Saturday, February 18, 2012

Chapter 7: Life, Death, and Music

Quick update before chapter 7:

Things finally seem to be looking up.  As it says on facebook, I'm working out a deal with Western Petroleum (a Utah based fuel distribution company). We'll have a dedicated crew on site in Tioga washing their trucks 5 days a week.  I'm working on a proposal for a daily rate, instead of just hourly or per truck.  This will make it easier for me to track profitability, I'll have a consistent, predictable work load for my guys, and a steady income for the business.

We're also working our ins with EOG resources, a very large oil production company.  We'll have our own dispatch, through Aarmac Transport (another trucking company we're in with).  That will be very exciting!

I'll be flying down to Salt Lake next Friday afternoon, picking up another truck, and then picking up another wash rig in Roosevelt. After a few days visiting Roosevelt, I'll be heading to Denver for a few days, and then back to North Dakota.

So, if you wanna go get some lunch, or a nice hot drink, let me know!

Okay, now for the real deal.

Chapter 7: Life, Death, Music.

When I was around 8 or 9 when I really started piano lessons.  One time, when I was little, my grandma Page dragged me to the piano to teach me a song. I had little tiny hands, and she wanted to teach me to play "Silent Night". I guess it must have been around christmas. I'll never forget how hard that song was to learn, there were some octaves I couldn't really reach.

I could play that song for the rest of my life. And I have. I played it on a different continent, and for many different people. And every time I play that song, I remember my grandmother's hands and mine trying to follow them.

Well, right around that time, I told my mom I wanted to take piano lessons.  My best friend's mother was a piano teacher, so naturally, she became my teacher.  My best friend, Trevor, had already started learning the piano, so for many years after, I was always trying to catch up.

I was at their house every day anyway, so it wasn't much different to show up after school every Thursday at 4:30 for my weekly lesson.  Trevor's mom, Sandra, was like my mom. She made us breakfast, and drove us to school. She even picked us up sometimes.  And sometimes she had to yell at us and break up fights with Trevor's older brothers, Bryson and Tyler.  Sandra. Our second mom.

We spent a million hours in the basement and playing. I remember the first N64 we played down there. I remember the hours building things with legos, I remember watching the Last of the Mohicans while sitting on bean bag chairs.

And then we had the sandbox.  Sandbox city was a regular summer pass time. So was kickball, and swingsets.

Yes, we were there when we weren't home. That was the size of our whole existence, the distance between the outside edge of our yard, to the outside edge of his.  I wish the world was still so huge outside our fences.

I wish the world was so big still.  Now, our world is the size of Minot, to Denver, to Enterprise. Or even, San Francisco, Santiago, and London.

We were pretty inseparable.  Until we were separated.

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