Glad Tidings From Just West of 'Toon Town! =)

It has been a frentic week, and, as I speak, myself and the rest of the white trash here in the Trailer Park, are doing a long, slow burn. No humidity, but, 35 & 36 degrees do put a strain on a man. I'm still reeling from the rapidly unfolding events of the last few days, but, today, I can kick back, sit a spell, and relax; that's a good thing, because I have a long and frentic week ahead. I had breakfast at the Flying J this morning, just accross from the Saskatoon Airport, and, come Thursday, this J is going to be flying back to Ontario, and the arms of the woman I love.

Spent a couple hours this afternoon shooting the breeze with sister Rhenaya, and, it was two hours well spent. Rhenaya writes a little poetry, and, as you know, I'm always a sucker for a well turned phrase. Jeasus Christ! There's miracles out here in the West! I'd told you about my fallen brother Glen, and now I can tell you that the fallen have been raised up again! Three times his heart was jump started. 90 minutes his brain showed no activity! Five days in a coma! On Tuesday we were informed that Glen had cast aside the coma's grip, and, was awake & aware, with just a little bit of his memory scrambled. Medical staff assured us, that if, when visiting, we challenged Glen's memory, his recovery could be 100%. It's hard to see them fall ....it's great to see them get themselves up, dust themselves off, and start all over again!

I am, almost, no longer, homeless! Yes, my Ontario house will fall to the axe at the end of the month, and my Trailer Park account is paid till August 16th, but, and it is a big but, I'm now in the process of owning half a town! Yes, I cast a decisive bid on a property in Kinley; it includes a lovely bungalow, framed in 1958, the same year as yours truely! I also am becoming owner of 4 town lots, which adjoin the house property, and, best of all, I'm now officially, again, a farmer ....yes ....just accross the street, I will possess, 6 & 1/2 acres! I have a verbal acceptance of my bid, and the only fly in this oinment, is the fact that the owner, Ron, rejected my offer of $1000.00 down, and wants $5000.00 instead. I'll get over that hurdle, but it will take a little stretching. According to the paperwork, we'll get possession on August 8th. I had looked forward to living in this beautiful city of Saskatoon, and, being able to walk to any of it's many points of interest; but, I'm a pragmatic sort of fellow, and, thirty miles west of, works for me!

In the last two weeks, I've also lost half of the two finest people it was ever my pleasure to know. Harry Godsell silpped off this mortal coil a little less than two weeks past! A good man? No! My best man! Harry's wife, Doris, was Maid of Honour when myself, and Julie Anne Eliza said our vows. I talked to Doris on the phone yesterday, and, as we discussed the man, tears rolled freely down my cheeks, and, even as I type, threaten to do so again! Harry and Doris met in Wasaga Beach when she was 11, and Harry just 9; Doris is now 85. That, is a lifetime, and that fine couple did it with style; a lifetime full, and completely lived. We chose them as our 'best couple' because of our deep fondness, and deeper admiration, for who, and what, they were. We also felt that their presences boded well as a tallisman for our own joint future.

In the meantime, should you happen to be in Kinley, Saskatchewan, come this September, by all means, drop in for a chat, and a cup of tea! I never like to boast of my accomplishments, but, should I buy ]just two more town lots, then, by default, I become the town dog catcher, and stand second in line to the mayor's office!

James (B. a home owner) Mackay

More Stalworth Brothers! =)

I got called "Asshole" at work on Friday for the first time ...well ...for the first time to my face, and, I reckon that it won't be the last time! Tsk! Tsk! Us kids just got to learn to get along! But, when I stop and think about it, I can't really blame Dylan for his use of such an unendearing term. It was only Dylan's second day on the job; we'd introduced ourselves the day before, but hadn't had any opportunity to chat. On Friday, however, we were both busy nailing boards together and talking when opportunity allowed; out of the blue Dylan enquired, "What does your wife do James?" For just a second I considered saying, "Pretty much the same as any wife does Dylan; it's not like I'm some kind of Sicko!" But I thought better of it, and instead replied, "You know, you're a nice enough fellow Dylan; in fact, I kinda like you ....but you ask the most damdest personal questions!" For an instant the look on his face was priceless, his eyebrows arched, and the rest of his face fell; I imagine at that moment, what was going through his mind was something along the lines of, "How could such an innocuous question have planted my foot so deep in it?" I had to laugh, and that shattered the moment; "Asshole!" was Dylan's fairly astute summation of that moment.

Dylan is from Saskatoon via Montreal, where he is in the process of becoming a cabinat maker, and returned to his home town, with his wife, for the summer. I was curious as to how he'd got living in Montreal, and he explained that his wife is an illustrator of children's books, and that Saskatoon, because of it's size, dosen't provide the wealth of opportunity in the illustration field as does a major urban centre. Now that she is established in the Montreal publishing industry, she is, through modern IT, able to spend the summer at home, while still fulfilling her professional obligations in Montreal. He's a good fellow to work with, is Dylan ....we just have to work on his use of proper English!

Cody is another co-worker, and started just last week; he's seventeen and just finished grade 11, with a keen eye for detail, a willingness to point out my blunders, and a quick and ready wit. His wit has to be quick and ready; there's a lot of witty competition in his family, and by that I'm refering to his step-father, Rick! Rick is a working on becoming a journeyman carpenter, and is almost there. He told me that he came to Saskatchewan from Northern Ontario three and a half years ago, and, has enjoyed the climate and people so much, that he wouldn't consider going back. Another comedian is Rick, and he lays his lines down with charismatic charm and a wicked grin. Witty would be an understatment; never at a loss for words, he delivers his lines with flair, and just the right touch of masterful 'cheekiness' to keep the topic interesting, without giving offense. Very entertaining, and, though I've never worked with him, very capable in whatever he's doing.

