When I was a kid living in Callicoon Center I was fascinated by airplanes flying overhead. I longed to be on one of those planes, so I decided to become an airline stewardess when I grew up. That dream was short-lived. 

As a teenager, I worked at a laundromat in Jeffersonville one summer. At that time, my career goal was to be a social worker. When I graduated from high school at age seventeen, two of my friends had gotten jobs and an apartment in Monticello. I told my mother that I had gotten a great job in Monticello and since it was too far to commute, I could live with my friends. My parents agreed to the move and then I had to find that great job in Monticello, which turned out to be the telephone company where my two friends had gotten their jobs. 

In September, I started college at N.Y.U. in New York City to become a social worker. That plan soon fell apart because I learned that to get a good job in social work, I would need a master’s degree and I wasn’t serious enough as a student to tolerate six years of college. Also, at N.Y.U., lower classmen were required to live on campus, in my case it was at the Judson House, which had strict rules, including a curfew. After my summer of freedom in Monticello, it felt like I was moving backwards. 

After I married, I took a refresher course in typing and became an office worker, which somehow led to the title of credit and accounts receivable manager. I was able to make my own schedule of daily tasks and I loved it. My favorite job now is writing this column. I have finally found my “sense of direction.”