Once upon a time in a land far away, I went off to the big city for school with plans to stay there, which got changed pretty quickly when
I broke up with my college boyfriend dumped me. I returned to the 'burg and hung out at our red log cabin until I began work at the local sawmill in August of '77. My pay at that time was 3.94/hr at a county owned facility. Our administrator was a guy who had worked his way up from the lab into the corner office. The super who hired me is gone now to other places here and yon but there was a whole lot of drama with his going. Before he left, he managed to move a family member in with us who has been there ever since. They both seem to blame my current boss for his going some twenty years ago. She did nothing but pick up the ball and run with it when he lost interest and got canned. She paid her dues by going into the trenches that I was afraid to even try. I knew how hard it would be to gain the respect of an entire department and with a small child, couldn't see myself putting in the time. It was a very hard road for all of us.
Over the span of 30 plus years we have done everything from taking call while pregnant to coming to work with the flu just to avoid short staffing and heartache for somebody else that we call friend. We have birthday cakes and funeral caravans and give random warm hugs PRN. When someone leaves, they usually know that the time they've spent with us has been filled with mostly good times and a few spats. It's those never ending grudges that will kill the desire to even meet halfway. And that, is sad. I can say something good about most anybody until they do me wrong, and then? You're a big fat zero sister. Just sayin'. Don't ever forget to remember the sheep and goats story.
Still mid nineties here, the dog days of summer. There is dust everywhere from the corn down the hill, and this up next to the house will likely go in a couple more. There are scattered cotton bolls peeking out, and the virginia creeper is turning red. The cicada's song is very loud....drifting from the pecan trees over to my little house on the hill. All is well.
^j^
77 here right now. Irene was a blowhard, but she blew the humidity right on out of here for a day or so. I do love sleeping with the windows open. Rather have the sound of the ceiling fan than the hum of A/C any day.
ReplyDeleteKeep on truckin' Janie, as we used to say...