Winners Never Quit
A cold north wind raised goose bumps on my forearms. The year is 1982. I am 18 years old with no idea how I am going to live my life. My dreams are to own a business and make lots of money. You see, my family is very poor. Just money. That is the goal.
The wind gusts, reinforcing the goose flesh. The family farm finished bankruptcy only months before. My whole life plan was over; farming is no longer a viable job opportunity, the only thing I know. Our farm house was a shotgun shack. (A shotgun shack is a building where you could shoot it with a shotgun and the pellets would pass through without hitting the building. The old farm house had plenty of holes.) By some miracle we kept the house and a few acres of land from creditors; the rest was gone.
My dad’s life was over, too. All he knew was farming and now the farm was gone. He started a business repairing silo unloaders. The competition was tough. Life in the 1982 Rust Belt was no fun. Work was scarce; opportunities few. Unemployment reached toward 20% in our local community.