K

A month or so ago I was working at the golf course while a crew was moving down the highway (the course is on historic route 30, Lincoln Highway the first transcontinental highway)changing guard rails. Larry, the course superintendent, thought we might be able to purchase the replaced rails and poles to line the drive from the highway down to the bottom of the hill. He had started to speak to the foreman about the possibility, and was now too busy to follow up. He asked me to figure out how many rails and poles we would need, and then to go out and find the crew to see if we could purchase them. With the help of another volunteer, we did the calculations, and I went in search of the foreman.
I found out where the crew stored their equipment, and I went down to ask for the foreman. I was told his name was Kevin, and that he would be around later. I walked over and looked at the rails and poles they had removed, and determined that they would be adequate for our needs. I waited for Kevin for about 30 minutes before I left. Later in the day, the crew had progressed up to the course, so I got in a golf cart and went out to the highway. I was told Kevin was just up the road and would be back in a few minutes. Sure enough, in about five minutes, a tall, tan, tattooed man made his way down the road towards me. He introduced himself, and we chatted. I noticed that he was in good shape, had a friendly demeanor about him, and he seemed very honest. When I told him what I wanted, he looked at our drive, measured everything, and checked our calculations. He gave us a good price, and delivered most of the materials later that day.
Talking to him, I reminisced about the many construction jobs I had done when I was younger. It looked like hard work, but I sort of envied him. Being outside, working hard, moving to new locations, all seemed appealing to me. He seemed to enjoy what he was doing, and when I told him about the history of the course, he was genuinely interested. Kevin made an impression on me that day, someone living life well. He even came back to remind me that the asphalt crew would be by, and they might be able to offer us some services at a discount. I thanked him, thinking I would see him again to ask for some advice on how to install our guardrails. I was wrong.
A few days ago I learned Kevin had been electrocuted while digging a post hole. Evidently, he raised the boom of the auger too high in the air and didn't notice a power line. I am not sure if there is a lesson here, only the idea that death seems to be ironic, and I think more about the simple interactions I have with others these days.