Lake Erie smoke against the foggy morning chill. Wives sometimes looked on in curlers and robes, sipping hot coffee that sent steam condensing against the cold glass panes of storm doors. Sometimes they held infants in their arms wrapped in blankets and waved the baby’s hand as the father pulled away to the toot of a car horn. There seemed to be a full-lived comfort in all this easy normalcy; a sense of safety in the sure routine of another day being born. It seemed to Billy that where these people lived, you could count on things; you knew what to expect, and your day-to-day existence rested upon a reliable base of unshifting ground.
How different that must be, he thought. Those people didn’t experience all the sudden shocks or upsets of equilibrium that shadowed him everywhere. They had easy passage on the calm lake of life, with maybe a few ripples thrown in for kicks now and then ~ or so it seemed. Meanwhile, he thrashed about in the turbulence of raging waters, where each Friday and Saturday night his old man and a boat load of trouble washed in on a tide of booze. The morning factory whistle blew, and he caught shuddering visions of the enormous apparatus cranking up inside. He’d peeked in the windows many times before, catching a glimpse of the great machinery that shook and rumbled, that glowed
Bartlett, Griffin & Vermilye, Inc. William P. Griffin, Jr. · James C. “Josh” Johnson, IV Billy D. Weber
410-822-2400 506 Idlewild Ave., Easton www.bartlettgriffin.com 164
Tidewater Times September 2015