An English In Kentucky


















October 7th 2010    Tim Candler

    It is a little like the Sinai out there.   Eighteen inches below the ground there is dust.  And I can remember a foreman who had as his favorite words of encouragement, "You are working like a dead man."  None of us knew whether his sentence contained a threat.

     Nor have I ever been certain whether the money he paid us was good.  More than likely it was considerably less than he was being paid.  Certainly it was inadequate to maintain a standard of living that might have included room as well as board.  And true, it was a job in the traditional sense of obedient people doing as they were told in return for cash.

    These days it is the morning after that produces a sense of being a dead man.  There are parts that wake up with a vehement objection to physical activity of any sort.  They are grumpy, bad tempered and without bounce. 

    I guess they can find no apparent reason for mole barriers, or well made beds for vegetables or any of those other things that wander fitfully into a brick wall when a foreman dozes, or runs unnecessary errands. 

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