I think back on these times–a loooong long time ago–and wonder how we did it. Oh, and by the way, this is mostly fiction (for me anyway). I’ll let y’all decide what’s fact and what’s fiction.
This one is dedicated to my little brother, Ken. We used to tease him when he’d show up at the tavern after work with his Stanley twenty-five-footer still hooked to his belt. Just about every guy that ever worked construction will relate to this poem. They’ll also know what the following are: Vaughan, Stanley, Skil, and hoser.
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