Three Thirds

I woke from a sound sleep screaming as if I had witnessed the most heinous of crimes.  I was inconsolable, tears streaming down my cheeks.  A call was made and an hour or two later I was home in my own bed asleep.  Foreshadowing at its best, if only a four year old could understand.

I got off the chair, took an immediate left, turned the corner and I was gone.  Nothing was going to get in my way, not even the full grown man in front of me barely crawling forward in the snowplow of all snowplows.  What else could I have done??  What would anyone have done in my situation??  I leaned all the way back, sat on the tails of my skis and yelled something as I went through the mans legs and kept on cruising.  As I arrived at the bottom, big grin on my face, I was greeted by the whole fam damily.  Every one of them had a horrified look on their faces, a true look of concern.  Why?  Probably the blood that was all down my face and all over the front of my ski jacket as apparently the man's large backside had been to tough a foe for my tiny little six year old nose.

I was prone to arm crossing at the time.  Had once halted a family trip, for a period of time at least, by standing by the ice machine of the motel we had stayed at outside of Gettysburg on the way to Disneyworld.  Who on earth drives their entire family, grandparents included, from Vermont to Florida for a good time I have no idea!!  Somehow this time I had been extremely convincing for seven or eight or nine and thus I did not have to stay with friends.  I was a man, at least more so then than now, and thus the wood stoves, the fire place, and all was kept going.  I fed myself, slept, and manned the house for a long weekend alone.

I jumped in the front seat of the truck, slid the arm to where the little red needle was on the capital R on the gauge.  I slowly began to back up the very soft, temporary drive that ran between the sets of six condos.  As the truck worked it's way up the slope in reverse I tried to monitor my progress using the side view mirrors the way I had been taught, but the truck moved to my right ever so slightly, moving into softer and softer packed gravel as I went.  It was sudden and in slow motion all at the same time as the truck slid to the side of the last condo unit in the cluster to the right and made contact with the sheathing on the corner.  I had to make it right, I had to fix it, I knew how to rock the truck back and fourth to free it from where it was stuck.  It dug in further and further while peeling the corner of the condo apart splinter by splinter.  Not all bad in a days work for a thirteen year old paid laborer.  At least I was able to entertain the men.

I was home from prep school for the summer and the school where I had spent 5th and 6th grade, and where my sister had broken the ring I gave her, and her finger, all at the same time during PE, had to be remodeled by summers end, which for me was mid-August for pre-season of my senior year.  All day long ripping out old insulation and old siding to make way for new.  Racing up the mountain to change and get my run in on the gravel that made up most of the roads at home.  Showering and changing, jumping in the car with my sister, and racing the 45 or 35 or 25 minutes to Waterbury Center to pick up the then love of my life and off to cause trouble, the highlight of which was the Vermont State Fair at the end of my time home, listening to Crystal Gale, riding rides, eating cotton candy and then driving, singing, our way back to Waterbury Center to say goodbye.

It's late fall in Rhode Island, or early winter in Vermont, and the phone rings.  I need to come home for Thursday and Friday.  The roof needs to get on by end of day Friday because snow is coming on the weekend.  Two days spent humping lumber, slinging plywood onto the roof rafters, my work boots wedged between two rafters, lean over, grab the corners and sling the plywood into place, repeat.  End of Friday and he looks at the "valley" between the dormer roof and the roof to note that the lines are off slightly.  The men note that know one has a better eye.  This is Sophomore year, and the beginning of the end.

The light at the end of the tunnel.  Almost done.  Almost an engineer, an "engineer in training" to be precise.  Must have been Easter break.  Home to see the family.  Sitting in the study by the roll-top desk.  He is leaving, leaving mom, leaving us, leaving me.  The company is closed, finished, gone.  Twenty two years of hard hats, construction, the smell of pipes, cigarettes, horse shoes at lunch time, nothing being good enough, everything needing to be perfect, so perfect it broke the company.  Twenty two years, or I guess maybe eighteen, dreaming of my nice, shiny, new backhoe, bulldozer, bucket loader.  High school years getting bigger, stronger, and more responsible.  College years of studying Structures, Concrete, Materials Testing, Principles of Drafting, Soil Engineering, and the EIT exam, which was easy to be honest!!  Gone!!

Early years of adulthood, practicing engineer, Deer Island, River Relocation Project.  Caught myself going over the pilings head first headed to the river bed sixty feet below.  Promised management.  Asked to move back.  Lost her, lost him, lost her.  Roommates with my brother.  Evicted by my brother, sort of, essentially. Lost track of right and wrong briefly.  Probably too much shit for one time in life.  Visiting once in a while and then not.  Finally ran away to Killington, best thing I have ever done, at least to that moment.  WHS next.  Hardest and best moment I could have had with a couple dozen young athletes and dad, one goal short.  Said no to WHS football.  Got another "real" job, got my masters just 'cause.  Chose Chicago to get away and try something new.  Consumed by the big company, screwed by six years of love.  Sent to Frito Lay Europe.  Came home for the holidays.  The wives said no so December 28th it was.  There she was, or so I thought.  back to Europe, moved to penthouse, furnished the penthouse, bought the ring, the dress, the Porsche.  Oops.

Moved back, stuck around, took care, lost out on first shot, family first.  Back to the fray.  Trying hard to be something I am not.  Faking it pretty well at Sony and Astra.  Lost out again, fall guy.  Up or out...out.  Now what.  What else, finally followed in Dad's footsteps.  Better late than never??  More like too late but not never.

End of a long strange road.  Nothing is as it was supposed to be.  No one else's fault but my own??  Who knows.  Definitely can't change it now.  Mickey, Tony, Bobby, Michael causing all sorts of trouble for so long, high school, college, "The Bush" the early years.  Lots of good and bad times spent from then until the inevitable, and then a very long drawn out end.

Thanks for some of it, not for the rest.

Thank you again for getting this far with me.