The Mindset

by Ace Bowers

  curve·ball

  noun

  BASEBALL

  1.a pitch thrown with a strong downward spin, causing the ball to drop suddenly and veer to the side as it approaches home plate.

  When I was younger I would always ask my dad to teach me how to throw a curveball. After all, it’s the best tool in a pitcher’s arsenal and I wanted to master it. Despite my fervent pleas, my dad would always say I wasn’t ready yet: when he finally decided I was, he’d teach me. Now in baseball, a great pitcher has a nasty curveball that is almost impossible to hit. Take a look at the definition: the ball is literally thrown with a strong downward spin, but then it veers off to the side as it reaches home plate before the batter can hit it. Done correctly, you’re guaranteed a strike out almost every time. The spin and curve are what make it impossible to hit. Life was about to throw me a curveball, veering into a direction I just could not anticipate. Was I ready to hit it, or would I strike out? Here I was, taking baby steps to get my life in order, and now the game had changed again! It felt like I just couldn’t catch a break.

  I've always thought about how I would act in certain situations. What would I do if I was inside a bank and it was being robbed? What if I was on an airplane and it was about to crash? I always imagined how I would behave: would it be confidently and heroically? Or would I be overcome with fear and panic? In the end, you never really know how you will react unless, and until, you are living in that situation.

  I was at work when I found out Yuka was pregnant. I had just finished my shift and I was walking to my car when I received the text message. All it said was: "I think I'm pregnant.” Here’s the wind up and the pitch… swing and a miss! Had I just read that right?

  It took a couple seconds to hit, and as soon as it did, a wave of a thousand simultaneous thoughts and emotions came plummeting down on me. Ah, there was that famous curveball I foretold. It hit me right between the eyes and I had an instant panic attack. My palms were sweaty, and my mind flooded with thoughts—most of them of self-doubt and fear. No matter how I looked at it, I just couldn’t find the silver lining to my circumstance. And I was angry—at myself! Because once again, I felt that I had unknowingly played into the same destructive cycle I had lived through as a child. Oh God, was I going to end up like my parents?

  I sat in my car, frozen with disbelief. I was lost in the magnitude of my situation. I stayed there for what felt like hours; somehow, I zoned out, and when I came to, I realized I hadn't even replied to my girlfriend. Yuka had just told me something so personal, and I had left her waiting anxiously by her phone for my response. But how could I respond to this? It definitely didn't feel the way movies make it look—when a happy couple is on screen and the woman reveals some big news and they both jump up and down hugging each other and they proceed to tell one another that they love each other so much and oh, how excited they are! But this moment didn’t feel like that at all. My thoughts should have been with Yuka and how she was feeling, but I was in shock. If we were watching the movie of my life, this would have been the moment the narrator says, “Man down, man down!”

  Eventually, I did respond with, "Are you sure?" The skeptic in me insisted on reliable results before I gave in to any further panic. We wouldn't base our future on the inconsistency of a home pregnancy test. No, for something this important, we would visit a real doctor.

  And it turned out our baby would be arriving in eight short months.

  Chapter 3

  The Noah Effect

  There it was: my wakeup call. Those two words, “I’m pregnant,” and the realization that I was going to be a father. But I had nothing to offer—I had gotten nowhere in life. The thought of becoming a minimum wage dad scared me to death. Would I put my child through worse than the adolescence I had endured? How much did diapers cost? How would we pay for the childbirth? The questions I asked myself were never-ending. Could I even afford to buy diapers, and if I couldn’t, was I prepared to humble myself and ask for welfare? I was thousands of dollars in debt and currently working for minimum wage. I knew I couldn’t support a family on this little income, and I was on my way to becoming yet another statistic of the poor and uneducated lower class. I felt life mocking me; the very life I had tried escaping as a child would become my reality. Would my blue-collar roots haunt me forever? I had promised myself I would break my family’s cycle, not repeat it.

  I sat in my car with these thoughts running through my mind for what seemed like hours. Eventually, I looked up and caught a glimpse of myself in the rear-view mirror: all I saw was a toilet cleaner with $25 in his bank account. I saw a man who had let himself go. A man about to unwittingly walk in his father’s footsteps. Looking into that rear-view mirror was like looking back in time; all those painful memories swept over my conscious thoughts. I truly believe this was my lowest point.

  It’s a paralyzing realization to have just celebrated your 22nd birthday, to be broke, and to learn that you will be a father—I mean, I barely had enough energy to get out of bed in the morning, let alone raise a child! I found myself back at work, clutching my mop. I must have daydreamed again, occupied with the frightening thought that this—this life as a janitor—was in fact my life. I began mopping again but became transfixed by my reflection in the murky water I was using to wash the floors. It reminded me of my future: dark, bleak and unclear. Constantly hovering over me was the worry about how to handle the news I’d just been given. To some people, the news of fatherhood would be the happiest of their life, but to me, it was terrifying. I was entering a new chapter of my life that was uncertain, and I felt totally unprepared.

