THE ICE, THE WIND, AND THE BARREL FIRE(L Douglas St. Ours) THE ICE, THE WIND, AND THE BARREL FIRE


Folks who don't know
swear the meanest conditions for working all day outside come in the dog days of summer.
That's crap.

From 1966-68 I was a construction laborer
and off and on from 1968 to 1975 a frame carpenter
and I admit the heat waves could be hard to bear,
but the real agony arrived with winter
especially when you were humping up on the roof
through the wind and the ice.

Like a shredder coleslawing my face
the wind tore and teared my eyes
rocking me back on my toes
while my fingers just plain ached,
struggling to function
in all the needed places
as frigid nails chafed and numbed
my skin red and raw.

I was trembling like a leftover drunk
pounding my cowhide boots
on the sawdust slick rafters
into skillet flat submission
while my teeth rattled like maracas
as I tape measured, plumbed,
chalk lined, lifted, set, tacked,
trimmed and secured plywood sheets
to the pine sweet joists.

Like an insanely stubborn machine
I handled and swung eight foot sheets
staggered them along the line and once set,
hammered and buried six penny commons
through the subroof into trusses eighteen inches on center.

The severe exposure to the polar express's relentless roar on top
made me envy the lower paid laborers on the bottom
walking back and forth to the barrel fire
as they stooped and gathered discarded scraps of cut studs,
which depending on my mood
I'd either drop like pillows
or heave like spears.

Those lucky laborers stoked, fed, lingered and spread
their gnarled fingers over oak and pine
fueling the oil drum fire
whose gunshot pops
and swirling sparks
played like the devil's band
accompanying the gales
thrashing and blasting me
seasoned it seemed
by mountain peaks, ice bergs, and glaciers.

Distracted I lost my footing
on a foul mix of ice and dust,
saving myself from ruin
by catching hold to a circular saw cord.

The next morning the deep freeze deepened
and the entire crew upped and quit,
leaving me the last man to grapple with and tame that three story job,
so from beantime to supper
with my friend the fire fading,
I knew I wouldn't give in making money the hardest way I knew how.

By L DOUGLAS ST OURS April 2010

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