HTanx for the article bob enjoyed it.Iremember some of those days. Been trking 35yrs,alot has changed,but still a tough job.Take care bob,looking forward to your next article.Lost my wife 6 months ago it has been rough on me.Contemplated suicide the first month,obviously did not happen.I believe in the after life.
Michael, I can't imagine how difficult losing a spouse is. Selfishly, I hope I go first. I'm sorry that you've known that experience. That said, I'm glad you're still here.
I dealt with persistent suicidal thoughts for years in the 80s and 90s due to clinical depression. I'm glad I'm still here too. I believe that if we resist the temptation and stick around, we eventually learn there's something positive that comes from us being here, even if that's only about how we influence one person or a small group of people.
Most people don't realize how important our single relationships are. Of course, you know how important your wife was to you, so maybe you do understand the power of a single person. My experiences have taught me that every life is so much more important than we'll ever realize while we're here. We can get a hint of this simply by chatting up strangers--the clerk at the store, the guy pumping gas in the car over, the person you smile at walking by on the street. I've had interactions with strangers like these that have remained with me for days.
The one that comes to mind happened this summer. I was going to the funeral services of a woman in her 40s, and I happened upon her 12-year-old daughter in the entryway. I said hello, and she told me who she was (the daughter of the deceased). I expressed my sorrow, adding "It's really sad." The preteen said to me, "Well don't be too sad, because today is a celebration of life." Then she high-fived me as I entered the funeral home. That single yet brief interaction has stayed with me for months. That's an example of what I'm referring to. Sorry for the lengthy reply, but your story stirred something inside of me.
Interesting to understand the side of a truck driver's life we never see. I’m glad you had the opportunity to take that trip with him and to understand his job and him to a greater degree.
We were farmers, so we were on the job daily with my parents. But my father had a 2nd job of taking care of two cemeteries—opening graves prior to burial, waiting until the service was over to close the grave and then just days of lawn care. We kids often went along because (I hope I’m not offending anyone) cemeteries were great playgrounds for the children of the caretakers. These were old cemeteries with some really interesting monuments. Our favorite was one made to look like a tall tree stump with thick branch stumps sticking out. It just begged to be climbed! The barrel headstones made great horses for riding. We were also given 5 cents for every headstone that we trimmed around with hedge clippers. (No weed wackers back then.) An interesting thing that probably no one thinks about is how they open a grave midwinter when the ground is rock solid. I don’t know what they do today, but back then they used propane burners called grave warmers. At the time this was a big, metal, domed contraption that completely covered a gravesite and had to sit atop the earth for several hours before digging could commence. I remember once when it was lit, my mother was too close and her nylons went up in flames and disintegrated within a second. (She was fine, albeit shook up.) Another time my Grandfather was helping dig a grave. When it was completely dug he fell in! His shoulder popped out of its socket and my Dad popped it right back in. And my last story was when my father’s cantankerous boss died and it was my Dad’s unique position to bury him. I will leave it to your imagination the mileage he got out of telling that story!
These are wonderful stories, thank you. I think many of us have wondered what it must be like to work in a cemetery. I've always thought it would be peaceful, though I know many might feel it's spooky. The visualizations you've provided us are a gift. For kids, especially, it was just normal, everyday life. Nothing peaceful or spooky, just the place that Dad worked where you entertained yourself. We appreciate the inside perspective. So glad your Mom was okay...phew! Now that's scary.
What a great story. You have a great way of translating your thoughts and feelings in your stories. I also remember going to work with my dad. He worked nights, building roads. He was a big machine operator. My brother and i were taken along one Fri.-Sat. We stayed up late eating snacks we had brought, until we fell asleep in the truck. I’ll always remember how it made me see another side of our dad. ( I’m the youngest of 6) It made me feel special to be brought along. Also had a special bond with my brother (who a few years later died at a young age of 16.) Thanks for sharing.
Hi Francine, thanks for sharing your story. There's something about reliving those sweet memories that just warms your heart. I'm so glad my memory with my trucker dad made you remember your memory with your big machine operator dad. So sorry to learn about your brother's passing. Now that you're a subscriber, you'll be able to enjoy the Tuesday articles too. I appreciate your kind words.
