Water Well Journal
Issue link: http://read.dmtmag.com/i/715953
Upon our return to Oregon in 1963 or 1964, my father and mother purchased their own Speedstar model 240 two-line cable-tool well drilling machine and started a business in Al- bany called Valley Well Drillers to concentrate on drilling wells in the alluvium and marine sediment-rich Mid- Willamette Valley of Oregon. Recognizing the inherent advantages a mud rotary machine could offer to speed up production on local water wells, Valley Well Drillers there- after purchased a Western Geophysical model 1000 table- drive mud rotary well drilling machine in the mid-1960s. Within a few years, the rolling drilling equipment stock for the firm included the Western mud rotary; the original first machine, a model 240 cable-tool rig; a Speedstar model 71 cable-tool machine; a Caldwell continuous-flight bucket type auger; two pump hoists; and other miscellaneous equipment. During this time my mother handled the firm's bookkeep- ing and payroll. Although we were unaware at the time, these were the happiest years we were to experience as one family. The Drilling Crew Even after the passage of more than 50 years, the most en- during memory of the time spent with my mother occurred during this span. This is when as a 6- or 7-year-old I was in- troduced to "The Drilling Crew," one of my mother's many unique stories—and my personal favorite. The story included three primary characters: Rick the drilling rig, Tommy the torch, and Wendell the welder. In these stories, Rick the rig always asserted he was the most im- portant entity of the three and why not? He was the big guy; he drilled the wells, bailed them out, and sealed them up. He also never missed an opportunity to make sure everyone else knew, for without Rick nothing could get done at all. The real argument was between Tommy the torch and Wendell the welder. Tommy would argue, "I am the most im- portant, as I am the torch; I cut the pipe and without me the pipe would be too long and you couldn't get the well cased or perforated." Wendell would soon chime in, "Tommy, you don't know what you are talking about. It is I who is the most important since without me the pipe could not get joined together and the well could never be finished." This type of dialog often went on and on until all of the parties finally agreed they were all important to the job and needed in order to get the well drilled. This is a just a brief outline of the full story. Sometimes the characters included Fred the Ford F-250 support pickup, Maude the mud pump, and Al the air compressor. My mother would weave her stories as needed to retain my interest and growing curiosity. Obviously, this type of dialog would go back and forth for quite some time with me, a young child, thrilled at it all and asking for more. These stories rep- resent some of the earliest memories of my life. After that, how could I grow up and not want to be in this business? The Marriage Breaks Up Within a span of just a few more months, the arguments between our parents began to become more frequent and more violent. The two older siblings grew and moved out, leaving my sister and me to serve as quasi-referees in the ever-grow- ing "War of the Butts." This is a period of my life when the memories of thrown glassware, fists through walls, and even a loaded gun being brandished are vivid. The relative business success could not substitute for unhappiness in the marriage and my parents finally divorced in 1968. Both parents remarried in subsequent years; my father twice and my mother once, but neither found true happiness with other partners. I firmly believe my mother and father be- longed together in life, but the many downsides to their rela- tionship were stronger than the few upsides and prevented things from working. Our parents allowed my sister and me as 9- and 10-year- olds to decide who we would live with. My sister went to live with our mother and I went with my father. As anyone who has read my past columns knows, my father's life then went on reasonably stable with two more wives in retirement and numerous heart attacks until his death in 1989. My mother, however, married a man named Jerry, who was 12 years her junior, around 1972. Jerry was a great guy, friend, and confidante—almost a playmate to me. He was sup- portive in my sports activities, but hardly a father figure as he was only a few years older than me. Most of us could see the writing on the wall when they married and the marriage ulti- mately ended in divorce shortly after I was on my own. The intervening years were rough on all of us as petty ar- guments, custody and court battles, accusations and counter- accusations, and the ever-present delinquent child support payments soon became the primary focus of all discussions with our parents. After years of absorbing cruel and unnecessary comments from both sides, I soon developed a strong resentment to- wards my mother for what I considered to be mean and un- warranted comments directed at my father and often me due to the association with my father. This type of nasty diatribe continued throughout Debbie's and my childhoods, teenage years, and far into our adulthood until neither of us wanted to deal with either parent. Fortunately, the bond between us siblings always remained strong and intact throughout the years. Unfortunately, my older half-brother, Denny, never found his happiness and he ultimately took his own life around 1990. My older sister, Jannice, died of colon cancer in her early 50s. I've always wondered if they passed away from the constant fighting. Later Years The decades of the 1970s through the 1980s were rough on our families, particularly our parents. By now Debbie and I had happy and fulfilling marriages with our own children, but our mother and father were still unhappy. My mother, who had been wise in investments in her earlier days and after attempting various business ventures such as Christmas tree farming, tree relocation and planting, landscaping, and blue- berry farming (no one in the family can forget her version of blueberry pizza), finally retired in her late 50s. My mother and father in their later years each discovered a way to find a little solace and peace in their lives and actually learned to be civil to each other. I think it was largely the re- sult of needing to be in their children's and grandchildren's lives. ENGINEERING continues on page 60 Twitter @WaterWellJournl WWJ September 2016 59