7/10/2012- When Scott and I made the decision to give up everything we had established in Michigan to move to North Carolina and pursue his career in racing, I thought I had it all planned out how things would be for us. And I am not saying that we gave up wealth and riches. But we made the choice to give up what we had to better ourselves. This was it. This was what he had always dreamed of. I knew I could find a job anywhere. I wanted to focus on his career and his contribution to the family. We had spent too many hours arguing over his career as an electrician. It was so up and down. Never a constant anything. I don't blame him for that. I blame the economy. I blame Michigan's economy. And I hate that attitude, because it is what you make it and it seems to be every one's excuse these days. But, damn it, we had a lot of good years financially. And then it quit. I don't mean tapered off, it quit. There was nothing in the building trades and if you were one of the lucky ones to win the bid on a job, you did it for next to nothing. That did not pay the bills and the bill pile was not getting any smaller.
After many extremely heartfelt and emotional discussions, we agreed that this was the best option for us and our family, meaning Scott, me and the kids. We knew deep down that there would be family and friends who wouldn't agree with our decision to leave. Some of them out of fear for not seeing us as often, some of them because they depended on Scott to help them out and some of them out of jealousy or resentment. But in the grander scheme of things, we both knew that no one would be there for us but each other and our children. Things got tough and we had to make a decision, sink or swim. We chose the triathalon apparently.
In the 22 years that I have known Scott, I have never had him look at me like he did when he came back to the hotel room to tell me he was going to take this opportunity. And be good at it, no matter what. I believed him. I will never forget sitting in that hotel room for hours waiting for him to come back and tell me how his interview went. Certain friends and family burned my cell phone up that day wanting updates on his interview. I didn't have anything to report. I was just as anxious as everyone else. I tried to the read the book I brought along. I tried to play solitaire. I tried to watch television. But I paced that hotel room the entire time he was at his interview. I think deep down, I knew his was going to get that job. I knew we would be leaving our lives to start another. And frankly, I was ready for that. We deserved it, he deserved it, our kids deserved it.
When I finally heard from him, he was in the parking lot of the hotel. I was watching him from the window parking the truck. I asked how it went and he said, "Get ready for a life changing moment." I wanted to pee my pants with laughter, I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to throw up, I wanted to rip every picture off of the hotel wall. I knew the moment we left Michigan for his interview, that everyone at REE would love him. I knew he was good at racing and we always talked about the "what ifs" and "I coulds". He finally had the opportunity to prove to everyone and himself that he knew what he was talking about.
So many nights after a race, we would lay in bed for hours going over what had happened that night. Even if he was angry with someone, he would take a breath and rethink what had happened during the race. He would take a step back and analyze the situation from several different shoes. He would try to develop a solution that would make the next race better than the last. Even if it was a feature win. It was always about what he could do to make it a better experience for everyone. That is what I love about him. He can be stubborn, don't get me wrong. But when it comes to finishing first, he can extract himself from the situation and come to a conclusion that fits everyone involved so that first place is second best. He is always working towards making racing a better experience for everyone.
It's funny that I wanted to talk about my own career decisions (because I am currently faced with a big decision) and when I start typing about myself, it always reverts back to Scott.
He is my life, my kids are my life and I guess I already answered my own question.
I really enjoy reading your blog. I have checked everyday for three days until you wrote again. It always leaves me in suspense...what is your big decision? What is your career? Cant wait to read more...and see what you do! I know what ever it is you have your family in mind first...and that is what makes you a good wife, mother, daughter and person. Remember that.
ReplyDeleteThis morning, I was thinking about you and Scott. What could I offer as a former racer’s wife? What could I possibly tell you to encourage you after all that you had been through? Then my father-in-law came to mind. I thought about how well he did when we all thought his life was totally over. He was never a very upbeat person and sometimes he could be very grumpy. He loved his kids and loved his grandkids more. All his life he was a mechanic and he could really wrench a Chevy small block. He insisted on the sterility of an operating room doctor when building an engine, absolutely no interruptions were allowed. He travelled with us to the races, worked on suspension, engines, changed quick change gears, and transmissions. He was the head wrench my husband had complete faith in. At about age 50 he injured his leg in a dump truck accident (at his real job) and he suffered in pain for weeks (during racing season) waiting for it to heal, not knowing that he had injured a major artery in his leg. To make a long story short, over about three weeks in Albany Medical Center Hospital, he endured several surgeries to graft the artery. I remembered the long hours in the waiting rooms with my mother-in-law, and the disappointments of failed grafts were hard to bear. He was not a man of means and we were not rich, but at that time (the mid-seventies), great things were happening in the world of prosthetics and when Grandpa finally had his sick and dying leg amputated at mid-thigh, we begged the doctor for the best leg doctor and prosthetic we could get. The doctor agreed and he was good to his word.
ReplyDeleteGrandpa had great people helping in his rehab and he listened and appreciated the fact that he was a lucky man for having survived the diseased leg. By spring he was on his feet going through the healing of his stump, getting the right sock combination to get comfortable and go racing. Go racing we did. He built the engines, went to the track, rode in the truck, changed the quick-change gears, and wrenched the suspension for my husband and the cars he drove. We enjoyed having him with us and I used to tease him about the joints in his “leg” getting worn out and squeaking. I used to threaten him with an oil can. Sadly, in 2005, at age 79, Grandpa passed away. A cousin sent a Chevy bow tie cross of red carnations to his funeral. My husband drove Grandpa one more time in his pickup to the cemetery. His life was not over because he lost his leg, his life just changed. His name was Ed Webb Sr.