The
Determinator

If Michelle Beckhorn’s life is the Bruckner Expressway; full of potholes and always under construction, then Michelle is the Jeep with monster tires; she handles the bumps, and keeps rollin’.

Michelle discovered life wasn’t fair at just eleven years old, when her father passed away, and her family relocated from New Jersey to hot, muggy Florida. Michelle did her best to integrate into her new school, but left the notion of completing her homework behind. When her mother addressed her rebellion, Michelle brought to attention the fact she’d already learned the subjects covered in her homework. She said, outright, that she shouldn’t have to study what she already knew. Something else she already knew was how to spell the word AND. Michelle recalls having to spell it out during a quiz in fifth grade. She had quite a time adjusting to her new school, her curriculum, and Florida’s swampy climate. She joined the swim team just to keep from melting.

”I did get to co-pilot a plane.”

Unchallenged in school and bored the rest of the time, Michelle fantasized about becoming a pilot. At 16, she joined the Civil Air Patrol Cadet Program where people ages 12 through 21 progress through aerospace education, physical fitness, and moral leadership training. Michelle quickly lost interest, though, when she got lumped in with a bunch of middle-schoolers. “I did get to co-pilot a plane. Once I did that, I was like, I’m good.” She was, until one of her older sisters (a twin), passed away unexpectedly.

Michelle was still in the grips of coping with the death of another close family member, when the good news of her acceptance to the Florida State University nursing program arrived, giving her hope. She studied full-time. She worked full-time. She partied hard, and alcohol became a problem. Michelle was sinking. Then, that moment arrived when Michelle awoke to her condition and realized she wasn’t living the life meant for her. She graduated, jumped on the road to recovery, quit her dull office job, quit Florida, and moved back up north, where all four seasons get a chance to show off. She was gearing up for her next chapter in New York City, when she received tragic news: Another dear sister (the other twin) had died unexpectedly.

Great loses like these have the power to destroy a person. Michelle, however, emerged from her period of mourning stronger, determined. She shifted her focus and devised a new plan, which included a potential career in social work. To get familiar with the discipline, Michelle took a master’s class at Rutgers University. She didn’t connect with the course work, though, and went back to serving full-time. “I won the restaurant game,” she says. This was it. The hours were good, the money was good, the clientele was good, management was good. There was much to be grateful for, but Michelle remained unfulfilled. Hospitality and service; Michelle’s life-line industry, wasn’t cutting it. Finding a career that mattered was crucial.

“If a lady had come to school on career day and told us [girls] we could do this shit, I would’ve been like...really?”

Michelle recalled the sage advice her step-father had given her years prior. “He said, ‘Jesus. Go to trade school. Stop with this college shit. Just go to trade school’.” But like most millennials, Michelle was fixed on pursuing higher education. She says she wishes someone had mentioned the trades to her earlier in life. “If a lady had come to school on career day and told us [girls] we could do this shit, I would’ve been like...really?” As Michelle puts it, she was lost at sea and college degrees weren’t getting anybody anywhere. She took her step-father’s advice. She looked for a trade.

During her research, Google did its creepy mind reading thing, and kept churning out results for commercial diving. The more Michelle learned about diving, the more it appealed to her, so she applied to the dockbuilders local intent on becoming a diver. She went to dive school on her own time, and had to apply to the union three times; the application periods spanning months. The journey was worth it, though. Her start day, March 23rd, was on the horizon. She’d be inducted into the union, on her way to becoming a professional diver. Finally. But not really. It was the year 2020. COVID-19 ravaged the planet and killed people and dreams. Michelle would have to wait.

“Time doesn’t exist under water.”

July of 2020 arrived. After four long, pandemic months, Michelle was officially a tradeswoman; onsite, ready to go. She describes her first day on the job as overwhelming. She’d never been around such large machinery and she expected to get yelled at, just because. Six months later, she’d completed her first dive on the job. Her task was to bring a clamp at the bottom of a concrete jacket to the correct elevation by jetting around the dock pile. For those of you who don’t know, “Jetting” is the act of moving mud with a pressure washer. “I didn’t panic,” she says. “I did what I had to do, and got out.” Michelle now dives often and revels in the meditative state working underwater puts her in. “Time doesn’t exist under water.”

In addition to diving, Michelle enjoys prepping the job site and doing maintenance and repair work. Making sure there’s hot water to pump into divers’ wet suits is essential because no one dives if the hot water isn’t working. “The second you run out of hot water, it gets cold fast … People would rather run out of air, than hot water.”

There’s always something to learn, when trying to master a trade, and Michelle can pick up quick. She gets a rush from being challenged. Some challenges come in a physical form; literally having to move or load something heavy without the aide of machinery. Michelle, at 5’ 7”, 120 lbs, admits that heavy lifting is a bit of a struggle. If she can’t find a way to carry out the task safely on her own, she asks for help. It’s as simple as that. Being slim also means job-provided gear never fits. Michelle had to buy her own harness and gloves. Water kept getting in her hat, so she had to order a custom neck dam. “The water was touching my lips.” If she happens to forget her gloves, and has to borrow a pair, someone has to tape them down so they don’t float away. Michelle doesn’t mind, though. Whatever it takes to do her job well, she’s for it.

“I’ll work myself into the ground.”

Of course, Michelle isn’t the first trades woman. She won’t be the last, either, yet people are still preoccupied with outdated gender rolls. Michelle gets a kick out of people asking her what her husband thinks of her being a diver. For the record, her husband Esdras knows she’s capable and thinks his wife made a great career choice. She’s new to her trade, but is already the first female in her union to get overhead and vertical down underwater welding certifications. Such an achievement is possible for Michelle because she’s a hardworking hustler; always on the move, doesn’t know how to do nothing. She’s either hiking, working, working on her house, or working some more. A cousin once ordered Esdras to keep Michelle from doing too much. “I’ll work myself into the ground,” Michelle says. During the spring of 2020, Michelle worked 76 days straight, managing the restaurant she still works at on Fridays and Saturdays (that is, if she’s not in Philly doing welding work).

To pursue diving, one would have to be comfortable with the unknown. Michelle is more than comfortable. She has the level of confidence required to carry out her everyday work duties, fight the colossal squid, confront Cthulhu, you name it. Her future is looking bright, as well. She’s been sober for seven years, is married to the love of her life, and is looking forward to advancing in her career. During training, she got a chance to weld underwater, and can’t wait to do it on the job.

At times, Michelle is surprised by her resilience and ability to shift when necessary, but those who know her aren’t. They know that no matter what may come to Michelle, no matter the circumstances she finds herself in, she is sure to bounce back.