wroughtn_harv
Super Member
I've been working some long hard ones. You know the kind. You hit the motel and your tail is tucked so firmly between your legs you forgot you even have one.
Sometime back I came to the realization that the reason I work like that is because I like it. Actually I love it. It kills me and treats me like an off colored step child with a limp and a bad speech impediment. It sends me to bed without supper sometimes even.
I haven't figured out if it's so much the pleasure in seeing something happen or if it's more about the pain--gain thing. I do know both of those things come into play in my world.
Another thing that happens to me when I get on a job like this is once the hands are busy the mind gets to frolic. And some of the places it plays are unusual and what it finds in those unusual places is different to say the least.
So this post is getting me fixed. You see I'm either working or talking about working. And to relax I like to talk about working with the fingers, aka cyberwalking.
One of the things whupping around the mind this week like a BB in a boxcar was this thing we fondly refer to as heroism.
I think it's misrepresented. I think it's something else entirely and we label and describe it as delivered for all the wrong reasons. I don't think it's about personal character. I think it's all about fear, period, end of story.
My perspective started many years ago. I had a personal experience where I was accused of heroism while in my heart I know the reverse was true. While in the hospital recovering from that event I got to meet and talk to some real heroes and found their stories interesting from the perspective that they didn't consider themselves heroes but regular guys doing what any regular guy would do under the circumstances.
Then in 1982 on a cold rainy morning on the Pomona Freeway about five thirty I came upon a black pick up partially blocking the left lane. I stopped and checked it for occupants but there was none and it was locked, no lights on. We didn't have cell phones then and so I used the lights on my pickup sitting in front of the black truck so the pickup would be visible to oncoming traffic.
By the time it all got sorted out there were nine vehicles involved. After the first couple of cars got entangled I was pulling folks out of their vehicles and getting them over the center divider to safety.
The CHP's told me my actions were totally crazy but heroic and had maybe saved some lives.
In my heart of hearts I understand that my actions were really out of fear. You see I was more afraid of facing myself if I had left the scene and done nothing. So the difference in that instance between being what some call brave and others refer to as foolish is the fear and what it's about.
I wasn't the first person to see the vehicle blocking the lane. I wasn't the person who locked the vehicle up blocking the lane and who had left it. I was just as afraid as they were. I suspect they were more afraid of getting hurt or being there when others got hurt. On the other hand my fear was doing nothing.
All of us reacted out of fear. And I don't believe any of us reacted the way we did out of personal character or genetic disposition. Fear was the only motivator. The differences can only be explained by the predominate fear.
After last weekend with the heroes of WWII this week this subject has been having some real fun in my mind. By getting to see and know these people as real people and not some theoretical something that's bigger than life and just as phony I have to look back on heroism from a personal perspective to see just what it is and how it comes about.
I can look back to August of 1968. Fourteen of us in a duece and a half and it rolls. I came up with a fractured pelvis. But when I came to and felt the pressure come off my leg which was pinned under the truck all I knew was my back was hurt.
As I walked around the truck all I could see was limbs sticking out and the screams had just started. I knew my back was hurt and there was no way I could do much good lifting. So I went for help. There's an image in my mind I can't remove of the driver being face down with the open door across his back. It's just there and comes up when it wants to all on it's own. That and the image I have the wheels still spinning as I hear the screams and as I'm leaving the scene. I've learned to not try to shush it away but let it leave on it's own. For some reason there's a peace for me if it comes and goes on it's own.
For many years there was some conflict in my mind because on the one hand I had been lauded for being a heroe. I'd went for help while the experts said it had been impossible with me to do so with the fractured pelvis.
In my heart of hearts was another reality. I understood that the decision to go for help was not one of heroism nor was it an unselfish act. It was the act of someone who wanted to be anywhere but there with all those men in such pain. Going for help was running away with the best excuse I could live with in the long run.
One of my character flaws is that I don't think I'm different from everyone else. I see myself as just a typical example of a typical human being at this time at this place. And since I'm just typical I have to assume that this is the way human beings are. That not just for me but for everyone else too it's all about fear. And it's not about how we react to fear. it's the fear we react to that makes us a heroe or a coward in society's eyes.
Another thing that's been tumbling around like cheerleaders just before the state championship foot ball game is the difference between my perspective on my work versus the way the hispanics on the job look at it.
On just about every job the hispanics want to know where my help is and how many guys I've got working for me. When they hear that I work by myself they show disappointment. And more than once there's been a remark or two about how greedy I am.
It's taken me awhile but I've come to understand that they are right from their perspective but wrong from mine. You see they see a person who gets work has the obligation to share the work with others. They're not acting like family and insisting upon sharing the rewards of good fortune. They see opportunity to work as something that is so good that one shouldn't hog it.
