WORKIN' FOR THE MAN EV'RY NIGHT AND DAY

Chuck leaving home to start another shift of work at Weyerhaeuser Paper Company in Yuma, Arizona (1992)

The summer of 1974, my husband was twenty-two years old and unemployed. One day he parked his Chevy truck in an industrialized area of Modesto, less than a mile from his home on the Tuolumne River where he grew up. He walked up and down the street, going factory to factory, looking for work. Weyerhaeuser Company offered him a job that summer, running a die-cut machine. He worked for three weeks straight before he got his first day off. This year Chuck reached a milestone in his life: it's the thirty-fifth summer that he has been making boxes for Weyerhaeuser.

Over the past 35 years Chuck became skilled at operating machines such as this Flexo Folder-Gluer. His crews often set production records. He is an expert at training and motivating employees.

Chuck and I were married in September 1976. His grandmother warned us not to move away from Modesto and family. But we did. Like the infamous "seven year itch," Chuck got the urge to relocate almost every seven years. If Weyerhaeuser was starting-up a new box plant, he wanted to be there. We hit every cardinal point on the compass. First we moved north (Portland, Oregon) then south (Yuma, Arizona) then west (Camarillo, California) and finally east (Phoenix, Arizona).






And these were just the major moves. There were always the shorter, temporary moves while waiting for houses to be built, escrows to close, or issues to be resolved. Twice we moved with newborn babies. Three times we turned our homes into rental properties when we transferred out of state. Between four kids, we adjusted to six different elementary schools, three junior high schools, and four high schools.

Chuck's grandmother, Dolly Tibbs Goodrich, warning us at our wedding reception to stay in Modesto

When I placed the order for our wedding cake, the lady would not stop bragging about her children and their successful careers. When she asked me what my fiance did for a living, I did not hesitate a second. "Oh, he's a recycling engineer," I casually replied. My mother-in-law nearly fell off her chair, because at the time Chuck ran the baler machine. The conversation immediately shifted to talk about frosting and flowers.

In 1976, while working in the Modesto plant, Chuck got in a scuffle with another employee. During the altercation, Chuck's leg got broken. Both guys quickly decided it was in their mutual best interest to blame the "accident" on lax safety conditions near the machine.

Chuck and I traveled on Amtrak from Riverbank, California to Portland, Oregon (with two year old Cristin) when he interviewed for a job in February, 1980. It was nearly impossible to get any sleep sitting up all night on the train.

I remember Mike Sanzone, Chuck's boss in Portland, telling him that "a box plant is a box plant, whether it's in Portland, Oregon, or McAllen, Texas." He said that it's the wife and kids that have to make the biggest sacrifice when moving to a new location with the company.

And he was right. Chuck was always good to go from Day One. Moving only seemed to energize him. But as our children grew, it became increasingly more painful for them (and for me) to be wrenched away from friends and communities that had become so important in our lives. When we moved to Yuma Arizona twenty years ago, someone jokingly asked me if I was suffering from culture shock. Still yearning for my previous life in the Pacific Northwest, I replied, “No, it’s more like lack of culture shock.”

One of Chuck's paycheck stubs from Portland. In the beginning he was compensated for working over 40 hours per week. That benefit was eliminated when he became salaried.

A loyal and tireless worker, Chuck has hardly missed any time on the job in over three decades. Taking into account his brutal work schedule, this is quite a feat. During his career with Weyco, he has worked day shift, swing shift, graveyard shift, split shift, week-ends and holidays. And did I mention overtime? We discovered many inventive ways over the years to ensure that somehow, despite environmental conditions and noisy children, Dad got some sleep somewhere in the house.

The first year after moving to Portland, Chuck was offered a management position. Weyerhaeuser was initially leery about allowing him to transfer from Modesto, where he had been the shop steward. Portland was a non-union plant.

In May 1999, Chuck wrote candidly about his job in a letter to Cristin:

I’m writing this letter at 1:00 a.m. This is my night off. This is really a big deal because I only get two nights off a month so I have to make sure I take advantage of all this free time. I feel like all I do is work. Oh well it could be worse. I could be unemployed or working in a coal mine instead of a box plant. I used to try and glorify my job when people asked what I do for a living. Now I just tell them I make boxes and leave it at that. Most people don’t ask me a second question after hearing what I do. I’m sure they’re thinking, wow, making boxes, that’s right up there with truck driver, garbage collector, poor guy. Little do they know that I make about as much as some Bank Presidents. Of course I have to work twice as much and in the middle of the night.

Real Estate was so pricey in southern California that we opted to purchase this upstairs condominium in Camarillo. It was two bedroom / two bath and the garage was unattached. We had to park our extra car down the hill and across the street at the golf course. (2002)

We bought this station wagon in Portland. It was originally a company car used by the sales team at Weyerhaeuser.

With such a demanding work load, I learned early in our marriage not to have any expectations that my husband would be available for social events or family activities. I was the designated parent at teacher conferences, and the awkward married-but-solo person at the church socials. We settled into our respective roles automatically. My job was to manage the household, help children succeed in school, and keep us all active in our various church programs. Chuck’s job was to make boxes for Weyerhaeuser.

Caitlin's preschool teacher helped her complete this Father's Day card in 1992.

I thought I'd won the lottery when we purchased this beautiful home in Troutdale, Oregon with views of the Columbia River and Portland city lights. We sold the house just 16 months later and moved to Yuma.

John Fogerty’s song, Proud Mary, was the inspiration for the title of this post. The lyrics include this verse: “And I never lost one minute of sleepin’, worryin’ bout the way things might have been.” To be honest, I have lost sleep--- at times lots of sleep--- thinking about the way things might have been. What if we had listened to Grams, stayed in Modesto, and raised our kids near grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles? What if we had been able to take more family vacations? What if we hadn’t moved so much? What if Chuck had worked less hours? What if he had switched careers? What if---? What if---? What if---?

Weyerhaeuser flew us to Yuma for a job interview in February 1988. I cried when Chuck accepted the offer. He attributed my reaction to being eight months pregnant and overly emotional.

Yet it is what it is. I don’t want to diminish Chuck’s accomplishment. He’s always provided for his family. If nothing else, staying loyal to the same employer your whole career is a testament of sheer endurance. Monday morning at 5 a.m. when my husband starts making boxes, “the man” will have a different name. International Paper Company acquired Weyerhaeuser’s entire container-board unit earlier this year. Chuck hit the milestone anniversary date with literally days to spare before the change of ownership. He’s now eligible to receive the maximum retirement benefits offered by the company. Congratulations, Honey. You endured. You managed to survive the last thirty-five years. Somehow, we both did.

Chuck made his last box for Weyerhaeuser on August 2, 2008. He lives near the Estrella Mountains in Goodyear, Arizona. All four of his daughters are married and he has three grandsons. (Chuck with Kelley, Caitlin, Kaci and Cristin, Thanksgiving 2007)

copyright 2008 by Kathleen Stewart Goodrich