  Oh, the changes I would have to make! Right up to this point, my biggest problems were about having enough money for gas and cigarettes. Then, a simple text, two words, life altering news, and a woman I loved on the other end waiting for my response. If I knew back then that everything would work out, maybe I would have mustered some happiness and relished the fact that hey, I was gonna be a dad! Instead my “glass half-empty” outlook coldly reminded me that I wasn’t married, I wasn’t ready, and I wasn’t much of anything.

  So as usual, I was feeling sorry for myself and allowing my mind to roam uncontrollably. But let’s return to those two little words, “I’m pregnant!” Lest we forget, I was freaking out. It was normal for me to run a self-evaluation check at this point in my meltdown. Yuka and I were bringing a child into the world, so was I looking for an excuse to get out of being a daddy? No, but I was trying to decide if I was fit to even raise a child. Keep in mind, I didn’t have much confidence in myself and I hadn’t maintained a terrific track record as a responsible adult thus far. Would I be good enough for this baby, good enough for Yuka? Could I bring a child into an unhealthy environment? Because let’s be honest, the way I was living was unhealthy.

  People I knew at the time suggested we get an abortion, for a laundry list of reasons: we were barely 22, I made minimum wage, children are expensive… the list went on. The real point of their arguments was that Yuka and I wouldn’t have a life. “What do you really know about raising a kid?” was another common theme. But there would be no talk of getting an abortion. Their advice went in one ear and out the other, and I would not entertain the thought. Something about this child felt as though it were meant to happen. No matter how bad off our situation was, we knew we were going to have this baby.

  Many people don’t have abortions due to their religious beliefs, but I want to preface this by stating that I am no holier-than-thou holy roller. I don’t live as someone who openly practices faith. However, I do—and I have—always believed in God and that He has been with me at every point in my life. Yuka would not entertain the thought of an abortion on principle. I couldn’t, not because of a religious condemnation of abortion, but because of a feeling. I believed that, with this child, God was testing me in some way; becoming a parent at this juncture in my life was exactly what I was meant to do. And it’s true that without my newborn child, I would not be where I a
m today.

  Even though I felt broken hearted, I felt inexplicably closer to God. Maybe my inner spirit was crying out to God to deliver me from this minimum wage life of depression. He knew something I didn’t: that I wouldn’t be motivated to turn my life around alone. I grew to accept Yuka’s news; over time, it frightened me less, and I came to understand that this had been a blessing from God. Looking back, I realize that He knew having a child was the only thing that might motivate me. Deep down, I knew it too. If you have a relationship with God or know someone who does, then I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, “It’s in God’s timing,” and through my own experience, I came to witness this firsthand. For me, God’s timing was everything. Had I gotten anyone pregnant while still living with my parents, the outcome would have been drastically different. The events that turned my life around following this news would not have taken place, and I would not be writing the memoir you are reading today. I truly believe that, being on my own, away from my parents and loving Yuka the way I did, forced me to dig deeper in search of a way to better myself.

  Yuka was an international student finishing her senior year of college. After she graduated, her visa would expire, and she would have to return to Japan. What would this mean for us and our baby? I was thrown into an unfamiliar world filled with complicated decisions I had to make, with lifelong consequences. There were three of us now to consider, not just me, and we only had each other to figure everything out. I knew that I loved Yuka and wanted to eventually marry her, and since she was pregnant and would have to leave soon, I needed to do the right thing. We went down to the local city hall and we got married legally.

  When our son came into the world, everything changed in the blink of an eye. I suggested “Noah,” a name that immediately popped into my head at the prospect of having a son. This name spoke to me in particular, especially because I felt that his birth was God’s blessing to me. I found a correlation between him and Noah’s Ark, the biblical story I find the most kinship with. God had spared Noah, choosing him and his family and the world’s animals, to start humanity over again. His flood purged and cleansed the Earth of man’s evil, placing his trust into Noah’s hands.

  Just like Noah from the Book of Genesis, I was given a second chance and a new beginning with my son. Thanks to him, my outlook would slowly change for the better, and I would blossom into the man I was made to be. Noah saved me. God saved me. The title of this chapter, “The Noah Effect,” is dedicated to this blessing. Noah became my motivation to do better: when Yuka first told me she was pregnant, I quit smoking that same day. Two months later, I began a diet and lost 85 pounds over the next four months. Noah is, truly, the reason for my transformation. Like the Genesis flood, I felt cleansed and renewed. I genuinely felt that God had lifted me from my pit of self-loathing and dejection and had given me the ultimate reason to succeed, to capture that overcomer’s mindset. Had I listened to the people in my life, Noah wouldn’t be here today, and I know I wouldn’t be where I am today either.

  Chapter 4

  Footsteps into Fatherhood

  I preface this chapter with the word footsteps. No one—no matter their experience—is ever fully ready to become a father. You have to learn mental, physical, and financial challenges as you go. And that’s what I did: I took baby steps, footsteps, into fatherhood. Suddenly my life’s purpose had new meaning; my kids would become the center of my universe and every waking breath I took would be dedicated to providing for and protecting them. I made a promise to myself that I would give everything I had to raising my kids right.

