It was another 90-degree day with high humidity and we were expecting the last contracted semi-truck to roll in for a load of soybeans. I was down on the farm in Russell, and had been sweeping a 40’x60’ shed for much of the day. When combined with other odd jobs that day, I was fairly tired and dehydrated.
The first few drivers were chummy enough, willing to chat about this and that while we watched the trucks load. Thumbs firmly hooked on our front pockets; we had most of the world’s problems solved within 15 minutes or so.
As the last truck rolled in, I lined him up and signaled when he was under the loading spout. I then hustled over to the tractor and fired up the PTO, followed quickly by a flip of the breaker switch that would power the bin auger.
With such heat, I am generally headed for nearby shade at this point. But my legs weren’t working. As a matter of fact, I was unable to move at all.
More often than we might like, movies will depict a scene where someone has witnessed something so shocking, so remarkable, that they are dumbfounded and rendered helpless in the gravest of circumstances. And each time, without exception, the clear-headed hero grabs the immobilized character, whisking him or her out of harms way before the explosion, utter destruction, or whatever. I needed such a hero.
Just after flipping the breaker switch and turning around, my eyes had tragically taken in a view of this truck driver, ascending the ladder on the front of his trailer in all his lunar glory. It seemed his pants had not been pulled up since Neal Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin strolled on the real moon in July of 1969 — a sort of earthy tribute to their celestial careers and lives.
And I suppose he didn’t need to pull them up as far as he was concerned. He is presented with it visually. And with his pants that far down, there would never be a need to move them up or down for any reason, ever. Need them down? Well, they're already down. Need them up? That's handled too — a high convenience factor.
It’s not like he was really wearing pants at all, but rather, more of a pants theory. I suppose he could be testing something special for NASA, but I really don’t think so. And with his belt riding “high thigh”, one would think there would signs of circulatory problems in his legs — nope, he was just fine.
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| I have occasionally thought of this issue as, most commonly, a plumber’s dilemma. Or any of the tool belt careers for that matter. Of course, I’ve never had any proof or statistical data to support that stereotype. Yet no plumber, even on his heaviest tool belt day, could hold a candle to what seared my optic nerve on this day.
Which brings me to the prestigious, 2005 Moon Beams of Joy Award presentation. In case you missed it, here’s the transcript from this year:
[Begin Presentation]
This award is given each year to the group that has shown selfless dedication and courage in breaking down the barriers of dress code using extreme fashion (or lack thereof), in a society that pressures us all to be the same, and to conform to generally accepted, backside apparel standards.
Envelope please . . .
The 2005 Moon Beams of Joy Award goes to . . . [tears open envelope] . . . the truckers.
[Boos coming from the plumber’s section] [Projectile thrown from roofer’s section]
Now I don’t want anybody to get too worked up about this changing of the guard (it rarely goes to a non-tool belt group). Everybody gets another crack at it next year.
May the Lord bless thee and keep thee.
May His face shine upon thee.
And may nothing shimmer, shine or reflect back unnecessarily.
[End Presentation]
That’s my report from the “Big City”.
Brian in the Big City
Employee #0090698
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