Ira's still sleeping. It's too dark in the room to read. I attempted to nap along with Ira but my mind is racing. So let's talk summer jobs.

The summer before my senior year in high school I worked for the local grocery store. (Notice the use of "the". Yes, we only had one grocery store where I grew up.) I worked for my dad, a CPA, after I graduated from high school. I'm not sure what I did for him which probably means I did a whole lotta nothing. (Sorry, Dad.) I worked as a YMCA counselor in Abilene, Texas after my freshman year of college and lived with my grandparents. I wouldn't trade that intimate time with my grandmom and granddad for anything. I was a counselor at an inner city kids camp and worked as an intern at a couple of different churches during other summers.

But my first summer job ever was spraying weeds for a couple of farmers in Tahoka. I did it for two or three summers starting at the age of 13. The farmers, Maurice and Mike, were intimidating. They both talked with thick Texas drawls. They had the hands of men who worked hard. Cotton farming was a demanding business and so they took their work seriously. They were professionals and expected their farm hands to be professionals as well. I worked with Pancho, Jackson and Mike's two daughters, Betsy and Katy.

Okay, so at 13 I didn't know exactly what it meant to be a professional and so maybe Betsy, Katy and I goofed around a bit by spraying each other and driving recklessly on the rigs but I learned much during those summers of spraying.

I learned from Maurice and Mike that while they could be hard, intimidating men, they were incredibly compassionate Christians to their core. I learned from Pancho that it was necessary to approach a rattlesnake with no fear as you went to chop it's head off with a hoe or else the rattlesnake would sense your fear. I learned Spanish cuss words from some of the other workers and that came in handy around my parents. I learned how to jack-knife a truck and trailer and how to make Mike laugh about it even though he was seething inside. Most importantly I learned that there is no job too small. Pancho, Jackson and some of the other adults made it their life work to be farm hands. That's not an admired profession but they approached their work with dignity and pride. And I watched as Maurice and Mike treated them with respect and kindness.

Just as I would never trade that summer living with my grandparents in Abilene, I would never trade the summers of spraying.

What summer jobs do you remember and what did you learn from them?