  By now, you know that I’m about to become a father and that Yuka and I have married. Even though I had a newfound motivation named Noah, this was not going to be a walk in the park. I was still broke, and now, I had a budding family to care for. Of the millions of difficult decisions we had to make, at the forefront was how were we ever going to balance caring for Noah with our hectic lives? I was a working janitor, Yuka was still in school, we had very few friends and family in Oregon, and the costs of daycare were higher than my income.

  All of my family lived in California and all of her family lived in Japan, but my parents said they would let us live with them for a year, to save as much money as we could. I had one year, and only one year, to save as much as possible for a down payment on a house.

  So, I quit my job as a janitor at the motel, Yuka completed school, we packed our life into a U-Haul truck and drove from Oregon to California. This was the first time that Yuka would ever meet my whole family and see my house. That damn house, haunted with memories. To say I was nervous would be the understatement of the century! Stepping back into that environment after two years away was an immense shock for me. I was immediately drowned by old memories—of the fights. But now it wouldn't be just me who was affected: my wife and son would be there for me to literally hand down the lifestyle I had inherited. I refused to allow my family to endure what I had. Staying longer than a year was not an option.

  Now I was unemployed—again, and living with my parents—again. Was I all the way back at square one? No. This time, I had a wife and son that I was responsible for, and I had made up my mind: I wouldn’t fail them. I’d have to hustle and work harder than I’d ever worked before, but I was going to make this happen! My life would change for the better. But with everything said and done, I am profoundly grateful to my parents for allowing us to move in with them when Noah was born. Though they put me through a lot as a child, they really came through for me when I needed them most. Without them, we wouldn’t have been able to get a head start on our savings for our family. I will always be thankful to them.

  In the time that passed between Yuka announcing her pregnancy and Noah’s birth, I finally found the drive to pull my act together. In a later chapter, I’ll explain in detail the hustle it took to get my career off the ground in those years. But for now, let’s jump ahead a bit into fatherhood. After Noah, we had a second addition to our family eighteen months later: our daughter, Ariel. I was at two very different points in my life when I had each of my kids. When Noah was born, I was hustling my ass off. When Ariel was born, I was a bit more established and we had our own house. Importantly, in that time, I made great efforts to be the best father I could.

  I make sure my kids know I love them by prioritizing the time I spend with them and openly showing them my affection. I realized from my childhood that parental behavior is tremendously influential to a child’s development. So, my life revolves around my children and my commitment to giving them the best childhood I can. At night I give each of them a kiss no matter what, and sometimes I stop by their rooms before bed to cuddle and have story time. This I picked up from my own mom and dad: our bedtime routine meant so much to me, as it does for Noah and Ariel now. We try to regularly eat dinner as a family, and I use that time to ask them about their day. Yuka and I are a good fit for parenting together. We’re balanced, so it’s easy to combine our parenting skills to create a harmonious environment for our kids. Yuka is the strict parent; she is no nonsense when it comes to academics. Meanwhile I am more easygoing; I want my kids to grow into good, well-rounded individuals.

  We spend time with them every Sunday, usually watching movies, making popcorn, and playing games. We even play chess or card games a couple of times a week, because we want to be involved in their lives and for them to know that. Above all, I want Noah and Ariel to understand that, no matter what is going on in my life or in Yuka’s, they will never be overshadowed by our problems. Growing up, my siblings and I were quickly cast aside over my parents’ issues. Feelings and honesty were swept under the rug in favor of tense silence. I felt forgotten and unmoored during most of my childhood as a result. I promised myself that I’d never let that happen again. I want my children to know that they can talk to me.

  At an early age, I taught them the value of a dollar and how important it is to work hard. I stressed the importance of being respectful and having a good attitude. I wanted them to kno
w how they treat their mom and dad will affect how they treat other people. I also try and set a good example, because Noah and Ariel watch Yuka and me like little hawks. I know that observing me in how I treat their mom will affect how they handle relationships in the future. But the most important thing for me as a father to give my kids, is balance. I didn’t have it growing up, and I know the kind of anxiety that instability can instill. I want to shelter my kids from the painful events I was exposed to, from things they’re too young to learn, but I also don’t want to shelter them so much that they feel unprepared for the real world. I want to give them the tools to succeed and expose them to diverse thinking, different cultures, and allow them to explore and try things for themselves. I am giving them the choices I never had.

  As difficult as my childhood was for me, I think it shaped me into the dad I am today. Understanding the weight of a parent’s actions and how it impacts his or her children is always on the forefront of my mind. I don’t want my kids to have painful memories growing up that could alter the course of their lives. I want my kids to be kids, and to experience everything they can, from traveling and playing sports, to art and culture. We travel as often as we can to allow Noah and Ariel to experience the many sides of life. Having a multicultural household has motivated us to expose our children to Japanese culture and implement traditional Japanese holidays into our home.

  Yuka enriched my life tenfold when she introduced me to new foods and lifestyles I hadn’t tried before, so I strive to do the same for my kids. I want them to try things I was never able to as a kid. Seeing them ski and snowboard in the winter brings me staggering joy, because I never had the chance to try those activities myself growing up! I love having new adventures and going new places with them. Seeing the smiles on their faces and being a part of their happiness allows me to get a part of my childhood back.