I Am Stronger Because of All I've Been Through
[b]----- In Fields of Splendor --- Part 2 -----[/b]
Memoirs of the summer following my graduation from high school . . .
Continued from Part 1
https://similarworlds.com/story?fid=4832201&tid=154595&name=I-Am-Stronger-Because-of-All-I-ve-Been-Throug
Yet Another Job
————————————
That summer, I was working as a stocker at a local grocery market, a job I had held for a few years. I was begging the manager for more hours trying to earn as much as possible before leaving for college.
That night I got a call from my friend Margo. Margo, sounding excited, told me about being hired as a waitress at the new diner next to the 24 hour truck stop. “The tips are fantastic!” she cried. “I made $22 last night for only working four hours! They’re looking for help on all shifts!” I thought for a moment.
“Monique, are you there?” she asked. “Yes, I’m here. I’m interested. I’ll go over first thing tomorrow. Thanks!” I hung up and started thinking about $22 in tips. I had to try.
I was hired immediately by the manager and then was told I would be on the 12 to 6 shift. “12 to 6, oh, that’s great, then I can go right from my morning job and come here.” I said cheerily. “No, no, not 12 noon, 12 midnight to 6 am in the morning.” he said. I sat stunned, and struggled to find words. Finally, I recovered enough to speak. “Oh, ok, well, that’s different,” I stammered.
The manager eyed me warily. “The uniform is black skirt and a white blouse. Oh, and be prepared to be whistled at, and take some teasing.” he added. By now my heart was pounding, but I had to try, at least the manager warned me. One consolation is that I would be working with Margo to help break me in.
My first day I mostly cleaned up and bussed the dishes while wiping down counters and tables. I would push the cart with dishes to the edge of the door and the dishwashers would wheel them in when ready. I only knew that the dishwasher room was a noisy place filled with steam. Larry would burst through the doors and yell at the dish crew and then emerge to harass the waitresses for being too slow. I got my share of this and and once, almost quit on the spot. But again, sizable tips held me back.
A Ritual Revisited
—————————
During that summer, Trudy and I felt we needed to re-awaken, or shall we say revisit a ritual we had enjoyed in the past.
This ritual had begun three years earlier, when one day we left our favorite rock on the Chazee, and riding our bikes along a trail for several miles, then scrambled up a hill, and finally reaching the edge of a clearing, scanned the horizon like indian maidens looking for signs of any activity.
There before us stood a water tower approximately 150 feet in height. The great tank sat upon four huge legs, with a network of interconnecting steel girders that held the great legs together to support the tank. A cat walk surrounded the circumference of the tank, connecting to stairs that zig zagged to the ground. The tower was surrounded by a chain link fence.
We had known the tower was there for years because we saw it so often off in the distance, but never thought much about it. When you live in one place a long time, you don’t notice things after a while. You can travel through the next town and be appalled at broken down houses and neglected properties with junk cars in the yard, but never notice the same thing in your own town.
We studied the chain link fence while gazing upward at the immerse structure. You could hear the hum of equipment. The tower would occasionally emit creaking sounds as if the great girders were struggling with each other as the structure expanded and contracted under the hot summer sun.
We began to walk the perimeter of the fence, getting looks at the tower from different views. Then we noticed a section where the fence had been pulled away creating an opening.
Trudy and I looked at each other, and we knew we were thinking alike. I pulled the separated section toward me enough so that Trudy could slip through. Once Inside, Trudy then pushed the fence outward allowing me to climb through.
We paused realizing we were now inside. We explored the inside of the fenced area with all its pipes and cables. We were beginning to lose interest when we saw a gate leading to the staircase that led to the top of the tower. Hmmm, it was decision time. “Let’s try,” I said. Trudy looked fearful but I could tell she was becoming drawn in by the great structure, beckoning her to explore deeper.
A chain wrapped around the inner fence and gate. The lock was broken and rusted. “Doesn’t anybody check these things?” I said to Trudy. Trudy, still looking cautious, did not answer. I unfastening the chain and pulled the gate open creaking and shaking as i pulled and finally it opened. We entered the inner fenced area with several small buildings.
And then before us was the great metal stairway that zig zagged its way to the top. I started up the stairs carefully, testing each step and hand rail as I went. I turned around and saw Trudy taking slow and careful steps. “Come on slow poke.” I called. But Trudy would not be hurried.
It took a half hour before we reached the top of the center staircase leaving one more longer flight that connected to the cat walk which ran around outside perimeter of the tank. Once we reached the cat walk, I looked out and down and froze in fear. I didn’t dare venture out on to the cat walk, but rather we sat together on the landing at the top of the stairs. There we caught our breath. We were giddy and nervous.
From where we sat, we could peruse parts of Lake Champlain and the Adirondacks to the south, and then to west viewing part of the Saint Lawrence Seaway and Quebec. “This would be a great place to watch the sunset,” I said “Yes, it would, but we should go.” said Trudy. She was right of course.
Over the years we wold climb the tower and eventually be brave enough to sit on the cat walk, lie in the sun, talk, just watch the sunset. There was something peaceful and private about this place.
---------------------------
Continued in Part 3 . . .
https://similarworlds.com/story?fid=4832201&tid=208933&name=I-Am-Stronger-Because-of-All-I-ve-Been-Throug
Memoirs of the summer following my graduation from high school . . .
