This is not a good time of year for me. I live with Seasonally Affective Disorder - a fancy diagnostic word meaning that those who live with depression are under even thicker clouds during "the bleak midwinter." Even as I appreciated and very much needed professional medical help a whole number of years ago to help me understand what was going on in my life and my body chemistry (genetic makeup) and make some lifestyle adjustments, I still have some reservation about the medicinal diagnoses, and similarly harbor a reserve towards the church, the place of my employ for the first half of my adult life. Neither the sciences nor the institutions get all my votes. No, this does not put me in among the anti-vaxxers or binary extremists, but perhaps it's ... depression or sin or plain old irritability.😐 Apparently I'm bit of a prick to live with! Especially in the wintertime I gain comfort from the Apostle Paul who also lived with some same sort (2 Cor.12:7) and Fr. Henri Nouwen who finds woundedness among the qualifications for good ministry (The Wounded Healer, Image Books, 1979). For health reasons therefore the latter half of my adult years was on the open highways of long-haul trucking. Mental health undeniably is a part of life and death even if we are "temple of the Holy Spirit."(1Cor. 6:19). In keeping with either the chemistry or the spirit, I say thank you to those of you who indulge me as I continue to "say it as I sees it."
One of the things that helps, especially as I cannot afford sunny southern winter holidays like most of my fellow retirees, is to remember things. Today with tears in my eyes I remember those who were with me through the thick and the thin of transportation, always with the honesty and camaraderie I so needed. I get nostalgic; I remember things and I remember people. Here's to those guys and gals - a few names changed 'to protect the innocent' but most of them not worried about things like that! The following article I wrote six years ago about some of those friends - a few deceased by now (R.I.P) but still in my memory bank. Note, my retirement obviously did not happen at the magic age of 65. It's a stretched-out process with some considerable ins and outs; sometimes seems like I'm still kind of in and out!
October 2, 2015
FRIENDS FROM ALL PLACES
When I made the decision to retire last year, I remember one specific reluctance. I was not keen on abandoning the connectedness, the friendships and the camaraderie of fellow truckers. Although most of them are miles and smiles removed from my other profession, pastoral ministry, they are in fact very significant persons in my life. Although I log hundreds and hundreds of solitary hours behind the wheel of a big truck on the highways of Canada and the U.S. the experience is also a shared one. We know the discipline, the patience, creativity and endurance needed to accomplish a required daily distance to deliver loads on time and at right temperature. They are a part of who I have become in these last twenty years. Indeed they are a part of who I am. That is becoming especially clear now that I am in retirement trucking! Yes I am retired, and still trucking!
This small company to which I am now connected illustrates well. Phil is deaf, a Dutch immigrant who is very proud of his landed immigrant status in Canada, very proud still of his former military career in Holland, still somewhat in relationship with ex-wife over there and (I think) kind of disappointed that a recent sweetheart over there is choosing not to join him here in this country which is his chosen new place.
Nicholai is Russian, still sporting a thick accent, kind of hot tempered and (like Vladimir Putin maybe), makes regular references to how they did things in ‘the militar.' Also he likes things done his way. Oh, by the way he hates Mr. Putin! His nickname is The Mad Russian. Nicholai creates no end of exasperations for the boss, dispatchers, customers and fellow drivers – and entertainment for a guy like me. He is a communist totally intrigued by the fact that I am ‘a priest’. I in turn am totally intrigued by his way of doing things. We are good friends.
Bill is an Alberta cowboy regularly going to Montana to some romantic ranch to manage cows and farmhands and horses and participate in the life and horrors of his fiancée. He is a born again Christian and recently shared with me the tragedy of the death of his teenaged son about 8 years ago. He is excited to see me back on the road. Although he and I operate in hugely different educational levels, our life spirit is amazingly connected. It seems like deep recognizes deep even beyond words. In my Bible Psalm 42:7 says something about that.
Ken is a friend from my pre-retirement bout. He is an unabashed snowbird, takes the winters off, and during that time he and his wife play in the sand dunes of AZ and CA and even the Mexican portion of the Baja peninsula. Our values are miles apart, but trucking provides excellent occasions to chat and josh about wives and their mysterious ways, about philanthropy, about our boss’s business acumen (or his eccentricities), about other truckers, about his kids, my kids, etc. Ken is super friendly and full of life. I always look forward to next time our paths will cross.
Roger’s stories are priceless. His humility and humor about his mistakes and other people’s mistakes, roadside dilemmas, office personnel peculiarities, love life of other employees, his lack of love life, employees’ pets, etc is hilarious at best, and always most interesting – although facts possibly not always confirmed! He would readily subscribe to the saying bantered by cowboy poets, “You can’t always let the facts get in the way of a good story.” Add to this the fact that Roger and I both worked for another trucking company in bygone years means that we can hold out in front of others as ‘going back a bit.’
