I was reading an article in the paper the other day about how summer jobs have put a dent in high unemployment rates, which is good news.
However, what I'd like to see is an article about how summer jobs, especially in this God-awful Lowcountry climate, build character and teach valuable life lessons. So here it is.

Pancakes and plowing don't mix
My first summer job was, without a doubt, the best summer job of my life. True, I was hired out to a slave-driving farmer: a stern, elderly, big-boned woman who didn't put up with much nonsense, back talk, or excuses and didn't pay much money, either. But Granny could cook, and a country boy would gladly get up at the butt crack of dawn and work himself into the ground for a stack of Granny's fluffy pancakes and homemade sausage, all covered homemade cane syrup and washed down with sweet iced tea.
(But don't eat more than one stack, boy, or you'll be regretting it when she puts you on that old push plow.)
And working with Granny taught me many things: to appreciate the old ways, to live off the land, to waste nothing and take nothing for granted. And it taught me the value of a good education.
"If you don't get your studies," Granny and Momma both used to say, "you'll be digging ditches for a living."

Digging ditches for a living
This was really more of a full time job than a temporary summer job, but at one point in my younger days I did construction work for a local contractor. Which involved both building house and digging ditches. And since it was a well-known fact that I was scared of heights (I think the word the boss used was "chicken"), then I had the pleasure of digging ditches while the other guys built houses.
(Many times, with my back aching, I'd look down at that shovel full of dirt stained by my dripping sweat, then up at the scorching sun, and think about what Granny and Momma tried to tell me. Years later I went back to school and got a degree.)
One of the biggest jobs I remember took over a year to complete: installing a town sewer system throughout the Town of Gifford. This project involved the boss, sitting comfortably in the shade on a backhoe and laughing like a maniac, and me down in a deep hole digging with a pick and shovel through the hardest clay you'll find anywhere in the South.
That taught me the value of a good indoor plumbing system. So Giffordtonians, every time you flush your toilet, you can thank me.

Tar babies and tight wads
Having family connections can often help you get a summer job, whether you want it or not. For several summers I worked for my grandfather doing small scale construction/ roofing/ repair work. My job title was Head Tar Baby, which meant that I was in charge of administering all the black, sticky tar on every rooftop. Which also meant that my Momma had to wash me up every night with a scrub brush and diesel fuel to get it all off so I could start again the next day.
My grandfather had a reputation for taking his time and doing a good job, and I learned a little something from him, too, like the value of hard work and paying attention to details.
He also had a reputation for being a miserly man, and from him I learned to save my money, and to stay away from the women, who will try to take your money.
He was a wise old man and I tried to follow his advice, but the woman part would prove difficult time and time again.
"Honey, can I borrow the checkbook?"

Pig farming and the Piggly Wiggly
Oh, there have been many other summer jobs and summer lessons over the years and I won't bore you with them all. There were my experiences as a pig farmer (If you don't wear boots, you will get worms. Just some free advice.), and then at the local Piggly Wiggly (I started out bagging groceries and it lead to a full time job. I also met my sweetheart there.) and, of course, almost every summer I threw watermelons. I think there ought to be a state law that says that every teenager should have to work in a watermelon field at least one summer.
But what can you learn in a watermelon field? To appreciate our farmers, that's what.
And not to mention air conditioning.
What was your worst summer job?
If you have, or have had, a tough summer job I want to hear from you. Share your misery with others, who are probably sitting behind some desk in the air conditioning while you do a hot and thankless job.
Email me at michael.dewitt@morris.com or call 943-4645.