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WORK AND CIGARETTES
When I was assigned to work for Ken, I felt as if I was being set up for misery. He wasn’t a tall man but his whole persona was rather intimidating. His face was weathered with a gray beard. His voice was harsh and he seemed to walk in a perpetual cloud of tobacco smoke. Every now and then he would have to stop to catch his breath...good old emphysema. His first impression on me was that of a grouchy old man.
Ken was a journeyman wireman but he was better known for his welding expertise. In many ways, he was a throwback to an old blacksmith. Initially, I had absolutely no interest in anything that had anything to do with welding. I had taken a class in high school and I was terrible...I figured I wasn’t cut from the mold . I was a young apprentice electrician. I was smart enough on the educational side of my training but I lacked ambition on the job. Work was exactly that...WORK
Kenny was a worker.
One morning we were having a smoke and coffee and Kenny explained that over the course of his career he found that one’s work production wasn’t always the primary criteria in determining the duration of their employment, in other words, some guys BS. kiss ass, or ride on the coattails of others in order to stay on the job. Sometimes the better workers are let go while “good old boys” are retained. Ken told me that his choice was to work...and do it well. It was at that very moment that my attitude took a dramatic shift: I chose to work, and always do it a manner that Kenny would approve of.
It’s hard to recount all the wisdom gained from my ten years or so working beside Ken. I feel like I’m boasting if I were to start listing talents that I now possess that I owe to my mentor. I later discovered that some of my co-workers were a little jealous that I was the one that Kenny chose as his apprentice. I never left his side. I became a journeyman wireman and a certified welder. I would never be the man I am without what I learned from old Ken. As I would later grow to understand, there were things that old Ken would gain from our time together as well
A defining feature of Kenny’s face was his eyes: turquoise blue: like jewels in the sand.
It was on a particularly chilly morning that Ken and I found ourselves standing at the welding table having a smoke. This wasn’t like any other that we had shared.This would be the last smoke that Ken would enjoy. The previous morning we both had attended the funeral service for his grandson, who had lost his battle with leukemia.
We didn’t outwardly cry but we both felt worthless. I remember the sadness in those eyes.
Kenny would often say, “be quick to listen and slow to talk”. On this occasion, I disregarded his advise. Our conversation went like this:
“Kenny, I know this probably isn’t the best time to kick you while you’re down, but my big mouth won’t hold back...You are the patriarch of your family, and they rely on your strength, but the way I see it, you can’t make it up a flight of stairs without gasping for breath. You’re next in line old man and if you don’t lay down the cigarettes, it ain’t far away. I said the same thing to my mom, but she waited too long. Your family needs you".
Ken looked up and replied, “If you’re done chewin’ my ass you can pass me those cigarettes”.
I naively thought he was going to crush them up and quit...instead he put one between his lips and lit it. “You want one?”, he asked.
“Yea, why not, and I can smoke thousands more before I’m as messed up as you, but this isn’t about me. I’ll never bother you about it again but please take what I just said to heart”.
End of conversation.
We began to do our jobs. Our work was our refuge.
It was about ten years later. (Kenny was now retired), that I answered a morning phone call. It went something like this:
“Phil, this is Ken. I just called you to tell you that I quit smoking”.
“God bless you,,,when did you quit”
“Just now...Ever since that day at the mill, I haven’t been able to enjoy a fucking cigarette without thinking about what you said. I told myself that when I finally quit, I’m gonna call and tell you. I’ve had the phone in my hand but I couldn’t make the call until now”.
After over fifty years of smoking, he never lit up again.
Kenny went on to join many of our brothers on the big job in the sky. If they’re smoking up there, I can’t blame Ken if he chooses to fire one up. When the day comes for me to join his crew, I'll stand there and have one with him. I feel like he’s smiling with his turquoise eyes, waiting for my imminent arrival. If there’s work to be done in Heaven old man, save some for me.
I’ll always be your partner.
