Friday, May 29, 2015

How to Work

                                                                            How to Work

As a retired teacher, I can't help but look back at the changes that have occurred over the years.
Certainly, many things change naturally. They keep up with social and technical developments. There's
not much need to drive a horse and wagon loaded with ice through the streets of Philadelphia today. I can recall when men did this. We really liked when the "iceman" would chip off a piece of a block of ice and throw it to us on the steamy July days that seemed to go on forever when we were kids. Hey,  I can remember summers that seemed longer than forever, and they were great summers too! No, there's no icemen around anymore, not around any place I know anyway. This is not particularly bad though. We don't have to hunt deer with bows and arrows or throw spears or rocks either. That's not bad either. The point is that we don't have to teach it in school any longer.
This story is about "work" and its meaning to a ten year old child - me.
The father of one of the students in our fifth grade class died trying to save a little girl from drowning. He had jumped in a lake or some river trying to save her and he drowned. I don't know what happened to the girl, but I felt sorry for the boy in our class. He now had no dad and the reason was that his dad had tried to save a little girl. That was sad. It wasn't right somehow. So I decided to make an effort to be a better friend to the boy. This was an introduction to the world of "work"  for me. Soon, I found myself working in the same linoleum flooring store as my friend. We would clean up and sweep the floor and carry rolls of linoleum flooring to the customers that lived around the neighborhood. Some of those rolls got real heavy on the shoulder by the time you got to the person's house. Occasionally, I would go to the store and buy a cup of coffee for our boss, the fellow that owned the store. I remember the smell of the coffee and  the paper  cup in the bag just as if I was carrying it down the street right now. "Work" had all kinds of twists and turns and details you'd never expect. The best part of this job, was getting paid on Saturdays. I think it was fifty cents for after school and Saturdays. That was a lot of money for a kid. Two comic books at least. Candy bars so you could chew on 'em and read the comic books at the same time. I also bought a stamp album and I'd buy stamps and glue them in with these little sticky transparent tabs. It was great fun for a ten year old. The ideas for all of this probably came from our class at school.
We did other kinds of "work" too. We sold pretzels around the neighborhood. Reisman's Pretzels. There were prizes for selling the most pretzels. I think they still do this.  My Mom got all our relatives to buy boxes of pretzels and I won a little flash camera. Gosh I miss that camera.  
Later, at another school, I think, we sold magazine subscriptions. I won a lamp for that.
It's amazing just how much practical know how you can pick up as a child in school.

How to "work" is an important lesson that I think needs more emphasis today. 

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Memorial Day 2015

                                                               Memorial Day 2015
It was around 1976 in Washington State. We had just pulled out of Viet Nam and my permanent duty station was Ft. Lewis, Washington. Half our unit, the second of the fourth field artillery, ninth division went to Korea. I stayed "home". We had a choice and I was married and lived in Tacoma near the base with my wife. Still, even though at home, we trained hard at places like "Yakima" in western Washington state;  a large desolate area of rocks and mountains and I can't remember seeing a plant, not even sagebrush.  It was appropriate as a training ground for field artillery maneuvers.  
I remember getting "lost' out there at night and getting a ride on top of a tank turret. It really swung around and you had to hold on for dear life onto these steel handles as it spun around. It was quite a ride in the total black of that night. These tankers - they were just kids really, learning to drive, were tearing up the countryside. I don't know how they stayed on any kind of path - or if they had to. I just hung on and hoped I'd get back to my unit somehow. They stopped and opened up these big search lights they had mounted on the tanks. What a show - bright lights onto the hills and mountains in the middle of the night. I guess it was part of their training program.
I made it back to my unit and I was told there'd be training maneuvers all night long. I thought about these guys driving all over the desert with tanks and half-tracks and whatever and decided to hunker down under our deuce and a half - a two and a half ton truck, just in case one of these guys would come ripping across the desert and not even notice me in my sleeping bag. Let me tell you guys, if you haven't done your service yet. "Take care of yourself" - it might be that no one else will! "Think!" Find yourself a safe cozy spot and make a home!  I had lived and worked on a ship for a while and I'd learned a few things.
Sure enough, twenty six guys lost their lives that night - mostly all run over!  This was peacetime in the USA. Imagine being in an actual battle in Europe or the Pacific. Being shot at, bombed, I knew exactly what an artillery shell did. Pretty vicious stuff, naturally. We're lucky over here in the good ol' USA - all safe and warm and cozy.

Thanks guys!!