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Changes
CHAPTER ONE
Changes
Because they have no changes, therefore they fear not God.
This is my sixth book, of seven I feel called to write. I’ve put off writing about Revelation until my 60th year. But now is the time to write it. Writing is such exhaustive work for a blue collar, who still must bring home the bacon. But it is a passion set ablaze by mercy, and sustained by the grace of God. I cannot put it out.
I give this first chapter…of a book about Revelation…to my friends at work, to my neighbors in Osceola, and to the fabric of citizens in this Mississippi valley, and Missouri foothills. Turns out, that for my very salvation, did my Lord exile me to this far land. Without His mercy, I have failed to make Heaven.
During my short time here, I’ve written three books, and met the most wonderful of people. Coming from the manic byways and industry of Atlanta; the quiet, pastoral peace of Osceola has been a life-blessing for me.
There is symphony in the seasonal crop rotations of cotton, soy bean, rice and wheat. The low flying dusters, the animal and insect cycles, the great plumes of scorched stubble, and the tractors from hell…all lend their signature to this fertile valley. Where else can you mix it up with monster tractors, on little two-lane roads to work.
Working for Evonik Cyro has been the best of times for me. A global giant in chemistry and plastics, hidden in the rural fields, of grass roots America. At the property breach are two telling signs. One warns smokers to put it out. The other reads: “NO GUNS ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT”. Yep, we’re in Arkansas.
Evonik is, in a word, a world class company. Say what you will about them…they are managed by true gentlemen of industry, and their checks never bounce. Something you can’t appreciate, until you’ve run your own small business. They’ve exposed me to a specialty side of manufacturing, and one that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed learning. Their compensation package is both handsome and solid, and they treat their people like pure gold.
So I openly applaud each of you, for having proven yourself a valuable asset to this company. To stand in line at Food Giant, and say you work at Evonik, is itself a tribute to your professionalism, and something to be proud of.
My silly books can be sent out into the world. But not so, with these jewels I have found in the cropland. To share their beauty, I must bring the world to them.
Rightfully mentioned first, is Mr. Keith Tittle. A precision maintenance mechanic…but more than this, a precision mind. His fingerprint can be found on every gear, sprocket, roll and drive, for every complex machine we run. In his hand is detailed knowledge; of every little part, inside of every bigger part…large or small…covered process, or ancillary. Add to this his wealth of hands-on experience in building and servicing these great machines, and Keith’s value to Evonik becomes pulmonary. His tremendous pride in his work, shines even brighter in his artistic pastime…the tight motorcycles he’s built at home. It has been among my greatest honors, to work with such a professional as Keith.
In Mr. Jimmy Banks, Evonik again has a craftsman at the top of his trade. Jimmy is our giant slayer. A true master at work, on the big precision projects of plastic extrusion. Dies, cutters, calendar rolls, reactor seals, barrel screws and the like. So much of Jimmy’s rich experience, won’t be found in the prints or the books. It’s hard fought, and polished by a core pride in his work. Yet for all of his greatness as a leader, never too smug to lend a wrench, on a leaky water pipe. As Mountain Home breaks dawn upon him, Jimmy will one day leave a large vacuum, and a high bar set.
The lead dog of the pack, is without a doubt, Mr. James Clark. When God made this Missouri mountain man, he was fresh out of limbs. So he stubbed
in two oak trees for arms, two hickory stumps for legs, and a full gas tank. No man in maintenance works harder or more consistently, than James. There’s no quit in him. He simply refuses to be defeated, by the electrical and mechanical challenges we daily face. Hangs in there like a hair in a biscuit, until it’s done right. How that little fat man keeps up that pace, I’ll never know. But he outruns all the rest of us dogs. He’s the baddest dude on the block.
Mr. Carl Lucy is James Clark, dressed up in a suit and tie. Same Missouri tenacity as James, but with arms and legs. Carl is summed up by his neat, compartment Tupperware lunches. The rest of us dogs is scrappin’…Carl is dining in. Such things speak volumes, of a wonderful teamwork between husband and wife. While we have lunch, yours has a signature of home on it. And what greater crown can a man achieve, than years of commitment…give and take…joy and heartache…with the woman he loves? Carl’s attention to detail is the foundation of all his work. A pure professional, not just in plastic extrusion, but I suspect, in every part of his life.
Patricia is a child of the great King. Every time I wolf-whistle at her across spacious sheet halls, it is to remind her of how beautiful she is to God. We cannot hide…even behind our potty-mouths…time spent with the Master,
for He leaves his mark upon us. There’s a storm coming ‘tricia. Time to go back home, where you learned them sweet songs of Zion.
Ray-Ray is a beacon of light within the noisy walls of Evonik. A company man of impeccable character, and home grown honesty. Ray already had a million-dollar smile, as rich as the sun. But since he got his new teeth, he walks down the halls with his high-beams on, greeting the day. And I am blessed, for every day that I am able to return Ray-Ray’s smile.
Mr. Dean Brown has been a father, a brother, and a mentor to me. And for all the great mechanics I work with, I’d as soon tackle any project with Dean by my side. More common horse sense in his little toe, than in most folk’s whole body. Dean never brings less than his “A” game, and the strength to see it through. Yet never too old to learn a thing or two, from another old jackwagon. Only Downtown Dean Brown, dared to cross that thin gray line, between work-mate and friend.
Jim Hinkle is prince of the city, and the angel sent by God to sustain me. On that great day, I shall proudly stand to testify for him.
And Tim…prophet of Osceola…is blessed of God, in the vineyard his Lord has given him. His children know me not in his presence, but love me just the same. May his harvest be fruitful.
Mr. Michael Moore once asked me why I walk about as a fool, singing wherever I go. It’s because I love my job, and the precious people that my Lord has shared with me. You’ve allowed me to remain a jester with a wrench, as I pursue my calling to write these books. Thank you all for your friendship. And may this book bless you, on quiet nights, with those you love.
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Hybrid Mode
