When I was a boy, Aloha Lunder Co. A Poem called "AMEN"

[akroadrunner]

I wrote this several years ago. Remembering my parents on their knees, praying for safety for every man on their crew. It worked. My Dad started praying for his crew after a terrible accident near Germany Creek. The old lady who lived at the bottom of the hill where they were logging told my Dad when he stopped at her house later, that she felt responsible for the accident. Turns out she prayed for those 'boys' every morning when they went by her house on the way to the landing. She missed praying that morning, and had just started her prayer when a loaded log truck went off the road above her home with 2 men in it. One was my uncle. No one was seriously hurt, although it was a horrific accident. Hear goes, boys. "AMEN"

Growing up in a logging and lumber town
Men with 'the bark' on them we all around
We woke each morning to the whistle at the mill
And took our walk to the bus stop at the top of the hill
Each afternoon at the same stop, we hung around
Waiting for the 'crummies' to arrive back in town
As we watched those men get out with their gear
I always harbored a small knot of fear
That a Bullbuck or Side Rod would say
"Your Dad won't be coming home today"
But God as protected this boy's Dad
He has been the best Father any kid ever had
The reason he is still with us today (85y.o.)
Is because he took time each morning to pray
"God give us the strength for the work we have to do,
and please watch over each man on my crew'
Bring us all safely home to our families again"
The boy peeking out from his bedroom door said, "AMEN"

 

[Vigilant]

I pray twice a day, and mention loggers I have known in the past in my prayers. Ira and Cy Blackwell are two of 'em, even though Cy died many years before my time. I also pray for all honorable PNW loggers. You just made me realize, I need to strike the 'honorable' part, and pray for all of them, in hope that some of the others may find redemption before they leave this world.

By and large, the loggers I knew as a kid in the PNW were good, honorable, rugged men. I wish I had never left that area, but I am grateful for the memories. My father pissed the wrong stinking MBA off when he ran Vail, and he was told that he needed to either find something else in the company, or go somewhere else. He came close to moving to Forks, and working for Werner Mayr. He opted to stay with Weyco instead, and transfer to North Carolina. He finally got a belly full of the 'new Weyco' a la MBA, and retired after 39 years.

 

[akroadrunner]

Another poem. Wrote this quite a few years ago. Called "Loggers Life"

Born on a mountain in Washington
He's the son of a logger, a logger's son
With a chainsaw and ax he goes to the hills
Cuts big logs and sends them to the mills
A hooktender and rigging slinging man
Works each day as hard as he can
The work is dangerous as it can be
He often says "it's the only life for me"
When the work is over and he's home with his wife
He'll tell her of a day in a loggers life.

 

[Vigilant]

God bless the PNW loggers. I say that at least twice a day, in a little more detail. The name Ross has been added to the list, with other names such as LeGault, Blackwell, Hays, many names from my days at Vail...... I want to see them all again, one glorious day.... There will be plenty of old-growth timber to cut up there. Nobody will get hurt, a big Hemlock will no longer drown a saw, and the environmental clowns will be nowhere to be seen. And maybe, just maybe.... Homelite will be able to compete in the woods again.

I would give my eye teeth right now just to hear a yarder whistle in the distance...... GOD, how I miss those days. It tore a chunk out of me when we left Vail back in '72 and moved to North Carolina. But life goes on.