A bit of good is still good
· 5 min read
I spent my summer as a fifteen-year-old working on construction sites in Southern California for my grandfather. Like many caring grandparents, he cared deeply that I learn to do things the “right way” in life. His way.
I learned how much he cared when he barked “Hey, what do you think you’re doing over there?” across the room and pointed at me in scorn while his other laborers kept working. My cousin worked beside me, but he knew what was coming and stopped to watch. It’s so hard to look away from a train wreck.
The house in Southern California where my grandfather’s ire taught me about his beef with ”put jobs”