fri dec 28

Well, that was the end of the rode for that parti bk.

I was surprised to see that it was the Father's Day thing that was a very important part in my life--namely, it's the last time I saw Jackie Hartnett as well as Barb Black. But it helped me round out the story. And then I got my Prince Hal reference in when I was workin' at the Bungie bean plant in Councitucky.

And now I get to return to It's Monday and I'm Working. We've not perused those contents in quite some X: caught up in the umpire gig How-to manual.

Chapter One Voc Rehabilitation


4/15/2003 7:06 AM


NOW I’VE BEEN SITTING ON MY RESPECTIVE kiester, thumbing through an old Sports Illustrated, not taking advantage of all this current info, this current slog into the world of the unknown.

“No, you can’t be in here with him,” said one of the older personages at the Electrician’s Apprentice Training Center as two elderly ladies looked like they were giving careful consideration to escort their son into the testing arena. We were the first ones there. I think I was the second car to pull up as I saw later that the small compact car had contained a somewhat large personage with an indistinguishable tattoo on his arm who came in a little later and sat in the front of the room.

The young boy, wearing glasses and black curly black hair that he had combed back and was on the wavy side, looked at them without comment and walked down the newly tiled corridor and into what was the room where we were to take the test.

So then it was just he and I almost twenty or so minutes early but then as the clock neared the 8:30 hour the medium-sized room began to fill such that, to my surprise, looking up, there was almost 30 or so people coming quietly in and sitting down. I noticed that in the center front, there was a guy of medium build who had a book in front of him that he was looking over, as well as the day’s newspaper which he didn’t.

Then the room began to fill. A couple gals came in: one looked like she was young and stout enough to maybe have been a discus thrower in her high school days but was pleasant looking enough with something about a marathon on the back of her light blue shirt that was faded out. I didn’t see exactly what it said, not caring to pry.

I thought how I wish I would’ve prepared better, came across a study guide, went over Algebra: but that wasn’t what totally consumed me, it was the spatial questions that you had to match a figure with something spread out. I got the two sample questions wrong and thus that would be the part of the test I’d do most poorly in as I hadn’t had a chance to prepare or review in any manner.

But the first part was 40 minutes: I’m glad I had a chance to review how to work with polynomials; daughter Kaitlin using the word “foil” and then I’d corrected a few of the assignments at Uta Halee.

“I gotta pickle, I gotta pickle, hey hey hey.” Uta Halee was filled with junior high and high school girls, all seeking to better themselves in a fairly secure and locked environment. Some were runaways, others were throwaways, some were bright and able enough but had decided to ply their wild trade a little bit too much for either the parents or the community to handle and thus were shipped off to a girl’s home. I took a teacher's place who had to undergo a month or so of surgery on his shoulder. While it was the science teacher whose place I was taking, I also had the opportunity to sit in and help teach Algebra II classes. The teacher’s addition helped me figure out how to get past polynomials: this was part of the Electrician’s Exam I felt I could do well in.

I’ve got to write that down. This is what the girls would say. They sang it walking down narrow hallways of the Walter Scott Center: “I got a pickle, I gotta pickle, hey hey hey.” They said it lightly, sing song.

Ole Walter Scott now, he was a big donor. He had his name on the building. He’s head of Kiewitt Construction, world-wide, world renowned but I wondered if they’d built this wing of the girl’s home because ever and always there were buckets being placed beneath various sections of the building to contain the water dripping through. Other large donors earned their names on plaques on the walls of other the other buildings that swooped around the main wing where the girls slept but because my travels as fill-in teacher didn’t take me there, I don’t know if the roofs leaked or not.

