Last December I participated in an online poll that asked whether the decade 2000-2009 was better or worse for me economically and personally than the decade before.  I clicked on the “Worse” button.  I wished I could have voted 100 more times because my family and I have been living life in a frying pan for most of the decade.

In 2003, we lived on the western side of Michigan, a very beautiful area with a good economy and a low cost of living.  That was the year my husband was laid off from his job as a scientist.  Because his work was specialized, we would have to move to wherever the jobs were.  We moved across the state where the cost of living was much higher.  However, we were grateful he found a job, and we went about the business of settling in.

Then my 66-year-young father was diagnosed with esophageal cancer.  The stress and agony of  watching a loved one die by inches is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.  At around the same time, our 6-year-old daughter developed stomach migraines.  We were again watching a loved one deal with pain for which there wasn’t much help.  These things, combined with the daily challenges of working and raising a family, became part of our life in the frying pan. 

Yet not all was dire.  We were in a neighborhood full of kids our daughter’s age, and it was a blast watching them grow up together.  There was a community pool at the end of the block, and the beautiful Michigan summer days spent there were magical.  Our daughter thrived in her small elementary school, and my husband and I enjoyed volunteering with the PTO and at the pool.

In 2006, the heat was turned up in the frying pan.  My father died that July, and 6 months later, my husband was again laid off, this time along with 4,000 of his co-workers.  A month after that blow, we mourned the deaths of my stepfather and my grandmother.  And in the spring of 2007, my husband accepted a job in Colorado.  So for the second time in four years, our little family moved.  The housing crisis was in full swing in Michigan; we sold our house for $50,000 less than we bought it four years earlier.  That $50,000 represented all of our equity from 20 years of home ownership.  Gone. 

Leaving Michigan felt like escaping a movie-style catastrophe.  We got out with our lives and belongings, and watched in horror as our home state’s economy imploded.  We arrived in Colorado bewildered and exhausted, and with a referral to Denver Children’s Hospital.  Our daughter developed a rare endocrine disorder, which if left untreated would severely stunt her growth.  So she entered 4th grade in a new school where she knew no one, plus the stress of dealing with a medical condition.  It was tough.  And to top it off, my husband’s start at his new job was a nightmare.  Job not as advertised, boss from hell, you name it.  So we were stuck. 

OK, I know it sounds like I’m whining.  But truly I’m not.  Having a view of the Rocky Mountains from one’s backyard is the kind of mental medicine one prays for.  The mild winters on the Front Range were a welcome change from the brutal, eternal Michigan winters. And the 300 days of sun per year really boosted our outlook on life.

So day by day, slowly, life began to sort itself out.  We were just starting to feel settled when the markets collapsed and Obama was elected.  That was when we were tossed from the frying pan into the fire.  Like other Americans, we watched our retirement funds go into the toilet, along with the value of our new home falling below what we paid for it.  And we watched in horror as Obama and his posse began dismantling our country.

Like many Americans, I was wondering what in the world I could do–should do.  My husband and I are both conservatives, and we diligently vote in all elections and try to keep abreast of local and national issues.  But neither of us are political creatures, and we are trying to figure out what we can do to help stop the insanity.  I’ve spent quite a bit of time on blogs like this one, arguing and cheerleading and venting.  I’m trying to figure out how to get more involved locally, without endangering my job as a part-time college instructor (where liberalism is considered a BFOQ).  So, thanks to encouragement and exhortation of the bloggers at Red State, I have signed on to help with the Buck gubernatorial campaign. 

I don’t know yet just how much I’ll be involved, but I’ll do what I can.  I’m doing it for my lovely daughter, who turned 12 last week; she’s now in fine health and looking forward to being a big-time 7th grader.  If I don’t do my part, I’ll never be able to look her in the face and say that I did all I could for her future.  She’ll find herself in a frying pan of life from time to time, as we all are.  I can’t do anything to stop that.  But I can stop her from being left to the fire.