Early spring 1976, Sophomore year of high school; a friend and I were approached by a local landscape construction guy to work after school doing work I had never done.  He’d pick my friend and I up after school and drop us off with minimal instruction at various residential jobs to dig ditches for sprinkler lines, move dirt and operate roto-tillers and sod removal machines.  Imagine the horror and fervor which would ensue these days if a ‘stranger’ pulled up in front of a (modern?) California metropolitan high school offering under the table wages for physical labor.  Anyway… we agreed on 3.00 per hour with no discussion of minimum wage.  I’m not sure what it was at the time, and did not care.  Typically that time of year we would get in three hours or so before the sun went down at which time Al would come pick us up and give us cash for our efforts.  He never gave us less than 10 or 15 bucks, and often just handed each of us a twenty if we’d accomplished more than expected.  No paper work, no work permits, no safety gear… hell, we didn’t even discuss it with our parents.  A week or so in Al did give us work gloves, a tape measure and provided other odd tools as we proved to be dependable.  Somewhere in time my dad asked who we were working for and I told him, “I’m working for Al , the guy who drives the white Chevy 4×4, you know,  he lives by the ball diamond.”  My dad knew of him from the neighborhood watering hole and simply said, “Oh, I hear he’s talented, drinks a lot, but seems like a nice guy.”  Al was decidedly not always a nice guy, but yes, he was very talented.  Two talents come to mind; his ‘less is more’ design style, plus a tremendous knack for doing more with less, hence the high school drive by labor force.

I enjoyed the dirt, being outside with sun on my back, and the changes forced on my body by the work.  I developed an affinity for Al. Likely because it seemed I was part of something, and certainly as the result of being treated as a young man rather than as a kid.  As summer came I worked with Al full time, such as it was, he really may have had a drinking problem so some days I didn’t hear from him.  I was 15 going on 16, but I felt like a grownup and worked hard to prove it.  Fridays were payday; we’d get to Al’s house in the afternoon, he’d pull a couple of beers out of a perpetually full Igloo which lived in the back of his truck, hand me one, then go into his house and cut me a check or grab some cash. We’d settle up, finish a Budweiser, chuck the cans in the back of the truck. Sometimes he’d offer me a ride home, I’d decline and start my walk home through the neighborhood figuring out what kind of mischief I could get in with my money.  Not much has changed.

In the modern vernacular young people, 14, 15 and 16 years of age are mostly referred to as ‘children’.  By today’s standards it would be said I was being exploited and abused.  By my standards, and those of my upbringing, these are memories of being a young man which will always remain among the fondest of my life.  That summer Al and I did a particularly lush landscape job at a home in a neighborhood near where I live today.  When I’m in the area, I purposefully drive by that home often.  The front yard has been meticulously maintained, and is the nicest landscape on the street.  The benches, privacy fence and foliage we installed are still beautiful having matured in precisely the fashion talented Al must have envisioned.  I am always moved.