When I was first working with Cody, Rick dropped by and said, "James, if he gives you any trouble ....slap him!" "Ok!" I said, "But, he'll probably get so much trouble from Tom, that I won't have to bother! Rick laughed and wandered off about his business, while Cody and I continued at ours. Now, somebody told me a story, and I'm sure that it's true, so I feel safe in mentioning it here. There comes a time in the life of most young people, when they'd rather not be seen by their peers, in the presence of their parents; felt a touch of it myself in my teens, and, have the pleasure of my own daughter, Allison, 19, who showed a bit of just that quality in former years, but now dosen't mind my presence at all ....provided that I keep that presence in a different province! Now, the way I heard it, Rick was dropping Cody off at high school, and the young fellow expressed a desire to be let off somewhere ....well ....kinda outa sight! Rick is not the sort to let that kind of attitude fly; no, into the parking lot the truck pulled, and ....cruised it seven times! Up and down the rows of parked cars, swinging by the main entrance each time, with Rick smiling and waving at all the fresh arriving highschoolers! I didn't hear that he blew the horn, but ....I wouldn't put it past him! A man, his son, and a truck, it's a beautiful thing!

Now, as I worked with Cody, I had, upon occasion, to use my pencil. I had no difficulty in doing so, but, that wasn't always the case. Oh, I could write with it, and mark lengths, but ....only when I could find it! The problem revolves around having to wear a hard hat; by inclination I prefer to keep my pencil behind my ear, but the hat, unless you keep it really cocked to one side, makes this, at best, an uncomfortable practice. In the beginning I kept it either in a pocket, or my pouch, and this worked well enough, with one exception; I have a lot of pockets and pouches, and could never seem to put my pencil in the same one twice. That meant that, every time I needed it, I'd have to stop, and run through a complete physical inventory of all my hidey-holes. I finally solved this cunundrum by velcroeing the pencil itself, to my hard hat, directly above my right ear; if you have the technology, you may as well use it, and, it works for me! Besides, it's a look!

There were Cody and I, working away happily, when Rick passed by again; he stopped, and looked! And marched right over to me, looking real close at my pretty blue bonnet: "Velcroe?!" he said, sounding a little astonished, "You stuck your pencil to your hat with velcroe?" "Well," drawled I, "They told me at my interview, that if I got the job, I'd have to use my head; it took a while, but I finally came up with something I can use it for!" Rick was speechless, and I'd never seen him so before. As he walked away, I laughed, and said to Cody; "I'm thinking of getting a second pencil, and velcroeing it to the left side of my hat ....that way, I'd always have a spare, and, on bad days I could rake them forward for a slightly Satanic touch. On good days I could angle them back and upwards, sort of like the Wingfoot God of Greek mythology wore his set of headwings! If my dear Julie Anne Eliza taught me nothing else, she did teach me, "You have to accessorize!" Best of all, should anyone again enquire, I could widen my eyes, and, with a simple smile, quaver, "They help me hear the little voices!"

Yes, there's many fun moments to be found at MISI, and you haven't to look far to find them. Somehow, I've seemed to have come unstuck from the Glue Crew, and spent the last three days at work again working with carpenter Tom as his helper. I don't know how this transpired, and daren't probe too deeply into the matter, just in case there's been a mistake; a mistake I wouldn't care to see remedied! I was on the Glue Crew long enough to build up about three solid coats on my overalls, and laundered them today to no avail; that may well be waterbased glue, but, it's also waterproof! I have been, and dispite all my efforts to be otherwise, remain, a somewhat 'tacky' Mackay!

I'll tell you a little about my boss, Tom. A fellow I admire, Don Heron, or, as he was better known, Charlie Farquarson, talked about the gifts of the Three Wise Men, as he put it, "Gold, Franck Incest, & Myrth." Now, I don't know whether Tom has any gold, and it isn't my business anyway, and I'm dam'd if I'm going to be Frank about Incest ....at least ....not on these pages! But, the gift of Myrth ....Carpenter Tom has framed up nicely, and nailed down pat! The animation in his face astounds me! Never have I seen eyes that twinkle so ....with glee. I don't know what kind of drugs this cat's on ....but I want to know where he gets them! My old pal, Frank Zappa, claimed, when he was still with us, that there were only two drugs that he craved, "Caffine & Nicotine!" He wouldn't touch anything else! When I make tentative enquiries as to Tom's drug of choice, I'm informed, (by Tom himself), that he only scores 50% on Frank's scale. Won't touch coffee! Nicotine is another matter; "I like ciggarettes," said Tom, "when I light a smoke, it's like I've sent my brain for a break; everything slows and, calms, down."

It takes a lot to slow Tom down; the man is a whirling dervish in action! The results of this action are formidable, but, it does take a toll on mileage! Tom told me, "My dietician says I have to consume at least 4000 calories per day, just to maintain my weight!" I believe it, and I've seen days where you might have to throw in a couple extra sandwiches. In many cases all this energy, being tossed about, would tend more to chaos than success, but, not with Tom; he talks about focus, and being fully engaged in whatever you are doing, whether it be work, or anything else that might lay claim to your attention! I'm looking forward to hearing more on his theory of 'being fully engaged."

A good instructor, Tom takes the knowledge from his mind, and lays it out before you, in concise, palatable increments, making sure each step is fully digested before moving on to the next course. Then he watches to make sure you've process firmly in hand, before setting you loose in this world of planks! Tom resents any lack of energy or enthusiasm, and appreciates it when those two elements are present and demonstrated. When leaving work his, "Thanks for a great day, James!", accompanied by that quirky, high octane smile, make the outpouring of 'Sweat Equity', all worth while. While I have the opportunity, I'm sticking to this cat like ....well, glue! He must be on Drugs!

James (Don't B. an Asshole!) Mackay

A Stalworth Brotherhood of Adventurers! =)

A diverse and interesting group of individuals I work with; many a good deal larger than even a generous average. I'll begin with Rhen, a very slim fellow I'd judge to be about 6' 2". I first met Rhen upon the occasion of my attempting to decapitate my left thumb; Rhen is the first aid person. When I saw the blonde pigtails bobbing merrily towards me, I assumed, incorrectly as it turned out, that I was dealing with a tall construction lady. No, Rhen is all boy ....well, perhaps not all, but certainly bits and pieces. I didn't notice the eye shadow and mascara while purusing the mundane routine of cold water, disinfectant and bandaid. Nor did I percieve, immediatly, the lip gloss. No, it was the red finger nail polish that first caught my perplexed eye.








