Well written Michael. I sort of snorted reading the "I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth," part. (Snippets of The Who playing through my head; I had the plastic one.) I grew up poor, but never really knew it. There was food on the table, there were eight of us living in a small house that had an oil stove. Some winters--they seemed colder when I was a kid--the condensation on the windows froze. I never knew we were poor immigrants. My Dad worked in a mill, worked night shifts because it paid more. My mother cleaned hotel rooms under the table sometimes. I never realized we had little to live on, until I moved out. I was never good with my money because I was like you. I blew it up my nose and cranked it up my arm; I pissed it up against the wall. But I kept the same job for 45 years. I needed a calming influence in my life and found that with my wife. She was just as fucked up as I was (except for all the hard stuff), but she knew how to save money. (She came from fine immigrant stock as well.) Like I said, all I ever did with my money was spend it.
I don't think being born poor, or being born rich, makes any difference to the people we eventually become. My parents believed in me. It made me believe in me. You're right, there are more riches in the world than just money. Sure, it pays the bills, and you can actually buy your freedom with it when you get older, but you can't buy the memories of having gotten to where you are. I never went to college and learned everything I know by reading and studying. I learned that from my father. He never went to higher education because of the War. It amazes me to think of what he would have become with the education he deserved. But it doesn't work that way, does it?
Yes. Agree. Money only gets you so much. Once you go beyond that, it's all about your inner world. If you don't have much of one, you might be in trouble.
Well done Michael. Your essay does a great job of pointing out what we will do to fit in with our chosen crowd. From the outside it looked like you had it made, yet on the inside you felt the need to prove yourself.
From the outside we all want the kind of upbringing (wealth) you had, yet on the inside it may not be all it’s cracked up to be.
I found it interesting, and appreciated, your suspicion of money while also stating your wealthy parents were very good people. There is no one right way and, perhaps, no matter what we’ve got, we want the other.
Thank you. Very good reflection. I think you're right. All my working-class friends wanted what I had; I felt/thought I wanted what they had. In some ways I did. They all had siblings and big families, for example; I never did. I wanted to feel like I earned respect but I always felt like things were just given to me. We often want what we don't have or can't get.
Great post Michael! I too came from a privileged background in Manhattan but my parents went thru a horrible divorce. It had a harsh impact on me and my siblings. Like you I finally found the thing I feel I was meant to do which is write. Now I'm just trying to figure out how to monetize it! Thanks for sharing. Sabrinalabow.substack.com
I work at a restaurant in Ojai where guests often tell me, “Oh, yeah, we have a house here.” The implication being that it’s not their primary residence, that they are just awash in houses in cities here and elsewhere. It is hard not to be resentful as someone from the “wrong side of the tracks.” My ex grew up privileged like you, and when money struggles got really bad, he would spiral. I learned that growing up poor AT LEAST gave me a resilience when it came to going through lean times. The great thing about writing is that you don’t need a master’s degree to do it. Paying attention to life as it happens is the only education that really matters, that and a love of reading. I like reading about your perspective. I’m on the other side of that coin when it comes to material wealth, but a lifetime in hospitality has me dripping in the riches of profound human-ness. I suppose writing is an act of gratitude and love from wherever it springs.
"The great thing about writing is that you don’t need a master’s degree to do it. Paying attention to life as it happens is the only education that really matters, that and a love of reading."
Nailed it. In fact I think the MFA often makes worse writers.
From Ojai!! I subscribed! Not just because you live or work in Ojai, but because I like your writing at an initial glance. I like what you're doing.
Yes: Your ex sounds familiar to me. (Meaning I see myself there.) Honestly I think I sometimes struggle to fully cope with the normal shit most people have to do just to survive day to day.
I appreciate the subscription. I’ve never lived in Ojai. It’s way too insular for me, but it’s a great place to be in hospitality. Everyone is rich and on vacation! haha. I grew up working class in Ventura, and I feel like reading your perspective enriches my understanding of all the people—even the little e-bike teenagers that terrorize the cars that pass the Ojai Skate park.
lol. Yeah. I was born in Ventura; we moved to Ojai when I was 8 in 1991. I remember a time before the skatepark, when we did punk shows at the Women's Center, believe it or not (where they did Weight Watchers). I was a surfer growing up and went to elementary school in Ventura so know that well also.
You might appreciate my novel, which takes places in Ventura, Ojai and Oxnard:
They still do punk shows at the Women’s Center, and I went to some of those back in the day! Did you go to Villanova? My sister and brother-in-law met as teachers there. We did a tour when my daughter was about to go into high school and I wanted to play out my Gilmore Girls fantasy, but the whole thing freaked her out. Your book sounds like a fun read. I’ll for sure check it out.
