As I lie on my back under the 1932 McCann fire truck that is steadily dripping grease and oil, I consider the impact of my work on my life. On the weekends, I weld iron water tanks for antique fire trucks. I also fix the trucks’ engines, buff and polish their bodies, and haul the occasional kayak down to the ocean. I work for an crusty old Mainer, a man whose father build the first town gas station, grocery store and marina and whose name is known by everyone who is anyone in town. His accent is so thick, so Maine, that often I can’t even understand what he is saying. He now runs his father’s marina, but its glory of being the town’s first is long gone. The shingled buildings are old and poorly kept up and most of the boats in the yard now are ketchup and mustard colored plastic kayaks. Yet, every Saturday of the fall and spring, I drive down the long, potholed dirt driveway, park behind one of the sagging barns and walk to the little shed where I am greeted by the rumble of my boss’s voice, calling out good morning.  And, every Saturday I call back as I walk about the property unlocking the doors and preparing to open for the customers who rarely come. The marina is quiet most days, just me and my boss, and on those quiet days I do the most work.

Working at that weary marina is like attending the school of life. There I have learned the history of most buildings in our town and of the railway running through, how to weld, drive a truck, tie a knot, read a map, fix bicycles, repair and assemble cars as well as fire trucks and, most importantly, how to work hard and figure things out myself.  My boss doesn’t let me sit back when no one is there, he gives me tools and materials, tells me to create new railings for the back porch, and then leaves for the afternoon. I am left to figure out which back porch he even means. But, I do eventually figure it out, and at the end of the day when he returns, I have a sense of satisfaction that can’t be gained in any other way than by doing something hard and new entirely by oneself.