In those days, I worked for
Dept. of Motor Vehicles, in state of California. I lived in Lancaster, California, which is about 50 miles north of Los Angeles. This is dessert area. Very hot in summer time and snow every three years in winter time.This particular winter was an easy winter. At least weather was easy. My life started to crumble before my very eyes.
At ripe age of 38, I almost had a stroke on my job and was ordered by my doctor to quit my job. Quit my job! What was I going to do? We were in a small town and jobs were scarce!
I could never find a job with job security I had with State of California. The good part is I had a choice, if you could call it that. I could stay on my current job and risk dying there or I could quit and live for my child. What a choice! For me, there was only one choice. My child came first.
The only work I had ever done was in offices and most of jobs listed in local paper wanted you to type 80 words per minute. I must admit typing was never my best attribute and 80 words per minute was way out of my range; 60 words per minute was more in my range.
I had managed to save a little nest egg while I was working and drew out my retirement money. I tried to start a home business, but failed with that. My money was almost gone and I didn't have anything to fall back on.
On top of all of that, it was getting close to Christmas. Now what? The only alternative I had was to go to Dept of Public Services [better known as welfare]. They told me it would be two months before I could receive any money, although I would get food stamps right away. Well, at least I knew we would eat at Christmas time! What about gifts, a tree and all other things that my daughter and I had gotten used to all those years? You know, "traditional" things all families in United States had at Christmas? I knew one thing, I couldn't and wouldn't let my daughter down!