Art is another of my born again friends – and I mean really born again! The Lord blesses him beyond measure in this latest truck he is driving. The Lord helps him deliver loads on time. The Lord keeps him from getting sick if he minds his diet and his prayer life. He treats fellow employees and shippers and receivers as mission projects – people who need the answers he has for them no matter what life issue or challenge they may be facing. Ironically, although he and I share the same commitment to Jesus, I have difficulty communicating with him. His conversations/sermons are geared either to what he thinks I might agree with, or what I need to learn from him. So there we are, me a burnt-out preacher and he a failed preacher; both of us in this truckers world, and hardly know how to relate to each other! The assumed Christian commonality keeps us miles and miles apart in the truckers’ banter which is the part I so enjoy with my other good buddies. I know he is lonely, and also that his wife died some years ago. He needs my compassion. I also know that if he does not loosen up, his loneliness will continue.
Tom drives one of the boss’s more impressive trucks, a 780 Volvo with a big ‘shack’, a sleeper which comfortably accommodates him and his wife in their US trips. They are both widowed and I am inspired how they seem to enjoy one another in what they describe as a new lease on life. They act and talk like well educated people, quite similar to professionals and others in my church fellowship. I just learned that he used to be a dispatcher with this company, and that he shares all the drivers’ commonly-held disdain for Wyatt, our yard manager. I look forward to further quality encounter with this couple.
There is another Tom who also drives a big shack Volvo. This Tom’s truck is even more impressive. He has chicken lights and he runs single even with the big shack. He is a shy guy – until you get visiting with him, and of a sudden he busts forth with a loud voice that almost sounds arrogant. He’s Dutch and in this trucking outfit that seems like a little extra qualification of superiority over the other immigrants. Others tell me he is the boss’s good buddy. Maybe he is; I know his truck does 72 mph! This Tom and I actually met once upon a time in Calexico when I was an owner operator pulling for a previous trucking company, so that seems to form an extra connect. Interesting, I have a little Dutch blood in my veins too. We respect each other; friends.
Russel has attitude. He has been with this company a long time and is convinced that his services are not sufficiently recognized either in respect or in earnings. He wonders why new drivers get to drive nicer trucks than him, etc. etc. My hunch is the boss would have an easy answer on this one. His truck sports a disability sticker as well as walking cane which he sometimes needs to transfer himself in and out of truck stops and customers’ docks, offices, etc. He takes incredibly powerful pain pills which bring him close to DUI, and require special DOT – scheduled urine and blood tests to assure CDL fitness. In spite of these maladies he is a great conversationalist with a variety of experiences and tales which makes for enjoyable time in his presence. Myself being a bit of a cynic also, his negativities do not hinder, in fact probably enhance conversation and time spent with him. I always enjoy characters like him. Also, I shall never forget Russ’s first warm welcome and handshake when I first came on board.
I could go on. I could describe a few more drivers that come to mind. There is old Jack, 75 years old and quite fit - one of the few owner operators left and the only one who had an older truck than mine when I first came on. There is also George, there is Dixy, there is Carlos, Don, Fred, another 2 Kens, Dave, and another Roger. Carmen, Mike, MJ, Rob, David and Arnold have already quit since I came on board. I could go into some detail about our yard manager who easily qualifies as public enemy #1 to most of the above mentioned. There are several interesting persons in office side including Egon, an excellent dispatcher whom I count as friend by now. Then indeed there is Gary, our affable, unique, confident boss who really makes it all happen - and we all know it.
I appreciate these people more than they realize. In fact this retirement jaunt of trucking has raised also my friendship level with many of the drivers and owner operators of an earlier trucking company I was with for twenty years (by now those relationships mostly on social media). Truckers’ encounters with each other are usually brief and happenstance as we go about the Lord’s (the boss’s) work! After my years of church work which preceded this latest foray among truckers, I still get a little weary just thinking about church politics. Working with people of faith commitment, especially as an employee, is stressful! Working as a trucker requires no religious or ideological commitment, and friendships are amazingly easy and actually helps my faith and gratitude for a God who is here among us all. I am fascinated by the quality of this variety of persons. They may not be better people, but being among them is easier than in situations where the expectations are high.
Religion and politics, they say, are two topics to avoid even at family gatherings. Ironically those two topics go easy among these people, albeit often in colorful and overstated language! I enjoy friends with points of view – easy to come by in this environment. I can also say that my experience with the average trucker is that they are at least as religious – perhaps moreso – than the average person sitting in the pews! I like life when it’s interesting; and not too much when boring! I have a genuine faith AND yes, undeniably I struggle with depression. Clowns really do help make it better! It’s the yin yang, the good and the bad, the anima and animus. My mental and spiritual health seems better even as I move further into the retirement years. God is real and God is good. At any rate, friends are a great gift no matter where they show up.