I on the other hand see work as opportunity to grow as a human being. And I see it as something whole unto itself where the process is just as important as the product. I've grown to appreciate the pain of using muscles past their meant limit as part and parcel of doing it. That the pain is just as much a part of the product as cashing the check when the job is done. One is just as important as the other.
I know the concept of personal growth might sound silly when one uses it in the context of physical work. When I did telephone cable splicing I used to race myself. But I had these rules. I had to do it faster but better. To just do it faster wasn't fighting fair. And it didn't count if it wasn't done by the rules.
I find setting the fence posts the same thing happens to me. I get little pleasures when I pick up the post and it's automatically plumb. Or I am dumping the cement with the tractor and I stop at just the right moment even though I can't see into the hole and how much as fallen.
On that it's sorta challenging to figure out just exactly what's happening. I'd like to think it's me being superior and all that but I suspect it's more like I'm picking up cues from the splatter or the sound of the plop-ing. But it is fun when you pull up from pouring and check it and it's right where you wanted it.
On doing the radii I use a set space from the curb. Usually on this job it's seventy three to seventy five inches. The hole is twelve inches across. So as I grab the post the first time for locating it I am in competition with myself to see how close I can get to the measurement by guesstimation. Of course if I hit it dead on it's because I'm good and if I don't it's someone else's fault.
This week I did two sections on the job that had some interesting quirks. One had a lot of stuff in the way so my tractoring in and out was challenging plus the grade undulated quite a bit. Setting the posts for grade and line by eye is complicated but not impossible under those circumstances. When it's done and they look right there's a rush that's really neat to experience.
The other section there is quite a grade change and two radii. Plus part of it's running along the grade of the road and part of it's considerably lower in the same four hundred foot line. It was a real challenge to set but when I came back late yesterday afternoon washing the concrete off the posts I was almost bubbly with the back slapping for how it came out.
I guess that's where the process comes in with the product concept comes from. Even when it's at it's hardest and quit is at the door promising a hot date one understands that the end moment will come and it'll be worth all the pain and effort.
This isn't one of those begging for a response thingys. This is all about a fixin', mine. I haven't been able to sit down and just do the cyber walk for awhile now. Now I done did it and I feel better. If you like it or don't that's fine. This one was for me.
I feel better.
Sometime back I came to the realization that the reason I work like that is because I like it. Actually I love it. It kills me and treats me like an off colored step child with a limp and a bad speech impediment. It sends me to bed without supper sometimes even.
I haven't figured out if it's so much the pleasure in seeing something happen or if it's more about the pain--gain thing. I do know both of those things come into play in my world.
Another thing that happens to me when I get on a job like this is once the hands are busy the mind gets to frolic. And some of the places it plays are unusual and what it finds in those unusual places is different to say the least.
So this post is getting me fixed. You see I'm either working or talking about working. And to relax I like to talk about working with the fingers, aka cyberwalking.
One of the things whupping around the mind this week like a BB in a boxcar was this thing we fondly refer to as heroism.
I think it's misrepresented. I think it's something else entirely and we label and describe it as delivered for all the wrong reasons. I don't think it's about personal character. I think it's all about fear, period, end of story.
My perspective started many years ago. I had a personal experience where I was accused of heroism while in my heart I know the reverse was true. While in the hospital recovering from that event I got to meet and talk to some real heroes and found their stories interesting from the perspective that they didn't consider themselves heroes but regular guys doing what any regular guy would do under the circumstances.
Then in 1982 on a cold rainy morning on the Pomona Freeway about five thirty I came upon a black pick up partially blocking the left lane. I stopped and checked it for occupants but there was none and it was locked, no lights on. We didn't have cell phones then and so I used the lights on my pickup sitting in front of the black truck so the pickup would be visible to oncoming traffic.
By the time it all got sorted out there were nine vehicles involved. After the first couple of cars got entangled I was pulling folks out of their vehicles and getting them over the center divider to safety.
The CHP's told me my actions were totally crazy but heroic and had maybe saved some lives.
In my heart of hearts I understand that my actions were really out of fear. You see I was more afraid of facing myself if I had left the scene and done nothing. So the difference in that instance between being what some call brave and others refer to as foolish is the fear and what it's about.
I wasn't the first person to see the vehicle blocking the lane. I wasn't the person who locked the vehicle up blocking the lane and who had left it. I was just as afraid as they were. I suspect they were more afraid of getting hurt or being there when others got hurt. On the other hand my fear was doing nothing.
