GREEN CHAIN DANCER TELLS SISTER STORY

The green chain in the local plywood mill called for me after freshman year in college.

I had a college loan and the job was the best for paying it off and putting money away for sophomore year.

I was the new guy on the swing shift crew in 1974 with men who enjoyed a little hazing. Who doesn’t enjoy a little hazing from older guys. Call a right of passage.

It started in the break room, lunch room, the walled in room separate from the dust and noise of the mill floor.

Old Guy: You know Jimmy? He’s not here right now, but he’s got a sister who’s a great dancer. He loves talking about her. You should ask him about his sister.

I hadn’t met everyone on the green chain yet, but the old guy reminded me that Jimmy was the opposite side of me on the line.

Me: That’s nice. Thanks.

OG: Do you like to dance? Jimmy’s sister can teach you how, if you don’t.

My dance moves were already set from junior high: stiff and awkward, and I was okay with it.

Me: Good to know. Thanks.

I wasn’t going to ask Jimmy anything about anything, but the old guy was persistent. He was a Louisiana man who had followed mill work all of his life and landed in Coos Bay.

OG: He’s real proud of his sister and likes to share it. You should ask him about her after lunch.

The man talking was near the end of his work life, a WWII vet who’d spent the duration in Hawaii, which he pronounced “How Are Ya.”

Green Kid on the Green Chain

It’s not that I was a bad worker, but I was slow on picking up the nuances of mill work. My guide arm kept getting in the way of the of the thin 4 X 8 sheets of veneer I whipped into the sorting bins. One corner kept digging into my right forearm.

I got the job because I knew a guy whose dad was a foreman. One brother had already spend a few summers there, and I was next man up, another college kid to have fun with.

OG: Look, there’s Jimmy now.

I looked out the window of the break room and saw a man standing on the platform.

OG: Before we start up again and it’s too loud, ask about his sister.

The old guy was starting to bug me, so I figured I’d get it done and ask Jimmy about his sister to shut him up.

I took my spot on the other side of the green chain and yelled out to Jimmy.

Me: I hear your sister is a dancer, a great dancer. You should be proud.

Jimmy: What?

Me: Your sister? She’s a great dancer.

Jimmy leaned over, red faced, and stared at me.

Jimmy: You think that’s funny? Is that it? Funny? I’m sick of people like you asking about my sister.

Me: What?

Jimmy: She had a car accident last week and lost her leg. They amputated her leg, and the other one isn’t looking so good. What is wrong with you?

I apologized, then apologized some more, and blinked back tears for his sister who I’d never met. Then I apologized again.

And that’s when the laughing started. The old guy laughed, Jimmy laughed, the other guys laughed. I wasn’t laughing. It wasn’t funny.

OG: Got him good, Jimmy, got him real good. Whoo boy, did we ever.

Jimmy: Best one yet on college kids, this one. Look at him. He almost cried.

Turned out Jimmy didn’t have a sister who had a car wreck; he didn’t even have a sister. It was hazing at it’s finest.

Saw Mill Jokers

The machinery cranked up and drowned the words I had for my work pals. I had a few choices to make: let it go, or make these a-holes understand they shouldn’t do the sister joke again.

I let it go, and they thought I was one of them when they started the same thing on the next new hire. After the old guy started telling the sister story from the start, I broke in and explained how brain-dead jackasses had fun in the sawmill.

Me: Jimmy doesn’t have a sister, and the old man is here gets his kicks out of a dog shit joke that’s not funny the first time he told it, and not funny now.

I turned to the old man in the break room for a beat and stared at his ‘what’s the big deal, it’s only a joke’ face, then back to the new guy.

Me: This is like a college class in real life.

OG: What’s that like, college boys? Huh? Can’t take a joke?

I kept eye contact with the new hire.

Me: These fuckers have some sense of humor.

OG: What? What did you say?

Me: I was telling the new guy here that you’re a piece of shit. So is Jimmy, if that’s his real name. Maybe it’s funny on How Are Ya, but you suck here.

I thought about the next three years of college and mill work and joined the Army in September instead of going back to school.