The Case Of The Bricklayer’s Apprentice

"I jus' knew you'd be here 'fore long. I been lookin' fer you," the old guy said with a knowing nod at my son. My son called him old; he might have been 30. He was helping the bricklayers across the street from where my son had been mowing.

"How could you? You don't even know me."

"Wellllll," he drawled, putting a long tail on his words. "It's like this. I been watchin' that yard over there. The one with all the grass. An' I been wonderin' how long 'fore them people gonna mow it.

"Then one day I see the Little Guy come out. He takes his little mower, and he push, push, push. An' that grass? Why it jus' pile up 'round his feet. An' then I sez to myself, 'The Little Guy won't last long in that grass.' But he push a while longer. An' then he go in.

"But I keep watchin'. Then the Big Guy his self come out. He take that same itty-bitty mower, and he push, push, push a while. An' he sweats and push some more. An' the grass just pile up 'round his feet, too. Then I sez to myself, 'Now we finally getting' somewhere. The Big Guy won't last long. Too hot, and he don't have the right tools. He'll call somebody an' get that stuff cut.'

"An' in no time, you shows up. I jus' knew it. An' I sez to myself, 'Now this boy will unload that big mower an' suck up all that grass in no time. Then he charge them 30, 40 dollar, dust off his boots, an' take off to the next job.'

"An' that's jus' what happened. I been watchin' fer you to come."

It's surprising how much people, this bricklayer's apprentice included, can tell by careful observation. In "Study in Scarlet," Sherlock Holmes deduces the incredible from such attention to detail:

"It was easier to know it than to explain why I know it. If you were asked to prove that two and two made four, you might find some difficulty, and yet you are quite sure of the fact. Even across the street I could see a great blue anchor tattooed on the back of the fellow's hand. That smacked of the sea. He had a military carriage, however, and regulation side-whiskers. There we have the marine. He was a man with some amount of self-importance and a certain air of command. You must have observed the way in which he held his head and swung his cane. A steady, respectable, middle-aged man, too, on the face of him -- all facts which led me to believe that he had been a sergeant."

My son's encounter with this less sophisticated observer of human nature is a humorous reminder that to those who take time to notice, much about us is an open book. And we should endeavor to make the stories that they read on those pages memorable...in a positive sort of way.

Copyright 1999 James McAlister

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