DECISIONS…DECISIONS…DECISIONS…There comes a point in your life where you're faced with a critical decision to make. “Left or right?...red pill or blue pill?...take the back roads or take the interstate?...go to grad school or take on that lucrative job?...go out to the bars or read a book???....go to class or go to the beach??? There are always choices and decisions to be made. Do you continue on your path, the way you have been? Or do you make the leap, take the chance, and completely turn your life around? My name is Brett Ferguson, and I have a story for you. I guess to really understand my story, you'd have to go pretty far back into my childhood and see where I come from. I was born on a sunny day in Bellevue, Washington, right outside of Seattle on June 16, 1980. I am not the only good thing from Seattle…think about it…Starbucks and Bill Gates call the place home. Reagan was elected and Lennon was shot that year. My childhood is reminiscent of a storybook. Prancing around in the tasteless 80's garb that my parents dressed me in, I teetered my way through play dates and preschool. Sundays were reserved for church, and I don't think we ever missed a single service at the First Baptist Church of Bellevue. Maybe once…but that was because our car broke down. We almost walked, but instead we went back home and ate a big breakfast. Elementary school was where I first learned how completely unfair the world really is. Dad signed me up for my first Little League team when I was six. I despised baseball. No, no.. Despise is not a strong enough word. Loathe, that's better. I utterly loathed baseball. In fact, I hated it. Mom finally convinced Dad, after 3 years of torture, that maybe it'd be better to have a son who didn't play baseball, than to have the team "sissy" as his child. Thanks, for your support, mom! When I was 9, my two sisters (twins) were born, and became the pride and joy of the Ferguson family. Beautiful, blonde and spunky, my sisters became the spotlight. I was GLAD to relinquish the title. Suddenly, everyone was so preoccupied with the babies, that there was no time for Dad to try to persuade me to join peewee football, cub scouts or karate. Middle school was awkward, as it seemed was the trend. Pimples and abnormal body parts (my ears were ginormous) followed me for three and a half years until puberty was completed. The worst part was my changing vocal chords. It took them a long time to transition, so I was often a baritone and suddenly a soprano. Dad had a hard time with my puberty, and his favorite lines were, "It'll make a man out of you, Son!" and, "This'll put hair on your chest, Boy!", as he attempted to submerge me in one masculine, testosterone filled environment after another. And so it began, my resentment for my father, and his everlasting disappointment in me. I was dragged from monster truck rallies to hunting trips, while Mom stood in the background, empathetic to her only son's pain. I say pain in correct context. It hurt, the way Dad belittled my study habits, tossed my books away as though they were nothing, laughed at my interest in horticulture. This is where I found my solace. In 8th grade, I entered into the Science Fair with a project determining the effects of tap water, mineral water, and seltzer water on the germination and growth of radish seeds. Mom and I went to the local nursery to pick up the seeds, and I was hooked. The smells and sight of the colors, the outdoor furniture and all of the fixings. It was like entering a backyard utopia. In 10th grade, when I turned 16, I took out a loan from my parents, and started my own lawn care service. With two hundred dollars in my pocket, and my dad's lawn mower and hedge clippers, I convinced my next door neighbor, Ms. Higgins, to peruse my "blue prints" for her "new and improved outdoor area." Pretending to be impressed, she accepted my bid of $50 a visit, every two weeks. Thankfully, my new job kept me busy as my high school years swam by. I enlisted my 7 year old sisters to rake leaves and pull weeds, we made a surprisingly good team. At the beginning of my senior year, I had relieved my sisters of duty and taken on a real partner, my best friend Mike. We had 10 yards, excluding Ms. Higgins', who died shortly after my junior year began. However I still credit her to this day for believing in my dream. It was great that I was so busy, because the more yards I had the less time I had to spend with my father, who never seemed to be pleased with anything I said or did. When I graduated high school, I relocated to Indiana, where I had been accepted to Purdue University. GO BOILMAKERS! I enrolled in their Environmental Plant Studies program, with a minor in Business Administration. Indiana was a bit of a culture shock, but I enjoyed the freedoms that came with being out on my own. Thankfully, Mom and Dad bought into college fund which provided for my experience…and a few years of partying. As a result, I took on a part time gig working for the City of West Lafayette Parks and Recreation department, to "beautify" the city. This allotted plenty of money for the few dates that I had in those four years. More importantly, it kept me social, and opened up a good networking community for after graduation. “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” Now that you're up to speed and up-to-date, let's fast forward to today… Friday, December 22nd…only days, even hours until Christmas. It's 5:30 p.m. and I am sitting at Gate 86 of the Indianapolis International Airport, sipping a latté. My flight leaves in 45 minutes. I'm nervous as hell. Remember that decision that I was talking about way at the beginning? Well, I made it. I'm bringing my boyfriend home for Christmas. Like most decisions, the consequences will be known at a later date. I just hope my parents like him better than Steve Martin liked his daughter’s boyfriend in Parenthood. Little did I know that shit was going to hit the fan later on that day…