Rhen is a genuine free spirit, and interesting person to talk to, plants an accurate bandaid, and is a pleasure to work around/with. I've chatted with him several times in the few and brief possibilities that work allows. First I admired the black knit ski bonnet he wore with a white Skull & Cross bones, and mentioned that my daughter, Allison, would love it. Rhen then told me of a popular shop down on 22nd St. which he knew Allison would really like; I made note of it. He told me that his last job had been as security at a local establishment, and I was stymied to imagine Rhen tossing drunks around. One night a drunk put his fist through the window of a neighbouring store; the police and an ambulance were called immediatly, as the man had sliced his arm severely, and was bleeding profusely. Suddenly the drunk decided it was time to go home, and Rhen was told to bring him back; he followed the trail of blood and caught up with the guy in half a block. Rather than return to the scene of his criminal foolishness, the fellow wanted to fight; "So," said a reluctant Rhen, "I head butted him and down he went!" Finally, back at the shattered glass, the drunk decided he wanted to try his fisticuff skills again, and our modest hero had to sit on him untill the police arrived; "It was awful," Rhen said while shaking his head, "there I was sitting on this guy, and blood was everywhere; people started gathering around us, and I could see them thinking that I'd been the cause of all this bloodshed!" A good gentle soul is Rhen ....good to work with, great for a chat!

Geof is a framer, and a good solid frame he has too. The heavy arms, shoulders and chest of a serious weight lifter he possesses, and, you can just tell, that when his hand falls on a heavy stud, and he say's, 'Come 'ere!', that stud is going to do just as instructed! Geof does a little security work on the side, and, occasionally wears a black T-shirt that proclaims, Staff, on the front, and, on the back, a cautionary rejoinder; "If you're going to be stupid ....you better be tough!" I asked Geof about his weight lifting, and he told me, "I don't do it competitively, but I've been lifting since I was a kid. I'm out of shape now; the baby came a year ago, and we needed money, so I had to work more, and didn't have time to work out. I'm getting back in shape now!" Hmmm ....if that's out of shape ....I think I'd best not be stupid around this fellow.

Whether he's aware of the fact, or not, and I'm sure that he is, Geof is a natural comedian. I was laying flooring in one unit while Geof and his crew were framing a new unit beside mine. The friendly banter between them was hysterical! "Jeez," thought I, "if anyone sees me, all alone, in a room 60' long, laughing all by myself, I'm going to be fired! Or at least sent away for a little psyciatric evaluation! One day Julie had some papers that required my signature, and MISI allowed me to have them sent to their office, and then faxed them back for me. The only awkward part of the arrangement, was that I was working at the new shop, and the office equipment was still at the origional one. That meant that I had to race up to the top of the city on my half hour lunch, throw down several signatures, initial innumerable corrections, and make it back to our new location on time. I did that, just barely, and had had no time to eat my lunch, so, I stuck a sandwich in my pocket, and went to work, taking a bite whenever the pace allowed. Just as I was taking a bite, who should I run into but Geof, "Are you still eating?" he asked, sounding a little surprised! "Damn!" I thought, "There must be some rule!" Then Geof shook his head, as he said, in a sort of wistful tone, "I wish I was still eating!"

But the funniest thing was the first day I worked at the new location! We had sat down to lunch, and I didn't know anyone, so I was sitting there quietly, gnawing on a sandwich, and listening to the fellows. One young fellow, and I can't for the life of me remember who he was, mentioned that wearing gloves on the job was causing some of the skin on his hands to peel! "Real framers don't wear gloves," intoned Geof in a casual, warm tone, such as a good Uncle might use, in guiding a favoured nephew through some of life's intricacies! "Real Framers," continued Geof in his intructional way, "let their callouses build up. Eventually, the callouses get to the point that they are harder than your knuckles, with razor sharp edges where they've split! So a framer dosen't punch anybody ....he slaps them! It hurts way worse! And the best part," he concluded, "is that the guy is insulted! There He is, lying on the ground, in incredible pain, thinking," "That framer didn't respect me at all ....he didn't even punch me! He slapped me like a Bitch!" "Comic?" you ask, well, you have to admit ....that was a great 'Punch line!'

Not all of the boys is boys at MISI! There's a few girls too! I first met Jill a couple of weeks ago; her first day on the job. Myself, and a couple other lads, were working in one unit, and noticed Jill, working all by herself, in the unit next to us. Just a little whip of a thing, I'd doubt more than 120lbs, with short, tawney hair, and a very confident manner. But a Bullwhip she is; the trick to a bullwhip, in competant hands, is that, as the lash unfurls, the business end breaks the sound barrier, and Boom! ....sonic Boom at that! This girl is no stranger to a framing hammer; when I compare my own timid strokes with Stanley, to those laid down by Jill, I can see that I have a lot of catching up to do! Strikes like lightening, so she does, with unerring accuracy, and the hammer head crashes down exactly where her eye and arm sent it, Boom! And when Jill wails on walls, take my word for it, the building rocks!

Jill told me that she began her carpentry carreer at the age of 12, when she designed and built a deck for her parents house. Over the following years she completely reno'd their house, getting help from her grandparents, of whom two were electricians! As it stands now, she has put in the requiset hours to give her her journeyman carpenter's papers, and requires only one more course to attain it. Jill didn't apply for her position; she was head hunted, and hired as a crew boss. It amuses me to think of her compact self, issuing orders to these big, burly boys; but, while these fellows don't suffer fools gladly, they appreciate and respect competance, and there's quite a reserve of just that quality, wrapped up in that 120lb package!

Jamie was one of the first fellows I got to work with on my first day on the job, and a robust piece of work he is too! Perhaps an inch or so shorter than myself, the frame on this boy speaks for itself; built like a bull is Jamie, and not an inch to be pinched in sight! There's a grand old word, "Stalworth", which comes down to us from the Scotts, in the modern form, "Stalwart", and it conveys the following: "Strongly and stoutly built, sturdy and robust. Strong, brave, valient. Firm, steadfast and uncompromising." You have to admire a people who can frame all that into a single word! While I extend the term to all my recent companions in construction, it is to Jamie that the word best applies. Sparing of words, and a keeper, unless the situation demands, of his own council, he is quiet competence in action, with, when the situation warrants, and the time is just right, a sparkling gleam of truely wicked wit!

Uncompomising is the byword when working with Jamie; it's a pleasure to watch him work, (well, I enjoy watching anyone work, as long as it requires no effort on my part!), and also to observe his attention to miniscule detail. Jamie likes things done right! One afternoon he, Corban and myself, were putting up a little drywall; Jamie had left to get something, and Corban and I came up against a little problem that had us stumped. Jamie returned in the middle of our dilemma, and, stood for a second, taking the scene in; "Sometimes," he intoned, in a serious voice, with a shake of his head, "I think I could start a revolution!" Corban, who tends to get caught up in the moment, didn't quite hear the remark, puzzled on for a couple seconds, then, as the words penetrated his concentration, looked up, brow furrowed, and asked, What? ....a revolution? ....against who? Jamie, his gaze unvarying, and, oh so level, replied, "The White man! And it wouldn't last long!"

I've enjoyed working with Jamie on many occasions, doing a wide variety of jobs, and we get along well. I try to be attentive to his advice, and never fail to learn something useful from him. It's nice to be able, even in a small way, to return the favour. We had just gotten new 'chop' saws, nice little Bosch numbers, with a laser guide. Twice I noticed Jamie come over, cut a board, check the measurement, and return to the new saw to shave off another 1/16th of an inch ....remember, this fellow checks everything, and gets it right! After the second time I said, "Jamie, on these laser saws the blade dosen't cut on the line; the blade is offset so that it cuts exactly beside the line. His eye met mine, and with no expression, said two words, sweet to his co-workers ear, "Thanks man!"Often, when we're working togethe, or at least in proximity, seemingly out of nowhere, he utters a dark, witty comment, and, registering my face, to judge my comphrehension, administers a quick, sharp slap to my shoulder, with just a trace of a smile, to let me know he's joking. I wouldn't say that he commands respect, no, it just seems to fall into place naturally!

Corban is a pretty good piece of work as well; a native Calgarian, he followed his true love to Saskatoon, where she is training to be a pharmacist. A tall, healthy boy, he was raised in the construction business, and spent some time in California in the IT field. I asked him why he didn't pursue that field here, and he told me that it just dosen't pay in Canada; in California he could make $50.00 an hour, easily, but, north of the border the job commands less than he is making at MISI. An amiable fellow is Corban, and one I enjoy working with, but, I do get a smile out of his concentration, because, Corban, when faced with a challenge, gets right inside his own head, and is very focused. What makes it really interesting is, at those times, to make a little joke, and watch as, his train of thought derailed, he resurfaces! The brow is a little furrowed, and his eyes puzzled; for a second he thinks, then, generally with a shake of his head, says, "James ...your sense of humour!"

Three times in one day, while roofing, I nearly gave poor Corban a heart attack. No, it wasn't my unbalenced sese of humour, it was my unbalenced sense of balence! I had a lot of inner ear infections in my youth, and, subsequently, as those who know me well will attest, I'm not really what you might refer to as a balenced individual. Still, heights have never bothered me; they bothered my father, and, as a result, from about age 10 on, I became the roofer on the farm, and those old Ontario barn roofs sit a long way above terra firma! What complicates the matter, is that I'm equiped with a rebuilt knee, which is just not as reliable as it was 29 years ago. It is given to unpredictable 'failures' at irregular intervals, and my unbalenced self does not recover well. Leaping from rafter to rafter then takes on an air of 'Russian Roulette!" Corban, noting this, suggested that I go to Marty, the safety Bear, and inform him that I was incapable of working on the roof. Pride, I suppose, really does go before a fall, and I told Corban that I didn't want to start complaining; that everything would be just 'tickety-boo.' His mind, a little more balenced, in this regard, than my own, wasn't satisfied with my decision, and he narked me out! Subsequently, MISI will probably never, knowingly, allow me on a roof again; no, now they keep me as close to the floor as possible ....on all fours! It's good to work with capable people, who, not only know your best interests better than you do yourself, but take it upon themselves to act upon those best interests. A very fine fellow is Corbon.

Saturday evening is almost upon me, and I'm going to get dudded up to do my laundry; ....I'm almost out of duds! Times change, and Saturday evenings at 49 seem sort of lack-luster compared to those I remember 30 years ago. However, before I go, I will tell you one truely unfortunate story of a fellow I worked with here. Glen is a fine fellow, and I worked with him steadily for about a week; in that time we talked, and he told me that he'd been diabetic for 20 some years. After we got on separate jobs, I didn't see much of Glen, untill one day, when Tom was training him to drive a forklift, he went into insulin shock. Tom told me later that Glen hadn't seemed himself that day, and Tom felt that he must have, somehow, upset him. He became concerned when, during the Forklift training, Glen was driving haphazardly ....bumping into things that shouldn't be bumped into, so, he cancelled training for that day, and went on to other matters. Things seemed to be improving, and they decided on what to do next; Glen walked around a partition to begin his part of the task, and never came round the other side. Tom said that he'd not been too concerned, because he's forever telling people what to do, and, in the normal course of things, they get side tracked, doing something else; it happens all the time.

