{by Ron Mattocks from Clark Kent’s Lunchbox}

An economic downturn. The loss of a job. The struggles to make ends meet. Sound familiar? I could probably rattle off at least two dozen people living through this right now. It’s miserable. I should know.

In 2006 I was a hotshot real estate executive who was pulling down a ridiculous six figure income while driving a hot car and partying with even hotter women. I lived in a downtown loft, wore designer suits, and pretty much did as I pleased. Okay, I know what’s going through your head, but wait, it gets better. By the end of 2007 I was engaged, laid off and flat broke. Not only that, I was about to gain two stepdaughters and couldn’t afford to visit my three sons who lived several states away.

After spending my entire adult life steadily employed, I suddenly found myself in a strange and unfamiliar place. It was as if I had been sucked up in a wormhole and then plopped down in an alternate dimension where my fiancé (now wife) worked the big corporate job while I oversaw the daily distribution of Goldfish crackers to a five and six year-old like an aid worker at a refugee camp. Everything was all switched around. The hot car with a V8? Now it was a minivan that seated eight. The downtown loft? Replaced by a cruddy apartment in the ‘burbs. Endless free time? I’m sorry, who needs picked up when?

As a result of these drastic changes to my circumstances, I turned into an emotional basket-case, breaking down after watching certain cell phone commercials or at the sight of another empty toilet paper roll no one thought to replace—again. No longer could I rate my identity against annual reviews and performance bonuses; instead, I was being admonished by a kindergartener for my absentmindedness in forgetting to put mustard on her sandwich.

Being denied the external validation I so desperately needed from a five year-old, combined with the barriers keeping me from my own kids, as well as a few other odds and ends sunk me into a depression, one deeper than that to which I am already genetically predisposed. (Thanks Catholic Ukrainian ancestors!)

Yes, life was coming up roses for yours truly, and it was clear I needed to do something about it.

This is how I imagine Margaret Rudkin felt back in 1929 …well, possibly minus the hot car and the neglected TP rolls. Who? Come on, certainly you watch Jeopardy? No? Okay, I’ll explain.

Margaret Rudkin was the wife of a Wall Street broker and mother to three boys. The family did quite well until The Great Depression hit in 1929, when Margaret’s husband lost his job and then was seriously injured. On top of these new financial challenges, Margaret was already contending with her youngest son’s severe asthma and food allergies.

Yes, life was all roses for Margaret Rudkin too, and necessity being the mother of all invention, she was going to do something about it. After turning the farm they lived on into a functioning, self-sustaining operation, she noticing the positive effects of an all-natural diet on her son’s symptoms. So, with no experience whatsoever at baking, she attempted to make stone-ground bread with all the nutrients and vitamins intact. The results were predictable.

Still, Margaret kept at it, eventually producing bread so effective in treating her son that the family doctor prescribed it to other patients, and shortly thereafter local grocers were easily selling it for more than the going reate. By 1939, Margaret had produced 500,000 loaves of bread, all from her kitchen and garage. Soon after, she moved into a factory, but despite all the automation now involved, she still insisted that the bread be kneaded by hand.

Over the next decade Margaret’s hallmark progressive thinking lead her to expand the company’s product offerings to include a unique collection of cookies, a line of frozen pastries, and a distinctive snack cracker. Finally, in 1961 she sold the business to another family-run food company, and then went on to become a bestselling author and a frequent speaker at reputable business schools in the U.S. and Europe.

Hearing Margaret’s story caught my attention, mainly because there was so much of it I could relate to—losing my job, the financial duress, even the fact that several of my children have severe food allergies and asthma. But the most inspiring part of this is that Margaret did something to change her circumstances and took no shortcuts in doing so.

Yeah, I suppose referring to her as inspiring might sound hokey. It’s easy to fall prey to that particular brand of cynicism which causes us to downplay the successes of others. But what we don’t recognize is that cynicism is really just a game of reverse psychology that we bait our hopes into playing only to say, “told you so” when we fall short. That is why people refuse to be inspired. They choose to not allow stories like Margaret Rudkin’s to stoke the fires of hope into action; instead they deny that hope by suffocating it with their own insecurities. Rather than do something, they convince themselves they can do nothing and thus resign themselves to their fate.

This is very close to where I was at battling my depression, yet with five kids and a wife depending on me, I had to do something. At the time, I had an insignificant blog called Clark Kent’s Lunchbox that indulged my fantasies of becoming a writer. I never meant to make anything out of it, but as my facial hair grew crustier, and with my dreams of building The Spruce Goose II dying, I began posting more and more blog entries about the ups and downs of my life as an unemployed stay-at-home dad out of my element. Turns out, people actually read them.

With an estimated 2 million men taking on the role of primary caregiver, coupled with the fact that men comprise the overwhelming majority of those without jobs, I came across quite a few guys whose eyes also welled up over cell phone ads. This caused me to believe that maybe sharing my story might help others who were going through similar situations, and thus I wrote a book, Sugar Milk: What One Dad Drinks When He Can’t Afford Vodka. Now, I realize that my achievements may never be on par with those of a smart cookie like Margaret Rudkin, but who knows. I’m sure the day Margaret pulled that first rock-hard loaf of bread out of her oven she never imagined it would be the first step in becoming a renowned leader of American industry.

And just what was that extremely successful company Margaret Rudkin started almost by accident? You already know them, not just for their breads, but for their Milano cookies and those smiling Goldfish—Pepperidge Farm. Why did I wait so long before revealing this? Because the point of this post wasn’t to sell bread and crackers, it was to share the story of a mother who embodied the heart and art of parenthood. By doing something to change her family’s dire circumstances, Margaret Rudkin provided a timely example of inspiration—inspiration that we can either act on or that we can choose to ignore.

In compliance with FTC regulations I am required to disclose that I was given some dough for my writing services–and I’m not talking about the kind that you bake into bread.

Ron Mattocks is a freelance writer and authored the book, Sugar Milk: What One Dad Drinks When He Can’t Afford Vodka. Ron blogs at Clark Kent’s Lunchbox, where he chronicles his life as business executive turned stay-at-home dad to his three sons and two step-daughters. Honesty and humor abound, all with a Clark Kent twist. Be sure to subscribe to his blog and follow Ron on Twitter.

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Inspired?  Recognize a dash of Ron’s and Margaret’s tenacity and compassion in yourself?

Our carnival of storytelling celebrates the art of
stepping up to the plate in order to answer a need and
unexpectedly discovering a fiery talent just waiting to flourish.

Please join our carnival and share your own story of stepping up to the plate and delivering a bit of spit-fire that you may never have realized you had.

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