The Best Sandwich

To my dad

• Autobiographies

								
              Winters do not lend themselves kindly to home construction in Connecticut but this is exactly the type of work my dad was involved with. In fact, the name of his company was Home Construction Company in Westport. I worked for him apprenticing in the various trades in the summers of my college years (1957-1961) and he paid me pretty decently, $ 6.00 and hour and I liked the work. And funnily enough never had any desire to go to the gym to work out after a day on the job. Life was good.

                One winter, Saturday morning my dad asked me if I'd like to make some extra money priming some trim, outside, on a job site in Stamford. He said he'd drop me off, pick me up, and, oh. bring me lunch as well. Sounded ok to me, sitting inside his warm office. The reality of the following morning, however, was not so warm. It was bitter cold and the wind chill dipped the temperature even lower. Dad dropped me off and the first thing I realized was that it was, in fact, Saturday, and no one was working, and that was a little bit of a bummer. So, I went to work building a shelter from the wind out of overturned cement tubs and whatever else I could find, and that allowed some respite from the bitterness of the wind as I applied a prime coat of paint to the wood.  And with this minimum of exposure I was able to get the job done with some degree of comfort.
                  Around mid-morning, one of the tradesmen came by to check on some of his materials and I said, "My dad is supposed to come by at noon, I hope he doesn't forget me". (no cell phones). He said in reply, " Trust me, your dad will never forget you", and he left. Sure enough, right around  the noon hour up drove my dad and he had lunch. He was out of his car and unphased by the cold, brought it to me in my little shelter and I was one happy dude. It was almost too hot to touch but at that moment I was so hungry I would have swallowed a hot rock. But the truth was, it wasn't a hot rock; it was so much better. In fact, it was the best sandwich ever. Hot roast beef! As I reflect on this episode, I know I was very grateful for the sandwich as I remember it some 65 years later, but I am even more grateful for my dad who "never forgot me".
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes