One more book of poetry since I hold poems in higher esteem than essays and then I could spend more time concentrating on prose and essays. As always I really do appreciate your insight
A wonderful read, Wes. I can see those booby traps you described in my minds eye. I saw them all too often on site. The hammers left unseen on top of an open step ladder. The lazy stacking of heavy timbers or metal scaffolding poles against walls at such a steep angle that it was only a matter of time before they fell.
And this jobs when everyone got paid, except me. I always told myself that if I can get through that, I can get through anything. And I did. I fell in love with working with my hands at an early age too, and it has never left me. Those Sunday mornings, hangover or not, are still precious to me. Long may thst continue.
Man, I was glad to do it and glad to hear from a fellow sufferer and lover of all that. You really had to love it to stick with it. I may have gotten very tired but I never grew tired of seeing a house go up right, square, solid and sound.
It sounds simple, but if the crew isn’t right, it gets complicated fast.
Most of the fellas I worked with left a job in such a way that you didn’t need to check it. Of course, there are always characters that haven’t a clue, or have found a new, better, faster way of doing things. They never lasted long. And, of course, every job was awash with booze. Not on the job, although that went on sometimes. But as soon as those tools went down, the beer was picked up. That’s a whole book worth of stories. Thanks again, Wes. It was lovely to read this piece.
And you don’t have to go to work tomorrow unless you want to. And you can begin a sentence with a preposition if you feel like it. Wait. You can’t retire from writing so you will have to h to continue diagraming your sentences.
Really enjoyed learning more about you. I’d say wood is your passion. You seem more like an excellence woodworker than a production person. I’m glad you’re a wordsmith too.
I sometimes can't keep up with you, Wes, that's why I'm late, but I wanted to tell you how I liked getting to know this bossy side of you. I guess with a job with so many potential dangers it's essential to be very clear: THIS is the right way, if you can't do it, you're out. For everybody's safety, including your own. That's one very legitimate place for authority. Your prose is so eloquent, and makes me ponder, just as your poems do.
Thanks for reading, Jessica. It was a combination of things that caused such extreme black and white thinking. One was safety certainly, another was how quickly we could lose money on a lousy or lazy carpenter. The third thing that isn't often noticed is the effect on a small crew of men working together all day long, sometime in difficult circumstances, cold or hot weather. One bad attitude can very quickly turn a difficult working environment into an intolerable one. There had to be a lot of trust flowing all the time and if someone showed bad judgement again and again, they had to go and go quickly.
Essays as full of passion as yours are - as THIS is - are a gift received.
Your mastery of language seems is rivaling your mastery of carpentry. That you marry the two here, is profoundly clear.
Thank you Patris, it is so pleasant to be understood.
This has to be published
One more book of poetry since I hold poems in higher esteem than essays and then I could spend more time concentrating on prose and essays. As always I really do appreciate your insight
Of course!
A wonderful read, Wes. I can see those booby traps you described in my minds eye. I saw them all too often on site. The hammers left unseen on top of an open step ladder. The lazy stacking of heavy timbers or metal scaffolding poles against walls at such a steep angle that it was only a matter of time before they fell.
And this jobs when everyone got paid, except me. I always told myself that if I can get through that, I can get through anything. And I did. I fell in love with working with my hands at an early age too, and it has never left me. Those Sunday mornings, hangover or not, are still precious to me. Long may thst continue.
Thanks for bringing back so many memories.
Mostly good! Haha.
Have a peaceful Friday.
Man, I was glad to do it and glad to hear from a fellow sufferer and lover of all that. You really had to love it to stick with it. I may have gotten very tired but I never grew tired of seeing a house go up right, square, solid and sound.
Square, solid, and sound ltd.
It has a ring to it.
It sounds simple, but if the crew isn’t right, it gets complicated fast.
Most of the fellas I worked with left a job in such a way that you didn’t need to check it. Of course, there are always characters that haven’t a clue, or have found a new, better, faster way of doing things. They never lasted long. And, of course, every job was awash with booze. Not on the job, although that went on sometimes. But as soon as those tools went down, the beer was picked up. That’s a whole book worth of stories. Thanks again, Wes. It was lovely to read this piece.
Thanks. It’s good to know other people who have been here.
What a lovely day
It sure is here in Colorado, 66 degrees, cloudless sky, 21% humidity and an essay that decided to arrive today. Red letter day, in my book.
And you don’t have to go to work tomorrow unless you want to. And you can begin a sentence with a preposition if you feel like it. Wait. You can’t retire from writing so you will have to h to continue diagraming your sentences.
Thank you Bliss, I am still trying to get a handle on it.
Add more Sundays to your calendar.
That's such a good way to look at it.
Bliss, did you know that every poem I write is grammatical and could be reassembled into regular sentences and paragraphs.
Yes. Why do you ask that? I don't know, what I don't know.
No particular reason other than your grammatical note in your earlier post
ah, my my not so clever comment was my way of saying, enjoy the freedom of your retirement.
All the words are old and free, and you make something beautiful of them. Wes.
What more can you ask for on a Sunday?
Thanks Paul and what more could I ask?
Really enjoyed learning more about you. I’d say wood is your passion. You seem more like an excellence woodworker than a production person. I’m glad you’re a wordsmith too.
Thanks for reading Monica. Here's a poem from years ago about falling in love with wood.
https://westonpparker.substack.com/p/looking-at-wood
I absolutely love this. Thanks so very much for sharing it with me.
Thank you for reading it.
So beautiful.
Thank you Geraldine.
I sometimes can't keep up with you, Wes, that's why I'm late, but I wanted to tell you how I liked getting to know this bossy side of you. I guess with a job with so many potential dangers it's essential to be very clear: THIS is the right way, if you can't do it, you're out. For everybody's safety, including your own. That's one very legitimate place for authority. Your prose is so eloquent, and makes me ponder, just as your poems do.
Thanks for reading, Jessica. It was a combination of things that caused such extreme black and white thinking. One was safety certainly, another was how quickly we could lose money on a lousy or lazy carpenter. The third thing that isn't often noticed is the effect on a small crew of men working together all day long, sometime in difficult circumstances, cold or hot weather. One bad attitude can very quickly turn a difficult working environment into an intolerable one. There had to be a lot of trust flowing all the time and if someone showed bad judgement again and again, they had to go and go quickly.
Thanks. Loved it as always :)
Thanks Jonathan.
The smell of carbon paper
The cerchink of a stapler
The whirr of the xerox machine
The whack of a typewriter
The smell of morning coffee
The look on their faces when I fired them
The tears rolling down their cheeks
The endless useless meetings
The meaningless reports
The insides of the holding cells
The starched striped uniforms
The endless time twirling thumbs
The day of freedom
They never found the bodies
I promise you, they won't get a word out of me, although your flowers seem to be doing very well....😉