Awesome! Thanks! And if you enjoy it, please review on Amazon. Yep: Villanova. Most of my friends back then were in Oak View and Ventura. I wanted to go to Nordhoff. But, as a rich kid, Villanova it was. It's a grand, laughable irony. My parents felt safe cause it was a Catholic, college-prep school. I'd be "out of trouble." But of course the opposite happened: I met the two very bright, intense punk rock kids from Oxnard who were there on full scholarships. Thus began my punk rock initiation. Total, blissful anarchy ensued.
You're dead wrong on that one! Nabokov, Tolstoy, Cheever, Henry James, Orwell, Steinbeck, Hemingway, etc: These writers and many more all grew up in middle and upper-middle class homes.
Well let's take a look : ) Nabokov. Nabakov's family lost everything and he became a refugee in America, and had to teach, something he hated. Doesn't sound too rich to me.
Tolstoy. Well you got me there. His family was wealthy, and he enjoyed wealth all his life. But he lost his parents as a young child and traumatically, was sent to live with relatives. So you're right. But certainly he suffered another kind of poverty, or impoverishment, and a very important and defining one.
Cheever. Orwell, Steinbeck. Hemingway. With all due respect, check their bios. I don't see how anyone could label them wealthy. Each had to work. Had to, not wanted to. Rich people, especially geniuses, don't have to trek off to some low-paying, godforsaken job.
Now James. Again, ya got me there. He ranks with Wharton as the spoiled product of wealth. Neither had any feeling, also, for the working person. And it shows in their art. But that's beside the point, and you're right about James. He never had to work, which is my definition of not-wealthy. Thanks for your input.
Nabokov came from extravagant wealth. Your comment was "ever CAME from wealth." Nobokov, by definition, came from [incredible] wealth. Cheever was upper middle-class all the way, baby. He was known as a rich kid. The others may have "had" to work, but they were middle and upper middleclass. They didn't have working-class struggles.
Michael, this is a lot of fun and thank you. But of your examples only Tolstoy and James could be said to be wealthy. If we wiki we find the rest struggled. And the point is not coming from wealth (although I'd argue that, too, particularly Cheever, whose family collapsed into near-poverty while he was a schoolboy) but the economic circumstances these artists endured before finding success. I thought that's what we were talking about.
Your last paragraph is thoughtful, because it acknowledges the tensions in its logic. Everyone doesn't get the chance to do what they love because drive sometimes has nothing to do with it. In my case, teaching college was a dream job for about ten years, before corporate culture took over. I worked incredibly hard to get there, but the only reason I had that chance was government programs (Pell Grants, Stafford Loans, a requisition program that gave me a solid Forest Service job in the summer) that made college affordable. And, like many faculty, I realized after the fact that outlasting all the other candidates for a faculty job is as much about luck as it is about effort. When it's down to 2 or 3 finalists, it's not evidence that tips the scales.
My path does not exist for most blue collar kids these days. Maybe a few get the diversity nod from elite schools, but most of them have to accept huge financial tradeoffs for a college education. I don't blame them for not prioritizing passion after an investment like that. They want a return on their debt.
It's interesting that my grandfather's generation had a different view. They wanted good union jobs so that they didn't get screwed by the boss. But their real life wasn't at the sawmill -- it was fishing on the weekends, elk hunting, cheering for grandkids at their ballgames. Work and money didn't really live on the same plane as passion for them. I'm learning to see the wisdom in that view.
I feel you. A more realistic perspective. My wife--who comes from a more working-class background--tried college a few times but ultimately got scared away because of debt she knew she'd accumulate via student loans. So, point made.
Michael, I enjoyed this article. My background is quite a bit different than yours as my family was always riding the border between lower class and middle class. I was like those kids in your story from the other side of the tracks - I had chores and wore hand-me-down clothes until I started working in high school and helped pay the bills.
I have been extraordinarily fortunate to have a good career and make decent money. My military service will provide a retirement pension that affords me some financial freedom to pursue my dream of being a writer. So I am getting there in the end, even if it was a somewhat circuitous route.
Love the vulnerability and honesty here. All the best, Matthew
Thank you for sharing such an honest account of self-evolution on the road of life, thus far. I can appreciate your transformative journey towards becoming a professional writer. Indeed, as you stated, it is possible to "find a way to make money doing what you truly love to do in this world. That is a blessing." Many people are still trying to find themselves amid pressures from their parents, teachers, and friends -- all of whom are projecting their own career vision and/or preconceived expectations about achievements in life. This article speaks volumes for many aspiring writers far and wide.
