Supermoon 2011-2018

 2009-2013

   

    It's 2010, and I am at CBGB's.  They are featuring an art troupe known as "The Naked Poets".  When this is first announced, I am bewildered.  However, I knew for sure what they were talking about when the men marched in with swinging scrotums....

 It's 2011, and I am at the South Street Seaport. It is my sixth year of doing this and I am tired of the boring tourists and tired of drawing the New York skyline, which is what they usually ask for by way of theme. The clouds roll in and I am about to pack it in when my phone rings. It is Richie Falasca from Local 580 Ironworkers telling me that I have been accepted into the apprenticeship, which starts in September.

    It's 2012, and I am working at the World Trade Center as an apprentice. I am in the layout gang, which is just me and two other journeymen, who teach me everything they know about laying out lines for the installation of heavy steel panels that fly up on a crane hook. I am smitten with layout. I love snapping lines and measuring. I get to use my advanced math, which is basically 10^th grade geometry, but its challenging enough for me. It is cold, and my fingers lose the dexterity needed to operate the surveying equipment with its tiny dials.

    It's 2012, and I am getting the coffee order, which is something the apprentice always does. However, this job is unique, in that it has 40 men spread out over many floors, and it takes 2 different elevators to span the floors, due to the building’s height. I write down the orders with my frozen hand. Today, I will get the order right. The men think I hate them because I get lots of orders wrong, and it actually ruins their day. It takes another hour to go get the right sandwich or bottle of Gatorade. The stress this causes me is something no one understands, but I am red with anger that I am missing out on the “real work”.

    Its 2012, and I ask my foreman for a day off from work. He points at me and says, “You do not ask permission for a day off. You say, “I have something to do.” I am also told that there are no excuses, so do not bother explaining away lateness. I am coached on how “perception is everything” and coached how to carry myself so that I look like I know what I am doing, even when I do not.

    It's 2013, and I have graduated from the Local 580 Apprenticeship. I won 2^nd runner up for Apprentice of the Year, and have worked steadily, so my bank account is growing. I have a boss who commands my respect, and the confidence I feel from working side by side with the men is something foreign. The 580 guys and girls are serious about being brothers and sisters, and I am shown a level of patience and kindness that I did not expect from these surly men.

    It's 2014. I am working at the Whitney, where my coworkers’ eyes glaze over when I try to expound on the great fortune of working on a museum. They see my drawings, and ask me in complete earnestness, “What are you doing here?”

    It's 2015, and I am on the 63^rd floor of 30 Hudson Yards. We are working on the observation deck, which will be the highest in the city when it is complete. Most of the other workers have been sent to other jobs so I am alone most of the time, climbing around the inside of the observation deck platform tightening bolts and filling in gaps with caulk. Climbing around is my favorite thing to do, because I am good at it from a lifetime of climbing trees. It is a perfect Spring day, and there is a hole in the platform where I can stand looking out at the city. This is a secret spot where I will not get caught by the safety people without fall protection, which I am not wearing. I have seen a lot of great views in the last few years, but this one by far takes the cake. There is nothing between me and the city, and the soft sailing clouds above. I ruminate about the bizarre route that lead me to this spot. I think to myself that it just doesn’t get any better than this. Somehow that thought leads me to decide that its time to go to graduate school, which was the intent all along. I apply for the MFA program at Brooklyn College during the coming year.

    It's 2018, and I have been accepted into Brooklyn College. I quit my construction job, and just in time, as my body is in desperate need of a break after the intense rigor of trying to keep up with the men, many of which by this point are younger than me. I shake hands with my big bosses, who say, “Good job.”