I’m looking at that god damned sugar factory again. My family has such a complicated history with it. My mom’s third husband worked there for over 36 years. Sometimes he worked the night shift. Sometimes the workers would strike. It was proper factory, man.
I want to see the inside, but it is complicated for my family. Normally, being the type of person I am, I could find a way to at least get in there and take a look. I could get in there and scratch out some stories. But what if my mom’s third husband saw me? And, what if that would stir up some new animosity between him and my family.
I have nothing against my mom’s third husband despite him telling me repeatedly, in the old days, to “get a job.” I honestly believe he had my best interest at heart when he told me this. Jobs mean health care and social security and retirement and safety. There is no safety in what I do. There is no safety, here in America, outside of the sugar factory.
