Tuesday, December 14, 2010
One of Dad's many 'second' jobs was cleaning the former Canal Bank here at Morrill's Corner. Along with my paper route, one of the jobs I often did was help him clean the bank on the first floor and the architects' offices on the third floor. During the summer and winter, he often took a 'vacation' week from cleaning this building. So the job was left to me. Sometimes my brother or a sister helped out, but mostly it fell at my door. I really didn't mind it and sort of welcomed the added responsibilities. After all, I had the KEYS to a bank! His directions to me: dust every counter, empty all trashcans, clean the toilets, mop the linoleum floors, vacuum the teller areas and clean the ash trays. Other than that, don't touch a thing! If I hurried, I could complete the bank in about an hour. The upstairs was a treat. The minute I unlocked the door the aromatic sweetness of pipe tobacco filled my nostrils. Along with this aroma, the low hung ceilings, the small six over six windows, the stacks of blueprints scattered about the tables and the birds eye view of any happenings below on the sidewalks made for an interesting 1/2 hour or so. I always dreamed that some of my creative juices could have been explored in this profession. And here's another angle. Dad told me he often heard foot steps and doors closing upstairs, when the offices were darkened for the night. When I shut the lights up there, I always took one parting look into the darkness. Never heard or saw anything amiss.