Friday, January 7, 2011
#2 Piece of a Picture Frame
Originally uploaded by PackRatty McRatterson
"What is that?" I said, squinting into the trash compactor, and pointing
"Some sort of picture frame," he replied. "It's two sheets of glass held together by metal photo corners. I think it's from the 40s"
"Oh MAN! I wish I'd seen that before it got crushed,"I said.
"It was cracked."
"I know how to cut glass!"
He always moved so deliberately. Spoke deliberately, too, with a gentle Georgia accent. I was sixteen, he must have been in his thirties. Not particularly handsome, but graceful. I had never seen him truly hurry, until that moment.
Before I knew what was happening, he had hit the kill button and was down in the reservoir, digging for the metal corners. I was amazed. We weren't friends, we never really talked. We just liked to watch the garbage get smashed. I would never have expected him to just jump down in the pile of debris and dig for something so small (they're 1 1/4" on each side). I never would have even asked. This gesture was such a wonderful, chivalrous thing, I was so grateful, even though he only found three.
The next day, I came in to work, and he was gone. He'd been fired for his major violation of safety protocol.