The Patriarch

The heaviest thing I ever had to lift
That summer afternoon
Rolling Sylvanian Hills

The longest walk I ever took
Maybe two hundred yards
No Man's Land, consecrated ground

The sharpest sound I ever heard
Four rifles fired three times
In salute, in farewell

And it's taken me a while
And it's slowly sinking in
What losing you really means

I make myself remember
Your laugh, your voice, your smile
The lessons and the the love

My saddest day
Family holding each other up
Together in love, respect and reverence


-Darrell J. Sheets 11/24/1919 - 8/22/2008

Penance

He sits in the middle cubicle of a line of three, facing east on a rectangle of six cubicles. He doesn’t have a regular station like a lot of people do; rather he jumps from cubicle to cubicle amongst his little work group. Therefore he doesn’t get to add any photos or plaques of achievement or calendar or any of the allowable that are tolerated at work desks to make them a little more personal and comfortable. He does not have a lockable drawer to place his work materials [headset, pens, notepads, manuals] or personal items [book, snack, 2^nd set of glasses] so he caries then in daily in a small briefcase. All of which sometimes makes him feel like a temp among his peers, still an outcast or interloper after nearly two years.

The oddness continues as a second shift person, his day starts immediately on arrival. There is no build up to it, waiting for decent hours to return calls, have a cup of coffee and build into the day. For him, it’s log in, plug in, jump into the fire both feet burning. Granted the day tapers off usually halfway through the shift and the build up day shift has becomes a slow winding down until quitting time. He knows this very well having been on second turn for eight of the last ten years. Still he thinks second shift is underappreciated for always hitting the ground running and coming in during the middle of whatever else has been going on in the office all day. And when the day shift leaves and most of the supervisors go home, it’s the end of the day – for THEM. Does the second shift or the graveyard gang ever get consideration, other then shift differential? Not really.

It’s the days when second shift arrives and things are caught up that are maddening. He arrives pumped up, ready to whiz and bang and take care of business only to discover the boredom of being ‘caught up.’ Yes, the immediate need stuff comes in, but that’s second nature, in and out, whiz bang! Two hours of catching up, six hours wearing the hair shirt. And sometimes, no amount of crosswords, MP3s or books will keep one from being bored out of your skull. And it’s the boredom that kills. Long winter nights under fluorescent lighting staring at monitors waiting for something to do. Waiting for the phone to ring and the sad sigh of the bored whose boredom is interrupted by the job we’re paid to do. These are the days he thinks of leaving early just to be somewhere else. He thinks perhaps a movie or a drink but knows he will end up home in front of the tube. So he sits reading novels and magazines, ignoring the conversations of the others he feels no connection to with the ear buds playing softly. He calls this his penance time – punishment for the future sins he hopes to commit.