I have a confession. I really, really, really wanted to lie to you in my last post.
I wanted to tell you my dad was a plumber. Or a. Or a . Anything, anything but a .
Why? you might ask. Are you ashamed of what yourdo?
Absolutely not. I am incredibly proud of both of my parents. My dad is known around town as one of the best docs in the area. Neither one of my parents came from money. They worked hard to get where they are. And they still work hard. My dad gets up between 4 and 5 a.m. and works 14 to 16 hours almost every day.
He has my entire life.
But I’ve always hated the connotation of being a “doctor’s kid.”
Doctor’s kids are assumed to be rich. Spoiled.. Growing up, although I went to a small school where I was never teased for wearing glasses (I wear contacts now), the fact that I was a “doctor’s kid” did not escape me. I was “well off.” And everybody knew.
What people didn’t know, or cared to overlook, was the fact that nothing was ever handed to me or my brother on a platter. Because my parents worked to get to where they are, they taught me the value of hard work and going after your dreams. Sure I never had to worry about food, but I wasn’t spoon fed, either.
Having lived in Asia, I’ve come to see how lucky the vast majority of Americans are—at least when it comes to our standard of living. We have soft beds and air-conditioning and heating. We’re not worried about mosquitoes—we have screens to keep them out.
If I want to do anything with my life, it is to make the lives of others better.has blessed me with loving parents and my health and a gift: the ability to write. As impractical as it may seem, or at least as unstable, I hope to use my gift for good. It is hard to support yourself as a “writer.” But I hope that, by writing, I can make something better for someone else.
This world is too big and too beautiful to let your heart break without trying to do something to help.
- from the ground up (jesscy.com)