
Glad to patronize his
start-up, I answered “yes,” and a few days later he drove up our driveway in
his old VW Van, loaded up with everything he needed to do the outside widows
all around the house—some at ground level, and others needing extension pole or
a ladder. Jay was delighted to delegate and pay for the service, and Chad did a
splendid job (and returned for seasonal work until he found other work).
Yes, I’m getting to the
point of my first sentence. It was Chad who showed me the most efficient way to
use a squeegee. Until then, I had always stroked parallel lines from top to
bottom of the window (I’d been washing inside windows for at least forty years
by then—much more frequently than now, I must admit). Chad showed me how to
swoop across the window in figure-8 motions, eliminating the constant need to
wipe the drips at sill-level. Only one
wipe was needed with Chad’s method.
And that’s why I think
of Chad every morning, as I begin the figure-8 motion along the inside of the
glass shower stall. Who would have thought . . .
When we think about it,
it’s not any different from the memories popping up as we set out our beloved
Christmas decorations. It’s the association with a person or event that causes
such sentimentality. But who would have thought a window-washing tip could
become a daily trigger of recall, one of great affection.
Chad, by the way, is now a successful chiropractor—and, by my rough
calculation—is in his mid-forties by now. When I think of him, though, it’s as
a young man whose honesty, truthfulness,
loyalty and hard work endeared himself to his boss.
1 comment:
Lovely story! I wish I could write half as well as you. See you on January 11th. - Bill Root
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