The Ways I’ve Worked pt. 1
The sun peeks over the mountains, its rays highlighting the tall ridge of the Wellsville range to the west under a deep blue sky. The valley, still quiet in the shadows of the mountains, begins to come alive with the bustle of the day. The aluminum pipes are cold and wet from running overnight. My hands grip the pipe; push, twist, pull, and the pipe slides free from the adjoining pipe. I lift one end high to drain the remaining water from it. When I feel the last of weight leave the pipe I find the center of the weight, place my hands wide and haul it over to the next riser. Push-twist-pull, and the pipe is locked into the preceding sprinkler. The wet grass brushes my shoes leaving them cold and squishy, but the feeling is refreshing as the warm sun settles over me.
This was my morning routine every summer since I was at least 10, I can’t remember exactly. It was my first job, moving pipes on the sod farm. I also drove the forklift to move pallets when the crews were cutting sod, and mowed, but the pipe moving now holds the most nostalgia. My dad taught me to drive the tractors and forklifts at an early age. Learning to operate the equipment was the highlight of my life, until it became an obligation. I hated and enjoyed the work simultaneously. I loved being outside, listening to the sprinklers and seeing the acres of grass fill in. I despised the obligation that took away from the three fickle months of freedom before I had to return to school.
As I grew older and accepted that the obligation was simply a part of life, I came to prefer it. Working in a field of short grass was far better than working in the fields of alfalfa, barley or corn that the other farmers grew. Cutting sod was frustrating at times when the sod wasn’t holding together well, or when the equipment was suffering malfunctions, but besides that it was a day of exercise and hanging out with friends. We welcomed the challenge to stack the best pallet, or the fastest pallet. We would periodically engage in grass-ball fights, imagine snowballs, but instead moist clumps of dirt and grass packed into a ball.
I never saw myself going to college, I grew up with the sod farm, and I liked it. That’s all I ever planned to do. It was seasonal, so although my parents were usually able to make it through the winter, I couldn’t, so I worked for a moving company in the off season after high school. The moving company was in many ways the same as sod farming. The owner was fun to work with, and several friends worked with me. We would talk, and have fun while packing up people's belongings into the truck, then unpacking their destination. There were downfalls to the job. I suspect that my back pain originated in our challenging each other to feats of strength like “Who can carry a washing machine on their own” Check, “Who can carry a full size sofa on their own” Check. Or the feats of strength out of necessity, like having only two guys on the crew and moving a piano up three flights of stairs. I was young, dumb, and thought I was tough. Never considering the long term effect of the straining.
There were also disgusting houses. Hoarders, cat people, one customer that was a ‘birds-cats-dogs, and rolling their own tobacco’ person. That combination of animal smells, and tobacco is among the worst things I have smelled. On that particular job I practiced holding my breath with the skill of a seasoned diver. Each time I would emerge from the door of the crumbling single wide I would curl over and gag, struggling to hold my stomach's contents inside. That job was also not an in-and-out quickie. We loaded them up into two 26’ trucks in northern Utah and drove them to Tucson Arizona. We arrived in Tucson at 1 a.m. We unloaded until 3, and then turned around and headed home. I still shudder when I smell that tobacco.
These jobs never paid particularly well. I could have made better money at the time by endenturing myself to the trades that I ultimately ended up in: but I had fun. I gained valuable experience in those jobs, and better, I made some really good memories and friends.
I remember helping you move pipes a few times. That’s no easy job. No wonder you were so buff. Great article. It took me back to growing up in Hyrum.
Greenland was a prime vocational experience for your parents to raise their kids up in. So many powerful life lessons to be learned there. I too spent time moving pipes, mowing fields, and stacking pallets of sod for your parents and I helped them build various aspects of the farm and that gave me valuable life skills such as knowing how to assemble and repair PVC pipe and small engine troubleshooting. While I learned how to attach various equipment to a tractor PTO, I unfortunately haven't had to do that again since. :)