Remembering Part of My Past

I travel often down a highway I worked on in the early eighties. At that time, I was working on different parts of the project. Mostly I worked with the field survey crew by driving grade stakes and holding the grade rod. That, helping place driveway culverts being changed to help with drainage, and to change the profile of the ditch, which was being moved to accommodate the paving widening. 

When working with the culverts, I was considered a "pipe-layer", which is a craft description according to TxDot wage standards. That meant I would keep the cut grade for the excavator, fine grade the bottom of the trench, guide the pipe into the trench, and insure the pipe spigot belled into the downstream pipe. Since it was concrete pipe, I made sure the mastic, which we called Ram-Neck, was placed correctly and sealed the joint. 

It was hard work; mostly because our operator had bad eyesight, and couldn't complete the fine grading as required. That meant either filling too deep of a cut, or cutting too much of the hard, dry clay to achieve final grade. We eventually complained enough to have him changed out, but that was after too many days of brutal labor in the hot Summer sun. 

One afternoon, we working in front of a house that I admired. It was an old house, probably built in the forties, and well kept. The yard was enclosed by a chain link fence, the yard was mowed, and the biggest mimosa tree I've ever seen was in the back yard. Covered in pink blooms, the canopy was as wide as the house. 

While working, and old woman came outside carrying a TV tray, with a pitcher of lemonade, homemade cookies, and glasses. She told us we should have some refreshments, which we relished. We took our break, continued working, and were soon down the highway on a different driveway. She eventually retrieved her things, and we were soon far away from that location. 

It took me awhile to find the old house. It's now behind a fence grown over, the house is showing its age, and it's obvious the old woman has now passed. The charm it once had is gone, and whoever now owns it doesn't understand the amount of work required for it to reach its former condition. It's a little sad to see how it now is, but I can still remember how beautiful it was one Summer day decades ago.