During the summer of ’98 I worked west of Snyder in the shadow of the southern high plains. I would glance up from the ditch I was digging to see the palisades of the Llano Estacado, wondering if I would ever get the chance to explore them. I don’t remember if I even knew the words for that country yet. Llano Estacado. Staked Plains, Palisade Plains, Southern High Plains, the Caprock. I just knew I had a hunger to see them. I would drive north, through Lubbock to Plainview to see my high school love at her college, and though my mind wasn’t on the landscape on the way up, I would always fall in love with it on the way home.

Ninety-eight was a hot, dry year leading into yet another drought. If you’ve read many of these, you’ve probably noticed drought seems to be a constant presence in my life. Seems like half my life as been a drought. The average temperature for the airport nearest our jobsite during June 1998 was 100.9. The highest temperature we recorded on the jobsite weather station was 110.3, and we spent a week where the high each day was at least 104. Since there was no shade on this jobsite, we spent the first week building an open sided barn over the office trailer with enough room for us to eat lunch in the shade and to suffer our mandatory daily safety meeting.

The job was an underground electric project for a new Exxon CO₂ recovery plant. At this job, we had a safety officer whose job was to share with us urban legends such as how we should all drive with our sun visors down in our vehicles, as that someone once got decapitated from a sun visor. This was all while concrete trucks were flipping over in the ditches. He made great use of the only shade for miles to corner us. Later, our holy roller job superintendent hired his Pentecostal preacher to manage the tool room, and he too enjoyed the captive audience for the opportunity to convert the heathen. Besides the morning safety meeting and lunch time, we were also required to assemble at the shade 15 minutes prior to quitting time to ensure everyone made it off the jobsite safely, and to get one last dose of safety and salvation before going back to the motel for the night. It didn’t matter if we were all there and accounted for at 5:15, we were required to sit there, submitting to our lectures until 5:30.

This isn’t about the system though. You already know about it from your own life, but I had to make you understand how we were held hostage three times a day while everyone was hot and tired.

One day, two new guys transferred in from a different jobsite. Brothers, Gregg and Billy were not a lot alike. Gregg was a fantastic electrician, and really sharp. Billy… was really strong. Dumber than a box of wet hair, but really strong. If you gave him a shovel, and a simple, very clearly defined task, he was fine. If you gave him a shovel and two tasks there would be trouble. He was friendly, gregarious, and a hard worker, but there was one problem with Billy.
Billy never shut up. He would talk to you about anything, and would sing (badly) old country songs, Pentecostal hymns, and shitty pop songs in his thick Alabama accent. Within a month, the Mexican concrete crew built a little arbor with some brush and a tarp, and started cooking their lunch on a disco under it to avoid Billy. When Billy followed them, asking if they’d like him to sing a song, Guillermo asked, “Do you know Chata, Billy?”
“Dunno,” Billy replied, “Is it a Spanish song?”
“ No, it’s ‘Chata fuck up, Billy! “

Billy went back to eating lunch under the main shade. I began eating lunch and taking a nap lying in the red dust under my backhoe, which I parked farther away than before. During our evening preaching/safety/Billy fest, I began to forget to take my ear plugs out.

Just the same, Billy was one of the first to show me that I have something to learn from everyone from the world.

When payday came around, Gregg and Billy did not have checks. Apparently, the company accidently sent them to another jobsite out of state. The superintendent tried to calm Billy by saying they would mail him his check, and it would be there in a couple days. Billy just shook his head and stormed into the toolroom, where the preacher had just organized the incoming tools. Billy began tossing drills, saws, and laser levels outside into a pile. The preacher was frantic, as was the superintendent.

“Billy! You have to sign those tools out! You can’t just use them without signing them out!”
“Billy! Calm down! We’ll mail you the check I said!” Billy didn’t even look up from his task, “I didn’t mail you no work, so you better not be mailing me no check. These are my new tools. Paid for them working this week.”

The superintendent went back to the office trailer and later came out with a handwritten check.