Then, from behind the partition came a crash! Tom rushed around, and found Glen seated on the floor! "Are you all right?" Tom demanded. "Yes," replied Glen, "I was backing up the forklift, and somehow, fell off!" Tom said, "Glen, there's no Forklift here!" With that he was very concerned, and got him to first aid immediatly, where a stiff shot of super Glucose solution brought him around immediately. Things seemed back to normal for the next few days, and Tom tried to keep Glen from taking on any tasks that were too strenuous. But, about a week later, they were putting away a large wooden construct that I won't, here, try to describe or explain. Glen faltered as he set his end down, and, pinched the end off his finger! A half of an inch of flesh, nail, and bone ....gone! Again Tom rushed him to first aid, where it was cleaned and wrapped, "Don't," warned Tom, "Take him to the hospital untill I get the finger tip, wrap it in gauze, and send it with you!" The reason for this is that it's easier to stitch up a wound of this type, if the missing piece of the puzzle is available. If it is not, then, in order for the skin connect, or bridge the wound, the bone of the finger must be ground down! Jeasus ...just the thought makes me cringe!

Glen was order off work for two weeks, and we didn't expect to hear much of him till that time was up, and we didn't ....untill yesterday. What we didn't know, and couldn't possibly have guessed, was that, when at the hospital for his finger injury, the medical personnel had taken blood, and found that Glen's was really out of whack. They had insisted that he stay untill it was under control. Glen refused to stay, and went home. Yesterday we learned that he'd been taken to the hospital in a diabetic coma, and his heart had to be jump started! Worse still, and as yet unconfirmed, that he was on life support, with no electrical activity in his brain. It's a sad day when a brother falls.

If nothing else, I've learned to take my fellow worker's concerns, and, more importent, their advice, very seriously. I want to be able to continue counting to ten with both boots on, and ....I won't be walking those planks! Thanks again Corban!

James (B. careful!) Mackay

It's hammer time ....for me and Stanley!

Stanley is my new, 22 ounce. best friend ....a framing hammer from stanley tools, and he's got the best lineage; he comes from the 'Extreme Fat Max' family. A nicely designed tool is Stanley; well balenced and designed to reduce the torque and vibration delivered to the users arm while repeatedly striking some, hopefully inanimate, object. His head is magnetic, with a groove and a notch, and you can set a spike along his gnarly snout with the shaft resting in the groove, and the head of the spike cradled in the notch. The magnet holds everything, just so, and, voila, you can now start your spike with a fearless swing, seeing that your left thumb is never in harm's way; just too cool for an every day tool, is Stanley!

Keeping that left thumb out of harm's way is essential, as I learned before coffee break, my very first day with MISI. I'd been given an air nailer, and, with no instruction, was asked to start whacking some components together. I'd used a nailer, briefly, about 24 years ago at LOF, but they shortly thereafter given them up when they switched from wood to cardboard dunnage; so I'd never really attained the 'competant' level in it's use. There was I, happily nailing boards together, when a fellow came along, and suggested that I, "Put that piece of junk away, and use that nailer over there!" Now, the one I'd been using was a single shot, the only kind I was aware of. My new nailer was an automatic! Hold the trigger on this one, and a nail will be fired every time it's snout is depressed by coming in contact with anything! good point to be aware of! "Bang," went my nailer, as expected, then ..."Bang!" again, this time a surprise to me; and faster than a speeding bullet, a nail sailed the length of the shop ....with a chunk of my thumb tagging along!

Nothing too serious, and, I was soon back to work, just like that helmeted, talking head, in Monty Python's "Holy Grail". My Team Leader, Tom, of whom I'll tell you later, now took a few minutes to explain to me the intricacies of nailers. I felt much enlightened, and Tom summed up accordingly, "The first rule of carpentry," Tom said Sagely, "is to never stick your finger where you wouldn't stick your pecker!" Valid point; and Tom, (I notice), speaks with the authority of a man who can no long count past 9 without taking off at least one work boot!

The three men who put MISI together talk about the 'business we dreamed!', and it's great to be part of a dream ....untill it turns to nightmare! There's a certain amount of chaos in every dream, and some become nothing but; although MISI is experiencing a little chaos since it's main customer was taken over by GE in June, and their contracts went through the roof, my monies on this company for the long run. The very best dreams rise from promise to fruition and then ...go down in flames. You must look past what is left laying in the ashes; look instead to the Pheonix that rises from those flames. This business is well past it's kindling point and I can see it's Pheonix rising. I can appreciate the effort and long hours these three have put into their business; I am, after all, a ..."Son of Fire!"

Speak softly and carry a big Schtick! ....and sticks don't come much bigger than the 16' 2x10s I haul around at MISI, two at a time. The first of the three Brothers I met was Marty, who gave me my orientation the day I started the job. Marty is the Safty Officer of the company, and wears a white 'cowboy' construction hat. The day I started I couldn't recall my new saskatoon phone number, having just got it the day before, and told Marty that I would bring it to him the following day. At 6:50 the following morning I went to Marty's office and dropped my number off to him. As I left I ran into another fellow that works in the office; "I've seen you here but haven't met you yet," he said, right hand extended, "My name's Matt." And a fine fellow Matt turned out to be, but, as I extended my hand to meet his, Marty's voice boomed from his office, "Don't pay any attention to him James, he's the worst dog-fucker in the place!" I felt sort of sorry for Matt just then, and, as our palms met, I said, "Pleased to meet you Matt, and, if what Marty just said is true, I want you to remember this face, because, Buddy, I'm coming after your job!"

A couple days later, upon arriving at work, I notice Marty watching me exit the RT. When I enter the building he's right over to me asking, "James, what's a fellow like you doing with an expensive rig like that? Smiling, I reply casually, "I live in that truck Marty, and it was the best I could afford!" This verbal sparring continues, and, it's not just with me; everybody gets a turn. As I was leaving work on Wednesday of this week who sould I run into but Marty; we exchanged greetings, and Marty enquired, "How's that van working out for you James?" "Just fine." I smiled. "It's not giving you any problems?" he continued. "No," I replied, "I'm very comfortable out at the Trailer Park, and it gets me to work on time every day. And, the best part Marty, is that every day at 6:45, when I pull into this parking lot, your property values go up!"

