My Story

I never really understood my father.

Why was he so angry?

For years I wondered.

I knew pieces of his story.

But the rest of the answers didn't come until after he died.

My Father

As a boy, I never understood why my father carried so much anger and bitterness.

But he had been through things I couldn't begin to understand.

His father was killed in the Battle of Moscow when he was only two years old.

He spent three years of his childhood in a Nazi concentration camp.

When the war ended and he arrived in America at age nine, he could not speak a word of English.

He had a German name.

A German accent.

Blond hair.

Blue eyes.

Kids made fun of him.

Picked fights with him.

Blamed him for a war he didn't start.

Then came the orphanage.

Five hard years.

Early morning chores.

Shoveling coal.

Milking cows.

He tried to run away at least three times.

Each time they caught him.

Brought him back.

And beat him.

My brother and I learned early in life to be careful around him.

Growing Up Different

My hearing loss was there from the beginning.

Nobody knew it at first.

When I was little, my mom noticed I didn't always respond when she spoke to me.

She took me from one specialist to another.

Looking for answers.

Several years later, we finally got one.

I had a profound hearing loss.

By second grade, I was wearing a hearing aid behind my left ear.

I also had a slight speech impediment.

Words with the letter "R" came out sounding like "W."

The kids on the school bus noticed right away.

"Hey Paul, you waskerley wabbit!"

My hair was a little longer than most boys.

Not because I liked long hair.

Because I wanted to hide the hearing aid.

I often felt like I was on the outside looking in.

Most kids learn how to blend in.

I learned how to disappear.

Still, I tagged along with friends who were into sports.

On a field or court, my hearing loss didn't matter.

Effort mattered.

Heart mattered.

Nobody cared whether I talked funny or wore something behind my ear.

It was one of the few places where I felt like I belonged.

College

After high school, I headed to Lees-McRae College in the mountains of North Carolina.

I still didn't know what I wanted to do with my life.

But I could play football.

The Lees-McRae Bobcats had a tough football program.

Fall camp was brutal.

No students on campus yet.

Only players and coaches.

In the beginning, we practiced four times a day.

Yes.

Four times a day.

Some guys couldn't handle it.

The older players had a name for it.

The Night Train.

As camp went on, players packed up in the middle of the night.

We never saw them again.

The coaches were thinning the herd.

As the season went on, we practiced in the snow.

Bitter cold.

Nothing around the practice fields to block the wind.

As long as we kept moving, we could get through it.

My college ID, 1987.
Sunburned from football practice.

After two years, I transferred to East Carolina University.

Bigger campus.

New people.

A fresh start.

Loved it.

But I still didn't know what I wanted to do with my life.

I started as a Business major.

The professors kept sending us to the computer lab.

I didn't even know how to turn one on.

I was already struggling to hear in class.

Too embarrassed to ask for help, I switched majors.

From Business to Psychology.

I wanted a better financial future than the one I grew up with.

But I didn't know how to get there.

That's me on the left after a workout.

Always Sweating

Along with my hearing loss, I also dealt with excessive sweating.

It's called hyperhidrosis.

My hands, underarms, and feet would sweat constantly.

It would start before I even got out of bed.

There was nothing to be nervous about.

And yet, the sweating would start anyway.

I didn't know why.

In class, I'd try to hear the teacher, take notes, and keep up with everyone else.

The sweat from my hands would drip onto my notebook paper.

Literally drip.

Handshakes were the worst.

My hands were always cold and clammy.

In social situations, I'd carry a cold drink in my right hand.

If someone reached out to shake my hand, I could blame the cold moisture on the glass.

Most of my shirts were white.

They hid the sweat better.

During my senior year of high school, I'd often go home during lunch.

Just enough time to change shirts.

Wash my hands.

Dry them with a towel.

Rush back before class started.

If someone asked why I was wearing a different shirt, I'd tell them I spilled something on it.

It didn't last long.

But I didn't know what else to do.

Every night, I would lie in bed and beg God to heal me.

