It is the start of a long weekend. It is a bit odd as we settle into the post-career schedules, although we only pretend to work when it is useful. And the COVID precautions thing, since we are supposed to not pay attention to the mess in Afghanistan. But the House, Senate and the President are back on vacation, so who are we to judge the world’s tempo now? We intend to enjoy the cool weather from the north that is serving up its first gentle signal that the balance of this steamy summer is going to leave us in a few weeks, and we should embrace the last of the muggy stultifying warmth to comfort us in the chill Piedmont months to come.

That change made us buy the shirt in the advertising that cloys the usual run-down of internet traffic. We liked it in the Writer’s Section, since it illuminates the important new anti-theft device on older cars that have manual (pedal?) action on the clutch, a floor lever mounted to the left of the other one and a vertical device next to the seat that moves in some sort of pattern, apparently synchronized with motion of our left feet. Or witches, of course.

Their day is coming back next month. Good ones and other. But we do know something important. The old Volkswagen Beetle is not safe from movement in the long-term storage by the loading dock at the barn. And all of the old timers who hang out down there could theoretically move it, if we could borrow the truck, navigate to town, see if we remembered the masks we stopped wearing several months ago, purchase a new battery, safely return to the Loading Dock and install it and see if the little four banger engine still turns over.

We have a pot running on who can identify the permanent changes in our usual horizon of social interactions. There are a bunch- like those people in the aquatics class in town who wear their masks in the pool. “Working from Home” is another one, and appears to have become part of normal compensated labor. Being attached to a time-clock at the office has already become something from the age of rotary phone. But it is a matter still causing adjustments.

One of them occurred this week. We are trying to put together a book we worked on a decade ago, and had some exciting stuff in it that was a little touchy at the time. Large items of interest on the sea floor was one of them, and another was about a guy who knew way too much when he was captured and later murdered. But that is the fun stuff about the people we used to know.

We were looking for a means to outsource some of the stick-transmission aspects of putting the manuscript back together by having someone else do the table of contents, typo-correction, chapter bridges, format unification and all that stuff writers turned over to a unique species of human known as “editors.” Anyway, in an attempt to find skilled (but part-time) help in a career field that now resembles stick-transmissions, we discovered a pal who is in a jam.

This pal is one of us who, if asked, could call up The Ambassador or the Chief of Mission in a place of interest and simply ask what the heck is going on. And then get an honest answer, because they had served together someplace else. And trusted each other.

That is not something an entry-level laborer could reasonably be expected to do. But that is the nature of the labor pool these days. Our pal abruptly was terminated from a sensitive job position because “they” had not been in the office for a while. The Government 28-year-old responsible for the contract was told to economize costs, and “they” did so.

I am sure we will work all this stuff out over time, even if it is painful for some of us at the moment. Makes us wonder about the idea that ‘more government’ is the solution to everything. We are luckier than our pal looking for work. And we think we can still drive a stick, if that is what is required. Good witches only, though we recognize categorizations are a risky business these days.

Copyright 2021 Vic Socotra
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