One Wonderful Life

Plenty of options, but the choices are no-brainers

By Ron Ciancutti

I was pounding tomato stakes along the side of the house where the sun shines most of the day. With a five-pound sledge in one hand and a bundle of twine in the other, I rounded the front of the house. As a handsome black Lincoln Continental passed me, I heard a horn honk and turned to see the car braking, putting on its signal as it hugged the curb. I walked over and leaned into the window,. The fellow inside asked if I was “Rob ... or maybe Ron?” I said I was the latter, and he smiled, explaining he was the agent who sold me this house more than 25 years ago. “I can’t believe you’re still here,” he said.

© Can Stock Photo / halfpoint (Photo Album) • Courtesy of Ron Ciancutti (House Photos)

“Why not?” I asked.

“Well, you seemed like a smart guy,” he half-teased. “Thought you’d be moving up and out by now.”

I smiled and said, “My wife and I have been together for 33 years, raised five kids in this house, and are now grandparents of 16. When we started working on the house, all five bedrooms were filled, and now, between friends and family, even though all our kids are grown and on their own, most weekends and all holidays those beds are still filled.”

One House 

I told him about the massive improvements we had made over the years, how they were done slowly, so we could afford the changes. College expenses, weddings, and baby showers came first. Also, there were plenty of times we squeezed the equity out of this classic dwelling to pay for emergencies we never saw coming. Frankly, I told him, the memories attached to this place are so thick that, whenever I mention downsizing, several granddaughters and even a few daughters stop talking to me for a few days. This house is part of the family.

“How about you?” I asked, motioning at the beautiful car. “Have you moved up and out?” He smiled, “Several times!” I noticed he didn’t elaborate, even though he had been given the chance. Don’t know if there were kids, grandkids, a job he loved, or a wife at home. He just shook his head and said, “Sixteen grandkids, and are you even 60?”

I told him I was 61. He nodded and looked like he needed to move on. I wished him well and watched him merge into traffic. I took a moment to thank God for my many blessings. Sometimes it takes a reminder like that to consider what others think is success. Not judging by any means, just noting the difference. To each his own.

One Career

See, I remember being told over and over during my college years that I should expect to leave companies and maybe even switch careers six to 10 times before retiring. I was warned about becoming stagnant and needing to “reinvent myself” every few years so I didn’t get complacent and become too content.

But the company I began working for just out of college suited me really well. The park system and related industries fascinated me, and I loved the camaraderie involved with a group whose “product” was basically goodwill. My first job was being a transit person on the survey crew. A few years later, I became an assistant manager of one of the park reservations within the system. I did some drafting and planning in the engineering department and then was placed in the treasury department; I started as a buyer, was promoted to manager, was given tuition reimbursement to complete my master’s degree in business, which then earned me advancement to director of the procurement division. In all, I compiled 37 years with the same company, which allowed me to retire with a complete pension at 58.

One Lifetime 

Then too, the friends I made and the memories I enjoyed were part of the fabric of my life. A great number of those friends are still close to me. I didn’t mean to reject that advice from college, but I really never saw the advantage of leaving some position just when I was getting good at it. My dad was with Ford Motor Company for more than 40 years. His dad was with Alcoa Steel for 35 years, and both retired with solid pensions and a lifetime of memories made with lifelong buddies. They retired with good reputations and a lot of pride. I did the same and never felt I “missed something” by not taking advantage of other opportunities I was presented with. I grew to love my company. My kids were surrounded by family and neighborhood friends. I didn’t want to take that away from them. It’s part of what has made them so solid. Again, I’m not belittling those people who followed bigger dreams and reached for the stars. I’m just saying I kept one house, I kept one job. I’ve been fortunate to keep one wife. But there are no guarantees as the world shows us daily. A million things can happen, and so far they have happened in my favor. I always count my blessings in this arena, too.

This is the life I have chosen to live. I’m sure I’ve made different decisions than a lot of you. Many of you who are reading this article may shake your head at my lack of adventure, but that’s simply who I am. So, to my former real-estate salesman, God bless you. I hope the choices you have made continue to make you happy. I’ll be here, sitting by the fire pit out back, dispensing advice to my grandchildren who, so far, still listen. My wife and I will be talking about what color to paint the house in a year or so, and if my luck holds out, I’ll be seeing a few more grandkids since my sons haven’t even started their families yet. I’m keeping it simple as always. folks, trying to maintain a wonderful life.

Ron Ciancutti worked in the parks and recreation industry since he was 16 years old, covering everything from maintenance, operations, engineering, surveying, park management, design, planning, recreation, and finance. He is now retired. He holds a B.S. in Business from Bowling Green State University and an M.B.A. from Baldwin Wallace University. He is not on Facebook, but he can be reached at ron@northstarpubs.com.