And Monica, curious, wide-eyed, showing slight strains of Native American descent, and who managed to spend more time in time out than she did in the actual classroom, said, as I exited stage right my last day on the job, “You’re a good teacher.” A few the older gals did not address me with quite so measured aplomb but just went about their own affairs of getting to be pulled from their classrooms and taken to their respective houses and secured for the evening (I noticed in the paper a few months later how one of the girls had run away and was quickly hooked up with a pimp in South Omaha and began doing prostitution. This got a little bit of newspaper space, air play, and I just couldn't help but which one of the 17-year-old girls had decided to take perhaps another walk on the wild side).

Lozier, Scott, Waneka and a few others. A few named for the large contractors here in Omaha that, I ‘spose, have some degree of connection with same but have their names all over the place. Maybe there were large donations, or something. I have a book I mistakenly took home from UH that has all these short stories about people who’ve over come great obstacles and still carried on. Like a wheel chair or other injury but my take was who were these publishers that were putting them all to the fore: I ran off copies at the copy machine but discovered I’d not taken the book back to the “library” that is in classroom 7 which has all the classics that deal with portraits of artists in incendiary dramatic situations. I was more interested, of course, in seeing what publishers there were.

And then I noticed at some of the books there was always a name, speaker a guest: dedicated to UH by bla bla bla. I saw it in some to the larger books that were in the section of the bookshelves adjacent to the window that looked out on a small mini forest of pine and oak and like trees that descended to a valley where at the bottom it looked like a large object—smaller than a washing machine but white—that had been tossed by someone some time ago and thus would take up permanent residence, taking quite some time to recycle.

And this is the section of the row of books where there’d be the larger tomes—snapshots of the 80’s or 90’s, famous people and all. Celebrities, events, a veritable smorgasbord of smiles. And because Deb, who always greeted me with a smile and demanded that I walk with her to and fro lunch, ever advanced the notion of Shakespeare and would talk delightedly whenever we talked about the history plays, the comedies, the tragedies, her knowing a little bit about a couple, me knowing a little bit about a couple more. And then one of the larger girls, who would sometimes almost bark out belches and comments almost unpronounced thanked me for my mention of Shakespeare when I took over Mrs. Real’s class: she had to attend a funeral of an in-law who’d passed away. Also her brother was also not in any kind of shape to hit life’s functions at full-bore.

And the classroom was full and I just launched into the most beautiful writing that Shakespeare has ever done, the garden scene in Romeo and Juliet. This was just an overture to Wuthering Heights but Jean, if that was her name, came up to me at the end of class and said she like what I had to say about Shakespeare. So I just had my Riverside edition that I note has been in and with our family for more than 12 or so years; daughter Allison had it in her bookcase in her topsy-turvy room and I’ve seen it around the house for a number of years: so I’d just turn it over to UH. I wouldn’t have any special pronouncement, announcing myself. I’d just sign my name and the date.

I’d be nondescript. I felt that I was maybe giving them something much more meaningful. And I had two v. interested readers. And then there was another gal, who listened to me evoke the first line of Ulysses how she was Irish also and would v. much like to read. So I got my extra copy of Ulysses and, through the next running days, I’d say to her, “How are you and Joyce getting along?’ she’d nod and smile and lower her head a little bit. “Pretty tough, isn’t it?” I’d say lightly, thinking of how it took such serious devotion to form and matter and glad she was able to handle it with aplomb. Thought I doubt v. much if she was reading it that seriously or, for that matter, really understood it to any degree.

But maybe she did. It just didn’t seem like she’d be the scholarly book-worm type who could pour into large tomes and digest like a full-course meal.

But this was another book I left. I told Uta Halee Education Director Paul, who was always smiling when I approached him and made me feel quite sure of myself as he said how glad he was that I could fill in for Bruno—who would traipse into the foyer at about 11:30 and teach the afternoon class. Bruno was quite witty and fun and had been at UH for five years. He had to have his rotator cup operated on. Things were not going that well for him as he’d have his right arm in a sling and talk about the medication he was either taking or not taking—owing to the drowsiness it inflicted, the pain it was or wasn’t causing.

