Burley Athan’s helper quit.
He was his nephew, or his cousin.
Kin, anyway. He didn’t think he was making enough money.
He took a job firing staples into 2 x 2s at a factory that manufactured
mobile homes, swinging a pneumatic staple gun into thin paneling all day.
You’d press the head and it would go off. It had a hair-trigger. You couldn’t
fire one through your leg, but if you didn’t have it set right it would ricochet,
or jam up and need clearing. On payday, when he saw what he made, he asked for
his old job back and Burley gave it to him. The Old Rollback got me.
My construction job had about run out anyway, but still, I would have told him,
“You don’t have a job, you quit. Jack has your old job.”
He was kin. I wouldn’t have taken it, if my act of hubris
caused someone else to be out of work, but he was made of
different stuff. He was not even embarrassed.
I can’t relate to people with no sense of
social consciousness. I guess I’m just
a starry-eyed idealist. In kindergarten
he didn’t learn to play well with others.
He didn’t learn it at home. Where else do
you learn it? Sunday School? He didn’t go to church.
He spent all his money on his car, a Dodge Charger.
He liked to go to the stock car races. He probably rooted for
No. 3. Dale Earnhardt. The Intimidator. Earnhardt crashed and died
because he hadn’t adjusted his seat belt properly. He liked it loose.