I’d been digging a trench
from our well pump to
the house most of the morning.

My hands were only eleven years old,
and blisters had
ripped open the skin.

My stepfather, reeking
of tobacco and whiskey,
came out to supervise.

“Deeper and faster,” he said,
“The pipes will freeze where
you’re putting them.”

An hour later he returned for
a second look. “You’d better get
a good education, sonny boy,” he said,

“because you’re the laziest
sonofabitch
I’ve ever seen.”

I learned important lessons that day about
blisters and frozen pipes, but most valuable
of all was discovering what the man thought of

Mom and me.

Never have been able to
forget that lesson.

Took myself to college, I did.