I took last

Tuesday off and did almost no church work. I needed the break and a few

chores around the house needed to be done.

Late in the

afternoon, I was sweeping the garage with one of those push brooms that

cover a wide area and has a long handle. As I pushed the dust and leaves

toward the outside, I realized that I was sweeping the way that I had

been taught by my very first boss back during the winter of 1968-69.

I never held

a real job during high school until my senior year. Between football,

karate, and dating, there was little time for work. Or for study, for

that matter, which is why I got out of high school with a cumulative average

of 80. Back in those days, 80 was a low C and just four point shy of a

D. Now, of course, an 80 is a low B, which helps my self-esteem somewhat.

Anyway, after

the end of my senior year of football at Dobyns-Bennett High School in

Kingsport, Tenn., my dad decided to stop financing my dating life, suggesting

that if I wanted to continue to go on dates, it was necessary that I get

a job. Mindy Davis was a junior and member of the marching and concert

bands who occupied most of my thoughts and all of my Friday and Saturday

nights. She was pretty, had short brown hair, and flashed a lovely smile.

Mindy (actually her given name was Melinda) played the flute and won the

talent competition in the Kingsport Junior Miss Pageant one year. I starting

looking for a job.

After searching

for several days, I landed a job as a part-time janitor at the Eleanor

Dress Shop on Broad Street in downtown Kingsport. I worked an average

of 14 hours a week for which I was paid the princely sum of $14, which

was enough to have at least one movie and dinner date on the weekend.

My duties included emptying the trash cans, washing the windows, vacuuming

the inside of the store, and sweeping the front entrance and the sidewalk

in front of Eleanor's. Sweeping, I discovered, was part art and part science,

or so the manager said as she demonstrated how to sweep a sidewalk using

a push broom.

Life was interesting

as a janitor. All the salesladies, who were in the 30s and 40s, flirted

with me and the people who walked by me on the street as I was sweeping

took pains to ignore me. We did have a bit of excitement one day when

a crook snatched a lady's purse and ran down the street toward where I

was sweeping.

A cop was about

30 yards behind him and losing the foot race as the bad guy outdistanced

him. I stepped out of the way and the crook ran by saying, "Thanks,"

as he passed. The flustered police officer, overweight and out of breath,

stopped in front of me and yelled, "Why didn't you stop him?"

All I could think to say was, "I was sweeping."

One day, the

manager at the dress shop announced that it was time to put the spring

clothing out in the display windows and gave me the task of washing the

mannequins after the salesladies undressed them. Grabbing a bucket of

hot water, soap, and rags, I headed to the windows to begin washing the

dummies. After about a half-hour, I heard a tapping on the window. I turned

to find four of my football teammates, all wearing their letter jackets,

standing on the sidewalk and grinning ear to ear. It was only then that

I realized that I was soaping down five of the most naked female mannequins

you can imagine.

"So, you

finally got to third base, huh, Epps?"

"Well,

at least these women won't talk