Ken's Second Act

Staying resilient amid adversity, a lesson from a decade ago in a faraway state

The holidays are a time for Christmas parties, photos with Santa Claus, tree and other decorations, parades and menorah candle lighting, culminating in New Year’s Eve festivities.

However, not everyone is in a festive mood, and the holidays can be a lonely and depressing time for the homeless, the unemployed, seniors living in nursing homes and others who feel neglected or invisible.

I faced perhaps the worst holiday season of my life 10 years ago. Without notice, my boss at a small newspaper in western Kentucky laid me off on Friday the 13^th, Nov. 13, after nearly three months on the job. It was a financial decision in an industry where unemployment is an occupational hazard. I noticed two co-workers had disappeared a few days earlier without saying goodbye, but I was confused because one of them, who worked on the sports desk, left ties where he formerly sat. My boss offered a simple explanation: The former colleague borrowed the ties from him. I was angry, having moved more than 1,700 miles to take the job after a previous reduction in force in another state, but I kept my cool. “I could blow up in your face, but that would not do any good,” I recall telling him.

Timing is never good. I had a hiking accident a few months earlier in which I fell on my face on a trail by a manmade lake at a state park 26 miles away, shattering my nose. State park staff gave me a hand towel to cover my nose so I could drive to the hospital. ER doctors sewed several stitches and bandaged my nose, and I later underwent outpatient surgery. The big pain came when the bills arrived. The mishap happened while I was enrolled in a minimal Obamacare plan before my employer’s health insurance coverage kicked in, and I owed about $6,000 to the hospital. I owed hundreds of dollars more to the ER doctors, the surgeon and anesthesiologist. It would have been a financial hardship for me to pay off the hospital bill even if I stayed on the job, which paid modestly.

I met with the financial staff at the hospital and provided bank statements for two months as well as my last paycheck stub. The hospital agreed to forgive most of the bill; I still paid more than $600 that I was unaware I had accumulated in a health savings account from my previous job, which lasted six months. I applied afterward for Medicaid benefits but seldom used them.

Fortunately, I had learned frugality over the years because I never knew when the ax would fall in an industry lacking job security. I hadn’t signed up for WiFi or cable TV at my apartment, saving more than $100 a month. I bought my first laptop on Black Friday and later upgraded to a smartphone. My pleasures were few: an occasional movie, Chinee buffet and Sunday brunch at the Holiday Inn.

I was at a competitive disadvantage: at age 60 in an industry that seeks young bodies. I also had a lackluster career and it was hard to build a strong portfolio of clips at two jobs that lasted only nine months. Undaunted and wanting to give journalism another chance, I updated my resume at the Kentucky Career Center, where I also photocopied my best clips and scanned them on my hard drive. The staff at the career center was very helpful and encouraging, but I obviously didn’t have the skill set for the local economy where factory positions needed to be filled. I also went to Starbucks at night and weekends to gain wireless access. Weather permitting, I walked on a paved path from my apartment complex to the library and the career center, carrying my laptop in a case.

It took me five months to land another job, and I avoided jobs that paid even. I accepted the first offer, and moved to East Texas, where I stayed on the job until I qualified for Medicare.

I lost touch with the few friends I had made in western Kentucky, where I had lived for only eight months. I learned from early adulthood that life is about moving on, picking myself up after too many disappointments in the workplace. However, I met a pretty young nursing student who studied nights at Starbucks, and I connected with Ashley via email, Facebook and LinkedIn.

I felt honored when she reached out to me via email after I started my new job. She asked me to critique the essay she wrote as part of her application to a competitive master’s degree program in health administration at the University of Kentucky. She asked me not to be too hard on her because, after all, she was a “young girl.”

Her essay was compelling. She sounded like a female counterpart to the troubled life Vice President JD Vance chronicled in his memoir Hillbilly Elegy. She wrote in part:

“My background is messy, but as messy as it may be, I consider it motivation and
I pride myself in that. Coming from a split home at a very young age from a drug
induced rage resulting in divorce, to growing up on a farm while being raised by my
single mother and grandparents, gathering my clothes from church donation boxes. To losing my father to a tragic motorcycle accident during my awkward middle school years, to putting myself through undergraduate school. To changing majors that landed me kicked out of my family home and becoming a professional couch surfer as a poor homeless student for nearly a year. To working two night shift jobs while maintaining full time student status to simply buy groceries and pay rent when I finally was able to afford a roof over my head. To adding the horrific event of being a victim of domestic violence, abuse and attempted rape to my story; I have been through it all, but I have also been victorious.”

She continued, “With every event, I have adopted characteristics that have aided me to endure each closing door: I’ve learned to be adaptable, ambitious, and independent. I have learned to be brave, focused and magnanimous. I have been told that I am dangerous; at first I didn’t understand why, then I realized that it was because I didn’t depend on anyone.”

I told Ashley there was one thing lacking in her essay: how she would apply her degree to help others. She didn’t get accepted into the program, but she later earned a master’s degree in executive healthcare administration and management from Western Kentucky University.

I recently emailed her to find out how she is doing and seek permission to refer to her on Substack. Life is looking up for. She is an analyst at the Mayo Clinic, married her attorney husband, Cody, in 2023 and named their daughter for her grandfather, Poppy. “He was so excited to walk me down the aisle, but suddenly passed away 6 months before our wedding. All of that to say, as soon as we learned we were welcoming a baby girl, we knew her name had to be Poppy.”

Ashley’s story is one of resilience in the face of adversity. I’ve learned it. It is a lesson we can take with us to the new year.