How I Got Here
I remember my first computer. It was a cardboard box.
It was literally a box. I took a crayon and drew a keyboard, monitor with scribbles and graphs, and I would sit and pretend to “code.” That is where it all began.
I grew up in a little town with a population of 900 people. It is a quiet little town in the southwest portion of the state of Arkansas, USA. My home was the last house on a dirt road before you entered the Quachita National Forest. With three channels on the TV, and no internet, we mostly played in the forests and fields. We would ride bikes, play “Army”, and I spent hours playing an old upright piano.
I had two older brothers. My oldest brother played in band and became the first of our family to graduate from university. My second oldest brother joined the military, and has spent his life in law enforcement. I was not as focused. I was in the band and choir. I played baseball and basketball. I liked it, but I didn’t love it. Then something happened that changed everything. At 4:00pm every day, “Star Trek: The Next Generation” was on channel 11 after school. I would race inside every day after almost an hour ride home on the school bus. I watched every episode that came on, and was fascinated by the potential technologies. I wouldn’t understand some of it since I was only around 9 years old, but when I would hear “convergence of three tachyon pulses could have ruptured the subspace barrier and created an anti-time reaction” all I could think is “That is so cool!” This is when I started building “computers” out of cardboard boxes.
When I was 10 my mom bought an Apple 2 at a garage sale for $100. I was so excited when she brought it home. It didn’t have a monitor, but it did have a book of sample programs. I plugged it up to the AV port of my TV, and fired it up. This was, of course, the first real keyboard I had ever used, and it took forever to write my first program. When I ran it all I saw was error messages. I didn’t know what they meant, or how to fix them, but I would go back through line by line and find my mistake. Little did I know that the thrill of finding a mistake and fixing it would be the “dragon” I chased throughout my life. To this day I still get the same elation when I find a bug, and fix it.
My oldest brother bought the first brand new computer I had ever seen. He paid $1,999 at Radio Shack for a Tandy 486 with the following specs:
4 MB Ram
210 MB HDD
Intel 486SX 33Mhz
Cirrus Logic Video
Soundblaster 16
2x CD-ROM
Floppy Drive
Windows 3.11
2400 or 4800 bps modem
After a few years, I inherited it. This is where I wrote my high school term papers, and would sign up for my first free trial of AOL. Then reality set in…I didn’t do very well in school.
It wasn’t that I was bad in school. I just wasn’t exceptional. I learned to read at a very early age. My mom couldn’t afford age appropriate books, so after my school work I would read Ben Bova, Orson Scott Card, Arthur C. Clark, and RA Salvatore. I found early on that I did really well at memorizing what I read. I never used bookmarks because I just memorized the page I left off. Random facts would get stuck in my brain to annoy my friends and family in conversation. I had my oldest brothers old encyclopedia set, and would sit for hours and read it page by page. Reading, writing, and science came so easily to me. Math was a different story. I learned later that it was because I would get bored. There was no challenge to me. No imagination. After learning an equation, and doing an example, I had it. I would get bored because the homework would be the same equation with different numbers 20 times. Why? I understood it the first time. If I could do it with one set of numbers then I didn’t want to do more. When I learned that volume of a cylinder is determined with the equation:
V=πr2h where r = 3 and h = 5
Then I could figure it out with any radius and height. Sooooo boring.
Because of this flaw in my personality I failed most math classes. If only I knew then what I know now. Of course my teachers just thought I was dumb, or maybe they were not motivated to help me. Either way I graduated with less than a 3.0 gpa. Ouch. I went to college after high school with a choir scholarship. I just barely had the gpa to get in with a 2.5, but I found the same problem there. The basic English, History, and Math classes didn’t interest me. I loved the computer lab, and the T1 connection the school had. I stayed up late with friends for hours playing “Quake Arena”, and “Unreal Tournament.” All my friends were majoring in Computer Science, but I didn’t have the grades in math, and became depressed that I couldn’t achieve what I wanted because of the stupid math classes. I dropped out after a single semester.
The summer after I dropped out of university my step-father got me a job emptying trash cans at the trucking company where he worked as a truck driver. My parents owned an auto-repair shop in my hometown when I was growing up, and lost it due to mis-managing money. I spent the weekends there in high school changing tires, fixing brakes on cars, performing oil changes. I never saw it as a hobby because it was the family business. After a couple weeks of emptying 50-gallon drums of oil filters at the trucking company I was asked if I could do an oil change on a commercial truck. I lied and said “Yes.” One of the guys helped me and showed me everything to do for an oil change. Luckily my memory helped me, and after being shown once I had it down. I started doing oil changes on different 18-wheeler tractors, then brakes, and even helped rebuild the top and bottom end of a Detroit 60 series. For a 19-year old kid in 1999 I was making good money. I figured I’d never go back to college so I’ll just do this forever. Then the company was sold at the end of the summer. I was laid off.
