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Humping cement; Should have stopped to see Kapps; "Hello Bob," "Lieutnant Jay, in the middle of Nebraska" - Fate Fairies - book version
This entry was posted on 11/28/2011 1:45 AM and is filed under Fate Fairies:Fate Fairies - book version.
This is one of those experiences I have thought about enough, and talked about off and on enough, it's like I have written about it somewhere before. But it seems, this will be the first time it is penned to paper.
By mid-1980, the economy was in a shambles. I had left my furniture store job - for what it was worth, there was no future with a 9-person family business; the relatives would always get the perks and promotions. It had also been a long commute in a time of high fuel prices and low vehicle miles-per-gallon technology. Then I spent a few months working as a welder in that factory - until they laid off the whole plant. But as fate would have it, it was the spring of the year and the feedmill and fertilizer business down the road from my dad's farm needed some seasonal workers for the approaching planting season. But, seasonal is just that - seasonal. By mid-summer I was once again shaking hands with the unemployed.
While I was biding my time imbibing in all things nefarious, I received word an old Army buddy would be getting married out Ohio way. With no apparent hope of scratching up another job, it did not take me long to pack a small bag and head out. I tied said bag on my 1975 Kawasaki 500, bid my folks goodbye, and headed to Ohio.
The wedding went well..., except for that aforementioned brief encounter at high speeds with a railroad abutment. But the happy couple were quickly off to all things married, so I had some free time on my hands. With the beautiful summer weather of 1980 in tow, I headed out again. I knew another Army buddy lived in Loveland, Colorado. Also, I had an x-girlfriend that had lived in Loveland at one time and spoke highly of it. So off I went cross-country.
Motorcycle guys being as they are, I teamed up with a couple guys heading cross country west, so we rode together. One guy I remember had a good looking old Triumph. Poetically, the weather turned into a heat wave. The pavement was so hot in Kansas it burned the bottom of our feet as we rode down the road - we started to travel at night.
I found my pal in Colorado. He was working as a delivery guy humping crates of milk to convenience stores. Dave's roommate was a big guy and a bit older than us. He worked construction in that pocket of "better economy" at the time out in Colorado.
After a few days of sleeping on Dave's sofa in his humble but newish digs, one afternoon we were all sitting at the kitchen table having chow.
"I can get you in with my contractor. You will be pushing wheelbarrows full of cement. It pays about 11 Bucks an hour," the roommate said with a serious demeanor. He had muscular hands and I could see his biceps bulging under his work shirt.
I thought for a second, the memory of that three and a half Bucks per hour I had just left behind in Wisconsin seemed pretty lame compared to 11 Bucks per hour. But the temptation faded quickly as I imagined pushing cement in the bitter Colorado winters.
"I'll think about it," I said.
"Don't think too long," the roommate said, and then added the caveat, "I can always find some joker that needs a job."
A couple days later I bid Ol' Dave goodbye. I would head back east via Nebraska leaving the molten Kansas pavement to..., Kansans.
Out on Highway 80, I went past the sign for Ogallala, Nebraska. Poetically, it is the county seat of "Keith County." I had a pal in the Army from Ogallala. Now I could see it was the small town Ol' Kapps had always described it as. Old Kapps used to stay in a bit of trouble with Ol' Sarge. Sergeant Hood used to click his teeth. Once while the Captain was prattling off the many charges leveled against Kapps, Hood's teeth just about jumped out of his mouth after each offense was read off.
In typical Bob fashion, I just kept on going past Ogallala. Now, decades later, what would it have mattered to stop a couple hours and pick up a phone book and look up the name Kapps? Maybe he would have actually been around.
Nebraska is long and flat. Seven hundred miles or so from Wisconsin, somewhere along that old Highway 80, I stopped at a rest stop to take a break. I parked my road-grit and grime-covered motorcycle and pulled my stiff legs over the seat to head to the restroom. I was thinking of Kapps and how odd it was to have had a platoon mate and a platoon leader both from the same state - a low population state containing mostly corn fields. The platoon leader had been a lieutenant named Jay. I stepped up on the sidewalk to head for the latrine.
"Hello Bob," a familiar voice said from my rear.
I turned and then took a second look, blinking my eyes.
"Lieutenant Jay," I said, "What the hell are you doing in the middle of Nebraska?"
"I live in Omaha. Remember?" he said with a subtle smile.
Note: This blog "Fate Fairies" - book version Category is a work in progress. The original vignettes are being edited for book form. Go to the Cooldadiomedia Web site and the Fate Fairies Page for an ordered chronology of the book vignettes (chapters).
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