I Can Drive A Truck

The young man stands in front of his parents. His mother looks proud and his father relaxed and expectant. The young man wears a cap and gown and clutches his diploma in his hand. How proud they must be of their college graduate. This is the image in a cartoon my father cut out of one of his medical journals and gave to me. The caption is the young man saying “Now can I be a cowboy?” My dad understood.

When I was growing up I was expected to be the good girl. I got the good grades and was a model student. My parents had some issues with my sisters but nothing major. Not me. I did everything my parents asked of me whether I agreed or not or whether or not it fit my idea of what my life should be. My mon didn’t see the affect it had on me but I know my dad did.

When I was seven I had my very first career goal. I wanted to be a long-haul truck driver. I was going to drive coast to coast in a big rig. I loved watching them on our road trips. I memorized the looks of the different types and could recognize them from a distance. My dad supported this dream by bringing home truck driver magazines. I studied them all. Then as I got older I found a new career goal. I was going to be a high fashion model.

My dad took me shopping and helped me look at what was in fashion. He also enrolled me in modeling school. I took several courses and my parents came to our fashion show. Then I decided to go into film.

I wanted to go to a fine arts school but my parents decided I should enroll in college. So I enrolled in college as a theatre major. I studied the catalogs of the film and dramatic schools across the nation. My parents decided I should finish college and get a degree. I finished college and got a degree.

One summer on a trip to New York City my dad and I had an afternoon together while my mom rested at the hotel. We went to Lincoln Center. I saw the Met, the American Ballet Theater and Julliard. My dad understood.

After I had my diploma in hand, my dad let me be a “cowboy”. I had the choice of graduate school to get a Master’s degree in theatre or their support for one year while I lived in Los Angeles. I of course chose LA. My parents helped me move. My mom was sad. My dad was hopeful.

After three years in LA working in television, I moved home. I chose a smaller market where I could grow faster. Through a contact of my dad’s I got a job at a film studio. I moved up in the ranks and was eventually managing the facility. My dad was proud.

Through all the years of my life my parents were very supportive. My mom worried about me and wanted me stable and happy. By choosing a life in the arts, she knew stability was pretty much not an option. But she did see I was happy.

My dad knew I was free spirit. From my early dreams of driving the open road as a truck driver or flying around the world and walking runways and finally choosing film, he saw that I wasn’t suited for a regular nine to five job. My dad understood.

When he was dying we had a lot of talks. I learned a lot about him and he also learned about me. We saw our similarities as well as our differences and respected each other. He always allowed me to dream but always offered a stabilizing base from which to reach for those goals. He gave me the balance to remain practical and down to earth while also dreaming big and never believing someone who said I couldn’t do something. I may not achieve the dream I want on the path I envisioned but I know I will get there because my dad showed me I could.