I came from a loving, highly educated family who lived below the poverty level; therefore they were not deemed “successful.” My father worked six days a week, and often two or even three jobs. Mama went back to substitute teaching when I was in middle school. We had one un-airconditioned car, and my folks did not play the lottery, smoke, or drink at all (much less take drugs)! I have learned it is very easy for someone doing well to proclaim that one who is not should not eat out, nor they should they go to Six Flags once a year (which was our family vacation.) We did not get to go to the movies often, but my folks strived to give me every opportunity. We visited the Dallas Museum of Art on “free” days. We went to the Texas State Fair with canned goods as our admission. I wore Polo shirts and Jordache jeans, but we searched for them at the Good Will. So how come they struggled to pay their bills? My father ran a painting business and I cannot recall how many times very wealthy people simply refused to pay him after he’d done the work, citing some imperceptible flaw, often saying it needed to be redone in a different color. My father was a highly ethical, Christian man who prided himself upon his work. I watched my beautiful mother wear the same three dresses to church, and she never let that impede her from attending. I also discovered, to my great chagrin, there is a presumptive arrogance which can emanate from those wishing to “help” someone in need. They judge everything and pronounce even the tiniest frivolity to be irresponsible. For instance, why would one have a TV but not car insurance? It is easy to have all types of insurance when one has the funds. And yet there are countless people who begrudge the poor even the slightest of pleasures. I loved a boy once. We attended the same church. He was so handsome and reminded me of my father in looks. Despite his parents’ feigned graciousness, I always knew they disapproved of me. After all, I lived in a low income apartment with my parents while he lived in a lovely, two story home in a high end part of town. We dated the summer after high school and then we both had plans to attend college. He was headed to Baylor while I would be attending a community college. It was “suggested” by his mother that he date sorority girls. I was bewildered and utterly devastated. However, he had invited me down to visit and I brought my parents. I guess he could not believe I actually took his offer seriously. He seemed distracted and embarrassed. I cried the whole way home. Two years later when I was at SMU majoring in broadcast journalism I anchored a tiny cable news show in Austin. From Dallas, Waco was a good stopping point. I decided to revisit a place he’d taken me to once and, when I walked in I noticed a beautiful girl with long, curly blondish/reddish hair and remarkable green/blue eyes. They say that everyone has a doppelgänger somewhere in the world. We all think we’re so unique. I was eating by myself when she approached me. We took a few minutes to stare at each other in shock. I remember her being so kind, but silently freaked out when she confidently said she believed my name was “Laura.” Somehow instinctively knowing she had been hurt as well, I replied yes. She then sat down next to me and asked if I new a certain guy. When I said yes, that we dated the summer before our freshman year in college she told me they had dated as well — and that he’d always called her by my name. Instead of feeling jealous, we both wound up each sorry for the other. I was graduated from SMU and was in the Charter House of the third oldest sorority in America — Alpha Chi Omega. I will admit I was not selected by peers; rather by a group of distinguished alumni who valued my GPA and the fact that I was in the Miss Texas USA pageant at the time. I only went to that first rush party because of a friend, who did not wind up making it. However, it never failed to escape my notice that quite by accident I had indeed (in theory) become someone of whom his mother would approve. It never ceases to amaze me how many people believe someone is out for their money — even if their church bailed their parents out, saved their home, and put them through college. My family certainly never had that benefit. I remember Daddy once saying that the only way you could get money is if you didn’t really need it. Just as I am neither wolf nor dog; I walk with a foot in both worlds. It is a blessing. All those years ago I thought God had told me no because perhaps I wasn’t good enough. I realize now He told me no because that guy wasn’t good enough. The American Christian author and speaker Joyce Meyer has said:
I believe that a trusting attitude and a patient attitude go hand in hand. You see, when you let go and learn to trust God, it releases joy in your life. And when you trust God, you’re able to be more patient. Patience is not just about waiting for something … it’s about how you wait, or your attitude while waiting.
Out of the blue, when I least expected it, God graced me with the most handsome man I have ever seen and then He blessed us with our beautiful daughter who is genuine, caring, and kind. All I ever had ever prayed for my whole entire life was to find love and have a family of my own that was like the one I already had. For those of you out there reading this who may be waiting on something, I can only say that our time is not always God’s time. However I am certain that God is good — ALL the time.
Love it ❤❤❤
Mary thank you for reading and taking the time to respond.
Beautiful words, Laura! You deserve the blessed life you have.
Love you.