Ray is another one of the three brothers, kind of a gruff fellow, but we seem to get along ticketty-boo. He's a little jokey, but not enough to irritate me. We were working on a sort of delicate operation one day, and Ray told me to step aside, while he showed me how it should be done; I had some mis-givings, but said nothing, Ray isn't my boss, but, he's one of the owners, and, what he says goes ....and I don't want him saying, "James goes!" As it turned out, he got it all wrong; surveying the fruit of his decision and action, he turned to me and said, "You never should have done it that way!" Uncool, but OK I suppose.

I was out in the yard one day, sorting out an order of lumber for Tom, and, if I might say so myself, had a healthy sweat on, and was too caught up in what I was doing to pay attention to what was going on around me. A voice boomed out, "You should at least look like your're doing something!" and laughed. Without looking up, or pausing in what I was doing, I replied, "Can't Man! If I ever did, they'd expect it all the time!" His laugh boomed back to me, and he said, "I was talking to the other guy! Back in the shop I asked Tom whom that might have been? Tom told me that that was Terry, the brother who started the business. I told Tom of our exchange, and he said, "You maybe shouldn't have said that!" "I was working Tom, and he was laughing," I replied, besides, as a fellow I've always admired, Wavey Gravey, once said, "Never Prank a Prankster!"

Irregularly Scheduled Musical Interlude!

"When you're down on your luck,

And life ain't worth a ....well ....Fiddlestick!

Sniff Glue!

When the day is done,

But you gotta' ride on!

Sniff Glue!

She's alright! She's alright! She's alright!

Sniff Glue!

If Eric were dead, he'd be rolling in his grave now!

The two men who run the business are Q & T; I'll tell you a little about them, but, keep it on the QT! It was T who gave me my interview, and called to say I had the job. A little clarification is here necessary; I'd applied for the position of 'carpenter's helper', when T called, he told me I'd got a job with the flooring team. I was, then, in no position to quibble; so I said, "Fine!" When I started, I was working as a Carpenter's helper; never did any flooring at all. It near killed me, but, the work, dispite the subsequent protesting muscles, was engaging, made me think constantly, and I enjoyed it. The last couple of days I have been the flooring crew! The job is easier by far, and there is some thought required, but, dull and slow! And Glue! You are working with the adhesive stuff constantly, and quickly! It's impossible to avoid getting the stuff on you ...and nearly impossible to get it off! You know you've had a great day flooring when, undressing in the mobile privacy of your mobile home, you toss your overalls against your bedroom wall, and ....they stay there! I wish I worked on the window crew! At least with Windows you can 'cut n' paste' with your keyboard!

They may have hired a fellow with a dubious sense of stick-to-it-ness, but, I'm a very sticky sort of chap now; and I'll stick this out till we see how this shakes down; but ....and it's a big but, there's rough roads here in Saskatoon ....and those overalls still drape gracefully above my extra bed, and this pasty situation has a look of permanence about it! The worst of the matter is that I can hardly bring myself to shake hands now with new acquaintances, for fear that I might gain a life long companion; forever thereafter, when travelling on foot, one of us would have to scuttle along backwards! It's a little too much, at 49, for a man to spend 40 hrs per week on his knees! I can't take it! I'm afraid that I'll come unglued!

Back to T whom I haven't yet got a satisfactory read on; my first impression was a quiet, serious fellow, but things are getting a little more complicated. The fellows I work with tell me that T used to be laid back and easy going, but that, in the last month or so he's changed for the worse. They aren't sure whether it's because of pressure, ambition, or a combination of the two; but all agree that it adds to the tension. I'm too new here to have an opinion on the matter, but, I can say that he's never caused me any grief.

Q is another matter; I liked this fellow right off the bat. He's got a charming Leprechanish appearance, with curly reddish brown hair, and a matching bit of a beard. His sense of humour is laid back, and never, that I've seen, intended to give offense; and to me, that's a sterling quality. The "Q", I believe, is for 'Quizical', because, in conversation, as you speak, you get the impression, from his eyes, that he's weighing your every word! We were having a coffee one afternoon, and Q joined our group; someone mentioned that he looked tired, and he admited that he was, that he'd been at the shop til 2:30 the previous morning, and back in for 7:00 this morning! That on top of an endless stream of 12 to 14 hour days! "You know Q?" I chided, "You just don't seem your' usual opptomistic self when you don't get your proper rest!" Q laughed, as did the others, and someone threw in, "I've never seen you lose your temper, How do you keep your cool when everything is going wrong?" Q thought about it for a moment, and, you could see that he weighed his own words as carefully as he did your own, finally said, "I have a very bad temper, but I can't let it go in here; at home however," and he paused here for effect, "my cats are terrified of me!"

A few days l was in Q's office at the days end, and I enquired as to how his day had been? "I've had just the worst day," intoned a weary looking Q, "I bent the tailgate on my truck!" I had to enquire, and I did, "How'd that happen?" "I was bringing a load of stuff from the old shop," said Q, "and the weight of it, pressed against tailgate, popped the latch! I lost half my load! It was lying on the highway behind me! It was rush hour! ....I was so startled that I braked abruptly, and ...my hat fell on the passenger seat beside me! Q paused here, with much the same look on his contemplative face, as I'm sure was on Murphy's, when Murphy finally realized that, He, himself, was an oppomist! "My cup of water," pondered Q, "tumbled from it's holder ....and landed ....upside down ....in my hat!" "Q" smiled I, "that sounds like something I'd do, and, between you and me ....I find that hard to respect in a fellow!"

Q's a good fellow to work for/with, and I do enjoy his sense of humour, but, I made a Waldorf salad this afternoon, and, it's sitting in the fridge as I type; I can assure you of one thing ....it ain't going to eat itself! For the time being I must allow my new friend Stanley to idle while I toil on; perhaps, with time, I'll get a different job ....and, the two of us, can get ....hammered! I will type you some more tomorrow; in the mean time, there's things to see, and people to do ....and, I'll tell you all about it!

