it shows that at age 45, I had a lot to learn.)
November 13, 1985 in the Mountains of Northern Georgia (unedited Journal Notes)
I guess that this is my moment. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been seeking a job that would allow me to move to a different part of the country. A job that would be challenging. A job that would enable me to use the latent potential that I think I have. Now I have that opportunity, but why do I hesitate?
As the book says, before we can begin, we must end. Mentally, I have ended my tenure at the College of St. Francis. No question, I am ready to leave. I guess I’m in the “transition” stage not as much for myself as I am for the other six family members.
It is time to be re-born, to enter into a new phase of life. Of course, that means my former existence in many ways will die. It is the rich, and not so rich, experiences of the past that will serve as the soil from which new growth will emerge. The seeds have always been there, but before they can germinate the old must die.
The warmth of the November sun, intense and invigorating as it can be, can disappear ever so quickly with the passing of a cloud. I can see those shadows move slowly across the mountainsides in front of me, but still I am surprised when I find myself shielded from the sun.
I’m not used to so much silence. Even the falling leaves seem to crash periodically around me. Upon further observation, I see that most of the noise occurs before they touch the ground. Their journey from the safety and security of the branch begins with a bounce from limbs and branches jutting out from the tree. Some leaves rest for a while on this temporary spot until a breeze encourages them to continue their trip to the ultimate destination.
Interestingly enough, their landing on the earth is much softer and quieter than the trip itself. Their arrival is often greeted by other leaves that already made the trip. They soften their arrival with seeming kindness.
Stronger breezes encourage other leaves to hasten their downward journey. They have hung on too long and need a little push. Other leaves, because of their own stupid obstinacy, or because their journey was halted by entangling branches, are trapped only to encounter winter from a lonely altitude, without peers, and unprotected by the earth.
The main character, the tree, must regularly rid itself of these trappings, beautiful as they were during prior times, so that new growth can appear in a few short months. The oak, a deciduous tree of another kind, may retain some of its leaves throughout the winter and will shed them in early spring. The coniferous evergreen maintains steady, primitive growth without shedding all of its green. However, when they are crowded by other trees, bare sections are there for all to observe.
So, what kind of tree am I? An oak trying to be a fir tree? A pine tree trying to be a maple? A catalpa? (I hope not.) An elm or a willow? Maybe I’m a small forest of different kinds of trees.
I would like to be a maple. A relatively fast grower, it doesn’t have the strength of the oak, but it doesn’t take generations to develop. It can be transplanted fairly easily without lots of care. Its leaves are full and beautiful while providing a panorama of beauty in the fall.
So, where does all this bring me?
My gut feeling is to make the move to Denver.
Looking back at this journal entry, I can see how our family was noisily disrupted and forever altered in so many ways, mostly constructive. Had we stayed in Illinois, four of our kids’ spouses would have been different, my nieces and a nephew may not be in Colorado, and all of our careers would have been dramatically different. Other relatives would not have been relocated here. We would have a different variety of grandkids!
The transition was noisy and troublesome, bouncing from limb to limb, tossing and turning at the whim of the breeze, but landing comfortably and softly on the earth among wonderful new companions, all eager to continue the cycle of new life.
As you see, Evan, I had many of the fears, anxiety, and apprehension that you have. I tried different paths although they were generally with the same goal: helping people grow through education. Change can be embraced or feared, but change is one of the few constants in life.
Sincerely and with love,
Grandpa (or “Poppy” to the grandkids)
“Move out of your comfort zone. You can only grow if you are willing to feel awkward and uncomfortable when you try something new.”
Brin Tracy
Braidwood Beginnings 