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Finding my metal in wood
By Becky Lyn Rickman, Staff Contributor
The continuing education adventures of a single mom
At 38, I got my first divorce. I found myself a “displaced homemaker”, as defined by The Department of Social Services in Wayne County, NY. I was out of my home, with 4 children in tow, and nowhere to go. The circumstances are complicated, but that’s where things stood. I found myself in the midst of a great new adventure and that’s how I tried to make it look to the kids. Oh, boy, we get to find a new home and mom gets to have some sort of training, which is what they do when you are a “displaced homemaker”. We got a lovely home, some food stamps, and when they asked me what sort of training I would like, my response was immediate. Without having to think, I blurted out, “I want to be a carpenter.”
Now the reason for this was that I had two uncles in NC who were master cabinetmakers. I would sit and admire the lovely pieces of furniture they would craft and I was in complete awe. I wanted to do that. So, before I knew it, I was enrolled in the local Vo-Tech and learning how to use very loud and powerful tools. I attended this class in jeans, steel-toed work boots and flannel shirts. We studied our lessons and read from books. But then, we got to actually build things. I mean, real things for real people. We built an attached garage for one family. We built a wood foundation for another. (author’s note: did you know that 1” of wood = 12” of cinderblock as far as insulation goes? See, Mr. S? I remember!) We installed windows, put on roofs and installed an electric garage door opener.
The best part was that I was in a class with fifteen 16-year old boys and one very possessive 16-year old girl. I learned about so much more than wood that year. I learned about interpersonal relations. I learned about standing up for myself. I learned that I could look people in the eye. I learned that I could measure and make a cut within 1/64th of an inch. But, more importantly, I learned that I could learn. My self-esteem, which was pretty much in the toilet from 17 years in an oppressive marriage, rose like a barometer in an approaching storm. And, the best part? I got asked to prom!
I made the mistake of laughing when this child who was younger than most of mine asked me, because I thought he was razzing me. He wasn't. I'm so sorry! But going with him would have broken a few vital state laws and I wasn't up for that.
My expertise was quickly put to use when I shrugged off my dependence on the State of New York and moved to Worcester, MA and got a job at Continental Consolidated Industries, a cabinetry shop that made cosmetics counters for fine department stores. I worked on cabinetry for Clinique (above) and Lancombe, among others. There I was, working night shift in jeans and flannels with my leather tool belt and making things for froo-froo women, dreaming of being one.
Years later, this experience allowed me to enter the college classroom as an older adult. There, I took a variety of classes and learned that I could retain more than water. I loved attending with the myriad of adults, a full spectrum of ethnicities, a huge span of ages, all there to learn. I love learning. I am one of those really odd ducks who loves to be tested on what I learn. I even like cafeteria food!
My schooling was interrupted by a second marriage to a guy I thought was the best friend I had ever had. And I can tell you with boldness and assurety, I learned more from him than in any classroom. And, not to diminish the wondrous things I learned in those classrooms, but the lessons I have learned are more critically important than how to use a lathe or make a sociologic study of demographics. I am learning how tough I am and how I can endure pain and find joy and though it is the most difficult work around, how to make a life work post-second-divorce.
Now the reason for this was that I had two uncles in NC who were master cabinetmakers. I would sit and admire the lovely pieces of furniture they would craft and I was in complete awe. I wanted to do that. So, before I knew it, I was enrolled in the local Vo-Tech and learning how to use very loud and powerful tools. I attended this class in jeans, steel-toed work boots and flannel shirts. We studied our lessons and read from books. But then, we got to actually build things. I mean, real things for real people. We built an attached garage for one family. We built a wood foundation for another. (author’s note: did you know that 1” of wood = 12” of cinderblock as far as insulation goes? See, Mr. S? I remember!) We installed windows, put on roofs and installed an electric garage door opener.
The best part was that I was in a class with fifteen 16-year old boys and one very possessive 16-year old girl. I learned about so much more than wood that year. I learned about interpersonal relations. I learned about standing up for myself. I learned that I could look people in the eye. I learned that I could measure and make a cut within 1/64th of an inch. But, more importantly, I learned that I could learn. My self-esteem, which was pretty much in the toilet from 17 years in an oppressive marriage, rose like a barometer in an approaching storm. And, the best part? I got asked to prom!
I made the mistake of laughing when this child who was younger than most of mine asked me, because I thought he was razzing me. He wasn't. I'm so sorry! But going with him would have broken a few vital state laws and I wasn't up for that.
My expertise was quickly put to use when I shrugged off my dependence on the State of New York and moved to Worcester, MA and got a job at Continental Consolidated Industries, a cabinetry shop that made cosmetics counters for fine department stores. I worked on cabinetry for Clinique (above) and Lancombe, among others. There I was, working night shift in jeans and flannels with my leather tool belt and making things for froo-froo women, dreaming of being one.
Years later, this experience allowed me to enter the college classroom as an older adult. There, I took a variety of classes and learned that I could retain more than water. I loved attending with the myriad of adults, a full spectrum of ethnicities, a huge span of ages, all there to learn. I love learning. I am one of those really odd ducks who loves to be tested on what I learn. I even like cafeteria food!
My schooling was interrupted by a second marriage to a guy I thought was the best friend I had ever had. And I can tell you with boldness and assurety, I learned more from him than in any classroom. And, not to diminish the wondrous things I learned in those classrooms, but the lessons I have learned are more critically important than how to use a lathe or make a sociologic study of demographics. I am learning how tough I am and how I can endure pain and find joy and though it is the most difficult work around, how to make a life work post-second-divorce.
Like Becky Lyn Rickman's story? Here's more by her:
MilitaReality—a brat's perspective
Being There
How I still haven't learn to keep my smart mouth shut!
Cacti and Geraniums
Some mysterious goosebumps or "What is that on the wall?"
Some of my favorite herbal recipes are . . .
I love my cat, but . . .
I love all creatures, but . . .
You might be addicted to Harry Potter if . . .
My shot at the big time
A cautionary tale
Why I do it
How I chill
How to clean up an egg and other helpful hints
Most embarrassing moments—automotive edition
The thing about getting older is . . .
MilitaReality—a brat's perspective
Being There
How I still haven't learn to keep my smart mouth shut!
Cacti and Geraniums
Some mysterious goosebumps or "What is that on the wall?"
Some of my favorite herbal recipes are . . .
I love my cat, but . . .
I love all creatures, but . . .
You might be addicted to Harry Potter if . . .
My shot at the big time
A cautionary tale
Why I do it
How I chill
How to clean up an egg and other helpful hints
Most embarrassing moments—automotive edition
The thing about getting older is . . .
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, click a button on any page to send email with details of the request.