Continued from Part 1
https://similarworlds.com/story?fid=4832201&tid=154595&name=I-Am-Stronger-Because-of-All-I-ve-Been-Throug
Yet Another Job
————————————
That summer, I was working as a stocker at a local grocery market, a job I had held for a few years. I was begging the manager for more hours trying to earn as much as possible before leaving for college.
That night I got a call from my friend Margo. Margo, sounding excited, told me about being hired as a waitress at the new diner next to the 24 hour truck stop. “The tips are fantastic!” she cried. “I made $22 last night for only working four hours! They’re looking for help on all shifts!” I thought for a moment.
“Monique, are you there?” she asked. “Yes, I’m here. I’m interested. I’ll go over first thing tomorrow. Thanks!” I hung up and started thinking about $22 in tips. I had to try.
I was hired immediately by the manager and then was told I would be on the 12 to 6 shift. “12 to 6, oh, that’s great, then I can go right from my morning job and come here.” I said cheerily. “No, no, not 12 noon, 12 midnight to 6 am in the morning.” he said. I sat stunned, and struggled to find words. Finally, I recovered enough to speak. “Oh, ok, well, that’s different,” I stammered.
The manager eyed me warily. “The uniform is black skirt and a white blouse. Oh, and be prepared to be whistled at, and take some teasing.” he added. By now my heart was pounding, but I had to try, at least the manager warned me. One consolation is that I would be working with Margo to help break me in.
My first day I mostly cleaned up and bussed the dishes while wiping down counters and tables. I would push the cart with dishes to the edge of the door and the dishwashers would wheel them in when ready. I only knew that the dishwasher room was a noisy place filled with steam. Larry would burst through the doors and yell at the dish crew and then emerge to harass the waitresses for being too slow. I got my share of this and and once, almost quit on the spot. But again, sizable tips held me back.
A Ritual Revisited
—————————
During that summer, Trudy and I felt we needed to re-awaken, or shall we say revisit a ritual we had enjoyed in the past.
This ritual had begun three years earlier, when one day we left our favorite rock on the Chazee, and riding our bikes along a trail for several miles, then scrambled up a hill, and finally reaching the edge of a clearing, scanned the horizon like indian maidens looking for signs of any activity.
There before us stood a water tower approximately 150 feet in height. The great tank sat upon four huge legs, with a network of interconnecting steel girders that held the great legs together to support the tank. A cat walk surrounded the circumference of the tank, connecting to stairs that zig zagged to the ground. The tower was surrounded by a chain link fence.
We had known the tower was there for years because we saw it so often off in the distance, but never thought much about it. When you live in one place a long time, you don’t notice things after a while. You can travel through the next town and be appalled at broken down houses and neglected properties with junk cars in the yard, but never notice the same thing in your own town.
We studied the chain link fence while gazing upward at the immerse structure. You could hear the hum of equipment. The tower would occasionally emit creaking sounds as if the great girders were struggling with each other as the structure expanded and contracted under the hot summer sun.
We began to walk the perimeter of the fence, getting looks at the tower from different views. Then we noticed a section where the fence had been pulled away creating an opening.
Trudy and I looked at each other, and we knew we were thinking alike. I pulled the separated section toward me enough so that Trudy could slip through. Once Inside, Trudy then pushed the fence outward allowing me to climb through.
We paused realizing we were now inside. We explored the inside of the fenced area with all its pipes and cables. We were beginning to lose interest when we saw a gate leading to the staircase that led to the top of the tower. Hmmm, it was decision time. “Let’s try,” I said. Trudy looked fearful but I could tell she was becoming drawn in by the great structure, beckoning her to explore deeper.
A chain wrapped around the inner fence and gate. The lock was broken and rusted. “Doesn’t anybody check these things?” I said to Trudy. Trudy, still looking cautious, did not answer. I unfastening the chain and pulled the gate open creaking and shaking as i pulled and finally it opened. We entered the inner fenced area with several small buildings.
And then before us was the great metal stairway that zig zagged its way to the top. I started up the stairs carefully, testing each step and hand rail as I went. I turned around and saw Trudy taking slow and careful steps. “Come on slow poke.” I called. But Trudy would not be hurried.
It took a half hour before we reached the top of the center staircase leaving one more longer flight that connected to the cat walk which ran around outside perimeter of the tank. Once we reached the cat walk, I looked out and down and froze in fear. I didn’t dare venture out on to the cat walk, but rather we sat together on the landing at the top of the stairs. There we caught our breath. We were giddy and nervous.
From where we sat, we could peruse parts of Lake Champlain and the Adirondacks to the south, and then to west viewing part of the Saint Lawrence Seaway and Quebec. “This would be a great place to watch the sunset,” I said “Yes, it would, but we should go.” said Trudy. She was right of course.
Over the years we wold climb the tower and eventually be brave enough to sit on the cat walk, lie in the sun, talk, just watch the sunset. There was something peaceful and private about this place.
---------------------------
Continued in Part 3 . . .
https://similarworlds.com/story?fid=4832201&tid=208933&name=I-Am-Stronger-Because-of-All-I-ve-Been-Throug
51-55, F
