An Honest Life

Quite the big meeting tonight. Some members of the family have requested that their complaints be heard, and we have meetings for that very purpose, so they were heard. Apparently they the way our family operates ‘outdated’, and they wish to be allowed to pursue ‘honest work’.

Honest work? Honest work!? What work is more honest than blending into the shadows and working silently without the person even knowing?

In retrospect, and with a bit of time, I’m starting to see their point. My father put up a spirited and eloquent defence of the modern way of life, where our steel tools become aluminium accessories, by which we may eke out an honest living fixing pipes and building houses. I suppose my main problem here is that we have always been a family. Our skills do not exactly transfer to driving around utes and being ordinary people of work. Certainly, our knowledge of psychology and our extreme discipline and diligence will come in very useful. If we can identify sixteen different types of hazards, then I do not see picking the right service bodies for our vehicles being too much of a problem. But centuries of tradition is not so easily thrown away, ousted by a shiny aluminium toolbox or even a mahogany desk. I worry that even the younger ones of us are not psychologically ready for this transition. And…I worry that the slightly older among us choosing to take different jobs might forget and revert to their original training, perhaps even on the job. That would be awkward. Imagine if some ordinary roof racks and bars were re-purposed for something more dangerous.

This debate is not over. However, it is a different time AND  a different place, where control over one’s career and destiny is an achievable prospect. And besides, we haven’t exactly integrated with the community. I think all the black clothing and sharpening noises make the neighbours nervous.