This is a quick video of the type of work we did, but the stuff we worked with made it impossible to do without gloves and a long sleeved shirt. And no, that's not my video.
The Time Clock at Franklin Steel In line at the end of a shift Waiting for that last tick Watching the rhythm of the clock Beating away those last few seconds Until we push our time cards down the slot One by one Ka-chunk Ka-chunk The line moves fast Til George breaks the rhythm He pirouettes and sinks to the floor Uneaten sandwiches spill from his lunchbox His eyes turn deep within Face ashen Legs kick for a second then stillness His timecard bent over still in the clock
The Mad Passions of a Caballero (Some notes on working with Mario) He was like a working class aristocrat assembling the sidewalls of freezer panels at W.A. Brown and Sons. His goatee was full and squared, his dark eyes focused intently on his work. His movements were fluid; sweeping his hand softly over each finished panel; a gentleman’s caress searching out the tiniest flaws. Once, at lunch, he unfolded his wallet to show me photos of his American wife, his baby daughter, their big, white home. In the photos he is smiling. He’s wearing his Braves ball cap backwards. He always wore his ball cap backwards. Perhaps it was a present from his wife--maybe he loved baseball. I could imagine him holding doors for her, bowing his head slightly as she passed, sweeping his hand softly down her cheek while she watched his simmering eyes. He worked 12 hour shifts, saved his money. I imagined his wife would one day tell their grandchildren of this quiet, noble man who worked hard all his life, sent money to his mother in Mexico, and who loved his Lady with a madman’s passion. They would never know how he smiled patiently at the cheap impressions of Speedy Gonzales the guys did behind his back, or of how he sat stiffly upright, eyes closed, crossing himself before lunch each day. I imagined his burning eyes as he walked through the house on the day he came home early and shot his wife’s lover. In the newspaper photo, he stands on the porch of his home, holding his baby daughter as the police arrived, holding her to his chest with both arms, his eyes closed tightly.
