All around us were brown paper bags of potash in stacks of eight. Three trucks to be loaded were backed against the dock. I sat watching and listening to those men. “Stopped in at Larry’s Lounge Bar,” one was saying. “No loungin’ there. Walls painted red. Place smokes like a chimney. What dancin’. Like everybody’s clothes on fire.” “This work’s too heavy,” said another. “I applied for a postman job. They’ll be callin’ me soon.” “How’s it pay?” “Side benefits. Sick pay and vacation. Pension. Other things, too. Look at Feef Carter. Feef’s got a street he can’t get through in the mornin’. Women call him in for cake and pie. Feef’s cuttin’ deep. He says the job changed his life. He went on like a light.” Two other men were talking off to my left. “Hear you went up to the veteran hospital.” “My back ain’t right, Dan.” “That so?” “Can’t go like before. Hate to see weekends come.” “What the doctor say?” “Lay off the heavy stuff.
