Joining up with road crew give first real-work experience
I was on a bright spring day in 1972 or thereabouts, at the age of sixand- half years, that I experienced my first day’s works.
On this day, as I played in the fenced-in sideyard, a large truck stopped along the Limekiln Lake Road.
From the back it poured a mountain of black stuff, piling it on the ground.
I watched through the fence, my fingers gripping the metals links, curious about this mountain of stuff and why it was being left!
Before the driver pulled the truck up the road a bit, a second man—a big fellow—climbed out with a shovel.
The shovel resembled a small army shovel I dug with in the sandbox. This man’s was bigger though, longer than my whole body.
He scooped some black stuff and pitched it into a hole in the road.
I could see he needed help—my help, I supposed.
I ran to the sand box, got my shovel and returned as fast as my kindergarten legs could carry me.
I opened the fence gate and left my “stay and play” area.
At the edge of the frontyard, right next to the road, I started to work—my first job!
I wandered to the black pile and reached to touch the stuff.
It was gooey and it blackened my fingers. It also stunk. I tried to wipe it off on my pants.
The man laughed but let me help him in his work. The best part was when he reached in his pocket and gave me a nickel! Oh boy, I had a nickel!
I didn’t know whether he gave me the nickel because I worked, or what. Not that it mattered. At a distance I could hear my mother calling through the kitchen window.
To me, a six-and-a-half year old, the yard looked huge.
I can only imagine how I must have looked—little legs running toward her, shovel in hand, a bit dirty, yelling, “Mom look I’m helpin’!”
Actually, I was covered in the sticky pavement and my enthusiasm was bursting from a smile that had lost a few teeth.
My mother stood shaking her head on the porch. “Now don’t touch anything,” she said as she studied to find her son beneath the black gunk.
She led me to the kitchen sink, her eyes rolling as only hers can.
She continually heaved sighs as she filled the sink, took off my sweatshirt, and washed my neck and face until I was shiny, clean, and reddish.
I only half listened when she scolded me about playing outside the fence. I was freshly cleaned and ready again for action. Ready to get back to work!
