Memoirs of a cappy hamper

In my earlier years, I was a millwright (industrial mechanic) in a northern Alberta sawmill. The maintenance department worked 12s in a shift that rotated every 4 weeks. The rotation featured a 7 day break that followed 4 day shifts which ended on a Thursday. You could always tell who was getting ready for their “7 off”…they were the ones sporting the biggest grins - all day long.

In the summer, the mill would heat up during the day and the humidity was fierce. An equipment failure anywhere spelt misery for the poor sap who was on shift at the time. While ambient temperatures in the sawmill would hit 38C, working on a 250hp electric motor that had failed was worse. The surface temperature of the motor casings would approach 70C and hotter. Even though it was so hot, gloves and long sleeved coveralls were a necessity… along with the rest of the PPE that was required. Even changing a drive belt on one of these motors was a bear of a job when it was so hot.

I lived for that 7 day break and on my Thursday dayshift, nothing could peel the smile off my face. You could stick me in a conveyor under the nastiest machine, give me the scabbiest job, have me troubleshoot an intermittent hydraulic problem in the dark, dank sawmill basement all day and I’d be a happy camper.

Well, it’s my last Thursday day shift and I’m grinnin’!

Our team gained the notoriety of keeping to the “thumbnail” rule which equated to more pottery to clean. Remember that there is no pottery cleaning on Thursday (and I still don’t know why). So the standing joke was that we would scurry to fill pails with shards for everyone to clean when we leave. Under normal circumstances, I would not have disappointed them, but the truth is that there wasn’t much for little stuff where I dug.

On my way to breakfast, I looked back at E1 and wondered was below the level that we excavated to. Why didn’t we continue to dig down lower? Must be something down there. Maybe there is another wall or maybe stairs that go from a lower street up to the atrium. By next year, it’ll be full of scorpion dens.

I was pulling out hand sized pottery in the SE corner of F3, but I abandoned that part to work around the odd stone structure I found in the NE corner. I teased that it was a toilet seat, a cistern head or a shrine box. Certainly, some of my musing was in jest. Truth be known, nobody working in F3 had enough experience to make any absolute assertions about anything except the weather. But alas! The memory of the angled wall was long since forgotten (or it was simply not acknowledged). No room for reapplication.

No, my discoveries will not change how the pick is swung or how bucket is filled. But that isn’t the job of a volunteer. It’s to merely allow the data to be seen; allowing it to challenge and provoke those who take the time to look …and think.

Have you ever seen the movie banner for "Sound of Music"? I did my best Julie Andrews on the way down the hill today. Too bad you missed it.

Clint and Joyce left for Haifa after lunch to begin their tour de' Israel. I didn't have a chance to talk to them about the advice given to a certain Jewish lad a couple days ago. "I'm wishing you God-speed, Hattersley," cried Arthur,"and aiding you with my prayers."

That’s what kind of day it was today.

1 wake up remains.

In Christ,
'o δοuλος