Susan Prokopich Montgomery

Life after High School

Let’s see, after high school, I had BIG plans. I was going to sponge off my folks, get a job, buy a really cool car, and go clubbing with my best friend Mary. Five months later Mark Montgomery motioned for me to pull over and invited Mary and me to join him at Pere Marquette. While there, he was trying to move a big log and his pants split. I was a goner and a year later, we were Mr. and Mrs. Mark Montgomery. We were financially independent, Mark was happy since he got to drive my cool car, and I went clubbing with my husband, his brother and his brother’s wife instead of Mary. I was still on track.

When I gave birth to our first child Benjamin in May 1983, my job and clubbing lost their appeal. As the youngest of four who never babysat, I had no idea how to be a mother, but I was determined that he would survive. A friend told me I should have named him Velcro because he was always on my hip. As if motherhood wasn’t enough of a challenge, I found out the man I married was an atheist. Who knew?

Foolishly, I decided to become June Cleaver. I cooked exactly like my mom, burnt fried chicken, roast as tough as a hockey puck, and tuna casserole so dry you had to pour milk over it before it could be swallowed. Mark decided to teach me to cook and I was the world’s worst student. Plus, he was frustrated because he really wanted me to set Ben down every once in a while.

Okay, I decided I would take on the task of seeing to Ben’s spiritual education. Mark wasn’t too keen on the idea, and he promised to boycott any children’s program in which Ben participated. Like the housewife challenge, I rolled up my sleeves and committed myself 100%.

Pretty soon I could crank out a weekly menu’s worth of meals that were fairly edible so I started teaching Mission Friends to children ages 2 – 5. Mark was true to his word, boycotting Ben’s baptism and he also shared his beliefs of evolution with Ben. As I got a little better at this homemaker stuff, I became more involved in the church, teaching both the 1st and 2nd grade class and children’s church. With my 30th birthday around the corner, it was time to add to our family. In January 1991 during a horrible snowstorm, our daughter Rachel was born.

Now we had two beautiful children, I was lucky enough to be able to spend all my time with them since Mark was an excellent provider, my meals were still improving, and I began what would become a long run teaching 5th and 6th graders at church. On the home front, I was ready to tackle flower gardening.

When it was time for Rachel to go off to school I discovered your children could go to parochial school even if you weren’t Catholic. Rachel started Holy Family School and I did something I hadn’t done in 16 years—I got a job.

I chose a gas station down the street because I could start after I took Rachel to school and end my day when I picked her up. I was close to home so Ben could stop in to see me whenever he wanted, I didn’t have to invest in a wardrobe, and when Rachel was on school breaks, I could switch to evenings so she could be with daddy--no babysitter worries.

Trouble takes many forms. As it turned out trouble came to us because I was competent at something--ordering inventory, stocking shelves and waiting on customers. Who knew?

In a fairly short amount of time, I became a shift supervisor, then got a promotion and began working in the oil offices in Edwardsville as the administrative assistant to the CEO. Rachel went into daycare after school, Mark took over the cooking (thank God!), I managed to keep up with the laundry, but the house fell apart. As the result of pressure from my job, an unhappy family, the loss of my father, and the adjustment of my mother’s new marriage, I suffered from a lot of stress and an enormous amount of guilt.

Quitting my job a year later, I went to work for Vicki Johnson Royce and her husband John answering phones and setting up house showings—no pressure there. Unfortunately, it was too late. The die had been cast, the ill-feelings were still there, and by then I was completely miserable and terribly depressed.

In October 2001 I walked out of a 22-year marriage, leaving behind my beautiful garden, my clean home, and even my two kids. My best friend Mary took me in, and I began the pursuit of the fastest divorce of a long-term marriage in history so I could get my kids back. In January we were officially divorced, and I found a house to rent on St. Clair Avenue that was close enough to school that Rachel could walk. I was sleeping on an army cot without a single curtain on a window, my food was kept fresh in a cooler outside my kitchen door, everything I cooked came off a camp stove or an electric skillet, and my son Ben was so angry with me that he stayed with his dad. Talk about tough times.

Leaving Royce, I went to work for a temporary agency. The pay was good and the benefits were non-existent, but I desperately needed a work history. I bought a mattress and springs, a refrigerator, a stove, curtains, and a dryer. Eventually I got my current job working for a federally funded program at a local community college. My house was becoming a home, but Ben still angry with me. He went from being a wild child to a man living dangerously.

Time is the great physician and, in time Ben got the help he needed. He now owns his own home, has a wonderful job, and recently began school. In three years he hopefully will complete an apprenticeship program and become a machinist. Rachel graduated high school and will begin her freshman year next month at Benedictine University. She has decided to use her artistic talent to work with troubled kids as a career. After I got my present job, I bought my rental house and earned my associate’s degree in management. I started my bachelor’s but I stopped when I started focusing on Rachel’s college life.

At present I’m trying like the dickens to get a government job in Springfield, but that is proving to be more difficult than I thought. Rachel will be living with my mother until I can get a job there. Along with Mom, I have other family members living in Springfield waiting for me. In time I hope to join them.

So, as it turns out, there was life for me after divorce. Who knew?