A Road Well-Traveled. Thomas Walsh

and Ski got a table near the trackside windows. It gave them a ringside seat for the fun. Ski enjoyed the commotion and party atmosphere as Tim expected he would. It was a good opportunity to unwind and get to know each other.

      Over the next two hours Tim and Ski shared background on their lives and families. In many respects they were a lot alike – from immigrant families, middle class, Catholic, worked hard for what they had. Just born in different times that shaped them into what they were. When the conversation drifted it invariably moved back to the common ground of business.

      “Ski, we should make a schedule to visit each one of our major business partners once a year. Who do you think we should visit next?”

      “Dat’s easy,” Ski said in a slightly slurred voice loosened by a few stiff drinks.

      He leaned forward with a thick shock of hair hanging across his forehead. “Coil Slitting in Cincinnatah.”

      “Why them?” Tim asked.

      “Cause when you see dem, you’ll see da best. Dey know der business. It runs like a Swiss watch. Good quality, high yields, never a shrink problem. And nice! Dey are da easiest people to get along with. It must have sometin’ to do wid where der from.”

      The conversation jogged Ski’s memory about a war time experience in the Philippines.

      “My unit jus’ arrived at a town ‘cross a river from where der was Jap battalion dug in. An outfit from Cincinnatah was launch’n an attack to root dose bastards out of der. All through da night we watched the flash of explosions and gunfire from our foxholes along the river. We heard dose Cincinnatah boys fight’n, scream’n and dy’n and all da time we was safe in our foxholes eat’n, drink’n, read’n letters from home. All the time dey was dy’n!”

      Ski stopped unable to go on, choked with emotion. But he had to finish his story. It had been bottled up in him for 30 years. It had to get out.

      After wiping his eyes and blowing his nose, Ski forced himself to finish the story.

      “Da next morn’n the battle was over. Da Cincinnatah boys had won. We moved out and crossed da river to mop up any Japs dey did’n get. On da way we was passed by trucks go’n de other way. I turned to see what dey was carry’n. I saw the bodies of does brave boys stacked like cord wood with der bare feet stick’n outta da back of the trucks. A sight I’ll never forget. Never.”

      ***

      Tim and Ski worked together for several years. They developed a mutual respect for each other. Tim knew Ski’s weaknesses but he also knew his strengths. He relied on those strengths and grew to admire him for the unique individual he was. When Tim was promoted again he toasted Ski at his farewell party. He saw the appreciation in his eyes before Ski looked away.