In Remembrance
My wife's uncle, Edmund Dobson, was laid to rest
today, December 30, 2004, at the age of 76 years old. He succumbed to
cancer, a battle that has been ongoing for at least the past 28 years
that I have known him, as I can remember him applying a prescription
acid, which smarted quite a bit, to the skin melanoma that he had on
his arms and hands.
He was a hard working individual, and quite a
character, also anytime there was a death in the family, close or not,
you could find his face in the crowd, dutifully paying his last respects.
Around 26 years ago, while there was a short lull in the
wildcat drilling in the area, I worked for him on a roust-a-bout crew.
The pay was not good, and the work was hard, and this was when he
seemed to be at his finest. Often as we toiled alongside another crew,
and they would be taking extended card playing lunch breaks, we would
be painting walking beams, spraying diesel, and using sling blades to
clean up around the tank batteries. He said, "We have to earn our paychecks".
Earn it we did, as we waded knee deep in oil slicked
waters, covering the oil with bales of hay so that the wildlife
management personnel would not see it as they flew over in airplanes
and impose hefty fines. We made up pipe lines and tightened them as
quickly as you could walk from one connection to the next, the sun
taking it's toll as your vision clouded over with darkness, seeing
nothing but floating white spots, which cleared as you walked to the
next joint, only to repeat the process. We filled sand bags and
wheellbarrowed them to the edge of a gully 50 yards away then threw
them into a washout when the dump truck delivering the sand could have
easily unloaded within 20 feet from the gorge. "We have to make a day
of it", he says. When I reminded him of this on occasion throughout the
years, he only smiled with pride. I also learned a new meaning for the
term "pipe dope", and in no way was it entertaining.
There were times when job duties required driving from one location to another,
and there was no use removing the work gloves as he sped down dusty
dirt roads or bumpy mud trails. On the drive home, though, there was
plenty of time as he never motored over 45 MPH at the end of the day.
It was frustrating but we grew accustomed to it as there was nothing to
be done to change his style.
I can assure you that I learned some valuable lessons from him
about work ethics and dedication, which has followed me to this day.
I say this as I pen this note while sitting comfortably at my office desk,
which, by the way, I earned.
So as the family is filled with sadness, and wife Maria, my father-in law's
sister, is in poor health herself, I think back and I am grateful to
have known this man, he has not left this world untouched, and I in
turn touch others because of him. Some may come away with bitterness,
others with important values and I am thankful that it is appointed
unto man only once to die, which insinuates that we live forever, and
dying is just a process somewhere in the middle, and that all the lives
you touch here remember you, and become a testament of your life and
how you lived it, for better or for worse.
Thanks Uncle Ed, from an old hand, fare-thee-well.
June 19, 1928 - December 28, 2004
7 comments:
very lovely eulogy byron. uncle ed would have liked it.
jack would also remember working with him in the oil fields.
i think his summery of him would have been more pointedly
depicted as 'slave driver'.
i guess thats what u meant by "Some may come away with bitterness, others with important values".
All in jest though as jack spoke of him fondly also.
true to his style, jack says he did not work with him very long.
too many jobs to choose between back then. roust-a -bouting was not the most sought aft job. i hate to think my son does much the same when laying irrigation in the heat of the day. at least no oil though.
Amen to the notion that "dying is just a process somewhere in the middle"
and God knows that i am lacking when it comes to testaments.
far far from perfect am i. may God save me from my impertinence
and help all that becomes victim to it find in their hearts to forgive and
release me from my own defensiveness. one of my greatest shortcomings.
may God be with your family in their time of sorrow.
and may all my family know i love them. lee
by the way, really nice pic of the oil rigg.
jack was wondering if u found it on the net somewhere or if it is one of yours from somewhere familiar?
picked it up from here:
texasescapes
as I didn't think everyone would know what a walking beam is.
and thats why people don't usually write their own eulogy. maybe i can write you a nice one? no hurry now, ya hear? besides, defensiveness can be a maternal virtue as witnessed by many of us silly enough to go where no man should go.
this was so beautiful. when dan awakens, i will read it to him. he has spoke of uncle ed and his peculiar ways many times. dan, too, was never willing to lay down on the job and to this day has the same work ethics. we will let him say weather this man taught him these ethics. i dont know.
doll
dan is awake and has read these post. he said that he had experienced each of the circumstances with uncle ed that byron mentioned and in turn had learned 3 important work ethics from him.
he remembers it being cold with freezing rain when ed had the crew out of the truck digging up a flow line by hand. blacky (jackie's uncle) drove up and asked ed why in the world was he having the hands dig in the frozen ground with shovels when there was a working dozer and a backhoe that he had sent there to do the job with? the crew was so thrilled when blacky told the crew to get back in the truck and wait till the dozer did the heavy work. but, ed never stood by while his crew worked. he had a shovel in his hand or a pipe on his shoulder just like the men who worked under him. that day ed had his shovel too.
he also remembers driving to locations when they couldnt get there by truck--so they had to park and walk a ways in the snow/rain. when they reach the site they had to start "ajax" motors on the wells, then walk back. dan says that many times it was above a mile's walk, and sometimes up to 3. but the man was faithful to a job well done.
and no one who has worked for uncle ed hasn't worked beside a crew that was goofing off or riding the clock. to uncle ed this was hard core stealing. he just wouldnt hear of it.
most important, dan says in all the years of working around uncle ed, he never heard him speak a bad word about anyone. he said that ed always brought a big bisquit for dinner and fasted every wednesday whether he was attending a church or not.
one more thing dan learned really well from ed. he had a non-relenting concern about his children and he expressed that concern often. god bless that man. we hope his children make his worry fruitful, if there is such a thing. and i hope our children do the same. :)
give his family our regard,
dan and dolly
I worked with Ed, but never for him. I do not admit to being a slacker, but I have never been one to invent virtue from excess. I appreciate Ed's love for honesty, and I can identify with being worked "to death". I worked for guys like cigar rogers, Bob Carroll, and, let's not forget, Byron Cirilo. Then I worked for myself, my hardest taskmaster of all. I always found that the oil field never ran short of tasks. Using a backhoe, dozer, or winch line served only to speed the present task so we might go on to another. Ah, the endless wearying tedium of it all. But there was that saving grace of the diverse personalities that made up the myths and legends of the Miss-Lou oil patch. Ed added to that the distinctive aura of his personal style, his method. For that I also am thankful. My memories remain fertile with the flavor of it all. Another thing that I am thankful for is the heads up that guys like Byron and Jackie gave me re working for uncle Ed - " Don't"
We'll miss him, nevertheless.
I think you missed this part---" I learned some valuable lessons from him ......
I say this as I pen this note while sitting comfortably at my office desk"
At least you admit to being the hardest taskmaster, that makes me a regular kittycat. meow.
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