TupaTalk: Life has taken me to high places. I just have to pinch myself now and then.

In about eight weeks, the 35th anniversary of the start of my newspaper career will give a passing nod. I got a late start — 31-and-a-half-years old when I strolled into the office of the Ely Daily Times as their newest — and only — reporter.

It was to be another stop in a restless life. It seems I was born to travel many different roads, slice a sample from many different classes of humanity — from understanding in a very real way the challenges of the embedded poor to sharing a limo ride through Bartlesville with former NFL owner Bud Adams.

I’ve felt almost like an objective observer following the patchwork pattern of my life. That wasn’t Mike Tupa — as flawed and ridiculous as he is — being inducted in the Bartlesville Athletic Hall of Fame, but an ideal copy overwhelmed with gratitude by the kindness of those who bestowed the efforts.

That really wasn’t Mike Tupa graduating from Marine Corps Boot Camp, straight and sturdy and brimming with confidence, but a duplicate that somehow found the grit to meet the test.

That really wasn’t Mike Tupa running six-to-11 miles a day in his mid-20s to early 30s. It was a ghost in the pursuit of excellence in the best athletic ability he ever knew.

I have to pinch myself — symbolically — to think that this timid and imperfect character has endured 35 years in an unfolding dream that still seems too wonderful to be true.

Before I turned 11, we moved — mostly my mom, sister I — 10 times to three different states and seven cities. I attended 11 different elementary schools through sixth grade, but still sought out friends and made a few during those roamin’ years. However, life mostly centered around the family and church, Saturday morning cartoons — and Sgt. Fury and His Howling Commandos, and Batman and Superman comic books. They were the constants amid change.

Starting when I turned 11 the years turned lean financially for many years. I brought in a little money as a paperboy — seven days a week, no holidays off — for the Ogden Standard-Examiner. But, I squandered more than a reasonable part of the money on Pizza Puffs, cans of chili, sports magazines — and bananas. During that time, a banana distributor replaced the stickers of its name with sticker of NFL helmet logos. I think I bought all 26 or them or 30, whatever the number of teams then.

But, those were tough years for our mom, who bore the brunt of the pressure and struggles while going to work as a cleaning woman for about $1,60 an hour. The cupboards and fridge often were empty expect for maybe a partial box of corn starch or something like that. I wore the same pair of pants to school every day.

With the help of the Unseen Hand and others we pushed through. What really mattered was we had each other. Mom made it a happy time, somehow sacrificing to layaway a new bike for me for my birthday and to buy my sister the poodle transistor radio she wanted so much.

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Soon, I entered another phase — going to live with my uncle and aunt, partially because of economics and partially because mom wanted me to attend the same high school all three years and she and my sister were moving to another town due to work.

I resided three years with my uncle and aunt, through high school graduation and another year, until I served a church mission in Italy for two years.

Most the rest is kind of like a fast track — four-and-a-half years of college, four years of active duty in the Marines and two years as a near-minimum wage security guard, until I was 31-and-a-half.

Why I enlisted in the Marines, I’ll never completely understand. It was that other Mike Tupa. I was on the verge of wrapping up my B.A. degree, had a nice-paying job, had just about paid off my car, lived just a few blocks from mom and my sister, across the street from my grandparents and within a few miles of several other relatives.

But, I had been unsuccessful in finding a job in journalism and felt like I was kind of skidding along. Plus, a part of my had always felt I needed to sacrifice something for my country, even though the thought of actually doing so seemed beyond the realm of common sense.

Fortunately, that other Mike Tupa scraped together the courage and resolve to enlist — just about 25-30 hours short of my degree.

(I got about 20-plus of those hours out of the way before I went to boot camp and did what else I needed to do to obtain it.)

In the Marines I spent time in South Carolina, Oahu, Hawaii and Japan, broadening my horizons and circle of experiences with many different people.

After the Marines, I struggled to get my career launched, getting more turndowns than bed covers at a motel during vacation season.

But, that other Mike Tupa refused to give up and things finally worked out.

As I reflect on the odd odyssey known as my life, a day of illumination flits through my brain.

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During a relaxed afternoon in Ely, I drove about 10-12 miles to the west to a former mining area and modern ghost town.

I exited my car and strolled to the edge of a cavernous former open air mining pit. The distance to other edge was probably five football fields long, or more. As I looked down, I saw the remnants of roads leading toward the bottom, where giant trucks used to haul up tons of dirt — containing Earth’s secret mineral treasures — from the bottom to the top and then to the smelter and refinery.

I marveled at the power of man to rearrange this huge landscape to claw out wealth that fed, clothed, sheltered and blessed the lives of thousands of employees, their families and others. I also thought of the scar of progress and yet, how the Earth was already healing with clumps of vegetation growing on the sides of the pit, and the makeup of the hole already changing with the slow, sculpting knives of nature and time.

At the same time, the thought hit me that dirt and hearts never stay the same. We are shaped by our experiences and our reaction to them. The past has guided us to where we are and helped make us who we are. We can't return over passed ground, but we build on the lessons of the journey.

To me, the forces of destiny and decisions have taken me to high places. I just have to pinch myself now and then.

This article originally appeared on Bartlesville Examiner-Enterprise: Tupa: We are shaped by our experiences and our reaction to them