It was a snowy Friday in January 1994 when I received a phone call from my mother that I never expected.
“They did another cut at Swan. They eliminated your dad’s position, along with others. He is not taking it well at all and I am worried about him,” she said.
I could barely grasp what she was telling me. My dad loved his job. He had worked his way up the ladder, from the production control line to a management position. He ran the entire plastics division. He had given that place three decades of his life and this is the thanks he gets.
“I have to work tomorrow, even though it’s Saturday. It is mandatory but I don’t want your dad to be alone. Will you come and stay with him?”
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