Neighborly advice

Jim Elliott

NEIGHBORLY ADVICE

I once worked in a brickyard in Lewistown, Montana for a few months. It was hard, hot, dirty work and I loved it. My favorite job was called “hacking” which was taking wet brick off a conveyor belt and stacking it on little railcars that were pushed over to the brick kiln after we got them loaded. We each moved about 300 pounds of brick a minute in five pound increments, and believe me, we worked fast. We did not simply put the brick on the railcar, but had to stack it in complex interlocked layers so the tower of brick wouldn’t collapse in the “kill” which was the term used for the kiln. The stacks were six bricks deep, twelve wide, and sixteen high which meant that you began the stack by bending all the way over and finished it on tiptoe. It was, in truth, backbreaking, exhausting work and at coffee break we basically collapsed on sacks of brick making minerals that were stacked among the old, unused, beehive kilns.

We did not engage in a lot of conversation because we were really too pooped out to talk, but there was one conversation with a fellow named Henry that has stuck in my mind for the past 40 years. Henry was a small, thin fellow with piercing blue eyes. Too short to be a hacker, he drove forklift, and sometimes visited with us at coffee break. He was from Arkansas, and one day was telling us how he would often go back to his hometown and help his church group rebuild people’s houses after a tornado or flood, anyway, some kind of natural disaster which seemed to occur with uncommon regularity every year.

“That would be a great place to be a carpenter,” I said, really just to make conversation, but, oh boy, did I get jumped on.

Henry fixed me with an intense, blue eyed stare and said, almost hissed, “It is a SIN to take advantage of another person’s misfortune!”

I was completely taken aback, because I was just making talk, but it sure struck a nerve in Henry, who then walked off—rapidly, I might add. It must have struck a nerve in me, too, because I so often remember it and see the truth in it. Actually, I should say I see some truth in it, because it is a pretty absolute, all or nothing statement, and nothing is really ever completely black or white.

A couple years later in my hometown of Trout Creek a little, old neighbor lady gave me something else to remember, “It is a sin to tempt somebody,” she said. Taken at face value that would put advertising right up there with sin, which I think is a bit much, but what she said is also worth thinking about from time to time.

Well, take these sentiments as you will, but as you can see they made an impression on me and every once in a while have given me pause to reflect, so I offer them to you for what it’s worth.

However, I would be neglectful if I didn’t offer up the full spectrum of neighborly advice that has stuck with me, because I had another neighbor who used to say, “There’s a little larceny in everyone,” which maybe balances things out.