A Working Man
the first-born son of David L Lewis
I actually saw our first child before his not-quite-with-it still affected by anesthetics new mother saw him. He was the ugliest living thing I’ve ever seen. A nurse assured me that all first-born had a certain amount of ‘molding’ and they clean up good. Kay’s asked, “Is he a beautiful baby?” There are reasons we’ve stayed married these many years, my answer on that occasion being one such reason: “He’s a very beautiful baby”. Anyhow, he cleaned up good.
Back in olden days you only knew if you had a boy or girl when the baby was born. But, my first child was always going to be a son. His name was always going to be Kenneth. These days he wants to be called Ken. However, I always think of him as Kenneth -- even though I am the only one in the world who can get away with calling him Kenny.
Over the years me and Kenneth have been through a lot together, the good and the bad and the ugly. Throughout it all my boy has always been my best buddy. However, if it weren’t for social media his parents wouldn’t know what’s going on with he and his. He never calls, which is just as well because neither he not I can think of anything to say on phone. Really are only two things to talk about with Kenneth: Football and Cars!
Football! When he was seven football somehow became the thing we would watch together. He knew as much about the game as I. There was no pro team around, so we were never sure who to root for. We only had black and white TV (yeah, you’re getting old Kenny!). One of us would take the white team and the other got the black team. We learned the rules and love of the game together.
Cars! If we have car problems ‘Ken’ gets a call. Once I was told the only thing rarer than a born mechanic is a left-handed born mechanic. Our eldest is a born left-handed mechanic. Working on cars is all he ever wanted to do. If it can’t be driven, he can fix it. It is hard work, and he’s had back problems since high school; but he turned a boy who hated to read into a true professional mechanic who’s paid a lot of money for working on cars worth a whole lot of money.
He joined the Air Force and spent the first Gulf war in Spain fueling jet planes (including Air Force One, but he wasn’t supposed to say that on an open line). If you think that ain’t hard work, try it sometime. When the war was over he went back to his first love, working on cars and such.
Don’t really understand what I did wrong in rearing the boy, but somehow he discovered motorcycles. Has worn out at least one, and rides when us sane folk would take the car. Active in the leadership of a motorcycle group (no, nothing like Hell’s angels), he’s shown himself a working man among working men.
Since he was old enough to hold a tool for me Kenneth has been the one I could always rely on. If there was a job to be done, it was he whose help I wanted. And, as I have told many people, of our five children Kenneth has the kindest heart. He will do anything he can for you when asked -- and sometimes unasked...
On the worst day of my life he just showed up at the right time, having dropped everything to ride his bike from St. Louis.
Two years ago when told frightening news that I would both need immediate second heart surgery and also had kidney failure (a combination which killed my brother), I looked up and there was my Kenneth.
One of the motivations in writing about my son was an Irish coal miner’s song called “It’s a Working Man I Am”. It doesn’t exactly fit work of a mechanic; but it is how I think of Kenneth, strong and confident in what he does and who he is. It is what I imagine he would sing if he were a miner, and if he could sing – neither of which will ever happen. If you’d care to hear the song, and can live with seeing what Kenny might look like bald, this link might work:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=16JAcHFRR14
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