The High Cost of Being Born

If you are unaware of the cost of raising a child, I am about to enlighten you. From birth to the age of eighteen it costs around $300,000 to raise a child. Of course, tomorrow the price will go up. The only incentive for people to charge more for anything was because they CAN. I'll say without guilt or recourse that making money off the downtrodden is morally reprehensible. This statistic of the cost of rearing children, of course, does not include the price to send them to college. It's no wonder the younger generation are in a hurry to neither get married nor procreate. It should also be pointed out that monetary woes do not just haunt us from cradle to grave. When my dad came down with cancer he mentioned to me that he had two life insurance policies. Indeed, he did, together they made a grand total of $500 which we didn't find out about until after he passed. As with dad I had forgotten at the moment of that conversation that with dad it always pays to ask follow-up questions. And he failed to mention that one of them he had borrowed against. Where did he get these kinds offers? Mad Magazine?! Have you ever tried to bury someone for that kind of laughable cash? It's NOT possible! Trust me, I tried.

When I was younger the older generation basically drilled it into our heads that if we didn't get some higher education we would probably end up on the streets; hapless and homeless. I, of course, swam against the current like I always did and broke that rule. Weirdly it is a path that has worked out well for me, but I have never been allergic to hard work. Many people are steering their kids towards trade schools these days, which is exactly what I did. Back in the day you were allowed to attend Vo-Tech through your high school at no cost to you. I have many friends that went to the college route and strangely I regularly outearn ALL of them. Trade school educations are worth their weight in gold and can still be had on the cheap. If you are a person who simply wants education for education's sake college is probably the way to go, but earning power these days is obtained by learning a trade.

When I was all of ten years old, I made friends with and crotchety old welder in my hometown. In fact, he was so crusty he insisted that I referred to him as a blacksmith. The reason being because he claimed that he had known far too many "welders" that were drug addicts and drunks and he didn't like the idea of keeping that kind of company. Who could blame him. I have been in the trade enough years at this point to understand he was right about that. They usually have the ware Withall of a Nare-Do-Well's and throw the "F" word around like it's no big deal. Not even a mechanic or a senator can tell a dirtier joke than a welder. More about the blacksmith later. My high school welding teacher was everything you would imagine a welding teacher not to be. He was prim, proper, well-read, and well-spoken. He had pale skin, red hair, wire rimmed glasses, he never used four letter words, and he knew far too much about fine wines to fit in with the fabrication crowd. He often wore pink welding hats which is a major NO NO. He was also an overachiever, as he had 104 different welding certifications and three of those were underwater. He served in two tours of duty in Vietnam, was a certified medic, and holds (one of each) a bachelors, masters, and a PHD from Oklahoma State University. The last I heard he was mayor of Rocky Oklahoma, population 128 SALUTE!!

Now, going back to the blacksmith; his name was Art Smalley, and I had talked him into hiring me for a dollar an hour to sweep the floor of his shop with the tradeoff (and the understanding) that he would allow me to watch everything he did. He agreed with that condition but stipulated that I wouldn't be allowed to strike an arc or run a hot saw until I was in my teens because he was convinced, I'd hurt myself. He was probably right. This proved to be an invaluable education for me, one I could never have gotten under normal circumstances. Since I was also basically devoid of any real male role models at the time it also helped me understand how to negotiate the world like a man. Art got by in life with strong black coffee, pumice soap, and the occasional Band aide, and that was good enough for him and for me. By the way, they don't make men like Art anymore just in case you are wondering. They are not even a dying breed anymore; they are now all extinct like a T-Rex.

I couldn't even describe to you what exactly came over me at such a young age to learn a trade except for I had the brief realization that "life costs money." And I was just smart enough at the time to realize that if I wanted cash in my hand, I was going to have to earn it. Mom had all she could do to put food on the table. And this was just one of many jobs I held over the years. I custom harvested, painted, helped lay carpet, washed dishes, and one summer even worked for a food distributor out of OKC. If there was money to be made by the sweat of my brow I have probably done it. BTW, it should be noted that in my time working for the food distributor I noted that the federal prison in El Reno Oklahoma purchased some of the finest steaks known to man. And people wonder why I am cynical.