An Eloquent Voice Speaks About
Illness and Poverty
Mary Andrews appears in Episode 6, Fighting Obesity and Diabetes.
We expected the interview to last a few minutes. An hour later, we were still there, listening to her.
The 'have-nots' have to want it more. This isn't a Disney movie.
An Interview with Mary Andrews
Written by Ruth Pennebaker
Here's something you learn very quickly when you interview a scores of people across
the state: They often turn out to be entirely different from what you expect. They
surprise you.
Mary Andrews was one of our biggest surprises. We talked to her and her husband in
Lubbock on a cold afternoon. It was already dark outside, and we were at the
end of a long day.
We expected the interview to last a few minutes. An hour later, we were still there,
listening to her. We didn't want to move.
Mary is 53. She has Type 2 diabetes, asthma, early glaucoma and a heart stent.
She's unemployed. Her husband is disabled from a workplace accident and is on constant
medication to relieve his pain. The two of them live on his disability payments of
$11,000 a year.
This tells you a lot about Mary Andrews and her life. But it doesn't tell you anything
about her eloquence, her thoughtfulness, or her offbeat sense of humor.
Why doesn't she do better at controlling her weight and combating her diabetes? she
was asked.
"You know what?" she said. "Sometimes, when you're poor — the only thing you can do
is to refuse. I'm refusing."
That's another thing about interviewing people. You learn something from every one
of them. You learn to look at life in a different way.
Poverty and unemployment, for example, don't always wear a stranger's face. Sometimes
that face looks hauntingly like your own or of someone you know well.
Mary Andrews is perfectly capable of speaking for herself about such matters, though.
Here is an edited version of her emailed answers to a few questions:
How would you describe yourself?
It is very difficult answer these questions, because the story is so long and tangled
that you need every piece to assemble the whole of it. I've been and done many, many things.
I have been a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister. I have built the cabs of Cat
graters, fixed the tails of Cobra helicopters. I've delivered messages to and from
doctors, and done electronic assembly. I have been a Relay operator for the deaf, a
cell phone customer service rep, a licensed airframe mechanic, the editor/founder
of Gorbash (a now defunct magazine for aspiring artist and writers in the 80's),
AND a gypsy merchant..but all I've really ever wanted to do was write.and get
published. I'm working on that now. =]
Can you give me a brief history of your life — a few paragraphs about
growing up, your family, etc.?
We were raised in a reversed way. Instead of feeling safe and loved, we were
taught to be guarded and suspicious. My mother taught us that we were loved,
and my father taught us to be tough. We did not cry. We did not say sappy, mushy,
emotional things like 'I love you ' because these weaknesses would only bring on a
deluge of teasing.
So at a young age, we learned to use humor as both a weapon and a shield, and we
learned to recognize and use manipulation pretty efficiently. It was an
interesting childhood that took us years to learn how to become decent human
beings, but it gave me basic survival skills and the fortitude to survive
my blunders.
You're clearly a very intelligent, articulate person. How is it that
you, with all you have going for you, are struggling with poverty?
I came to this town to go to college, but when my father wanted to pay my way,
I refused to allow it. I wanted to pass or fail on my own. Stupidest thing I
ever did, because for lack of a college diploma, I condemned myself to no-future
employment.
Actually, now, my situation is far more common than most people think. I live
in a college town, so the workforce is so readily replenished that the pay scale is kept low.
In my early thirties, after ten years of marriage and three sons, I found myself
facing a divorce. I had learned firsthand what the horrors of a messy divorce
could do to kids, and I had sworn that I would never do that to mine, so I left.
I phased myself out of their home and left them with their father. Since he was
making good money and I hadn't worked for ten years while I raised my kids, I
don't think I would have stood a chance against him in court, but more importantly,
I did not want to raise them on the street. He was, and still is, a good man
and a great provider.
In short, I guess I was crazy. Without any coercion, I signed away everything
but my rights to my kids and started from the ground up-again. (Library research
later listed my symptoms as middle-age crisis. If you ever have a problem, the
psychology section of the public library is the best free counseling available-there's
something for everyone.)