HTanx for the article bob enjoyed it.Iremember some of those days. Been trking 35yrs,alot has changed,but still a tough job.Take care bob,looking forward to your next article.Lost my wife 6 months ago it has been rough on me.Contemplated suicide the first month,obviously did not happen.I believe in the after life.
Michael, I can't imagine how difficult losing a spouse is. Selfishly, I hope I go first. I'm sorry that you've known that experience. That said, I'm glad you're still here.
I dealt with persistent suicidal thoughts for years in the 80s and 90s due to clinical depression. I'm glad I'm still here too. I believe that if we resist the temptation and stick around, we eventually learn there's something positive that comes from us being here, even if that's only about how we influence one person or a small group of people.
Most people don't realize how important our single relationships are. Of course, you know how important your wife was to you, so maybe you do understand the power of a single person. My experiences have taught me that every life is so much more important than we'll ever realize while we're here. We can get a hint of this simply by chatting up strangers--the clerk at the store, the guy pumping gas in the car over, the person you smile at walking by on the street. I've had interactions with strangers like these that have remained with me for days.
The one that comes to mind happened this summer. I was going to the funeral services of a woman in her 40s, and I happened upon her 12-year-old daughter in the entryway. I said hello, and she told me who she was (the daughter of the deceased). I expressed my sorrow, adding "It's really sad." The preteen said to me, "Well don't be too sad, because today is a celebration of life." Then she high-fived me as I entered the funeral home. That single yet brief interaction has stayed with me for months. That's an example of what I'm referring to. Sorry for the lengthy reply, but your story stirred something inside of me.
Interesting to understand the side of a truck driver's life we never see. I’m glad you had the opportunity to take that trip with him and to understand his job and him to a greater degree.
We were farmers, so we were on the job daily with my parents. But my father had a 2nd job of taking care of two cemeteries—opening graves prior to burial, waiting until the service was over to close the grave and then just days of lawn care. We kids often went along because (I hope I’m not offending anyone) cemeteries were great playgrounds for the children of the caretakers. These were old cemeteries with some really interesting monuments. Our favorite was one made to look like a tall tree stump with thick branch stumps sticking out. It just begged to be climbed! The barrel headstones made great horses for riding. We were also given 5 cents for every headstone that we trimmed around with hedge clippers. (No weed wackers back then.) An interesting thing that probably no one thinks about is how they open a grave midwinter when the ground is rock solid. I don’t know what they do today, but back then they used propane burners called grave warmers. At the time this was a big, metal, domed contraption that completely covered a gravesite and had to sit atop the earth for several hours before digging could commence. I remember once when it was lit, my mother was too close and her nylons went up in flames and disintegrated within a second. (She was fine, albeit shook up.) Another time my Grandfather was helping dig a grave. When it was completely dug he fell in! His shoulder popped out of its socket and my Dad popped it right back in. And my last story was when my father’s cantankerous boss died and it was my Dad’s unique position to bury him. I will leave it to your imagination the mileage he got out of telling that story!
These are wonderful stories, thank you. I think many of us have wondered what it must be like to work in a cemetery. I've always thought it would be peaceful, though I know many might feel it's spooky. The visualizations you've provided us are a gift. For kids, especially, it was just normal, everyday life. Nothing peaceful or spooky, just the place that Dad worked where you entertained yourself. We appreciate the inside perspective. So glad your Mom was okay...phew! Now that's scary.
What a great story. You have a great way of translating your thoughts and feelings in your stories. I also remember going to work with my dad. He worked nights, building roads. He was a big machine operator. My brother and i were taken along one Fri.-Sat. We stayed up late eating snacks we had brought, until we fell asleep in the truck. I’ll always remember how it made me see another side of our dad. ( I’m the youngest of 6) It made me feel special to be brought along. Also had a special bond with my brother (who a few years later died at a young age of 16.) Thanks for sharing.
Hi Francine, thanks for sharing your story. There's something about reliving those sweet memories that just warms your heart. I'm so glad my memory with my trucker dad made you remember your memory with your big machine operator dad. So sorry to learn about your brother's passing. Now that you're a subscriber, you'll be able to enjoy the Tuesday articles too. I appreciate your kind words.