James (B. stuck up!) Mackay

A Toastmaster wears many hats! =)

Well, I'm here in Saskatoon now, working for MISI, and liking it. The business was started just last October, and is rapidly expanding. How rapidly? you ask; almost as rapidly as a hand grenade just after you pull the pin! If you wish to check it out, I'll put their address below;

http://www.modernindustrialstructures.com/index.html

When I came down for my interview with MISI, the radio reported that there had been 235 police calls on the previous Saturday evening, and six stabbings. Jacqueline Dolynne, My new Real Estate agent, claims that she knows a local Cop who says the Media are under-reporting!

On my first day at MISI's new location on 33rd St. I couldn't help but notice the sign up on the Marquee of the Bar accross the street; it reads, "This Saturday Night, Amature Fight Night, "Tough Man Contest", Local Talent Wanted!" Hmmm! thought I to myself, it dosen't sound like a Pina Colada type of crowd! Yes, a good place to avoid, but, also, a good thing to keep in mind; there's a vein of local character running through that sign!

"I am just a new boy,

Stranger to this Saskatoon Town!

Tell me Child, what's been happinin'.

And who's going to show the Stranger around?"

Thanks Pinkie

But, for the greater part, the locals are friendly, and, if I might say, outgoing! I got a hint of just how friendly on the occasion of my first day off. I had shrugged off the litaney of complaing muscles, outraged at the indignities thrust upon them during my first 6 days of work, and decided to make my first forray into Saskatoon society. A modest foray I must confess; I drove the RoadTrek down to 33rd street, parked, and made my way downtown on foot. At 22nd St. I paused, waiting for the traffic light, to cross the street. A car pulled up to my left, and, while I didn't look, I heard the electronic hum of a window being put down. "Hey!", came a feminine voice, and, as I looked to the car, the voice continued, "I'm thinking of getting my nipple pierced, and wondered what you think? There were two young ladies in the car, giggling, about 25 would be my guess, and, as the voice continued, the lady in the passenger seat pulled her T shirt down, popped out her right breast, and began vigorously thumbing her nipple!

Now, I'm no connisour of nipples, but admit that I've been a sucker for a nice set ever since the day I first met my mother face to face. I believe that they wanted a reaction, but, I'm not one to be cowed by a nipple, besides, they had broached a question, and, as any Topics Master will attest, a question demands an answer. Therefore I decided to rise to the occasion, and give the answer my best shot. That poor little pink fellow was taking a vigorous thumbing as I spoke; "Well," said I, "It looks pretty tasty all by it's own self! What kind of ring had you in mind? Silver? Gold? or perhaps something with a small gem? Both were laughing now, and the wee laddie still bending to it's punishment! "I hadn't thought about that," said the lady in the passenger seat, "I just wanted your opinion! "Well, I replied, in a contemplative tone, "In my opinion, you get ....two thumbs, straight up! My hands, which had been hanging at my sides till then, now shot up about a foot, both thumsbs extended!

The lights changed then, and, as I crossed the street, I could hear the pair of them still laughing. What did they look like? I can't really say ...I was somewhat distracted at the time, but, I'll certainly recognize the wee nipper if ever I see him again. I haven't broached the matter with Julie Anne Eliza yet; I'm afraid that she might not understand. I did share the story with Allison Lee, and she found it as hysterical as did myself. The secret though, is, to my mind, safe enough here; I don't think that Julie Anne Eliza puruses this page. Can't say that I blame her really; I seldom read it myself.

I bought myself what is commonly referred to as a, "Biker Skull Cap", and the reason for that, is, I suppose, slightly misplaced vanity. I have to wear a hard hat in my new position, and, for better or worse, it's my preference to take this weary old head home in much the same condition as I brought it to work. That's impossible once one has donned a hard hat and invested a little 'sweat equity' in the firm. The Skull Cap' fits nicely under the helmet, keeps everything in place, and the rayon inserts allow a little ventilation, which, if it was entirely leather, would not be the case. You can get them with all kinds of elaborate designs on them, flames, death heads, screaming eagles and the like, but I didn't want anything that dramatic; I felt that the Canadian Flag was just the right touch; but, it surprises me how little it takes to get a timorous little fellow like myself in trouble!

I had intended to give Sunday over to the Jazz Festival, but, my pal Jamie, on Friday, suggested that I should go to the Canada Day celebrations at Diefinbaker park. There were bands scheduled for the whole day, and a concert in the evening with Nazareth, a band I really liked in my younger days, and one which I'd thought out of commision years ago. However, I was a little jangled on Friday, due to word from the bank that, in their opinion, I was a probationary employee, and that, as such, was ineligible for a mortgage untill my probationary period was up. Besides, I quit going to concerts years ago; too many people and just way too loud. I know ....I'm getting old! However, at the end of the day, I had a chat with my boss, Q, and explained my mortgage cunundrum to him. "That's no problem," said the thoughtful Q, "I can't do it just now, but, Tuesday morning I'll have a letter printed up saying you are a permanent, full time employee." That inspite of a 90 day probationary period! He's a good fellow, Q, and it's just such little gestures that make the weary muscles worth it.

So, Saturday morning I got to thinking of Jamie's words. The Jazz festival was still my preference, but, perhaps it would be good to attend an event where you might just know some good people. So, Sunday afternoon, I donned my, "Canada Rocks" T-shirt with the Innukshuk front and centre, and topped it off with my Maple Leaf skull cap, and wet out to the park. I'd been told that the Nazareth concert began at 9:00, and thought that not too bad, and wouldn't keep me up too far past my bed time. However, when I arrived, and attempted to verify this information, I found out that there were three bands slated for the evening, and Nazareth wasn't to perform till 11:30. Even better, there was no seating, and it was to be a liscensed event. Not quite my cup of Tea, I'm afraid, and I decided to save my shekels for something a little more refined. You can just imagine the possibilities; an enthusiastic crowd who'd been drinking beer all afternoon, poured into a five hour long, liscensed rock concert! Sounded like trouble to me.

There was a time when I played with some very rough and tumble cats, but, those days are long gone, and I've never felt the loss of their acquaintance, or other such. No! I really don't want any trouble; I'd explain that point of vie in more detail, but my pal, Jr. Brown, does a far better job of it than I could ever do. Jr. plays a "GuitSteel", and dosen't so much sing, as articulate in the 'Spoken Voice' style of Leonard Cohen. Take it away Jr.!

