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Elevator Construction Work

By Brian Michael Barbeito
Mar. 22, 2005

Every time I ride an elevator these days I thank God that he made men willing to construct and repair such things. I think it was John Lennon who sang that a working class hero is something to be. Mr. Lennon sure knew what he was talking about. Long live the blue collar salt of the earth types I say.

I'll do almost anything once. I went to work as an elevator construction worker. I would have stayed at it too, but was laid off after about a three week stint. It was a good experience though. I showed up with my work clothes and steel toes. I was told that my leader was a bit wild but that I'd be best to follow direction as he knew his work well.

That morning we sat at the work site in his truck drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. No food really. Food isn't as much needed for tough guys. I could tell right away that this fellow was a bit of a Neal Cassady type of person. Soon we went inside and hopped on an elevator. On top of an elevator that is. Up we were going, in a building over twenty stories tall. Darkness all around save for a trouble light.

He told me to watch out for the steel weight that was coming down a few inches away from me. He said that they called those 'silent killers'. Yikes. Well, I listened the best I could and worked as hard as was possible. Some of the time was spent working in the shafts while supported by a wooden plank sort of thing. I don't know about other outfits, but these guys didn't use any safety harnesses or anything like that. I never asked either. Tough guys aren't fraidy cats I figured.

As hard as I worked and tried to laugh at their type of jokes and whatnot, I didn't fit in. Its a culture unto its own. I don't think those guys ever heard of Dylan Thomas or anything like that. They could sure drink like Dylan Thomas though. I didn't really cut it with my diet Sprite and ice.

Well here is to the working man. Here is also to the factories, the elevator shafts, to beer, to cigarettes, to skipping breakfast. Here is to that metal wieght, the 'silent killer' that passed me by. Here is to all the types of silent killers everywhere. After all, you can't live forever.

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About the author: Brian Michael Barbeito is a struggling poet and free lance writer from Aurora, Ontario, Canada. He spends all his spare time worrying about very many things including existential angst and the problem of why chewing gum loses its flavor too fast. He is determined to try and make the world a bit of a better place some way, somehow, some day.

Visit:

http://paradigmpoet.blogspot.com
http://paradigmpoetry.blogspot.com
http://www.writers-network.com/Brian1750

Email: Brian1750@Hotmail.com


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