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I Knew a Man who was a Giant by Elad Nostaw When I was an adolescent, maybe I was a bit younger, I knew a man. He worked across the street from my uncle's cafe. His job was working at a scrap-yard, and on most days I would notice him on the side of the building. He had a large sledgehammer that he often used. This hammer looked HUGE to me, at my age, and I was amazed he could even pick it up, much less swing it with the brute force he did. His swing was like a work of art, and I would often watch him when I had free time. He taught me many things that I will always remember. He was a very large black man, and muscular. I'm sure he had no formal education, probably not even high school. He was most muscular from the work he did there, which was sometimes breaking up large metal cast items such as, on occasion, engine blocks. I watched him swing his magical hammer and I would ask him questions. In those days a white child talking to a black man was not common in Louisiana at all, but I have never followed the rules. He seemed so American-Hero-Like after I talked to him, and perhaps he was, in the end. At first I would sneak up, and peer at him from around the corner. He was very ominous looking and his large stature was quite frightening at my age. I was out for school and my Uncle Tommy let me help out, in his cafe during summer. It was in Louisiana, and the summers there were ever so hot. One day he saw me, smiled and motioned me over. I was poor and white and to date had not seen many black people. At first I was very intimidated but being the curious child I was, mustered the courage and approached him. He told me his name, which has now blended into the other myriad of names that I learned in my childhood. Many seem to have faded from memory, but in the end, it was what I learned from him, and not his identity, that has mattered the most. I asked him a lot of questions, as kids do, and he always had time to answer me. Every now and then his white boss would come out and, though he was not really mean, he ushered me away. One time I asked him about his job. He told me the story of his "Magic Hammer". "I swing this hammer and I like my job, I have a great job", he would say, and I agreed with him. You could tell by the way that he swung it, that he loved his Magical Hammer the most. "Bang!" went the hammer, and metal flew apart. "Bang" went the hammer and sparks blew apart. I even loved watching him swing it. He taught me that "if you cannot have pride in what you do, then you have nothing". He taught me, "anything worth doing, is worth doing right". I have thought of him, from time to time, when I bellyache at my job, and his lessons have enriched my life immensely. Having him there has tempered my attitude my entire life. Some people tell me that our choices are not that important, but I can tell you one thing, and that is you never know who, or what, your choices can influence, and as such, be very careful of them. I'm sure this larger-than-life man would never have thought he influenced me in the way he did, but he has. What happened to him? It's very sad, so if you don't want to know, don't read on. On one summer-break I looked for this Giant of a Man. He was not there so I walked over to his shop and asked about him. They told me, "Oh! Well, he died last year." I asked how, and they said he killed himself one day. I lost a little of myself then and asked, "but why would he kill himself? He loved his job so much!" Another employee (his buddy) later told me that it was because the Company had bought a big crushing device, and he took it very seriously that the company was no longer satisfied with his production and used an impersonal machine. I'm not saying what he did was right, but it gives you an idea of how he felt about his job. I think, to him, his job was his life. It fed his wife and children. I think I am very lucky to have known such a man. I was saddened and have often cried for him, in my life. I hope, in at least some small way, my writing, if he's listening somewhere, has made him understand that he did make a difference here on earth. He made a difference by teaching a small boy that we are all basically the same, and perhaps saved me from a life of petty prejudice. He made a difference by teaching me Pride in Excellence, and being professional. Maybe he taught me companies, when upgrading, need to take into consideration how The Bottom Line affects people around them. Perhaps, in the end, his "Magical Hammer" did not destroy things as he had once thought. Perhaps it did more, and forged a small boy into a man; and just maybe, made the world a bit smaller, and a bit more human. The End |
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