During the years when I was in the Union, it seemed like it was constant contention.  Growing up on the farm, I never knew what a Union was.  While I was working for my first contractor a representative of the Union came around and told me I should be in the Union.  Some years later I found him to be a pretty good guy.

The problem lay in the fact that to join the Union required two current members of the Union to recommend you.  Another hindrance was the requirement of an initiation fee, which I didn’t have.  The latter instance proved to be a moot point since none of the local members wanted to recommend me.  I believe they felt that they didn’t want any more members.

The solution for me at the time was to pay a monthly fee as a work permit.  We left it that way and I kept working.  Then I was sent to work in another area of the state on a Government job program.

I could never agree with some of the work tactics that Union men used on a job.  There was a pervasive practice of working as slow as you could to make the job last.  They referred to the practice as “job security.”  I felt that since the Union was not paying my wages – the boss was.  I decided it was my responsibility to work as hard as I could and do as good a job as I knew how.

So it was, one day on the job as we were traveling from site to site, I had not been issued a vehicle by the contractor and I was using my personal car.  The inevitable happened and I was notified that I must meet the local executive board on the charges that I was transporting company tools in my personal vehicle.

It was true.  I had been taking a short 4 foot ladder from site to site in my vehicle.  I was a little worried that when I had started working on the project and they had asked for my card number, I had showed them the latest receipt for my work permit.  Since it was a different local they didn’t seem to notice the difference between my work permit and a Union card.  I approached my foreman.  He said to talk to the business agent in my home town.  So I did.

It turned out that he was the man that had first approached me about joining the Union.  He said; “Thirteen year apprenticeship is long enough.  Have you got $50.00?”  I did, so he made out a temporary card for me and I went back to the other Union board and met with them.

Boy was I nervous!  They might take me into the back room and give me fifty lashes, or chop off my finger.  As it turned out, they just assessed a fine on me.  I paid the fine and went back to work.  When I told the foreman what happened he apologized.  He said he should have given me a pickup to drive.  They gave me a pick up and the foreman gave me a set of tools to compensate for the fine.  Included in the tools was a small set of socket wrenches.  They proved to be very convenient.  I use that set to this day.

Twenty years later I left the Union.  But that’s another story.

Have you ever forgotten where you were parked?  The man who taught me the electrical trade is gone now.  I guess he won’t object to my telling this story.  His son is still alive, he’ll probably recognize this.

At one time Ewald had gone a very great many hours without sleep.  He was so tired that he decided to pull over and get some sleep.  He chose to do so in a movie theater.  He bought a ticket (they were considerably cheaper then) and went inside and slept.

When the theater closed, an usher came to wake him up.  He had slept through multiple showings.  When he woke up he couldn’t remember his name, the town he was in, what kind of car he drove, or where he had parked it.  And, he couldn’t remember where he lived.

He walked around outside the theater for a bit and finally came across a car that looked familiar.  He had keys in his pocket, so he got in and they fit.  It must be his car.  He drove around for awhile and noticed many signs with a town name on them, so he figured out where he was.

After some driving around town he saw a road that looked familiar, so he started to drive down that road.  After going quite a ways into the country side, he pulled into a driveway that turned out to be his.

He didn’t suffer any debilitating permanent damage from his memory loss, and he did remember his name, but after that he had difficulty staying awake while driving.  It wasn’t a terrible problem though.

He would fall asleep with his eyes open and continue driving; down the middle of the road.  When he met traffic, he would pull over to the side until it passed, then go back to the middle of the road.  He was able to navigate through turns in the road without trouble, all while asleep.  You could tell from his conversation when he was asleep.  It would turn nonsensical.

His wife had learned how to handle his condition (how many wives can do that?).  She told me never to wake him up by screaming or calling his name.  In that case he would wake up in a panic and drive off the road.  The proper way to wake him was to reach over and jiggle the steering wheel under his hands.  That would wake him up gently and everything would work out fine.

Ewald told me when he first noticed something was wrong.

He had been plowing in a field and fell asleep driving the tractor.  He drove erratically through the field and at least one fence, through a ditch and across a road, through the other ditch out into someone else’s field – plowing all the way.  He woke up when the tractor stopped.

I rode many a mile with him.  His body would stiffen and he didn’t blink.  I would follow his wife’s instructions and turn the wheel slightly.  He would wake and on we would go.

He was an excellent electrician, had a great sense of humor, and was utterly fearless.

Through the years, some of the most unforgettable friends you make are exceptional characters.  One character that sticks out in my mind was a man who was an engineer on the local radio station.

He came from down in the Ozarks.  My! How that man could play the fiddle.  He started playing fiddle music for dances when he was five years old.  When he was older, he would walk to town, bare footed, to play for a dance and play all night.  He was so shy, that when he played, he would turn his back to the audience.  In later years when he was old enough to drink alcohol, he would gradually turn his chair around, a little at a time, drink by drink, until he was finally facing the audience – fully loaded.  One of the boys who he played with when we knew him said that those guys that think they play better when they have been drinking only think so.

Eventually this man was given the opportunity to return to the Ozarks to set up a radio station; towers and all.  He had bought an old washer and dryer set that was broken down.  He had been intending to repair them for use.  I asked what he was going to do with the old appliances sitting there un-fixed.

He replied that the company that had hired him to build the radio station was paying him moving expenses.  He was just going to take the broken appliances with him when he moved, hoping to find the time to repair them at his new location.  We listened to him play one last time thinking we would probably never see him again, and said our good-byes.

Low and behold, five years later he came back to work for the local station again, having completed the construction of the station in the Ozarks.  The local station had paid for all his moving expenses, … Including the broken down washer and dryer and his fiddle.  We were very happy to have all of them back again.

Sometime later I asked him if he had ever got his washer and dryer repaired.  He said he had finally had time to take them apart and found the washer tub was leaking, … so he hauled them both to the dump.

I have done some work repairing appliances and rewiring and repairing electrical motors.  I found you really have to know what you’re doing, because it costs more than a new machine or motor.

The only real value in an old washer or dryer is if you keep them long enough for them to become antiques.  And that may be something of a characterization.