All this talk about Fisher Sand and Gravel has me thinking about the wonderful tradesmen in our community. I have to tell you about one group of them. First up to bat are the Goss Brothers, the bricklayers. This is a short one, but here we go.
Understand, most of my life, I dated the banker, lawyer, stockbroker types. I didn’t learn about tradesmen until I moved back home. Boy, oh boy, did I learn quickly. Being able to have both frames of reference, metropolitan and rural, helped me to better understand people’s preconceived notions…. and dispel the myths.
Susan called and asked me to pick her up for Garden Club. Okay, fine, I swung by her house on the way. I went to the door and rang the bell. She blew past me like a dust devil and ran to the car. “What the heck?”, I thought. We weren’t late…. Good thing I left the car running with the air conditioning on. I started to walk back to the car and noticed a house going up on the lot next to hers. The Goss brothers were working and I yelled at them. Our mason’s sand had been delivered and hoped they could get to my repair on the brick garden when they had a chance. “You making cookies?”, the eldest asked. I gave the thumbs up sign. “No problem, Miss D, early next week, but late afternoon.”, was the response.
I got back in the car.
Susan: Why did you speak them!?!
Me: They’re the Goss Brothers, the brick layers.
In sharp and condescending tones, Susan confessed she was afraid of them, because they were “workmen”, and her flowers in outdoor pots were dying from lack of water….. cuz Susan was afraid to go outside and water flowers with “workmen” in the vicinity. She didn’t know “what they might do to her”. Susan taught Baptist pre-school (to Gunner), was very sheltered, and her husband was a professional. I liked her but thought she was crazy and overly judgemental in this instance.
Of course, I couldn’t let her opinion stand. It wouldn’t be right.
I hit the button to roll down the window on her side. Susan lashed out at me, “Don’t you dare embarrass me in front of them.” With a glint in my eye, and a low monotone voice, I said, “Susan, I’m going to save you from yourself.”
Yelling loudly at the boys, I asked Bobby to come over. When I say boys, I mean they were all in their mid-30’s to early 40’s, but since everyone in town (except Susan) knew them since they were boys…….. they were still referred to as “boys”. The MEN didn’t hear me but knew I was calling them, so all of sauntered over to Susan’s window. She was mortified by the confrontation.
“Gentlemen, I would like for you to meet Miss Susan”, I started. They nodded, kindly, taking their hats off, “Mam.” I continued, “Miss Susan has been a little fearful with all the comings and goings next door. Lots of nefarious men hanging around (more nodding), and she’s a little worried about the state of her virtue around such men.” The men had a concerned look on their face but, clearly, had no idea what I was talking about. Susan was scowling and shrinking into the passenger seat. I kept going, “I told Miss Susan, that if anyone tried to harm her, you all would defend her. First because you are honorable men and would always defend a fine woman, and second, because Susan is a good friend of mine. Is that okay with you boys?”
As is typical with tradesmen, they always sell out the OTHER trade. Bobby looked at Susan, “Yeah, those framers are a nasty bunch. Did they bother you?” I giggled under my breath. Of course, I never implied Susan was afraid of THEM. And to me, he said, “That’s okay Miss D, if anyone tries to harm Miss Susan, we’ll kill ’em for ya’.“…… and he meant every word.
“Is that okay with you?”, I looked back to Susan. Her eyes were wide. She was almost frozen but managed to nodd. Back to Bobby, I was emphatic and sounded distressed, “Bobby, she’s almost afraid to come out and water her flowers…. and her flowers are dying….. Just look!”, I was pointing at the porch…… Abbott, another brother, wandered off to go and appraise the condition of her flowers. Abbott grew the biggest “Better Boy” tomatoes I’ve ever seen – he could certainly fix a potted flower. “I would appreciate it you would look after her. Thank you, gents.”, was my final salvo. “No problem, Miss D”, and as an afterthought, Bobby said, “Miss Susan, you want us to check on you before we leave in the evenings?” Susan stammered. Bobby didn’t give her a chance to respond. To me, he said, “That’s okay, we’ll check on her.”, and they went back to work.
I rolled up the window and we started off for Garden Club. “You okay now?”, I said to Susan. Her bottom lip was sticking out; she was pouting. She said, “I just……. hate it when you do that.” We had a lovely program and luncheon. Life went on.
The boys checked on Susan every afternoon for the next two weeks while they were there. They watered her flowers SO MUCH, they almost drowned her flowers. Apparently they struck up a friendship. When the Goss boys came to tuck-point my garden wall, I asked them about her. Abbott said, “Her cookies are good, but not as good as yours, Miss D.” Hmmmm, I thought, “His mother raised him well……”
The next month, I saw Susan at Garden Club and asked her if she had anymore trouble with “workmen”. She said, “Oh, no.” I pressed her about the bricklayers. She said, “Oh, you mean the Goss Boys? (like she’s known them for years) They’re helping me with brick planters for the back patio….. I think I’m going to put in a few tomato plants.”
Those Goss Boys were always good salesmen.