Bring Your Kid To Work Day - Akron Style

Hello again! Welcome to the third installment of the A Table For One blog. I appreciate you taking the time to give this a look.

I am the first generation in my family to not follow their father into the tire factory which dates back to my father’s roots in West Virginia. I actually worked in the computer department at General Tire while in college for a year or so but I’m not sure that “counts”. My grandfather left the coal mines in West Virginia in the 1930’s to get a piece of the good life in Akron, Ohio by taking a job at General Tire making automobile tires to support his family. Many of you know, that this was not a unique idea at that time. You may have heard of the three “R’s”; reading writing and Route 21 (the road used to get from West Virginia and Kentucky to Ohio). The industrial revolution was booming, and Akron was a destination for many in Appalachia to improve their lot in life. Sometimes referred to as “hillbillies”, this was a tough group of hard-working people. Let’s face it, if a tire factory is a step up, you are a tough son-of-a-gun! By the way, hillbillies are allowed to use that word, others are not. I got grandfathered (and fathered) in.

My story today will focus on the time my dad took me to work when I was fifteen to give me a piece of reality that served me well. It’s been almost fifty years from that iconic day in my life, but it still is very impactful to me.

But first…A joke to loosen things up a little:

Me (as a kid): I’m really worried. My dad works 12 hours a day to give me a nice home and food on the table. My mom spends the whole day working, cleaning and cooking for me. I’m worried SICK!

Friend: What have you got to worry about? Sounds like to me like you’ve got it made!

Me (as a kid): What if they try to escape?!

A Verse to Contemplate:

“My people have done two evils: They have turned away from me, the spring of living water. And they have dug their own wells, which are broken wells that cannot hold water.” Jeremiah 2:13

Have I told You This One?:

My grandfather was from the Charleston, West Virginia area and my grandmother was from Steubenville, Ohio. If you don’t know, these are not on the top of the list of vacation destinations for tourists. These are tough, hard-working industrial towns that make you get up and get after it everyday.

My Pop was the first born in his family and was born in 1938. He had two brothers and a sister by the time he graduated from high-school at 17. He went into the Army and served in Korea and Japan. Prior to the service, he had not been anywhere to speak of and the ship ride to Korea was a first big step into the “real world”. He met my mom right before he left and they eventually married in 1959 and had me in 1960, my brother in 1962 and my sister in 1972.

When he came home from the service, he was looking for a job to support the new generation of “Rut’s” and he followed his dad into the General Tire and Rubber Company as a laborer making parts and pieces that ultimately went into the production of bias ply tires for cars and trucks. We were like many families at the time that had family that worked in the tire industry in some fashion either at Goodyear, Firestone, Goodrich, General or Seiberling. We were the definition of middle class and I loved it. I knew nothing different and most of my friends were living the same life.

The 60’s and 70’s were a terrific time to grow up in northeast Ohio (in my opinion, anyway). We would get on our bikes in the morning and the only restriction was that we had to be back for supper, which we always ate together. Mom and dad would retire to the living room and read the newspaper and dad would throw me the sports section so I could see the baseball standings and the statistics of my favorite team, the Cleveland Indians (not the “G” word). Like most kids that live in a smaller town, we were always looking for stuff to do and trouble to get in. I seemed to be very good at that for some reason. So, as I entered my teen years, I started to make my dad mumble to himself a lot more and my mom to say “wait till your dad gets home mister” a bunch! You might say I was 15 going on 15.

My dad worked the 6:00 am to 2:00 pm shift at this time. We lived in a 1,000 square foot midwestern home that was hard not to hear anyone when they got up and moved around. My room was right across from mom and dad’s. When mom woke me up, she would step lightly and in an angel’s voice would whisper that it was time to wake up. Dad had a strikingly different approach…You could hear him coming and by the time he banged through my door I better be up and at attention. Let’s just agree that dad was not a gentle soul, and he didn’t particularly care about my opinions on how the day should start!

This one particular summer Saturday morning at 5:30 am, dad came banging into my room and said “Get up boy, you’re going to work with me today”. I assumed it wasn’t a request but more of an order so I ran my head under the tub faucet, brushed my teeth, and threw my clothes on and headed for the car. It was still dark out. I had no idea what he was up to but one thing for sure, I was going on my first bring you kid to work day, Akron style!!

I don’t know if you have ever had the pleasure of being inside of a 100-year-old tire factory in the middle of summer, but it leaves an impression. My eyes must have looked like I had just seen Satan, Good Lord, is this where Dad went EVERY day to work? It was well over 100 degrees, and everyone was dressed in rags. There was 100 years of lamp black ground into the floor and walls, and I could not hear a thing over the clanging of the machines, forklifts, shouts, horns, bells and sometimes a little laughter. I always thought my dad was a tough old boy but DAMN, this place is unbelievable.

So, he takes me to where his work place was located and he sat me down near the vending machines which are protected by guardrails on both sides. He introduced me to the guys that were there waiting for the shift to start, smoking a cigarette, drinking coffee and playing games on one another. What a crew. White, black, hillbilly, all in one place. This did not look like my school where everyone looked the same.

They had fifteen-minute breaks every hour during the shift. Dad would take me around to meet his co-workers and each of the them shook my hand like a man shakes hands and looked me directly in the eyes and to a man, they told me this….”Don’t follow us in here, go to school buddy and do what you want to do.” Those hillbillies knew what they were talking about and I was listening. Their hands were all bent up from working those machines and you could tell the place was taking a toll on them. Great guys but you could see that they were earning their money for sure.

After the shift, dad and I went to a restaurant/bar across from the factory called The Cork and Bottle on East Market Street. When I went in there I couldn’t tell if it was day or night, the smoke was thick enough to cut it with a cleaver and it was LOUD LOUD. My Dad asked me, “What do you notice son?”. I said, “a lot of guys drinking and smoking and talking loud.” I asked, “are these guys running those machines after drinking?” “What do you think?”, he answered. I said, “oh.”

When we got back home, my mom met us at the back door and asked, “What did you think, Mark?”. I said that I was going to give a lot of thought to this college gig and that I had gained a deep understanding of what going to work really means. Jump ahead about ten years, I was the first person to graduate college in my family with degrees in Industrial Management and Computer Science. Thanks Pop.

Monday was the 11th anniversary of dad being called home to eternity. “Wayne P” was one helluva man and I love him and miss him.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, help me to trust You even when I don’t understand. Give me ears to hear You and courage to follow wherever You lead.

Book Recommendation:

Hillbilly Elegy - J.D. Vance (2016)

Music Recommendation:

Elegant Gypsy - Al DiMeola (1977)