Blast from the Past

Blast from the past. As I sat thinking about a subject I could say a few words about this morning, a memory flashed over the radar screen. During the summers between my high school years, I was privileged to have a job on a truck farm. I say I was privileged because I listen to high schoolers talk about their desire for a job and the inablility to find one. I think it was easier back in my day. Then there were no laws about numbers of hours a high schooler could work or about the age upon which one could work. I realize those laws have come about because of abuse in the workplace but I think it is rather sad. I worked at fourteen. I did physical work. The things I did included picking vegetables, cleaning vegetables and getting them ready for market. Those veggies included green beans, tomatoes, sweet corn, green peppers, potatoes, and melons of various kinds. The redeeming value of my job was that the boss liked me and I worked with my best friends and I got a paycheck, the first in my life. As teen girls do, we talked and shared our thoughts for hours and hours while we bent over the rows of beans or peppers. We talked about the boys in our lives and our hopes and dreams for the future. I don't recall there being any down time. We always had something to talk about. One of our jobs was to rub tomatoes. We stood on the concrete garage floor with soft rags rubbing dirt from the tomatoes. It cleaned them but also made them shine and look appealing for display on the market shelves. "Market" was a block of space in downtown Gary, Indiana. It's a place one wouldn't want to go now, but then it was a glory town. At that time it was the shopping meca of an area of 40 miles around it. It had a variety of ethnic peoples, many of whom worked at the steel mills, whose practice it was to go to market each day in the summer and fall for their produce. Many farmers rented a space under an open air roofed building. Rough wooden tables were lined up along the aisles. Upon these tables, each farmer would display his harvested vegetables. I recall the care my boss required of us in displaying the goods. The sweet corn ears were lined up one next to the other and then one on top of the other, not dumped onto a pile like I see done today. Obviously, each farmer attempted to outdo the next in not only good products but beautiful display as well. Most of the customers were women and many of them had foreign accents. (Many of them kept their money in their bosoms) I found the variety of people to be a wonderful window to the world. Coming from my small town, my eyes were used to Caucasians, some of whom had Dutch accents but other than that, we were all pretty much the same. In Gary, I met people of many colors and decents. It was eye opening and exciting. I loved the atmosphere and thrived at my job. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, we worked in the fields and on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, we went to Gary. We had to get out of bed around four o'clock and be at "Fred's" at four thirty to climb into the trucks and head north so that we could be set up by six thirty. I suppose I have always enjoyed early mornings because I can remember the excitement and anticipation I felt as I got ready for work at that early hour. I knew a good day was ahead. We had such good times there enjoying the people including our boss and the other farmers and their helpers. The mornings were busy and we didn't have much time to think of anything but stocking, selling and restocking. We may notice that Fred had stolen away for a few minutes and then be delighted to see him coming down the street with a white bakery bag filled with sweet rolls and donuts which he always shared with us. Another of the highlights of the day would be when Fred would say, "You girls may go to lunch, now." He had introduced us to a restaurant downtown that served good hot meals which he felt we needed. I suppose we did by that time. It had been a long morning. One of my favorite meals there was a hot beef sandwhich and gravy over mashed potatoes. It definitely filled the vacuum in my stomach and gave me energy for the rest of the day.

I wonder. Will the kids working at MacDonalds or Subway remember their teenage job with as much fondness as I remember my job working for Fred? I hope so. For me, it was a wonderful usher into the adult world.