Working as a humble Gate Guard, in a gated community in Central Florida, is not as easy as most people think it is.
My Life Has Changed So Very Much
By Richard Mabey Jr.
My life has changed so very much, from even the lifestyle that I knew five years ago. There was a time when I hosted a state-wide talk show that was featured on the Cable Television Network of New Jersey. I once taught Creative Writing classes at a small college in New Jersey. As a younger man, I wrote for at least a half-dozen newspapers. For well over 10 years, I wrote for the public relations department of a large telecommunications company, which was based in Morristown, New Jersey. And, for a little over five years, I worked as a copy writer for an ad agency. Sadly, that’s all behind me now. I am presently working as a humble Gate Guard, doing my utmost best to get my book published.
My desk in my bedroom, in my Florida home, where I do my level best to write and work on my book, at least three hours a day.
Lately, I have been working a lot of hours as a Gate Guard, working the graveyard shift. It is an eerie, haunting, Twilight Zone experience to say the least. There is the quiet of the night. The loneliness. The whirl of the wind at midnight. The cadence of the clock, continuously ticking in the Gate House. It’s not all that easy to be a Gate Guard in a gated community in Central Florida. If truth be told, a lot of people are very rude to me. And, a significant number of the people, freely curse at me, each and every night.
My bedroom is my place of solace, my escape from the insanity of working as a humble Gate Guard.
When I come home, from working the graveyard shift, I am exhausted beyond exhausted. My bedroom is my solace, my comfort, my escape from dealing with so many of the rude residents and visitors that pass by my Gate House, each and every night. I end up sleeping for a while, when I first get home. Then I write, rewrite, and then rewrite scenes and chapters of my book. Writing is hard work. Most people do not realize how much hard work goes into good writing.
The eerie, haunting quality of working the graveyard shift, is practically impossible to put into words.
Then, after writing for about three hours or so, I try to get a little more sleep, before eating supper and then traveling off to my lonely Gate House, to do the Gate Guard routine once again, for yet another night.
Some people have suggested to me, to simply give up on my dream to get my book published. Those negative remarks only fuel the flame in my heart to greater heights of determination. For myself, failure is not an option.
In September, I’ll be 65. It’s not that easy to get old in America. I’m not going to get into politics here. It’s just not that easy, growing old in America. I’m as red, white and blue as the next chap. But the plain, ordinary truth is that it’s not easy to grow old in America.
Still, I keep on trucking. I’ve got a lot of bulldog in me. I tend to have this quiet, shy side to me. But within my heart, a flame burns brightly to climb the mountain of success in life. For, alas, there is a lot of bulldog in my heart, mind and soul.