When I was 10, my father took me by the shoulder and said, “Son, we need to talk.” To this day, whenever someone (particularly my boss), tells me that we need to talk, it sends shivers down my spine. I had no idea it was going to be about the American dream.
My mother was away doing whatever mothers do on a Saturday afternoon, so he knew he held me captive for at least an hour. He led me into the garage and told me to slide across the front seat of his car. Sitting in the front seat of my father’s Oldsmobile had become our own little cone of silence, whenever he had something important to teach me.
“Son, we need to talk about something before you get too much older.”
“Is this going to be about the birds and the bees?” I asked. “Because if it is, my teacher already explained hide the hotdog – how boys slide their wienies into a girl’s bun and how important it is to be careful with your mustard.”
“No son, this isn’t about the birds and the bees. It’s about something much more serious. I want to talk to you about money.” I looked at him with a blank stare. I knew nothing about money. I still don’t.
“Son, have you ever heard about the American Dream? What it is and how you go about achieving it?” Being a rambunctious kid from the neighborhood, I’d had plenty of dreams. Lots of nightmares, too. But, my dad wasn’t referring to those isolated incidents when I wet my bed or ate too many chocolate-covered corn dogs.
“The American Dream is something all of us menfolk strive for during our lives,” said my dad. “It’s about growing up as a mature man, making a good living, meeting a girl, marrying her and raising a family. It’s about getting up at the crack of dawn, and slogging to the same rotten job you despise, every single day for thirty years, so you can spend a lot of money on things you don’t want or need. Then, when you get old, you can sit around a retirement home, where you don’t know anyone, the decrepit shell of a man, drooling down the front of your shirt as you ponder where you left your slippers. That’s the American Dream.” I was horrified. At that moment, I decided I wanted nothing to do with the American Dream. And, for better or worse, it wanted nothing to do with me, either.
The American Dream my father described over 60 years ago has come and gone. At least in my lifetime. According to human resource experts, people change careers every 10 years. Not just jobs, but entire trajectories. And, each time they do, their retirement savings take a hit. If that’s true, I’ve been right on schedule my entire life. As soon as I mastered one job, I dropped it like a hot potato and moved on to another. It never occurred to me to save money for a time when I wouldn’t be able to work. Wild and naive, as long as I had money, there was always a new adventure waiting for me.
My first path was decided for me. To avoid the draft during the Vietnam War, I enlisted in the Navy, where I learned two valuable lessons that would carry me through my entire working life: you can learn to do anything – even if you don’t know why. And, you can learn to respect all people – especially those who don’t deserve it. That last one did me in. My Naval career was over in less than two years.
After my military career, came college, where I decided to pursue a curriculum guaranteed to provide financial freedom into my old age: acting. A Drama degree in southern California was (and still is) worth slightly more than unemployment – which most actors are intimately familiar with. But, I did learn how to become a great liar. Not just a good one, but a great one. That skill has stuck with me through thick and thin. From one tight spot to another.
Realizing that I’d never make it as a working actor, I embarked on a cavalcade of low-paying career choices – descending from professional ski instructor, hairdresser, exercise physiologist, computer technician to freelance writer. I’ve even come up with Smith’s Theorem: if the job pays well, I probably won’t like it. That’s why I’ve never pursued careers in medicine, the law or politics. It’s also why you’ll never see me in the world of financial planning.
Don’t get me wrong. The American Dream is still alive and well. Over the years, I’ve watched with envy as my friends became assistant managers at Applebee’s, life insurance executives, telephone repairmen, and sewer engineers. I’ve watched as they’ve paraded through the revolving door of marriages, alimony, child support, and immense homes in pursuit of better social standings and a bigger speedboat.
Some people believe that the American Dream is dead. Competitive job markets, education, and the pursuit of a successful Skype interview have made it hard to grab for the brass ring. That’s why it’s so important to follow your dreams, whether or not they’re attached to a huge salary. We only have one life, and we should strive to make it as interesting as possible, regardless of the price tag.
My friends poke fun at my circuitous detour on the way to my American Dream. But, they also remind me that I’m fortunate. In a single day, I can show you how to tie a bowline, deliver a soliloquy, ski down a double-black trail, perm your hair, read your EKG, fix your computer and show you how to write a short story. I’ve done them all.
