I was raised in a large city in California…maybe you’ve heard of it…San Francisco. When I was 14 I met the man of my dreams. He was the complete opposite of every guy I had ever met…tall, blonde and the most beautiful blue eyes you ever saw…I just melted. Needless to say, we became quite close and very quick. I found myself to be pregnant and surprisingly enough he was happy about it…he asked my father to give permission for us to get married, so we did. We had our son…my beautiful baby boy. My baby boy is 25 now.

Anyway, life was rough. My husband was 17 when we got together, 18 when we got married. I was 15 and about to have a baby. Nobody, but nobody thought we would make it. We did, though. I got a job as a receptionist, he did carpentry jobs. He used to go out with his friends. I never said anything. It bothered me, but I never said anything…even when his dad had to bail him out of jail for drunk driving…I never said anything. Then one night he was going out and I did say something. I said, “Steve, don’t go out. Stay here. Watch a movie with me and the baby (who was about 5 at the time). I rented The Little Mermaid for my son, Stevie. Steve said, “Hell no, woman. I’m going out!” I didn’t fight him. I never had before, why would I now?

At approximately 3:00 a.m. I heard the doorbell ring. I was lying in bed thinking “that asshole lost his keys again.” I got up. I answered the door. There stood two SFPD officers. “Ma’m…are you Mrs. Soandso?” I answered yes, I was. “May we come in?” the officer with the pastoral look about him said. I noticed the other officer wouldn’t look me in the face. “Yes, come in…what is this about?” “Ma’m, there’s been an accident….” OK…now what? I know I just stood there with a blank look on my face, in hindsight I think I knew what was coming next. “Ma’m, your husband was involved in an accident tonight on 280. His name is Steve Soandso, correct?” “Yes…what happened?” were the words that came out of my mouth. The next thing I heard was “ma’m, I’m sorry. He didn’t make it. He was thrown through the windshield. Somebody has to come down to the coroner’s office and ID the body.”

And that, my friends, was the beginning of what I thought was the end of my life. I fell apart. I hit this cop in the chest and told him I didn’t believe him. I COULDN’T BELIEVE HIM! He asked me if there was somebody he could call...I told him my in-laws and gave him the number. He picked up the phone and I still, to this day, after this officer saying whatever he said, can hear my mother-in-law screaming “NOOOOOOOOOO......., OH MY GOD NOOOOOOOO!” He then got my father-in-law on the phone...the voice of reason. My father-in-law informed this officer he would be there right away...a good 40 minutes away and I swear he was there in 10 minutes. Now, I’m really falling apart and SOMEBODY HAS TO ID THE BODY! My father-in-law, God rest his soul, did it. I know how hard this must have been for him...his firstborn son. For some reason, these officers called the paramedics...I was given Valium or Xanax or something...I don’t know and I don’t remember. My sister-in-law was there...how she got there, when she got there, I still don’t know. All I knew was my husband was dead and I had a 5-year-old son asleep in the bedroom upstairs.

Next morning. I now had to do the hardest thing I have ever done in my life...to this day. I had to tell my little boy that his daddy was dead. Not coming back. Gone to heaven. How does a 5-year-old comprehend that? Somehow, I did it and somehow, by the grace of God, my little boy understood. He said to me, “mom, it’s ok. Dad says we’re gonna be all right! I dreamed about him mom. He says you’re gonna take care of me.” I still wonder about that, but that is what my sweet little boy said to me. He doesn’t remember this anymore, though, go figure.

Funeral. This is pretty much a blur. I do remember that the family didn’t think that Stevie should attend. I brought him anyway. I think it was the closure he needed. He finally cried that day...I was getting worried, he hadn’t cried yet, but he did that day, as did I.

Well, life goes on. I had been working in receptionist jobs (I worked at a tow truck company as a dispatcher, for God’s sake!). I decided that I wanted to be a paralegal (we had a jerk landlord who tried to evict us and I fought him in court and won. The judge even complimented me on the case I brought.) I started looking into schools, but all the paralegal classes were during the day, and I needed one at night. There was this class for medical transcription. I didn’t even know that that was! I took it anyway, because they said there was money to be made there and boy did I need that! I left Steve with grandma and grandpa during the week, worked my ass off and went to school and learned this medical transcription, and learned it well! I graduated at the top of my class...I just took to it. I have always had a love of reading and words...what they mean, etc. This was the career for me!

So now, Steve’s been dead a year or so and I find myself in school, working, life is as good as it can be and will ever be, or so I thought. Life goes on...I am now a medical transcriptionist! I had to do an externship at a teaching hospital in San Francisco. They were so impressed, they hired me when I was through with the externship! Whoopie! I was making decent money (I think I started at $11/hour plus shift differential), great benefits and a steady, union job. By this time Stevie was back home with me and staying with grandma and grandpa when mom was at work. Swing shift...damn! But I took it, and again he stayed with grandma and grandpa during my work-week (Sunday thru Thursday) and was with me my weekend.

He started kindergarten that year...I had already taught him to read, so he always did well in school. Finally, I get a day shift! Hurray! But, I have to transfer. We moved to Sacramento. Now we were alone...no family, no friends, just us. I put him in school with aftercare and I worked. We had this crummy apartment in a bad part of town (which I did not know until about the third night there...cops everywhere...kind of gave me a clue.) We made it though. My kiddo always had clean clothes, neat clothes, a lunch, a belly full of breakfast and a lot of support at home. We were a team!

By this time, Steve had been dead for three years. It never even entered my mind that I would remarry...ahhh...but fate stepped in! I met this man...tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed...his brother lived in the same apartment complex I did. He had just left the Navy. Those eyes! Oh, boy, those eyes! Well, needless to say, we got together and I have been married to this man now for 17 years now. My son still remembers his dad, but he thinks of Jack as his dad too. This is a good thing.

After my son graduated high school, he moved onto his own life. He has done well, my son, his father would be proud of him. He has scared me too...took up bull riding for a while. When we moved to Idaho, he became a volunteer fire fighter...I AM SO PROUD OF HIM! He met a nice young lady from Utah. I always thought I would be jealous of the woman he married, but I love her almost as much as I love him. A good choice he made...and her family is wonderful.

Now, what was I writing about? Oh yeah, how did we get to the boonies. Well, we got sick of the Bay Area...no matter how much money you made, you were still poor. Jack was born in Montana; Lolo, Montana. He was raised in Priest River, Idaho. He couldn’t get it out of his system. Me, I had always loved the mountains. There is nothing like the Sierra Nevada’s, Yosemite, and the ocean. I always had dreamed of living in the mountains. Jack says, “with your job, we can move anywhere!” And so we came to Idaho, the Gem State, beautiful Idaho. I think I was always meant to live here.

It was a long rough road to where I am now, and I know I come off as snotty and sarcastic sometimes, and I know that anyone reading this will think, “is this the same Typinfool that calls people knotheads and tells them to kiss her ass?” Yep, that’s me! Over the years I had to toughen up...I wouldn’t have made it otherwise. You know what? I wouldn’t trade my life for anybody’s now. I have it all, except grandchildren, and I keep telling my son and daughter-in-law to get on it...but they’re young yet and we have time, at least I hope we do. That, my friends, is my life in a nutshell. I know I left a lot out, but maybe, just maybe, the next time you meet someone you think is a snot, sarcastic, an asshole as it were, you will stop and think...why is this person like this? What have they been through to become like this?