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Raymond Schumann posted a condolence
Sunday, January 6, 2019
Ken and I worked for our dad, building houses on speculation. Our sisters got an allowance, because of their plumbing. If Ken and I wanted spending money, we worked for it.
One of my jobs was mixing mud for the brick layers. My tools were a shovel, a big hoe with two holes in the blade, and a mortar box. Start with a sheet of plywood. Nail 2 x 10 planks on the long edges. The short edges got 2 x 12 planks, angled at the base. The angle was such that I could stand at one end with my hoe, and scrape the hoe’s blade down the face of the end board. Then continue scraping on the bottom of the mortar box.
Start with 30 shovels of sand. Throw a bag of cement on top. Bust the paper with your shovel. Pull the bag away, leaving the cement. Use the hoe to drag everything to one end of the mortar box. Go to the other end and do the same. After enough passes the sand and cement are well mixed. Add water, carefully. Drag to on end, drag to the other. Adjust liquid levels. If it’s too wet or too dry the masons will refuse it. Too dry? Grab the hose. Too wet? Shovel in more sand. Make it right.
Remember Finnegan’s Wake?
Tim Finnegan lived in Walken' Street
A gentleman Irishman mighty odd;
He seen a brogue so soft and sweet
And to rise in the world he carried a hod.
A hod was an open box on a stick. You held the stick and rested the box on your shoulder. On a two story brick house, or a chimney, I got to rise in the world. The same way Tim did. Up the ladder; one hand for the hod, one hand for yourself. If they were laying blocks in the basement, I went down in the world.
We had two hods; They rested on racks that were upright boards with notches on top. The wet hod carried prepared cement. The dry hod carried bricks or blocks. When a mason yelled, “More mud!” I’d shovel cement mix into the hod, and make a delivery. In my spare time I’d load the dry hod. When I heard, “More bricks!” it was rise in the world time.
We were working on the basement of a new house. The pad was poured, the cinder block walls rising. It rained. One of those Ohio summer storms, dumping truckloads of water to a thunder-and-lightning tune. Come the morning our worksite had turned into Lake Basement. Dad decided not to work that day.
He did suggest that Ken and I could turn the mortar box into a boat. Ken got the first turn. He used a spade to paddle his box. I mean boat. I stood on the shore, eager to have my turn. Alas. Ken paddled to the middle of the lake and sank our concrete canoe. Ken swam back to shore.
I never got a turn at all.
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MavisTuttle posted a condolence
Sunday, January 6, 2019
My condolences to you,Millie and family. I know Ken was the love of your life,Millie and so sorry for you loss./an old coworker/ Mavis
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Alaine Schumann posted a condolence
Monday, December 31, 2018
I met Ken when he was 6 and I was a few days old. He was my big brother. I could always depend on him when I needed help in all of his years.....Ken, you will be missed by many people, most of all by me. I love you very much.
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