Well, Well, Well...
Had a younger fella ask me about heavy metal the other day, so we launched into a music history ramble, stumbling across Dio in the meantime.
Holy diver, you’ve been down too long in the midnight sea.
“Not sure what that’s about, dude”, I shrugged.
Ah, but now I relate.
Surfacing a bit from the usual deep dive into mad philosophizin’, it’s time to talk real, and give a shoutout to the well driller yesterday.
While he was out at the site, he didn’t write a poem about the ground arguing with steel, how the diesel roar plumbed the mystery of hidden water, while the caked leather of work boots breathed in the sky, wondering what secrets remained beneath.
No, he just punched down 325 feet and hit 4 gallons a minute of clear Campbell county water.
“Want a beer, Josh?” a lady asked at the pizza place last night.
“No, no, water is my victory drink this evening. The well guy hit it. Be a shame to flush the toilet with beer.”
Settling in for the show later in a theater, I turned to a woman beside me, and asked if she was in the line of creative work, too.
“Not really” she replied, a slight note of maybe this is the wrong answer?
“Probably a good thing” I assured her. “The well driller isn’t, and God bless him.”
“Why?”
“If I dug it, it would be a series of fountains, and they’d all be dry.”
I’ve made the mistake of forgetting that “you can’t eat a podcast”, and that it’s possible to go out and actually do things and build stuff.
Today, I’m toasting the men who keep the world turning.
With water.