In the summer of 1967 I landed my first full-time job. The opportunity arose when a classmate resigned his job at Mount OlivetCemetery, located just down the street from my northeast Fort Worthhigh school. He had been responsible for watering the acres of grass at the cemetery, and the tools of his trade sprinkler heads, pipe wrenches, and joint sealant now lay in want of new hands. He drove his own tractor and was his own supervisor, left alone to water the grass after class each day until the summer sun disappeared behind the headstones. It was a job highly coveted by the entire gang of boys who played football in the vacant lot across the road fromMountOlivet. All of us applied. Proving that in the corporate world it is not what you know but whom you know, the grounds superintendent recognized me as one of an endless stream of past neighborhood newspaper carriers. [download]
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