The Importance of Community

What kind of writer starts a series, writes 2 volumes and then abandons it for 2 years? A writer with no good excuses – me.

I started this project with good intentions and got myself lost in the memory search for details about the third community I'd decided to write about. I switched to another community and found the same problem. Eventually, I moved on to other stories and this undertaking has been sitting on the shelf. It's still very important to me, and it's time to dust it off and add to it.

I've chosen a community that not only matured me, but actually set my feet firmly on the road to becoming a writer. I'll also be going back to the 2 I abandoned and completing them, but first – let me tell you about a village and a workplace that changed me forever.

I finished High School in Amarillo, Texas in 1974. Note that I didn't say I graduated. I simply never returned for my Senior year. The short version of the reason is that I would become a dad in December of that year. I'll spare you the details.

I refused to be a Deadbeat Dad. I was determined to be the best father I could, and that would leave no room for school. I worked the jobs that no one else would, to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. I would later take and pass my GED exam, so I had something to show for my education, at least.

That certificate would come in handier than I imagined. In 1978, I applied for and landed a good paying job with a natural gas exploration company, Colorado Interstate Gas (CIG). The specific job was as a member of a pipeline survey crew, with the official title of Field Engineer. Fancy, huh?

Our crew worked in the Texas Panhandle, Oklahoma, Kansas and Southern Colorado. Meals and lodging were paid by the company via an expense check issued to each crew member. We traveled in company Suburbans, and each had its own fuel card.

Per-diem expenses allowed more than enough to pay for our motel rooms and meals, along with some left over for after-hours entertainment. That usually amounted to a few beers and a few games of pool at whatever local tavern we found. The entertainment portion was reimbursed via deduction from our paychecks after filing expense reports. Our paychecks were substantial and no one ever suffered from the loss.

For a young dad, it was a great lifestyle. We were always home on the weekends. We could afford to pay our bills. It was a good life.

Shortly after my son, the second child, came along, an opportunity arose that would elevate the “good” to “great.” The company was building an H2S processing plant in southwestern Wyoming, and with it, a company housing project. A job there meant a substantial raise in pay, free housing and utilities, and an all-expenses paid move.

I was the second member of our survey crew to take the plunge, landing a position as a Plant Operator. The move went well, and soon, my little family was settled in, in a beautiful, modern, 4-bedroom, split level home. What's more, it included an attached 2-car garage. Our back yard was just across the fence from the back yard of my friend from the survey crew and his family.

In addition to all the amenities, in the center of the village was a huge recreation center, with an Olympic-size gym and racquetball court downstairs, and a full kitchen upstairs that could be reserved for parties. And man, did we party! The residents elected a Social Club and company parties and picnics were scheduled for every holiday.

Dances took place in the gym, often with live music from bands comprised of company employees. We had a softball diamond that doubled as a fireworks launching area and the location of our annual pit barbecue every 4th of July. I started volunteering as a local reporter for the company magazine and it was a real treat to see my words and photos in print.

In December of 1981, I wrote a parody of A Visit from Saint Nicholas ('Twas the Night Before Christmas) and it was given a 2-page spread. It didn't go to my head at all, of course.

The company's reasoning was simple. We lived in a remote location, 45 miles from the town where we bought groceries. We worked in a high-risk environment, dealing with toxic gas, caustics and acids, extremely high voltages, high temperature steam and liquids and highly volatile compounds. 2 weeks of training were required for new employees. In exchange, they provided everything needed to keep the employees happy.

Now, living remotely in that area had its perks. We were smack dab in the middle of the largest pronghhorn hunting area in the state. Mule deer were also plentiful. We learned from our neighbors to process and cure our own game. Our freezers were always full. There was even a small gas station with a bar at the exit for the road into the village.

All the land surrounding the village belonged to the BLM, meaning it was publicly accessible. We rode our motorcycles and ATVs everywhere. We knew the back routes to all the popular locations in the state.

After some time, I was offered and gladly accepted a promotion to a new position as a General Technician. The position was brand-new within the company and allowed me to work in any and all technical areas. It also allowed me to take any technical training courses that pertained to operations within the company. I took full advantage of that and I held certifications in approximately 30 areas, including electricity and electronics as taught by DeVry University. Those were in addition to CPR and Basic Emergency Care, taught on-site by the Bureau of Mines I'd received as a Plant Operator.

So, we were well paid, well-housed, and smart. We also had a company credit union that rarely said no, so we had nice vehicles and toys. Payments were deducted from our paychecks. Easy, peasy. I learned the concept of over-extension of credit.

There's one drawback to this lifestyle that's well-hidden. Our village housed 50 families. We all worked and played together. Spouses were left to their own devices while their partners worked. Infidelity happened. That's a hard lesson to learn and the one that eventually made me walk away from the job after 9 and a half years with the company.

So, in the long run, the Table Rock community may have had more impact on me than any other. I joined it as a naive dad at the age of 22. I left, almost 10 years later, with an education, a broken marriage, kids becoming adults too quickly and no funds put aside.

I did leave with some lasting friendships and I'm back, or still in touch with some of those amazing people, 35+ years later. And perhaps that's the most important thing, after all.

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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. If you're not familiar with this series, links to the previous 2 stories can be found below. There are more coming, so stay tuned!