Retirement

I knew a brick mason named Jim. 

I met Jim back in the mid-1990’s and man, I watched the man work hard. 

Up and down the scaffold, carrying blocks and bricks and climbing ladders and scaffold stairs.

He was dirty a lot of the time.

Jim was usually in a great mood too. He’d groan audibly and say, “What do you want?” every single time he saw me.

He called me to help a few times when OSHA came knocking.

Over the summer our conversation started with a number…

…the number of days until he retired.

The countdown started when he hit the 50-day mark.

“You’re going to stay another year,” I’d say each time he talked about it.

“Nope. I have it figured to the penny. I figure I have a good 20 years left. I have my union pension and all the social security I can get. I’m gonna’ sit on my ass.”

“You’ll miss it,” I said.

He just laughed.

Jim died yesterday. His wife found him on the kitchen floor. The coffee freshly brewed but he didn’t get a cup.

Just three and a half months after he took his boots off.

He worked so hard!

Up and out of bed…

…day after day after day.

His body ached, but he enjoyed it.

And it’s happened so often since the start of Covid.

I can’t even count the number of friends/acquaintances that I’ve lost in the past year.

You’d certainly think that there should be more than three and a half months of relaxation afforded to a guy who busted his hump every single day.

I think back to a cold, sleet-filled day last spring at a school job. 

I was hustling into the site when I heard someone call my name. I turned to see Jim, seated on the tail gate of his pickup truck.

He was slicing an apple with a jackknife.

“Looking for me?” He asked as I got closer.

“The crew,” I said.

“I am the crew. Sit down. Relax a minute. You’re always on the run.”

I sat beside him.

He cut a slice of the apple. His hands were dirty, but he offered up the slice on the blade of the knife.

We shared the apple.

Talked about work and family and retiring.

He couldn’t wait to retire.

What a damn shame.

But I’ll always remember eating that apple and just talking to a good hardworking guy.

May he Rest In Peace.