Growing up in Michigan, in a solid middle-class neighborhood in the Detroit metro area, we were raised aware of money, and watched the money we had. I had the sense that we weren’t poor, we had enough money for what we needed, but we weren’t rich either.
In the summers and every Christmas, we would visit my mom’s side of the family in Pennsylvania. They were altogether different – money was never spoken about, but this was a VERY different life. This life was very east coast…beautiful homes, the “shore”, grand holiday and summer parties, boarding schools, dinner at the country club, etc., etc. You get the idea. We were related to it, and visited frequently, but then traveled home, until next time.
My Mom had grown up in that life, moved to Detroit (the big city) after college and was a buyer at Hudson’s when she met and married my Dad. We were exposed to these two worlds, one was real (our life in Detroit) and one we just visited frequently – we were family, so we weren’t outsiders, but we also weren’t a part of this world. And from the youngest age I absorbed every bit of it. I was a SPONGE. I loved it.
I was especially close to my grandmother – I watched everything she did very closely…always wear the perfect outfit; meet with the caterer for the Christmas party; redecorate the living room with new sofa fabric, pillows, and drapes; plan trips to (literally) exotic locales. She was a marvel – she had the most wonderful sense of style and humor. She was very social and cocktail hour started at 5:00 pm every day.
After college, when I was working at an ad agency in Chicago, I would travel to New York frequently for work and at every opportunity I would take the train to Philadelphia to spend the weekend with her. I always loved visiting her, but now it was my choice, and I couldn’t get enough of her. I loved those trips – and I’m pretty sure she did too. She was royalty in my eyes; my idol who became a cherished friend.
My grandmother had a wonderful woman who cleaned for her once a week, Irene. Irene and her husband Floyd owned a dairy farm out in the country. During those two-week visits, Irene would take all the grandkids out to the farm, but I was the only one it stuck with. Floyd would end up driving the others back home late at night. I loved the farm too!
Down on the Farm
When I was 13, I started going to Pennsylvania a week early so I could spend more time at the farm. I used my babysitting money to buy a one-way plane ticket. During that week, I would get up at 5:00AM to milk the cows, then get the eggs from the chicken coop. Later, I’d pick corn for “supper”. In between the morning and late afternoon milking, I would sit on the porch looking out at the rolling countryside and a 2-story, 2-room “wash house” that Floyd and Irene said I could have when I got older. I would draw up different floor plans and dream of my life as an adult – my plan was to be a Stewardess flying all over the country and I would come to the Farm on weekends. I had it all figured out.
I tell you this background because this odd combination is me – I am a hard-working executive, with my own sense of style, who loves to decorate and redecorate, who threw catered holiday parties for years, who can recognize and appreciate fine things but can also fully embrace being more casual.
Oh, and I’m gay. Coming to terms with that was a bit of a trip since it didn’t initially fit the life I’d imagined. But, I did come to terms with it and it’s just another aspect of me. (That may be a story for another day.)
I just wanted to give you a sense for where I came from, what I was exposed to and how these different worlds marinated into ME.
WETSU! WETSU!
XO JT
