One grandfather a master finish carpenter specialized in spiral staircases,
other grandfather an electrician, methodist lay minister and reader of Kant.
Stepfather an electrician, part Seneca indian, and amateur historian. Owe
historic preservation track to mother, telephone operator, daughter of
carpenter, she taught me to build stone walls, identify wood flowers, garden,
and work real hard - told me anything is possible. We lived on a glacial morain
with lots or boulders, lots of iron pyrite, and lots of lightening. Prior to,
and a few years after, birth of my sister we would visit all the historic
villages on East Coast from Canada to Virginia, including Williamsburg,
Sturburge, Valley Forge, Gettysberg etc. Mother spent HS years in Washington,
DC. and a lot of time with her father in Smithsonian. I had an epiphany at
Colonial Williamsburg, circa 1964, when looking at rustic *hunters shed*,
decided then to follow preservation track, though had no idea there was one.
Sent an unanswered letter to Columbia Univeristy advising them I would be an
addition to their environment. Instead I worked as a laborer in a salt mine
digging a hole in bedrock 40' x 40' x 10' deep inside a building and played
with dynamite, fun, fun, fun with Cargil. Had much more fun confusing X-Vietnam
Marines until they got out of control. Wanted to be a hermit, dropped out, hid
in the woods, went to jail a few times, grew long hair, became a poet, got
lost, applied to school at a Death Valley cattle ranch founded by LL Nunn
(builder of Niagara Falls hydroelectric plant), hitched around US of A
pretending I was a Dharma Bum. Did electrical work in old houses, learned to
STOP tearing the walls apart. A few years later was selling pick-up truck loads
of bull manure ($1.00 per load) and was playing with building a stone retaining
wall for an old guy that kept telling me about his sulphur water and recent
colostomy. The stones kept me sane, and next thing I knew I was doing a lot of
stonework, working for this crazy guy in Moravia, NY, and built 100 fireplace
chimneys, a house, and a barbicue pit at a hunting lodge. Went into business on
my own and lost everything, then fell in love. Decided to be a poet, lost more
money. Moved to DC and lived in car. At Bowie, MD stables working on brownstone
walls decided I had a preference for recreating old work. Tried to joint the
stonemason union (my sponsor was my bull manure supplier who was a neighbor of
my electrician grandfather) but got shunted into being a foreman in Alexandria,
VA. Bored again. Went into worker-management and laid a lot of brick for low
wages. Kissed tuckus and got old job back so could spend a year pushing a
broom, smoking cigs, and sharing stories at Gaithersburg, MD subway station.
Next was assigned to working on restoration of Marine Commandant's Barracks,
15th & K SE. Needed the money to support wife & son - enjoyed Bacon-Davis
prevailing wages. Got lost doing other stuff along the way - tried to drive a
cab. Worked on modern construction. Learned to hang exterior sheetrock on metal
studs but got confused doing cones and parabolas. Became a collage artist &
book scout. Moved to NYC via White Plains HUD project. Worked on MTA subway
barns & bus depots, got bored. Went & worked on a brick lighthouse in middle of
Staten Island, then assigned to George Roger's Clark National Historic
Monument, Vincennes, Indiana. Went fishing. Decided again to be a poet. Learned
to estimate and do paperwork and stopped doing stonework. I hate the telephone.
Want to go back to Besemer, NY crickbed and build stone dams ASAP. Have never
been able to follow a straight line.

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"Two seconds of honest laughter is an eternity of freedom." Gabriel Orgrease
SOS Gab & Eti, Copyright © Ken Follett 1998, [log in to unmask]
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