It dominated my life.

Years later, after moving to Arkansas, I started researching my symptoms online.

That research led me to a specialist in Little Rock.

Surgery changed everything.

My feet still sweat a little during the summer.

But the constant embarrassment is gone.

Thank you, Lord!

Our wedding day, November 23, 1999.

The Business

I was first exposed to Amway when I was a kid.

My parents were involved for several years.

They couldn't afford a babysitter.

So my younger brother and I usually went with them.

The meetings.

The rallies.

The dream.

My first real memory was a large Amway rally in Washington, D.C.

Eight years old.

My brother was only three.

Don't remember the speakers.

But I remember the energy.

People talking about freedom.

God.

Family.

Country.

A different kind of life.

Something more than working all day at a job.

Sometimes we'd drive to a Saturday rally.

Afterward, we'd go dream building.

Walk through camper dealerships.

Look at Winnebagos.

Stop by car lots and look at vehicles we couldn't afford.

Mom would cut pictures from magazines and tape them to the refrigerator.

Houses.

Cars.

Vacations.

For a while, it felt like something big was going to happen.

Then it faded.

It didn't work out for my parents.

But the idea never left me.

Years later, after transferring to East Carolina University, I came across Amway again.

A gym near campus became part of my routine.

Got to know the owner.

One day, I noticed him using an Amway spray bottle to clean the mirrors.

Not long after that, I got involved.

Hotel meetings.

Personal development books.

Motivational tapes.

I did the best I could.

Some of it made sense.

Some of it didn't.

Being an introvert didn't help.

Neither did my hearing loss.

Or the sweaty hands.

Talking to strangers did not come naturally.

We were given phone scripts.

If someone asked, "Is this Amway?" we were taught to avoid the question.

That never felt right to me.

Toward the end, I learned that many of the top leaders were making most of their money from the books, tapes, and functions.

Couldn't ignore it.

It didn't sit right with me.

So I walked away.

But the desire to build something of my own never left me.

Arkansas

After marrying Laura, I moved to Arkansas.

She insisted we live in the same place.

Fair enough.

I ended up working for Nystrom.

Calling on schools across Arkansas.

Maps.

Globes.

Educational materials.

Several times a year, company meetings meant trips to Chicago, Atlanta, and Houston.

On paper, it was a good job.

But it never felt right.

I didn't like being away from home so much.

I wanted more time with family.

Not less.

For a while, I drove a knuckleboom truck for the sanitation department.

I also had a lawncare business.

And drove a school bus.

Because I like to eat and live indoors.

But I was worn out all the time.

And didn't like mowing other people's grass all day.

So I sold the lawncare equipment.

And I kept driving a school bus.

Homeschooling

Laura and I homeschooled Brady.

We wanted him to learn how to think for himself.

We wanted him to know he didn't have to do something because everyone else was doing it.

He could take a different path.

I also wanted to be there while he was growing up.

He was only going to be young once.

I didn't want to blink and he was grown and gone.

I never missed any of his basketball or baseball games.

I was also able to coach many of his soccer, baseball, and basketball teams.

That's one of several reasons why I kept driving the school bus.

It's also the closest I've ever come to having a job where I didn't feel like I had a boss.

It Never Left Me

During all those years, network marketing stayed in the back of my mind.

I kept looking for answers.

Books.

Courses.

Sales training.

Marketing.

Copywriting.

Anything that might help me.

Most of it was put on credit cards.

Trying to find a way that fit me.

Once you see leverage and compounding, it's hard to unsee it.

Why I Shared My Story

Most people only see where someone is today.

They rarely see what it took to get there.

I've never been motivated by a big house, fancy cars, or expensive vacations.

What I've always wanted is something simple.

More time.

Time with Laura.

Time with Brady.

There was always something inside me saying:

"Keep going."

"You're going to figure this out."

I believe the Lord was helping me along the way.

It took a long time.

I finally found something that fit me.

I'm thankful I never quit looking.

Thanks for reading my story.