But he had a quick easy laugh and it was not a surprise to discern at some point that he was a salesman of some sort before logging ft into teaching, hailing from Chicago.. so he’d go about, chatting easily, funny with quick wit and good repartee and connected well with Mrs. Real. Even when teacher Lynn raised her voice at him when Bruno was asking a point regarding confidentiality—all the names of the kids on the newsletter that comes out monthly are not unlike those of an AA meeting, i.e. just your first name—Lynn, who’d been there a couple years and had pain in her shoulder from being thrown by the bouncer at the Ice House a couple years ago and was now having them look at ways she could lesson the pain in her upper neck never did not seem to be in the best of humors. But Bruno was not in any way taken aback by her curtness and just shrugged his shoulders and went forward with the day.

So that’s where I left the two books. And then Debra always coming up to me with a bright smile and saying, “Romeo.” Though could tell the staff thought she was overstepping her bounds, escorting me to lunch and back, no one said anything. Deb was always on book restriction, it was posted in the front office and in classroom 7 seems she’d take a book and not return it, cubby holing it in her room or something. They were all different editions of famous novels of the Bronte’s and Drieser and others that in some instances were dog-eared and torn so it wouldn't matter I would think how many of the books she had but for as long as I was there, Deb was always on book restriction. I should’ve asked her what that meant on our journey to the building where meals were served.

Lynn had a tendency to more or less talk out of the corner of her mouth and she was good and lassoing those girls who were engaged in talking to students sitting at other tables.

“Don’t be leaving a mess like you did the other day,” Lynn said across our table upon which we the teachers and staff sit. “No talking across the table,” she’d call. The other young female teacher, Alisha, also would inveigh against the charges at their table. While Lynn was single and did not want to be, at one point only allowing she went to the gym from time to time, had that incident at the Ice House, had a long face and looked quite interesting when she had her long wavy hair out but then when she made it into a long pony tail, it made her face even longer, her nose stick out even more. And then she went from interesting to homely and she then fell into the lines of those teachers I’ve come to know over the years who are single and, for the way the cards are dealt, usually will remain single and quickly fall into the spinster/old maid category. In many ways, she bore a striking resemblance to what Icabod Crane would look like if one could was made into a female. Another words, she was a female Ichabod Crane.

Alisha, on the other hand, had pretty features. She had hair past her shoulders. She was also v. interesting because she was from the farm, married a young man and worked the folk’s farm part-time, raising calves. So she had a fresh outdoors look, nice figure and was v. pleasant. She had her man and the farm and raising calves. Whatever could go wrong?

BUT THEN I COULD work for them no longer even though I was happy to give them a few books.


CARPENTERS SEEMED TO HAVE A sudden call for workers. I went and started collecting tools and making calls. They were going to send me to the powerhouse in Cass County but by the time Monday rolled around there was six or so inches of wet snow on the ground. Schools were nearly called so the resulting drying up period pushed the call for workers back a few days.

But my two-week notice not only was up (and now I think how ironic that I end up my last day of teaching at a residential facility, kept thinking those years at MHC and Rivendell and so I really had my eyes and ears open to cut through the swath of medicalese with my sharp sword. But Mrs. Real was v. kind, Paul teacher-coordinator ever effacing me with a kind smile so that after four weeks, my feelings of potential animosity had lessened then Thursday I realize there’s a cake for me and I eat a couple bites of it and everyone chips in. then there was a card handed to me the last day. I put it in my duffel bag and have yet to open it.

Then Millard called the next day late and I swung in for an English gig and was able to make it through the coursework pretty fast, able to keep my finger on the students.

So all in all it was funny way to get into the carpenter’s union and then the FIRST JOB THEY send me out to is I have to go to council bluffs and fill out the application to be with Patent. I was able to find it pretty easily: a nondescript building and walk upstairs and the guy noticed my Trick or Trot shirt and therein began a discussion about Peak Performance in general, running in specific and he said he’ll get up early in the morning and run three miles.