All of us reacted out of fear. And I don't believe any of us reacted the way we did out of personal character or genetic disposition. Fear was the only motivator. The differences can only be explained by the predominate fear.
After last weekend with the heroes of WWII this week this subject has been having some real fun in my mind. By getting to see and know these people as real people and not some theoretical something that's bigger than life and just as phony I have to look back on heroism from a personal perspective to see just what it is and how it comes about.
I can look back to August of 1968. Fourteen of us in a duece and a half and it rolls. I came up with a fractured pelvis. But when I came to and felt the pressure come off my leg which was pinned under the truck all I knew was my back was hurt.
As I walked around the truck all I could see was limbs sticking out and the screams had just started. I knew my back was hurt and there was no way I could do much good lifting. So I went for help. There's an image in my mind I can't remove of the driver being face down with the open door across his back. It's just there and comes up when it wants to all on it's own. That and the image I have the wheels still spinning as I hear the screams and as I'm leaving the scene. I've learned to not try to shush it away but let it leave on it's own. For some reason there's a peace for me if it comes and goes on it's own.
For many years there was some conflict in my mind because on the one hand I had been lauded for being a heroe. I'd went for help while the experts said it had been impossible with me to do so with the fractured pelvis.
In my heart of hearts was another reality. I understood that the decision to go for help was not one of heroism nor was it an unselfish act. It was the act of someone who wanted to be anywhere but there with all those men in such pain. Going for help was running away with the best excuse I could live with in the long run.
One of my character flaws is that I don't think I'm different from everyone else. I see myself as just a typical example of a typical human being at this time at this place. And since I'm just typical I have to assume that this is the way human beings are. That not just for me but for everyone else too it's all about fear. And it's not about how we react to fear. it's the fear we react to that makes us a heroe or a coward in society's eyes.
Another thing that's been tumbling around like cheerleaders just before the state championship foot ball game is the difference between my perspective on my work versus the way the hispanics on the job look at it.
On just about every job the hispanics want to know where my help is and how many guys I've got working for me. When they hear that I work by myself they show disappointment. And more than once there's been a remark or two about how greedy I am.
It's taken me awhile but I've come to understand that they are right from their perspective but wrong from mine. You see they see a person who gets work has the obligation to share the work with others. They're not acting like family and insisting upon sharing the rewards of good fortune. They see opportunity to work as something that is so good that one shouldn't hog it.
I on the other hand see work as opportunity to grow as a human being. And I see it as something whole unto itself where the process is just as important as the product. I've grown to appreciate the pain of using muscles past their meant limit as part and parcel of doing it. That the pain is just as much a part of the product as cashing the check when the job is done. One is just as important as the other.
I know the concept of personal growth might sound silly when one uses it in the context of physical work. When I did telephone cable splicing I used to race myself. But I had these rules. I had to do it faster but better. To just do it faster wasn't fighting fair. And it didn't count if it wasn't done by the rules.
I find setting the fence posts the same thing happens to me. I get little pleasures when I pick up the post and it's automatically plumb. Or I am dumping the cement with the tractor and I stop at just the right moment even though I can't see into the hole and how much as fallen.
On that it's sorta challenging to figure out just exactly what's happening. I'd like to think it's me being superior and all that but I suspect it's more like I'm picking up cues from the splatter or the sound of the plop-ing. But it is fun when you pull up from pouring and check it and it's right where you wanted it.
On doing the radii I use a set space from the curb. Usually on this job it's seventy three to seventy five inches. The hole is twelve inches across. So as I grab the post the first time for locating it I am in competition with myself to see how close I can get to the measurement by guesstimation. Of course if I hit it dead on it's because I'm good and if I don't it's someone else's fault.
This week I did two sections on the job that had some interesting quirks. One had a lot of stuff in the way so my tractoring in and out was challenging plus the grade undulated quite a bit. Setting the posts for grade and line by eye is complicated but not impossible under those circumstances. When it's done and they look right there's a rush that's really neat to experience.
The other section there is quite a grade change and two radii. Plus part of it's running along the grade of the road and part of it's considerably lower in the same four hundred foot line. It was a real challenge to set but when I came back late yesterday afternoon washing the concrete off the posts I was almost bubbly with the back slapping for how it came out.
I guess that's where the process comes in with the product concept comes from. Even when it's at it's hardest and quit is at the door promising a hot date one understands that the end moment will come and it'll be worth all the pain and effort.
This isn't one of those begging for a response thingys. This is all about a fixin', mine. I haven't been able to sit down and just do the cyber walk for awhile now. Now I done did it and I feel better. If you like it or don't that's fine. This one was for me.
I feel better.