So, with impeccable timing, I reentered the workforce during the recession. I
never left this town because this is where my kids were, and I struggled to never
miss a birthday, or school performance, or visitation. I taught them that
relationships are forever, even if couples aren't. And, through me, they learned
what poverty was like.
When I hit the streets, I knew nothing of food stamps and government programs.
I believed in hard work and perseverance. I wasted a couple of years of my life
recreating the wheel again and again. (I guess I wasted a perfectly good middle
age crisis too, now that I think of it.)
After a while I realized that when my bills became almost overwhelming, I could go
light and lean; I crammed everything I owned into a storage shed and lived out of
my car. I had a little Honda Civic at the time and I tinted the windows and folded
down the back seat, where I kept my clothing and necessities in a trunk right next
to my sleeping bag and blankets.
I discovered that in this town, every park that had a little lake in it usually had
at least one apartment complex across from it. So I would wait until dark and
park along the street there. It may sound kinda weird, but as I fell asleep each
night to trees blowing in the breeze and moonlit lakes, it was really quite
soothing-much better than the sleepless nights that I spent worrying about unpaid
bills and eviction. (It wasn't so bad, and it got me through the hard times until
I could find a job or amass enough cash to re establish a residence)
Eventually, I stumbled over the term 'misplaced homemaker' and qualified for a
government training program. I opted to attend a trade program and earned my
airframe license, then hired on with civil service, which turned to Lockheed Martin,
as an airframe mechanic and rejoined the world of promise and future. Life was
good. I even met my current husband (an exceptionally skilled aircraft machinist).
Then, the military base was closed to cut back on government spending and reduce
the armed forces. It was supposed to help balance the budget. (Sure ruined mine.)
I refused to follow the work to another city or country because my sons were still
in school. Local job searches proved that none of the shops wanted to hire a woman
and there was no longer an aircraft industry to ply my four-year-old trade. I
actually made a higher wage from unemployment ($7.00hr I think) than was available
in this workforce. During this time, I put serious efforts into writing, but when
the money ran out, all of my time went towards staying alive.
Since my health and age started to affect my ability to work, after I got laid off
of my last job, I decided to not go back and to try my hand at something I loved
to do-writing.
Do you think everyone really has an equal chance in this country?
Yes. But the 'have-nots' have to want it more. This isn't a Disney movie. Those
who have money have a definite advantage in almost all scenarios, but anyone who
is willing to put themselves out there and give 115% can claw their way to wherever
they want to be. It isn't easy. It isn't pretty. And if the body fails before
you get there, the knowledge accumulated during the endeavor just may be what you
need to go some place you hadn't thought about before. I really do believe that we
are put where we need to be. Opportunities are everywhere in this country-just ask
the immigrants who fight and claw to get here.
Do you ever feel depressed about the problems you face?
Of course, but who doesn't?
Why do you give funny, smart-alecky answers to so many questions?
Because tears get the floor wet and scare the children (smile). No, not really.
I guess it's pretty much the way I was raised. Once you realize that you are a
part of something bigger, greater than yourself, things come into perspective.
Perhaps we should laugh at ourselves more.
Are you hopeful about your future? What are you doing to make it better?
Believe it or not, yes. I know a lot of this sounds negative and depressing, but it's
been a real adventure. Whether I liked it or not, God has put me every place I needed
to be so that I could have the tools to do what needed to be done
Tell me about your novel.
The series will be called The Fireborn Chronicles and should be released in both
eBook and hard copy at
www.swimmingkangaroo.com/index.php (and possibly Amazon.com) in late summer or early fall.
It is a science fiction story that takes place in a future where a universal
government has offered a solution to most planets' biggest problem: criminals
and nonproductive members of society. Each planet remains free to determine
for themselves what constitutes an unacceptable faction of their society. Then
The Universal Government will accept and remove them from each world, and then
employ them on The Hive Planet.
As a side note, I thought I'd mention that in the title, The Fireborn, was
inspired by a quote from Carl Sandburg's poem, The People. In high school,
I especially liked this passage:
This old anvil has seen many broken hammers...
Time is a great teacher...
The fireborn are at home in flame...
Who can live without hope...
All of my characters are at home in flame.
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