mcintyrej, Thu, May 8th, 2008
“Ok Joe, you need to help me with this,” he said referring to my youngest son Joseph,8.
“Really,” Joseph perked up from the chair he was slouching in.
“Yeah you. What, did you think that I would let your father help me do this? No way, he’ll just screw it up,” he replied to Joseph and shot me a wink.
Joseph bounced to attention and grabbed the cordless drill. Through careful coaching Mitch and Joseph put together the box, screw by screw, until it was whole. I just helped a bit with steadying the cordless drill.
“Nope, Joe this has to be straight” Or “Put a bit more pressure on the end, like this,” Mitch said softly while showing him the way.
With a bit of his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth, Joseph concentrated and did exactly what Mitch directed.
“There you go Joe, all done.” He said with a smile and a soft pat on the back.
Joseph beamed, then accepted a chocolate chip cookie that Mitch pulled from some unknown nook in his sawmill workshop. For an eight-year old, it was a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon.
The whole project began two weeks earlier when I explained to Mitch I was having a problem with my tractor tipping forward while lifting heavy logs. He stopped over to ask me if I needed anything from the local hardware store.
He just tipped up his green cap scratched his head and said “I know what you need, come on over and we’ll build something.”
When it came to wood, farming, or anything practical, Mitch would have an answer. His sawmill is across the street with its hulking piles of wood and old farming equipment poking out of every corner of overgrown grass.
“You need a counterweight. I have just what we need,” he said.
That was an understatement if I ever heard one. Mitch has a piece of just about everything ever made on that farm of his. The funny thing about it was, he knew where all the stuff was, knew about its history and knew how to use it. And use it he did.
We did have to buy a few new pins, bars, and a couple bags of cement, but the rest was readily available across the street.
“If you want to be a farmer, you have to make things from what you have,” he would say. “No use in buying something, when what you have will do the trick.”
Last Sunday, when Joseph and I took the Kubota over to Mitch’s we went to create a functional solution. After a few hours, we had a concrete-filled wood box loaded with fieldstones, old pipe and a horseshoe on top just for good luck. The horseshoe was from one of his two draft horses that looked on from beyond the fence (Mitch used to use them to plow and log when they were younger).
We left the box in front of the barn overnight for the concrete to set. Joseph rode in the bucket of the tractor as we plodded home down the driveway and we both felt like we accomplished something.
“Thanks Mitch, I really appreciate it.” I yelled as we pulled away.
He yelled back “That’s what neighbors are for” and waved.
I was so exited to pick up our box on Monday as I passed by on the road on the way home from work. The less-than-perfect-but-still-functional box was still siting solo on barn ramp. I pulled into my driveway and met my neighbors talking in the driveway.
Something was wrong. Big streams of tears filled their faces as they told me that Mitch would not be home to have a celebratory beer over our makeshift weight.
Earlier that afternoon, he was working among the trees, there was an accident and my neighbor was not coming home.
I was speachless and I kept thinking, this can’t be. I was supposed to drive over and hear him say “Hi Neighbor,” right after “Johhhhnnnnnnn.” No matter what the mood or circumstance it was important to Mitch to always set the connection. In the neighborhood he had a nickname—“The Mayor.”
Instantly the Mayor was gone.
To my knowledge, Mitch never stepped foot into public service, but he had politics. We would talk about the issues of the day and how they related to us. He would shake hands, kiss babies and make boxes.
For the first time in my life, I am going to miss a politician.
I will miss you Mayor Draina.
Below: Mitch driving the tractor for Joseph's 7th birthday.