Well written Michael. I sort of snorted reading the "I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth," part. (Snippets of The Who playing through my head; I had the plastic one.) I grew up poor, but never really knew it. There was food on the table, there were eight of us living in a small house that had an oil stove. Some winters--they seemed colder when I was a kid--the condensation on the windows froze. I never knew we were poor immigrants. My Dad worked in a mill, worked night shifts because it paid more. My mother cleaned hotel rooms under the table sometimes. I never realized we had little to live on, until I moved out. I was never good with my money because I was like you. I blew it up my nose and cranked it up my arm; I pissed it up against the wall. But I kept the same job for 45 years. I needed a calming influence in my life and found that with my wife. She was just as fucked up as I was (except for all the hard stuff), but she knew how to save money. (She came from fine immigrant stock as well.) Like I said, all I ever did with my money was spend it.
I don't think being born poor, or being born rich, makes any difference to the people we eventually become. My parents believed in me. It made me believe in me. You're right, there are more riches in the world than just money. Sure, it pays the bills, and you can actually buy your freedom with it when you get older, but you can't buy the memories of having gotten to where you are. I never went to college and learned everything I know by reading and studying. I learned that from my father. He never went to higher education because of the War. It amazes me to think of what he would have become with the education he deserved. But it doesn't work that way, does it?
Yes. Agree. Money only gets you so much. Once you go beyond that, it's all about your inner world. If you don't have much of one, you might be in trouble.
Well done Michael. Your essay does a great job of pointing out what we will do to fit in with our chosen crowd. From the outside it looked like you had it made, yet on the inside you felt the need to prove yourself.
From the outside we all want the kind of upbringing (wealth) you had, yet on the inside it may not be all it’s cracked up to be.
I found it interesting, and appreciated, your suspicion of money while also stating your wealthy parents were very good people. There is no one right way and, perhaps, no matter what we’ve got, we want the other.
Thank you. Very good reflection. I think you're right. All my working-class friends wanted what I had; I felt/thought I wanted what they had. In some ways I did. They all had siblings and big families, for example; I never did. I wanted to feel like I earned respect but I always felt like things were just given to me. We often want what we don't have or can't get.
Great post Michael! I too came from a privileged background in Manhattan but my parents went thru a horrible divorce. It had a harsh impact on me and my siblings. Like you I finally found the thing I feel I was meant to do which is write. Now I'm just trying to figure out how to monetize it! Thanks for sharing. Sabrinalabow.substack.com
I hear you! We all have our own unique stories! The fact that it brought us both to writing is fantastic.
I work at a restaurant in Ojai where guests often tell me, “Oh, yeah, we have a house here.” The implication being that it’s not their primary residence, that they are just awash in houses in cities here and elsewhere. It is hard not to be resentful as someone from the “wrong side of the tracks.” My ex grew up privileged like you, and when money struggles got really bad, he would spiral. I learned that growing up poor AT LEAST gave me a resilience when it came to going through lean times. The great thing about writing is that you don’t need a master’s degree to do it. Paying attention to life as it happens is the only education that really matters, that and a love of reading. I like reading about your perspective. I’m on the other side of that coin when it comes to material wealth, but a lifetime in hospitality has me dripping in the riches of profound human-ness. I suppose writing is an act of gratitude and love from wherever it springs.
"The great thing about writing is that you don’t need a master’s degree to do it. Paying attention to life as it happens is the only education that really matters, that and a love of reading."
Nailed it. In fact I think the MFA often makes worse writers.
From Ojai!! I subscribed! Not just because you live or work in Ojai, but because I like your writing at an initial glance. I like what you're doing.
Yes: Your ex sounds familiar to me. (Meaning I see myself there.) Honestly I think I sometimes struggle to fully cope with the normal shit most people have to do just to survive day to day.
Good to connect.
I appreciate the subscription. I’ve never lived in Ojai. It’s way too insular for me, but it’s a great place to be in hospitality. Everyone is rich and on vacation! haha. I grew up working class in Ventura, and I feel like reading your perspective enriches my understanding of all the people—even the little e-bike teenagers that terrorize the cars that pass the Ojai Skate park.
lol. Yeah. I was born in Ventura; we moved to Ojai when I was 8 in 1991. I remember a time before the skatepark, when we did punk shows at the Women's Center, believe it or not (where they did Weight Watchers). I was a surfer growing up and went to elementary school in Ventura so know that well also.
You might appreciate my novel, which takes places in Ventura, Ojai and Oxnard:
https://www.amazon.com/Crew-Michael-Mohr/dp/B0CTRRBM6J/ref=cm_cr_arp_mb_bdcrb_top?ie=UTF8
They still do punk shows at the Women’s Center, and I went to some of those back in the day! Did you go to Villanova? My sister and brother-in-law met as teachers there. We did a tour when my daughter was about to go into high school and I wanted to play out my Gilmore Girls fantasy, but the whole thing freaked her out. Your book sounds like a fun read. I’ll for sure check it out.