Linda thank you for reading and for your sweet response. You were the best thing that ever happened to me and I love you dearly.
This was a great read…reminded me of my youth and the art of patience. Thank you for writing this post. I know it couldn’t have been easy.
Thanks so much Jennifer for taking the time to read and respond. I’m so glad you liked it; writing it was difficult.
My apologies for the long comment. You’ve triggered a few topics that kinda hit home.
Beautiful. Heartfelt. Candid. Laura, you’ve presented us with another wonderful entry that once again resonates with me on many fronts. I can talk about these topics with you for days!! The way you described your mother and father’s dedication and hard work to provide for your family demands much respect. We grew up in very similar, if not identical, social and economic conditions. My father also held multiple jobs at once. He had his regular accounting job at Apex Supply Company from the 70’s and 80’s (the same family still owns it and many of the same workers are still there when I visited to interview his co-workers for my book) while working as a part-time gas station clerk at nights in some shady areas of Dallas. At one point he took on a weekend booth at Vikon Village where he sold Egyptian souvenirs, necklaces and custom-made western belt buckles which I helped assemble. Mother worked as a seamstress at the old Haggar Slacks plant. And when it closed she went back to being a nanny at a daycare, then private nanny after the daycare closed. She raised those three daughters from toddler to high school. Even though their mom was at home, they insisted that my mom be there for the girls. Despite those regular-paying jobs, sometimes it was difficult to make ends meet and we didn’t do any extra outings that would cost money except on special occasions. We went to the fair only on school fair days with our DISD supplied tickets. Unless we had guests from overseas, we never saw decent restaurants, and when we did, the extent of it was TGI Friday’s.
Similarly, social status played a huge role in our well-to-do Egyptian circle of friends also. Dinner invites would trigger a social anxiety in that I would stress out on what to wear or how I should present myself. Sure, I had brand name items as well. They were hand-me-downs from my wealthier cousins who visited. Some things fit well. Some items didn’t. I would strip the tags off my K-mart bought no-name brands as to avoid any embarrassment or humiliation. I recall loading up in our beat up Chevy Caprice and driving from our little humble 1950’s house in Casa View to the newer developments in Plano, The Colony, Richardson, or Denton. We’d pull up and I’d see these giant houses with Bimmers and Benz’s parked out front. Oh, those were just the kid’s cars in smaller versions of the parent’s luxury rides. The insides of the houses were like museums and the girls I had crushes on were immaculately dressed in the latest fashion and looked like they just walked out of a Teen magazine shoot. I recall vividly thinking that any one of those crushes would be out of my league to pursue for a date, much less end up marrying one day. It was expected that any guy to qualify as a feasible “candidate” must have graduated / plans on graduating from a prestigious academic institution with a degree in an “honorable” profession – law, medicine, engineering being the top 3. So when it was announced that I’d be joining the Marine Corps, I knew my chances were shot. That was just unheard of in that culture. Some of the youngers thought it was cool, but it didn’t settle well with the elders. Granted, a couple of the families were indeed down to earth and the status badge meant little. Those are the ones who never forgot their humble beginnings and the ones we were closest with.
I can’t speak on the significance of frats or sororities as I completed my college much later in life while married and with 2 kids. So I can’t comment on that. The only fraternity I associate with is the Marine Corps Band of Brothers. Laura, thank you for sharing this and opening up your heart. You touched on a many topics that are not always easy to talk about. You brought back many a good and not-so-good memories. But a stroll down life’s lessons nonetheless. THANK YOU! God bless you and your family!
I do have to disagree on one little thing though. I believe that our time IS ALWAYS God’s time. We’re just borrowing it and will be judged on how we used it. All the best my friend.
Sami, thank you so much for reading my blog and for taking such care with your response. First, you sharing helped me realize I am not alone in certain memories and feelings. Acknowledging respect to my late parents means the world to me. How petty is it that the drill team moms excluded my mother? And my father, a proud two-term Korean War army vet (a sharpshooter), would have tears in his eyes to know he had the respect of a young man who fought so hard for our country with the Marine Corps. No one may ever read this except the two of us, but I love that an Egyptian born Muslim male and a Texan born Christian female struggled with some of the same issues; it just further highlights our common humanity. Regarding time, what I was trying to say is that, if I’d had my way, I would have found my husband much sooner. But thank you for stating that so eloquently! I completely agree with you — our time, and everything else, belongs to God. May He bless you and your family as well my friend; wishing you every happiness.