BOLT BUCKET

OLD BOLTS IN A BUCKET

          (today I was loaned out from the pulp mill to the powerhouse, to work on the ash sluice system; after the job was completed, I picked up the old bolts and put them in a ten-quart pail for disposal)

          The next stop is the scrap metal dumpster.  From there, who knows?!  Maybe the scrap man will take them to a smelter and they will leave the furnace as iron ingots for their next purpose.  They have served their purpose, fasteners for the sluice line flanges.  But, what next?!

          I am nearly sixty.  Questions of purpose and mortality nag.  I have two grown kids older than one of my crew mates.  I try to be useful and pull my weight; but … they make me a gopher much of the time.  (and, really, they are just, kindly, trying to take care of the old man)

          Against the backdrop of the millennia, what single life really matters?  That question surfaces.  Seemingly, we are only drops in a great river of human history.  The Cosmic Coach calls some good plays and makes a few look good.  But, even they play only a few seasons and then hang up their cleats.

          Growing old gracefully might be the point.  Sure, hold it together while “in the flange”.  But, soon, parts are replaced and new bolts installed.  The old ones go in the bucket and we are then tossed in the dumpster.

          I started out my existence from ore dug out of an iron mine, sent to a smelter to be refined, and then to a fastener manufacturer.  Then I was bought by this mill and ended up here in the power house holding together this flange.  Did my job for years.  Maybe I will continue on as a paper weight, for a while.  But, rust and stress have taken their toll.

          I do believe that I will be recycled and live on.  I will have a new form and live on, serving some new purpose.  Maybe I will even be forged and hammered into a sword for the angels?!