My dad started out working for a city in the mid-sixties, riding the back of garbage trucks making two dollars and fifty cents an hour, so he told me many times growing up. By the time he had three small daughters at home, it was the early seventies. He was now driving the truck, plus making a better wage. Like today, it wasn’t enough income to make ends meet and have a little money for the extra things in life. He picked up overtime at work coming in on Saturdays, building large garbage bins like the ones found in back allies of businesses. They were built outside in the parking lot during the heat of summer.
When he went in on Saturdays, quite often he took me along. My job was to hand him the pins that held the garbage containers and the double metal lids together. I was also in charge of keeping him company.
There was no breeze inside a four-foot-high box of metal. It didn’t take long for the air to become as stiff as the container’s walls. Every breath I took smelled and tasted like hot iron and sour paint.
At lunchtime we would go into the dark cool building that housed the offices of the Higher-Ups. Lunch came from the vending machine located in the hall. I would get a bottle of cold coke and a pack of Chuckles Candies. They both quickly cooked back in the dumpster.
I know now looking back it was not the most pleasant of jobs. While his co-workers were out enjoying the summer weekend, he was building garbage containers. The same containers he or his co-workers would empty the following week.
I would climb out of that box covered in materials OSHA would not allow a small child of three years to be covered in. My curly blonde hair stuck to my scalp with a mixture of one-part flat coke, one-part gooey Chuckles Candy and four-parts sweat. The palms of my hands were covered in a paste of dirt and metal shavings. It was so thick, it took many washings to remove. My shorts were just as sooty and my chubby legs had dark streaks in the folds of my flesh. I remember the first big clean gasp of fresh air every time I climbed out of the salt mines at the end of the day.
I knew I had just accomplished something big but my little self could never put it into words. It was just a sure feeling. Well, Little Self, this is your big self telling you, you did accomplish something wonderful. You accomplished the feeling one gets when they put in an honest day’s work for little pay but a job well done. You learned that with hard work and perseverance one can do anything they set out to do. From your heart you learned that your dad was a great teacher. He taught you the principle for doing whatever it takes to get the job finished and finished right.
Chris Writes 