Septic tanks helped educate me...
Illustration
Septic tanks helped educate me. We moved to Oregon in 1946. Dad and a friend buried a
tank at our place. You don't expect to see the septic tank again after that. But rain
saturated the soil; the empty tank arose overnight.
My junior year of high school, I hoped to play football and wanted a physically demanding summer job. My sister's husband helped me find employment with a building contractor. I enjoyed hammering nails and finding materials for the carpenters. They even let me saw boards. Many of them I cut too short. That led to my second septic tank experience. The boss had me dig a septic tank hole -- alone.
Rocks resisted my shovel and rattled the pick bruising my hands. I went from shovel to pick and back. For days I dug, all the while contemplating better ways to dig holes. Occasionally, the frustrated contractor checked on me.
He assigned me to another site under a different foreman. Soon I was digging another hole. As I sweated and chafed, Al, the foreman, worked nearby. "Bob, I'm going to dig now. Get out of that hole and nail these boards for me," he said. On top, out of the corner of my eye, I watched that elderly man laboring, his generous sweat dripping into the soil.
Al showed me the loving sympathy that motivates others. I'd have done anything for him. People like Al change the world.
My junior year of high school, I hoped to play football and wanted a physically demanding summer job. My sister's husband helped me find employment with a building contractor. I enjoyed hammering nails and finding materials for the carpenters. They even let me saw boards. Many of them I cut too short. That led to my second septic tank experience. The boss had me dig a septic tank hole -- alone.
Rocks resisted my shovel and rattled the pick bruising my hands. I went from shovel to pick and back. For days I dug, all the while contemplating better ways to dig holes. Occasionally, the frustrated contractor checked on me.
He assigned me to another site under a different foreman. Soon I was digging another hole. As I sweated and chafed, Al, the foreman, worked nearby. "Bob, I'm going to dig now. Get out of that hole and nail these boards for me," he said. On top, out of the corner of my eye, I watched that elderly man laboring, his generous sweat dripping into the soil.
Al showed me the loving sympathy that motivates others. I'd have done anything for him. People like Al change the world.
