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Mike always wrote his initials on the pipes with a wax crayon. Next to his initials, he wrote the date and next to the date he drew an arrow that pointed toward heaven. He didn't write on all the pipes, just the one's that he himself had welded. It didn't matter that the other trades would soon bury his pipes behind the walls and beneath the ceilings. Mike knew what he had done, and he knew that it would be there forever. These towers, both of them, would last. Of that, there was no doubt. You did not build something like this and then take it down a few years from now. Not even a hundred years from now. You did not build something this enormous and take it down. No, these towers would define this city and its people and they would forever change the men and women who built them. He would grow old in this city and look at his towers and know that a part of him was now a part of them, and that was good enough for Mike. When the building was still just a deep hole in the ground and Mike had begun writing on his pipes and pointing his arrows toward the sky, his partner would laugh at him. "You're gonna need a lot more crayons," his partner would say. "Ah, you're so young," Mike would say. "Don't you know what we're doing here, lad?" And his partner would laugh. "Here we go," he'd say. "The work outlives the man, lad." And Mike would nod and smile. "We're building an American cathedral here, lad. An American cathedral! It will rise to the heavens and be here forever. Long after we're dead and gone people will look at our work and admire what we built. This is a special place, this one." His partner would shake his head and laugh. "You saw the drawings. These things are just big boxes, Mike. They're gonna be as ugly as sin. To me, they're just next week's grocery bill and next month's rent." And Mike's eyes would gleam and he'd say, "Ah, but you're wrong, lad. This one is much more than a paycheck. This one is special. We'll never be the same after this one. Mark my words. You'll see."
"And you're such a young pup!" And they'd both have a good laugh for themselves, neither taking the other too seriously, and Mike would sign another pipe and draw an arrow upward, to where they were going. And he'd smile at his partner and wink.
Sometimes they'd stop for a pint or two before riding the subways home. They'd talk about sports and politics and, of course, the work. There was always the work. It would take a good long time to finish this one.
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"Oh, you're so friggin' deep," his partner would say.
They were a good team, these two. They'd been together for five years, moving from job to job, always together, as it is with this trade. They knew that they'd be working on these towers for a good long time. There was no denying that at this point. The die had been cast and this was a project that no one could stop. It rose by the will of the workers, each day a bit taller. They would build these towers and they would put away some of the money for their children and for vacations and for their future. And as they arrived at work each day they would look up and up. And then they would build some more.| Dan Holohan - [Intro] | [Email] | [Website] |
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