You will find short stories on this site. Most are autobiographical. Some are fiction.

NOTES OF A PLUMBER

I was on my hands and knees in a hole I had dug through the concrete floor. It was a warm summer night. I had left the shop door open onto Mississippi Ave. I thought I was alone when, a child’s voice asked “What’cha doin’ mister?” I turned to see a seven year old African American girl standing next to the flood lights at the edge of my excavation. She was looking at the branching system of trenches and pipes. Her father stood back out of the circle of light. I explained that I was plumbing the drains in the shop to accommodate two new sinks. Pointing to the pipes she asked “What are those for?” I could see that she had no concept of plumbing. So I asked “What do you think happens when you flush the toilet? “I don’t know, I wondered though,” she replied. At this point her father stepped forward and nervously took her hand and said “Let’s go Melissa.” But she didn’t move. She was waiting for my answer. “Well”, I explained. “There is a toilet in the room just on the other side of that wall. It is connected to this pipe.” I said pointing at the four inch cast iron sewer pipe in the trench before me. This pipe goes under ground and connects to a much bigger pipe under Mississippi Avenue. That big pipe leads to the sewage treatment plant. “Come on Melissa” her father said pulling her towards the door. Turning to leave, Melissa asked “Daddy did you know that?” Before they vanished through the door and onto the Avenue, I heard his answer. “No Melissa. I didn’t know it.”