Checking in on America

My federally-funded climate justice position was terminated Friday. The silver lining is that I’ll have more time to write and collaborate with others. To support me during this time, subscribe here or donate via Paypal.

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My dad is just about as “Average American” as a person can get.

My father split his time growing up between northern Virginia (where his mom lived) and south Florida (where his dad lived).

While his father is wealthy today, his mom struggled to provide basic necessities. He lived one foot in complete poverty, and the other in relative comfort.

While by no means a star pupil, he earned a football scholarship to West Virginia University, but dropped out in the first semester.

I was my father’s first biological child. He was 19 when I was born.

My childhood was rough. I’ve never shied away from that.

But my parents worked hard to ensure my three siblings and I had a better life than they did.

My dad worked in construction, at a sawmill, as a sheriff’s officer, and briefly on off-shore oil rigs, before becoming a truck driver in 2009. He’s been driving ever since — thanks to an Obama-era policy that provided training to those who lost their jobs during the 2008 financial crisis.

By education, background, and income, my dad fits squarely in the “average” profile of a Gen X’er.