I began spending time with my middle brother who was a Deputy Sheriff. He convinced me to join the Air National Guard in January of 2000. I signed up at the 188th Fighter Wing in Ft. Smith, Arkansas. I enlisted to become a Military Police officer (which changed to Security Forces that year), and left for basic training Lackland AFB in San Antonio, Texas on June 1, 2000. The goal was to complete training, and then my brother would help me get on at the Sheriff’s Office in my home town. Things didn’t go as planned.
After the 5th week of basic training it was July in San Antonio, Texas. I don’t know if you have been there in July, but it’s hot. I mean, really hot. That day all my summer BDU’s were dirty so I wore my winter BDU’s that morning before I could get a summer set cleaned. I was selected to deliver paperwork around the base, and by lunch I was burning up. I ate and went to the pad for formation, and suddenly felt sick. I ran to the edge to be sick, and everything went black. I woke up in an ambulance with my head wrapped in bandages and was being asked by an EMT my name, the date, and if I wanted to stay in the military. I gave all the answers, and then woke up in the hospital. After a few days, I was told I was being given a “Separation from Service” since I had not completed training and was shipped home. This was before the 9/11 attacks so they weren’t keen on keeping me and paying for medical treatment at the time. It’s pretty hazy, but I remember getting home and just sleeping for about a week. Again, I was directionless.
I decided to take the easy path, and do what I knew. The downside is it wasn’t what I loved. It wasn’t my dream. I wanted to be a scientist, a software engineer, or a professor. Every day I got up, and knew I didn’t have the aptitude or education so I would keep working. I went to a trade school and got a “Technical Certificate in Auto Service Technology.” Just a fancy way of saying a car mechanic. I got a job at a Toyota dealership changing tires, and was trained to do steering alignments. Eventually I was promoted and trained as a Toyota Technician and started making more money. I got married around this time, and bought a house. At 22 years old things seemed pretty set in stone. I bought a computer, and played “Battlefield: 2142” online at night with friends, but I knew I would remain a mechanic forever.
One day I was talking to the Shop Foreman and found out that I was making the same amount as he was. We worked on commission, and everyone made the same. Some just got better work than others to do. This hit me like a ton of bricks. He had been there almost 20 years, and was making the same commission rate I was after only working 6 months. I had already reached the end in my mind. I couldn’t take it so I quit. I worked at a smaller shop across town for a year, but ended up quitting there too. It wasn’t what I wanted to do. It’s what I had to do, and I hated that. I was 23-years old.
Once again I changed careers. I studied and got my commercial driver’s license. Then got hired as a delivery driver in Little Rock, Arkansas for a company delivering food supplies. After a year this company was bought by Sysco Foods Inc. and I was hired by them. It was a good job, but back-breaking work. I had to be up by 3:00am to get my truck and trailer. Then I would drive all over Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, Louisiana, and Tennessee delivering food to restaurants, schools, and prisons. I liked the fact that when my truck was empty I could go home. The faster I worked, the faster I finished my day. I did this until 2007.
My wife and I had a good life for most of those years. I had not forgotten my dream of being a computer programmer, but I was making $1,000 or more a week driving a truck. I had motorcycles, jeeps, and a set of jet skis. Life was good. My wife was not happy though. Like me, she dropped out of university because she didn’t know what she wanted to do. She worked a data entry job, but hated it. Eventually she didn’t have to work because my paycheck paid the bills and then some. We didn’t have kids, and I know now she became depressed. We began having problems, and eventually got divorced. I moved out, and started on the next chapter.
After the divorce I became depressed. I lost my job as a truck driver, and stayed with my mom for a few months. I gave my ex-wife the house, the dogs, and everything I couldn’t fit into my Jeep. I was once again broke, and without focus. I played “World of Warcraft” 15-20 hours a day to distract from life. A friend of mine from high school came by and asked if I still played music. I told him I hadn’t in a while, but he offered to bring me to a practice session with his band. I went over, picked up a guitar, and we just jammed out for about 4 hours. I loved it! They played at biker bars, and VFW’s, but I needed to make some money. One of the guys in the band knew someone that was going to apply for a job for a gas pipeline company so I caught a ride, and went along. We were hired at the same time, and I started working from dawn ‘til dusk out in the gas fields. I drove heavy equipment, and helped the welders/x-ray crew. I stayed all week in a hotel, and went to my mom’s on weekends to do laundry. It was good money, and hard work. After a few months the owner of the company died, and his 26-year old son took over. Fresh out of college he immediately fired everyone and sold the company for millions and retired. I was once again out of work.
I moved back to the biggest city near my hometown. It is a resort city called Hot Springs, Arkansas. I got a job changing oil at a Walmart, and got an apartment. I moved up quickly and was promoted to a lower management position in 6 months. Again, things seemed to be on track. I wasn’t doing what I loved, but I was surviving.
