The American Dream

By Samuel Bellotte

The American Dream is a detailed account of the journey I have traveled over the last several years; meeting my wife, raising our child, suffering her loss in an automobile accident, and continuing to raise our son alone. The words in this book are my thoughts as I have felt them throughout this ordeal. No one can prepare for what I have experienced and I hope to ease some of that pain by sharing my situation with others. For anyone who has experienced something similar, you are not alone. Hope you enjoy the read. Thank you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781365860041

Book preview

The American Dream

The American Dream

By Sam Bellotte

Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all… Alfred Lord Tenyson

Copyright

Copyright < 2017 > by < Samuel J Bellotte >

All rights reserved. This book and any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book or scholarly journal.

First Printing: < 2017 >

ISBN < 978-1-365-86004-1 >

<159 Kramer Drive >                                             , < West Virginia > < 26301>              

The American Dream

By Samuel J Bellotte

Chapter One: Out of My Comfort Zone

When I was 29, I met the love of my life. I’ve never been much for fate and every serious relationship I’ve ever been in seemed to be the one at that particular moment. However, I am now in my mid-thirties and know without a doubt, this specific relationship was my one true love. Alfred Lord Tennyson said, It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Looking back on the last several years of my life, I’d do it all over to feel what I felt again, if it were only for a fleeting second.

It was the summer of 2012 and I hadn’t landed a full time teaching position as of yet. Only substitute teaching, I had no income in the summer months. I was looking forward to sleeping till noon and laying on a rock at the river by my family’s cabin, but my parents had other plans. They certainly didn’t want to fit the bill for my leisurely summer and insisted I find some type of employment. I knew this wouldn’t be as easy as they believed. After all, what company wants to go through the trouble of training someone they know plans to leave in 2 and a half months?

I did a little research, printed out some resumes and one morning, set out to procure gainful employment. It just so happened that not a mile from my house was a moving company. I had purchased my mobile home with financial aid money several years prior and driven past this establishment countless times. There really wasn’t much to see. No signs on the building. No welcoming atmosphere. If it weren’t for me living there as long as I had, I may have not even known it existed. That morning, I thought it a good a place as any to start my search.

The company ended up being owned by an older couple who maintained several companies and rental properties. I was the most qualified applicant they had had in years. The majority of their staff were high school drop outs or convicted criminals. They were delighted to give me an opportunity. I never worried about applying anywhere else and spent the rest of the day lounging. The next day I would begin my career in the moving business.

It was nice living so close to work. Even though the day started early, I could literally sleep until 15 minutes before I had to be there and still make it in plenty of time. I’ll admit, I didn’t exactly fit in with the rest of the crew. I’ve never owned a truck and don’t use chewing tobacco. Showing up that first morning in a Mini Cooper, I could tell I was the outsider. None of that really mattered to me though. Unlike most of these poor guys, I knew that in a few short months, I would be back to my desk job, wearing khaki pants with people calling me sir. I could handle being out of my element for a while. Actually, I was looking forward to it. This was the first time in a long time that I had a job that didn’t involve much thinking. I looked at it as an opportunity to get in shape and be paid for it.

That first day lasted over 12 hours. I hadn’t been so tired in my life. I remembered why I hated moving so much. If you can afford it, hiring a crew to help you move is exactly what you should do. We packed a three story house for a family moving out of state. Two younger guys and I carried everything out of the house to an older gentleman who packed it into the truck. I never thought it would all fit. It was like watching an artist work seeing him fit their entire life into the truck like a puzzle. I was extremely impressed. More importantly, I was able to get to know the guys working with them all day and realized this might end up being a rewarding experience, not just a job.

The next morning, I went with two truckloads of workers to help move a university police department to their new offices across town from their former station. This was a massive job that the owner had estimated would take two days. For one thing, the officers had to continue working during the move and their old office was on the second floor of an office building. Large items, like filing cabinets and desks, had to be brought down on an elevator which really slowed progress. My job was to wait on the first floor with another worker for two other guys to bring us stuff and then, we would take it to the trucks for the packers who would puzzle piece it all in there. Once both trucks were full, we drove across town to the new office to unload. The driver/ packer I was with this day wasn’t the same as the first. This guy was a jerk and believed he knew more about moving than anyone else we were with. Earlier in the day, the tattooed gentleman I was working with told me this guy had been fired several times, but always seemed to find his way back.

We were nearly done emptying the trucks and I had climbed inside to move some the last items towards the lift so others could more easily reach them. I was moving a cabinet by myself. It was too heavy to pick up so I was dragging it inch my inch towards the rear of the truck. When I started moving the cabinet, the lift, a 3 feet long metal extension used to lower and raise heavy items, was level with the bed of the truck. At some point, another worker lowered it without me knowing. I never turned around and walked straight off the back of the truck, falling almost 4 feet to the blacktopped parking lot with the cabinet coming down right on top of me.

I immediately knew I had broken my wrist. When a person falls, they instinctively put their arms out to catch themselves. In doing so, I shattered my left wrist and tore a tendon in my right pointer finger. It was pulsing blood. When the driver saw what happened, before even asking if I was okay, he yelled and said he told me the lift was down. I have thought long and hard about it, but I never heard anyone say that. If he had, why didn’t he say it again when I didn’t stop when I got close to the edge? He just wanted everyone there to know he knew