And so the hall had said I had to get there early enough so that I could fill out the application and still make it there by four o’clock.

“Do you know where 10th st. is.

I only had a vague idea.

But I could find my way. And feeling cavalier the second day I call Dena and say how I don’t think I can do the night class does she have any day classes avail. No, she just had hired the one that would do the days and then when I called her yesterday to say that I was able to come on back, she had to let me know had a couple potential and possible teachers ready to jump on and begin doing the composition 1.

Like the UH, I shouldn’t have been so quick to jump. The back of my mind says well, what if this Patent job doesn’t work out, at least you can still go back to NCB. But no, I was gonna throw myself into it full bore, in four years I’d have my journeyman card, be able to traverse any and all buildings around the perimeter of this here city.

So I thought back out on construction it’d not be unlike ironwork in that I’d have a quick catharsis: a couple days and I’d fall in line with the ebb and flow of machines and men moving and shouting and pushing things about and I’d be sort of in the background,





4/15/2003 7:02:36 PM

SO KNOW I’M GONNA have you start keepin’ track. So in my diary, the following occurs.

4/15/2003 7:21:53 PM

we quit

midnite: I climbed up to the top rung.well I kept looking at my watch any minute ready to heat down. Like are we gonna put with another tree? Yes, we did. We brought up more trees pulled ‘em out & Larry promptly picked it up & moved it to another section. Well dale was at the v. edge & not tied off & stuck the tree in.

& then I thought of several things. Joe Reed waving in the background calling to me during the night. I kept looking west uphill where I thought I could see the twin spires high in the air but tonight I didn’t see it and this slightly unnerved me but aside from Joe Reed’s and Stu’s voice tellin’ me to be careful careful I though how Zack had said that if you go down you don’t get hurt you get killed. So only a couple times did I find myself looking down and then I thought about the foks at Creighton who maybe dead and long gone—Father Labaia, Frank Sheepers—but would have the last laugh and now I’mdead I never did make it. & then the Dorceys would laugh and dance gleeful as well as McGinty’s they'd be sad but secretly gladn they won won & then my children would have to look at me go to the funeral & it’d be so sad.

& when Larry said take it west I didn’t have plank to get me there and had it in my hand, not tied off, didn’t know where to go or how to proceed and my left foot went in the crevice between the pole and the plank. I pulled it out immediately but the look from the workers in back of me must’ve been a shock. “yeah my heart jumped when I saw that” both Zach Dale said. Then Darrel, who was the pusher on the job, grew a little more testy in general now we had one of the workers who might get hurt and the light role of humor that has to prevail to make the work at least bearable took on a different edge.

But we were able to clamber down for our break and things eased up a bit. Darrel said later, mysteriously appearing from out of nowhere was able to one minute be up on the portico of the building the next minute he was down right next to me.

“I thought you said you was an ironworker,” he said a short time later. Darrel was experiencing some misgivings about my performance. And it was a way of letting off some of the tension that suddenly hung like an evening fog.

But then I was told by one of the carpenters to not lean too much weight on the large wooden box upon which scaffold beams, trees, and supports were loaded then and then flown up. And then I noticed that the metal only went a certain ways. If I stepped a little further, I would once again be out in thin air--like a child's swing with no ground beneath it.

BUT I JUST REMEMBER, AFTER I CLIMBED TO THE the top precipice, and helped pull out the trees, that I never felt so good as when I climbed down off the dull yellow scaffold, almost shaking I was so happy I was off and alive and then drag up and not report for work the next day.

I would like to climb another day.


ELECTRICIANS

AND I COULDn’t believe all the people that were there. The room filled up quickly. All walks and talks of life, mostly educated looking white folk who from a friend or something or relative decided to get in the electrician’s union.

ALLISON

Then it was frequent trips to the hospital.


******
Well, it jumps around abit. But I think I've got a more orderly draft somewhere.