Growing up, it was always my father who worked to support the family.
When we first immigrated to this country, I was barely a year old. My parents had next-to-no knowledge of the English language. He worked jobs that the high school students did half-assed in order to pay for food or booze on the weekends, like as a movie theater attendant. After he finished an undergraduate program at the University of Colorado extension in Colorado Springs, he began working for a computer company called Digital which has now been subsumed by Hewlett-Packer. But, he started, of course, at the bottom rung, before finally getting into finance and accounting. He tells me stories about company parties where people offered him pot, and picnics, where employees let loose with each other a little, and about “Bring Your Daughter to Work Day,” which I remember doing briefly.
When I think of work – quantifiable work, important work, – I think of my dad. It took a while to realize, that my mother was a working woman, too.
Read the rest at Good Women Project.
[Image from here.]