A Life
My job can be cool.
You see, wherever I go, I usually know between 5-10 people on every job. In some places, it's a lot more. Many of the men I've known for years and years. I know a little about their families and home lives.
Guys who immigrated here. Others who've been here all their lives. Republicans and Democrats. Black and white.
Hundreds and hundreds of men and women who work hard.
Last week, I was on the road and after walking the site with the superintendent we headed to the job trailer as he wanted to show me some photos of the storm that passed through and hammered the project.
We looked at those and then a photo of him and a woman and couple of children filled the screen.
"Sorry," he said.
"No, that's a great photo," I said.
He went back to it.
"That's my wife and my niece and nephew. My wife passed away last year."
I had known that. She'd been lost to cancer.
"It's a great photo," I said.
And that sent him off and running.
He showed me photos of them doing karaoke. There were charity races, and Christmas celebrations.
One photo after another.
He was smiling in all of them. His wife was so alive in each shot, and before long he was showing me shots of reunions with his Marine brothers, and biological brothers.
There was also a photo of his first wife...
...who had also passed away way too young...
...yeah, cancer.
"You've had a rough go," I said.
"Nah," he said. "I've lived a life."
He lingered on the photo of his first wife and the kids they'd raised together.
"I've had a lot of love in my life. It hurts, for sure, but I learned a lot about living from the time I spent in Vietnam."
He quickly passed through a number of photos and put up a shot of him and a man from a time and place long ago.
"That's me and Max back in the fighting days," he said.
Both were big, strong, healthy men.
They were smiling and their arms were draped over one another's shoulders.
"Lost Max this year," he said. "Agent orange."
He pointed at a photo on the wall.
The same two men...
...some 40-some years later.
Grey hair, a little heavier than their original fighting weight. Both smiling. Arms around one another....
...still.
"A tremendous life," I said.
He laughed.
"When you look back like this it sure seems that way," he said. "I was just living. I miss the hell out of a lot of people now."
I felt that one for sure.
"But making new friends is great too."
"The best part of all of it," I said.
We shook hands.
I'll see him again shortly...
...and I'll be looking forward to it.
You see, wherever I go, I usually know between 5-10 people on every job. In some places, it's a lot more. Many of the men I've known for years and years. I know a little about their families and home lives.
Guys who immigrated here. Others who've been here all their lives. Republicans and Democrats. Black and white.
Hundreds and hundreds of men and women who work hard.
Last week, I was on the road and after walking the site with the superintendent we headed to the job trailer as he wanted to show me some photos of the storm that passed through and hammered the project.
We looked at those and then a photo of him and a woman and couple of children filled the screen.
"Sorry," he said.
"No, that's a great photo," I said.
He went back to it.
"That's my wife and my niece and nephew. My wife passed away last year."
I had known that. She'd been lost to cancer.
"It's a great photo," I said.
And that sent him off and running.
He showed me photos of them doing karaoke. There were charity races, and Christmas celebrations.
One photo after another.
He was smiling in all of them. His wife was so alive in each shot, and before long he was showing me shots of reunions with his Marine brothers, and biological brothers.
There was also a photo of his first wife...
...who had also passed away way too young...
...yeah, cancer.
"You've had a rough go," I said.
"Nah," he said. "I've lived a life."
He lingered on the photo of his first wife and the kids they'd raised together.
"I've had a lot of love in my life. It hurts, for sure, but I learned a lot about living from the time I spent in Vietnam."
He quickly passed through a number of photos and put up a shot of him and a man from a time and place long ago.
"That's me and Max back in the fighting days," he said.
Both were big, strong, healthy men.
They were smiling and their arms were draped over one another's shoulders.
"Lost Max this year," he said. "Agent orange."
He pointed at a photo on the wall.
The same two men...
...some 40-some years later.
Grey hair, a little heavier than their original fighting weight. Both smiling. Arms around one another....
...still.
"A tremendous life," I said.
He laughed.
"When you look back like this it sure seems that way," he said. "I was just living. I miss the hell out of a lot of people now."
I felt that one for sure.
"But making new friends is great too."
"The best part of all of it," I said.
We shook hands.
I'll see him again shortly...
...and I'll be looking forward to it.
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