It's good to see you Baby,

It's been a long, long while.

We're both a whole lot older,

And seen a lot of miles.

But things are really different now,

Since the good old days,

And you've been in some trouble,

Since we went our sepparate ways.

We'll have to say Hello, maybe,

Some other time instead.

Because you're wanted by the Police,

And my wife thinks you're dead!

Somebody spread the rumour,

That you had lost your life.

Least, that's the way I heard it,

And what I told my wife.

Now here you've shown up again,

And talk is gettin' round,

And I can see that one of us,

Will have to leave this town.

If you think that I want trouble,

Then you're crazy in your head!

Because you're wanted by the police,

And my wife thinks you're dead!

You never called or wrote me,

Just up and disappeared.

Nobody knew what happened,

Where you'd been for all these years!

Now troubles what you're lookin' like,

Cause troubles where you bin',

And I can see the kind of trouble,

You could get me in.

You better pay attention,

To every word I said.

Because you're wanted by the police,

And my wife thinks you're dead!

So Goodbye to you Baby,

I'm glad we got to talk.

But I'm faithful to my wife,

and I don't never break the law!

I don't know where you're headed for,

But I do know where you've bin'.

We've reminised now let's just go,

Our separate ways again.

Go find another ex sweetheart,

To hang around instead.

Because you're wanted by the police,

And my wife thinks you're Dead!

Thank's Jr.

It was a lovely afternoon; hot, but without the Ontario humidity, and more people than you could shake a stick at! The bands were good; I'd arrived at 2:00 after sending off a care package to the 'Home Folk', and was ready to relax. I wandered around the displays, and had a feed of homemade cabbage rolls, just like Mom used to make, though somewhat pricier! Mostly family groups, but some young couples and a handful of single people much like myself. I never did catch up with anyone I knew, and I was getting just a little baked in the sun. There was no place to sit, except the grass, so, round bout 4:00, I ambled over to the tented beer garden; it was a pretty nice crowd with several tables playing card games. The security was impressive; I'll tell you, some of these Prarie farm boys got way more than their share of Wheaties! Brutal huge they be; not the type to be too cheeky with. But, as I've mentioned before, discretion is the entirety of my valour; I couldn't see myself having any problems with them.

One table, on the edge of the crowd, is bursting at the seams with five energetic, healthy sets of tattoos! When seated, which is neither often, nor for long, they pound on the table, shouting, "Drink, Drink, Drink!", and exhort those seated around them to do the same. They all have their shirts off, and, between frequent trips to the bar, they mock spar, and wrestle with each other! Roofers I am later to find, and they barely attempt to contain their exuberant, unpredictable violence. The area is posted for no smoking, but that dosen't stop these boys, and the ciggarettes are ever, unabashedly present; oddly, to my eye, those secuity types I mentioned earlier, don't seem to notice this blatent infraction of Saskatoon law. One fello is particularly energetic; laughing, he regales his companions with blinding flurries of punches, lightening fast, precise, and each individual punch stopping just fractions from the faces of aforementioned friends. I suspect that he is about 25, and that his friends might call him something along the lines of, "The Champ!"

One in the group appears to be about 30, and the two play scrap with gusto. The older fellow is 6' 2", possibly 3", and I watch as, three times, his younger companion launches a rising 'snap kick' at his head, and each time his boot rises past the top of the older guy's head. To execute a rising 'snap kick' the the enactor jumps, straight up, with his 'off' leg, in this case, and in most cases, the left; the right knee, meanwhile, is driven straight up in the air, and, as it approaches the chest, the foot is rapidly extended. It's the type of kick that can take an opponent's head off before he even realizes he is an opponent! Most people I've seen aren't good enough to carry off the move; this guy is ...he's rehearsed! Not only rehearsed, but enjoys it! Nasty combination.

At this point I've been sitting there for an hour and a half; haven't recognized anyone, and the situation is getting old real fast. I decide to head for points homeward, and, as I leave, I wonder how Julie Anne Eliza is making out in Niagra on the Lake, with all the Hargreaves Clan gathered for their big anual reunion. Kinda miss being there myself. As I leave the tent, and approach the gate, who should I see coming towards me but Twinkle Toes, the kicker I was telling you about. He's looking over his shoulder and beckoning to his buddies, shouting, "Come on! Let's go smoke a Hoolie!" Turning, he lays eyes on my poor, lonesome self, and, quicker than I can here describe, he's in my face, bigger than life, and a good sight nastier. "Is that hat real leather?" he demands, in a tone I don't really find warming, and I know I'm going to have to show him a preferable one.

A smile, I've been told, and believe it to be so, is just a curved line, capable of straightening out difficult situations. He's about 6', has 2" and 24 years on me, but I look him straight in the eye ...and smile! The smile hurts just at that moment, but, I can think of a lot of things that might hurt a whole lot worse! "Yes it is." I reply, and try to light up the darkness that is his life with my friendly grin. "Did you get it just for today? he demands, and the tone has not softened any. "No", says I, "I wear a hard hat at work, and this," I say, stretching both hands up to pat my pretty new bonnet, "keeps everything in place!" His tone softens now, "I just got my job back," says Twinkle Toes, "I'm a roofer! Can you imagine how burn't I'll be by the end of summer? "You'll be black Mun! smiles myself. "All I've done for the last few months is work out!" says my new found sub-cretinous companion. "It shows!," smiles I, "You're a healthy boy!" "You're the first person to tell me that ....today! my new best friend intones. "I imagine that you'll hear it again, before the night's out," I respond pleasantly, "Have a good night Mun!" Turning, I exit smiling, for points anywhere the fuck else!

I wasn't entirely pleased with my performance. I blew a line! I'd meant to introduce myself! Oh well ....sometimes bullshit does indeed baffle brawn! There's much else to tell, but, little time to type it!

James (I won't say what the B. stands for, but the third name's Steve!) Mackay