"Great," he said as he signed the manifest. "I really appreciate you guys lending me all this." Sean, the young Londoner who had driven the borrowed equipment to Upper Bassett, said, "It’s an honor, Mr. Marino." He hesitated. "Could I stay and help today? I’m a camera assistant, so I might be useful." Despite numerous piercings and crimson hair that defied description, his gaze was as worshipful as a spaniel. "I really want to see you work." Greg felt very old. How had he gone from being an eager kid like this one to an elder statesman? Trying not to think of the occasional gray hairs that were starting to appear, he said, "Sure, the help will be welcome. We’ll start by rigging these lights." They spent a long, sweaty day working on the catwalks above the stage, with Greg explaining the reasons for every equipment placement. His assistant nodded solemnly and jotted quick notes. With Sean’s help, the installation was finished before the evening’s dress rehearsal. Greg could never have managed that on his own.