One day I ran up the staircase ladder in the stock room to grab a motorcycle helmet to put on the shelf. I felt the ladder shift and collapse on the right side. It threw me backwards and I found myself falling. The concrete floor came up faster than I expected, and I landed squarely on my lower back. I instantly tried to scream, but I had no breath. One of the other managers ran in and tried to pick me up, but my legs felt like I had a million needles stabbing me, and wouldn’t move. I begged her to stop moving me, and she asked what I needed. I could only say, “Ambulance.” I knew it was bad. Really bad.
I got out of the hospital a couple days later, and was rolled to my mom’s car in a wheelchair. I had ruptured almost all of the material in my L5-S1 disc in my back, and it had to be removed. The swelling was pressing on my spinal cord, and I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t even stand up without help. I spent the next two weeks laying in bed. Depression hit me again. I was told I could go back to work at Walmart after I got better, and work as a door greeter. A door greeter.
Later I found out that the ladder I had been on had been tagged as broken, and needing repair. One of the other managers didn’t want to deal with it so they ripped the tag off and rolled it back into the stock room. That’s when it collapsed on me. I decided to sue for worker’s compensation, and negligence. Little did I know that it would take over a year to resolve. I spent that year learning how to walk again, and playing “World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King” for 15-20 hours a day. I couldn’t find another job because that would mean I could work, and my lawsuit would get thrown out. I was awarded $10,000 and my medical bills were paid. That was after a year of litigation. I was given a court date to be put on permanent disability for the rest of my life. At the hearing the judge asked if I understood, and if this was what I wanted. I immediately said, “No.” I didn’t want my future potential to be limited to what the government decided. I wanted to do more. I knew I could do more. I think he admired that because he awarded me the maximum social security insurance allowed. I took that money and enrolled in the same university I dropped out of 10 years prior.0
In January of 2010 I walked into the Physics Department at Arkansas Tech University for my first meeting with my academic advisor. I walked in on a cane, but I was walking. I was 30 years old. My mom and I had moved to Russellville, Arkansas where the university campus is located, and she promised to help take care of me if I fell again, or woke up and couldn’t move my legs. This had happened a few times over the previous year.
My advisor was an Associate Professor of Physics name Dr. Tackett. He was a short and round man from Michigan with a great sense of humor. I told him I wanted to get my PhD in Physics. He said, “Great! Let’s look at your last ACT scores.” Wait, what? I couldn’t remember when I had taken the ACT, and I had never taken the SAT. He looked up a bit concerned.
I took the ACT in 1995. I was in the 9th grade. My teachers told me to take it every year to try and get the best score possible. The first time I took it I made a 28 in English, a 28 in Reading, a 36 in Science, and a 18 in Math. My total score was a 28. When I was told I only needed a 19 to get in to college I never took it again. Fast forward 15 years, and I am sitting in front of my advisor explaining my plan to be a Professor in Physics, and he is looking at an ACT Math score of 18. That means remedial math classes. He had his doubts, but after getting clemency on my previous first semester, I signed up for my new first semester of classes. I finished on the Dean’s list with a 4.0.
I spent the next two years doing nothing but studying. I knew after all I had been through I could make it through an undergraduate math class. I took Intermediate Algebra in the Spring, College Algebra in the Summer, Precalculus in Fall, Calculus I in the following Spring, Calculus II in the Summer, and Calculus III in the Fall. I began my Junior year taking Differential Equations I, and rolling through my degree in Engineering Physics. In those two years I began adventuring a bit. I went to China and taught Math for 6 weeks. I began tutoring Calculus and Physics. I took on a Lab Instructor role to help in the Physics labs. I also completed my undergraduate research project, and got the opportunity to present my findings to the Governor of Arkansas, and other politicians. Then something happened. I took a programming class. It was then I realized I had been close to my dream, but was still held back for some reason. I went to my advisor and informed him I was changing my degree to Computer Science.
Luckily, all of my math and science credits transferred. I would need an extra two semesters to complete the computer science classes. I took on 18-21 credit hours each semester, and was set to graduate in the Summer of 2015 with an ABET accredited Bachelor’s of Science in Computer Science. Before I graduated I was offered a position as a Programmer for Walmart’s Information Systems Division. Ironically the company that started me on this path was giving me the opportunity to start a path in the career I have always dreamed of.
I spent 5 years working at Walmart Labs. I have since gotten married, had another baby girl, and accepted a new position at a manufacturing company as an Advanced Programmer Analyst. My path wasn’t straight-forward. There were a lot of twists, turns, and set-backs along the way. This year I created the TikTok account “Redneck Programmer” on a whim, and amassed over 125,000 followers. I hope I can help and inspire others that are on their own journey. If you feel like you aren’t achieving your dreams then do something about it. It’s going to be hard. Damned hard. No matter what happens you can always achieve your goals. You just have to start by setting them. Then figure out what to do to get from point A to point B.
If I can help you in anyway on your journey visit my Contact page and send me a message. If you would like to contribute to what I am doing you can do so by visiting my Contribute page. I am so thankful that after all these years. I get to do what I love. You should too.
