# Chapter 5: Mixing Mud Anthony and I worked side by side for our uncles' tile company. All our uncles, including Anthony's father, were tile mechanics, and before we even turned 18, we were introduced to the trade that was intended to be our future. As a laborer, the work can be both demanding and demeaning. We were taught early on that we had to work hard for our money and even harder for our respect as men of the younger generation of our family. --- ## The Brooklyn Job I remember Anthony and I working with our Uncle Gerry, renovating a backyard near Coney Island in Brooklyn one hot summer. We had to demolish the previous standing infrastructure with mere hand tools in order to create a new cement foundation, which we would then cover with large brick pavers. For weeks, Anthony and I mixed sand, rocks, and cement with two shovels, a hoe, and a wheelbarrow. My hands grew thick calluses and blisters while my knees and lower back ached consistently. > [!warning] The Labor > The August sun constantly felt like fire was being poured on my back. I remember Gerry sitting in the shade, sipping a tall boy of Bud as he hosed the cement pile Anthony and I were mixing. "Atta boy lads, non-stop now," he egged us on in an awful Irish accent. I would continue flipping the cement mix, considering this was what my future was destined to look like. Chuckling, Gerry took sadistic pleasure in my agony, while my face turned red in fury. --- ## Breaking Point Once during the job, I was carrying a 90-pound bag of cement to the mixing area to set up for tomorrow's load when Gerry informed me: "We're going to stay a couple extra hours today and get the section by the shrubs finished. Gotta make our deadline, boys." A bolt of lightning shot up from my belly and I became infuriated. I tossed the 90-pound bag with all my might to the floor, watching it burst open. Cement dust filled the air. "Are you mad?!" Gerry hollered. "Go on, get the broom and clean up this mess. Now we're really going to be here late." At that point, I ceased to even care. The work had broken me. I grabbed the broom and started sweeping the loose cement into a pile as Anthony scurried around doing what he could to help. --- ## The Aftermath When I got home that evening, it was 9pm. I ran a bath and soaked in the hot water for almost an hour. My body felt lifeless, like a large lump of kneaded flesh. It hurt to lift my arms up, and it was only my second day in. Gerry would be back at 6am the next day to pick me up. > [!reflection] Resentment and Resolve > A big part of me felt abused during those years of laboring beneath my uncles. The other part of me believed that this was how life worked: hard labor, long days, and hot sun, taking orders from my superior. > > I built up a lot of resentment toward work and family that summer. I decided I was not going to commit to a nepotistic fate in my family's tile business. I had to discover my own way of existing in the world. --- *Next: [[Ch 6 - Beginning Meditation]]