The Testimony of Boss Man McIlroy
It’s July something, 2011. Hot as blazes. The chainsaw’s motor breaks down. Again. The mesquite wood is just too much. I bring it over to Richard who’s sitting in the cool shade of the carport. He attempts to tinker with it for a bit and firmly concludes that his brother, Sam, is much better at these sorts of things. We hop in his truck and drive to see Sam at his oil and gas business in town before heading over to Kenneth down at the Parkway True Value Store to get whatever parts we need. It's another day working for Major McIlroy. Richard McIlroy, or Boss Man as I called him, never shied away from honest work nor did he shy away from sharing his life stories. His shirt would become soaked with sweat before taking his leave from the field and returning to the carport. We would both sit down around noon and have a sandwich together and discuss what more work needed to be done. He spent just about as much time working me out in the field as he did sitting and sipping ice tea ...