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One can't describe the feeling of catching a wild West Virginia Trout with a rod you built and a fly you tied.
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Friday, March 27, 2009
One of the hardest decisions I've ever made
11:10 PM | Posted by
David |
In 1972, after spending four years in the United States Air Force, I went to work for Marbon Chemical Company. The company was built here in the Parkersburg area in the very early 50's.I went to work in the technology area in what was known as the Physical Testing Lab. It was there I learned to test the products for their different qualities such as impact, strength and flammability. A few years later, I was approached on setting up and working the Electron Microscope Lab for the analytical area. In 1991 the company, which had been bought by Borg Warner in the early 70's, was purchased by General Electric. They remained the owners until 2007. It was then purchased by a company from Saudi Arabia known as SABIC. In 1991, I transferred from the technology area to the manufacturing division and the Chemical Operations area.
The recent economical situation has brought a lot of matters no one wants to see. That's shutdowns and layoffs. Men I have worked with for 20 years are out of work and their families without much needed job support and income. I felt in December when the first layoffs came down that it wasn't over with. I was right. The last week of February they announced another reduction in work force and offered a Special Early Retirement. To qualify one had to have a certain amount of years service and be 60 years old by the first of April. The amount of reductions depended on how many retirements took place. I knew I had a decision to make. So many things came into play with making this decision. Things like income, change of life style, my health, and if I was simply ready or not.
This past winter has been rough on me. The 12 hour shift work, working outside in the cold, the change in work hours, and so many other things. I probably changed my mind a dozen times from one day to the next. I was having problems getting information from the new company as to what my actual retirement would consist of money wise. Anger was pulling me to change my mind and not take it and to stick it out and see what happened. Then this past Monday, March the 23, my birthday, the layoffs came. It was much deeper than anyone thought it would be. The two men I have worked with, and spent so much time with, both lost their jobs. The emotions were deep and strong. We could only shake hands and wish each other a silent farewell and well wishes. Our voices were choked up. It was then I made my mind up. I didn't want to be part of what was left behind. It wasn't an easy decision. But it's final and for the first time in 37 years, I'm no longer working.
Tonight was my last night at work. I climbed high on the fluid bed dryer I have spent so much time on over the past 15 years and looked out over the river and the plant. I thought of so many times with the chill factor well below zero and being in this same spot working on a problem. I thought of the papers I have presented. The patents that have my name on them. I thought of countless friends and customers I got to know...their kids and families and lives. It was a bittersweet moment as I climbed down those many steps for the last time. It was over.
There are so many things I can and want to do. There are streams yet to be fished, scenes of this beautiful state yet to photograph and woodworking projects I have put on the back burner for such a long time. I'm sure, in time, my body and mind will adapt to something close to normal for a change. With an anxious approach, I look forward to it. It being the right decision is yet to be known. It will, in fact, be an adventure I'm sure.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Mother Nature is a Pole dancer, or That first batch of Iced Tea for the season
6:50 AM | Posted by
David |
Finally, the weather gave me a few rare moments to sit in the swing and feel that, perhaps, winter has been chased away. It seems like forever since I was able to sit in the swing, watch the river and enjoy a glass of ice cold sweet tea. As I sat there with such a wonderful elixir in my glass, it brought back a memory of one of my less than wise ventures to the low country of South Carolina.I'm not sure of the history of sweet tea. I'm sure, however, there are a lot of claims to it's origin. If you talk to someone from the south, they lay claim to it as strongly as they do to grits and NASCAR.
I was at an old home place that still held all the stereotypes of days gone by in the south, complete with Spanish Moss and tall white pillars across a long, deep front porch. I was taken to the kitchen to be introduced to the gathered family and obviously where only the women folk were allowed. It was almost as if I had walked into the women's restroom by mistake. Sundays after church was a tradition one simply didn't skip unless one wanted to be the blunt of next Sunday's tongue lashing. The same food was served each Sunday, including the old standby of fried chicken and all the trimmings.
First on the list was the introduction to "mama" who was obvious the kitchen pit boss. Still dressed in her Sunday finest with the addition of a well worn apron, she was barking out orders as to what went on what plate and what went into the oven at just the right time. You would have thought it was a NASA launch instead of a Sunday meal.
I couldn't help but pick up an aroma of something that was so strange to me. When I asked what it was, I got the strangest look from all the cook trainees under Mama's tutelage. I was told it was "tsup". Something I had never heard of, but must admit I loved the smell. When I asked what in the world is "tsup", I was looked at like an alien asking for someone to take me to their leader. "It's "tsup", David. How do you make Ice Tea without "tsup". It then dawned on me the inherited nature of not pronouncing their "r's " and "g's". They were telling me "Tea Syrup".
I asked what was in it and a silence came over the room, along with a refusal to answer. I knew if I inquired any further all the family "bubbas" would remove me from the room and possibly the property. All I know, it was dark and thick and the steam from it went right to your nose.
Mama said grace at the table that would rival any benediction to a tent revival. Each said a very impressive amen as if to reward her for her oratory. Biscuits the size of a saucer were passed and you took one even if you didn't want it. These people had the ritual down pat, cause the next thing to be passed was the butter. The fried Chicken would rival anything the Colonel would shove into a box. Then the picture of Iced Tea was passed and it was poured over ice in such a tall thin glass. To me there wasn't much more than a good swallow there, it was what they used.
It was then as if someone counted out to three in a silence code, that a napkin was wrapped around the glass. I haven't yet figured that out and glad the men folk didn't partake of that ritual.
I must say I have never tasted fried Chicken that good before or since. I can still remember the stares when I ate it with fork. I think the women folk ate it by hand just to show off the 200 dollar fingernail jobs. Once the main meal was over a plate was served with a large slice of pecan pie. Now, add that to a sugar high from the Iced Tea and you will walk the floors at night for a week. I have always loved Pecan Pie, but I have yet to taste any that was as good as Momma had made for that Sunday dinner. Everyone retired to the front porch with napkin covered glasses in hand. It was there the most recent gossip gathered at church, rather than the sermon, was discussed. My, oh my, those Southerners really know how to spice up one's life, and fair to keep it a secret. I wonder why all these Jr. ministers tend to falter while doing counseling? Needs research I think.
I tried to follow the conversations, but between the accents, sugar high and whispers, I kept loosing track of who was sleeping with who or who had the latest plastic surgery. I still think my ice tea is much better and sitting in the swing with a glass that has no napkin, I can wonder what secrets the river holds instead of what whisper I missed.
As I sat there in the swing sipping my tea I could see all my Daylilies peaking up out of the ground. The Maples are full of leaf buds along with the Dogwood and Redbud trees. The grass is showing green and my Pachysandra is starting to flower. I'm sure there will be at least one Easter Storm front come through. There always is. Yet, I gaze out the windows with a glass of tea in hand and think of warmer days and trout streams waiting. It's been one of the hardest winters on me I can remember. My bones just don't do the cold like they use to. Stil, l I think I'll search the Internet and see if I can find my own "tsup" recipe.
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