Awesome! Thanks! And if you enjoy it, please review on Amazon. Yep: Villanova. Most of my friends back then were in Oak View and Ventura. I wanted to go to Nordhoff. But, as a rich kid, Villanova it was. It's a grand, laughable irony. My parents felt safe cause it was a Catholic, college-prep school. I'd be "out of trouble." But of course the opposite happened: I met the two very bright, intense punk rock kids from Oxnard who were there on full scholarships. Thus began my punk rock initiation. Total, blissful anarchy ensued.
Money is an insulator. No great artist ever came from wealth, with the exception of Edith Wharton, and I'd argue the great part.
You're dead wrong on that one! Nabokov, Tolstoy, Cheever, Henry James, Orwell, Steinbeck, Hemingway, etc: These writers and many more all grew up in middle and upper-middle class homes.
Well let's take a look : ) Nabokov. Nabakov's family lost everything and he became a refugee in America, and had to teach, something he hated. Doesn't sound too rich to me.
Tolstoy. Well you got me there. His family was wealthy, and he enjoyed wealth all his life. But he lost his parents as a young child and traumatically, was sent to live with relatives. So you're right. But certainly he suffered another kind of poverty, or impoverishment, and a very important and defining one.
Cheever. Orwell, Steinbeck. Hemingway. With all due respect, check their bios. I don't see how anyone could label them wealthy. Each had to work. Had to, not wanted to. Rich people, especially geniuses, don't have to trek off to some low-paying, godforsaken job.
Now James. Again, ya got me there. He ranks with Wharton as the spoiled product of wealth. Neither had any feeling, also, for the working person. And it shows in their art. But that's beside the point, and you're right about James. He never had to work, which is my definition of not-wealthy. Thanks for your input.
Nabokov came from extravagant wealth. Your comment was "ever CAME from wealth." Nobokov, by definition, came from [incredible] wealth. Cheever was upper middle-class all the way, baby. He was known as a rich kid. The others may have "had" to work, but they were middle and upper middleclass. They didn't have working-class struggles.
Michael, this is a lot of fun and thank you. But of your examples only Tolstoy and James could be said to be wealthy. If we wiki we find the rest struggled. And the point is not coming from wealth (although I'd argue that, too, particularly Cheever, whose family collapsed into near-poverty while he was a schoolboy) but the economic circumstances these artists endured before finding success. I thought that's what we were talking about.
Finally landing yourself in gratitude is brilliant. Well done.
Your last paragraph is thoughtful, because it acknowledges the tensions in its logic. Everyone doesn't get the chance to do what they love because drive sometimes has nothing to do with it. In my case, teaching college was a dream job for about ten years, before corporate culture took over. I worked incredibly hard to get there, but the only reason I had that chance was government programs (Pell Grants, Stafford Loans, a requisition program that gave me a solid Forest Service job in the summer) that made college affordable. And, like many faculty, I realized after the fact that outlasting all the other candidates for a faculty job is as much about luck as it is about effort. When it's down to 2 or 3 finalists, it's not evidence that tips the scales.
My path does not exist for most blue collar kids these days. Maybe a few get the diversity nod from elite schools, but most of them have to accept huge financial tradeoffs for a college education. I don't blame them for not prioritizing passion after an investment like that. They want a return on their debt.
It's interesting that my grandfather's generation had a different view. They wanted good union jobs so that they didn't get screwed by the boss. But their real life wasn't at the sawmill -- it was fishing on the weekends, elk hunting, cheering for grandkids at their ballgames. Work and money didn't really live on the same plane as passion for them. I'm learning to see the wisdom in that view.
I feel you. A more realistic perspective. My wife--who comes from a more working-class background--tried college a few times but ultimately got scared away because of debt she knew she'd accumulate via student loans. So, point made.
Michael, I enjoyed this article. My background is quite a bit different than yours as my family was always riding the border between lower class and middle class. I was like those kids in your story from the other side of the tracks - I had chores and wore hand-me-down clothes until I started working in high school and helped pay the bills.
I have been extraordinarily fortunate to have a good career and make decent money. My military service will provide a retirement pension that affords me some financial freedom to pursue my dream of being a writer. So I am getting there in the end, even if it was a somewhat circuitous route.
Love the vulnerability and honesty here. All the best, Matthew
Thank you 🙏
Thank you for sharing such an honest account of self-evolution on the road of life, thus far. I can appreciate your transformative journey towards becoming a professional writer. Indeed, as you stated, it is possible to "find a way to make money doing what you truly love to do in this world. That is a blessing." Many people are still trying to find themselves amid pressures from their parents, teachers, and friends -- all of whom are projecting their own career vision and/or preconceived expectations about achievements in life. This article speaks volumes for many aspiring writers far and wide.
Agreed. Thank you! And as someone above said: Not everyone necessarily has the opportunity to do what they love. I had class privilege for sure.
Very interesting read here - your honesty will resonate with others. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for reading!!