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  • "Grandaaaaad" Can I listen to something Different on the radio?''

    He was laying brick and I was hauling, mixing, tempering, striking and brushing, but THAT classical crap was turning me Zombie.

    AT nine years old I had listen to that shit, since I was doing wombtime..

    Grandad laid his last brick in the course and smiled as he said

    "Yes, of course hop, you can listen to anything you want"

    I didn't move or smile.

    "When you buy your own radio, you are your own boss and you DONT have some damn kid crying his guts out over the radio, GET IT?"

    "Now shut up and get that other board ready with some mud"
    "jesus f'in christ!''
    He didn't say fucking christ, cause gradma had taught him what soap tastes like in allll his food for a week.

    He could see the board was wet and I already had the mud in the bucket hanging from my grip.

    "ok, ok let's have it where i can use it, i'm not lettin some young punk take money out of my wallet"

    there were no more tears, like i did a few times when i was five..
    They made sure there were no more after that.

    andt that's the way it went most days on the summer break and on school weekends for Hop. Five and half days of heat and if I was lucky it rained , I wasn't lucky, cause we went to the shop and I reconditioned tools, fixed tubs, mended tires, changed out handles, filed knives, chisels , even trowles, cut down slickers and painted scaffolding. The winter was worse. I couldn't get away from that Bach or Bethoven or Mozart, or any of those dead bastards who came out of thier graves just to choke me deaf.

    Oh, I had to get all A's in school too.. nice little trick for the little F'in house slave...
    It was serious bussiness on both ends, and of course, did I mention my chores?
    Im glad im not a kid any more ( but I would go back in an instant if i could take all my knowledge back with me. I'd go rightttt NOWWWW.)

    maybe thats the hot fire and Vodka talken. maybe.

    My old man was tough and what he was doing to me was just his way of prooving to his Dad , who worked him , harder or so it seemed, that he could dish it out too.
    What a fucking mental cycle of hop scotch , that was.

    Then Men in the crew stayed clear of both of them, except mornings for coffe at the shop or first thing straight on the job and pay time

    Early rise to make 50 cents an hour and worrrrrrk? Like a Great Dane. like a dogggg!

    Dad said it built character
    ''make you a man..''

    Whose?
    I thought
    whoose?

    " Some day , you'll thank me" i would here from time to time
    "yeah right" I wouldn't ever say, to either of them.
    (they were right , you know,, and I thank them all the time, now that they are dead)

    ( I could write all ll day and night about those times) ( and i do) ( just not here) ..

    A real lot of talent in those hands.. My uncles, and grand uncles and their friends,, all tradesmen warriors, farmers, hunters, killers/.. Nice family group.
    Nice.

    makes me laugh at how I turned out.
    guys would talk to me all the time, did alot of work

    Classical music in the morning
    Jazz in the afternoon.

    "Hey boss, ya think we might have something different on the radio?"
    I'd smile.
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