The hangermen also die
I was a young man at Bethel about 30 years ago, back in the early 80's, and I got hurt. It wasn't enough that most of us worked physically 45 to 65 hours a week and it wasn't enough that we walked literally miles a day through the streets of New York and the tunnels of Bethel. It also wasn't enough that many of us had a work out schedule in the gym on top of that. No, that simply wasn't enough activity for us. We also had to play sports.
My sport of choice was football and on this particular day I did a number to my knee stepping in a pot hole during a running play. The guys looked sheepish as various Bethel people tended to me and then helped me hobble to the infirmary. The doctors x-rayed and the nurses fussed and soon I was told I would be about 7 to 10 days off of my feet. They told me that in order for it to heal properly, I needed to rest my knee. No sports. No standing even. That wasn't so bad I told myself, it's only 7 to 10 days. No big deal right? Well, it kind of was.
You see, for that time of 7 to 10 days, I would not be able to do my regular Bethel job since I stood most of the time for it. Many senior Bethelites in the factory and elsewhere found the fact I hurt myself playing football extremely irritating. I didn't get it. Don't all people get hurt from time to time? Isn't that part of life? Certainly the Society's love for me would compel them to take care of me during my own time of need right? Well, I got a lesson in that during my visit to the infamous "hanger room".
The hanger room was located in the bowels of Bethel. When you go down into the Bethel tunnels that run beneath the streets of Brooklyn, you think you are underground, but you don't know the half of it. I found out to my dismay that there are other deeper levels. The hanger room was evidently in the third level of Hades compared to say the laundry area. It was darker, danker, dingier and dreadful. Now I don't recall if the hanger room was actually physically lower than the other places, but it sure seemed like it.
It was also occupied and run by one of the most terrifying creatures in all Betheldom: brother Hanger Man! ["Dramatic Chipmunk" music here]
I was sent to the hanger room because there I could be of some use while I convalesced. The hanger room was a place where they sent all the twisted up, bent and broken hangers. Bethel used thousands upon thousands of hangers, every day. When any of them were deemed less than perfect, they were dropped into a chute and they slid down into a big bin which made its way into the hanger room. There, a brother so old that Methuselah would have called him grandpa, would snatch a hanger up, peer at it closely through a cloudy eye and begin CPR on the injured hanger. If it needed bending, he would bend it back with an appropriate tool and the correct bending technique. If it had problems with the paper bottom of the hanger, he would either repair that paper or replace it. Then, he would proudly put the restored hanger in a cart made for repaired hangers and move on to the next. Bethel didn't waste anything and the way they treated the Bethel hangers was an amazing example of this. Also, it gave brother Hanger Man a job in his advanced age.
This is also where they sent bad little boys like me who got hurt and had to sit. So, I got myself down there on my crutches and introduced myself to brother Hanger Man. He just grunted at me and said "C'mere". I got closer to him and notice he smelled like day old bacon left in the sun. He then proceeded to show me very quickly what he did with those hangers and then abruptly said "now you do it". So, I started to repair hangers with the Hangar Man. Time stood on end. I worked on these hangers and fixed what I thought was at least a thousand of them and looked at the clock. Only 20 minutes had passed! Holy cow, the Hangar Room must be in a time warp or something! I began to fix my next hangar and tried to engage brother Hangar Man in some conversation to pass the time. He just grunted at me. He seemed ticked off. At first, I just thought that maybe that was what old guys acted like when their age spots got so big they looked like human leopards. We toiled on until our first break. "Break time" he declared and scurried off. "Thank God" I thought, I was going out of my mind already and it was only the first break on the first day?!
After the break, we resumed our tedious work. Now, as if it were possible, time actually seemed to go slower! OK, brother Hanger Man is screwing with me I thought. Since we were in the bowels below Hell itself and there was only one ancient clock to say what time it was, maybe he had adjusted that clock to run in one tenth speed? Or maybe time is different down here near the Earths core? Perhaps the day was actually over and he was making me work in an endless loop like some twisted Twilight Zone episode?
I was going batty. In order to keep my mind active, I tried to engage him in more conversation. He grunted one word answers at me. OK, so what's the deal? This HAS to be personal I thought. I decided to get more direct with him about this and it went something like this:
Me: Brother Hanger Man?
Him: Grunt
Me: Uh. Are you upset with me for some reason sir?
Him: Grunt, mumble...appreciation...sassin frassin...disgraceful...mumble, grumble...
Me: Excuse me? What was that? Uh, you seem to be upset. Did I do something?
Him: [In his ancient voice that sounded like gargling phlegm] I SAID, you young brothers have no appreciation for things, mumble, grumble... always putting yourselves at risk. Hummina, hummina... Disgraceful if you ask me.
Me: Uhhh, at risk? What do you mean?
Him: Yes. You young people always go get hurt playing sports and fooling around and then cannot do your work! grumble, mumble. You didn't come to Bethel so you could sit around like an old man like me. snurf, snarf. You should be on your assignment, working like a young brother should be working. Hummina, hummina...
Me: Uhh. Well brother, it was an accident, I didn't hurt myself on purpose. I mean, I didn't do it to get out of my work.
Him: Hmmmffff. Mumble grumble, sassin frassin... young ne'er do goods...mumble, grumble.. no respect...... why, back in my day.... frickin, frackin...
And so it was, Hangar Man was irked because one of the young Watchtower grunts wasn't able to complete a normal grunt day. He was annoyed that this young man had set back the entire organization and showed an obvious lack of appreciation and respect too. On top of it all, this young punk hurt himself needlessly, no check that, probably on purpose, just playing a silly game! How inconsiderate of this ne'er do well! This young 'un is costing the Society money in X-rays and bandages and food and everything! This will not be tolerated!
So, Hangar Man rightfully gave me a piece of his shaky mumbling mind. After that, it got quiet in that dank room with just me and the obviously peeved Hanger Man. I decided to just do my work, not argue with him and forget about it.
The day went on forever, and ever, and ever, and ever...and ever... and ever... and ever...and ever...and ever...and ever... and ever ...and ever...and ever
The next day I called up my floor overseer and BEGGED him to let me back in the factory. I said I would glue books, sort papers, polish or clean stuff or do whatever I could during this down time of mine, but please, please I pleaded with him, don't send me back to the hangar room. He said sure, he'd figure something out. I never felt so happy to be able to do tedious factory nonsense work before. I was now at least able to do tedious factory nonsense work around guys my own age and in a building with natural light coming into it. Nobody there smelled like bacon either. I also ended up getting back to my regular work much earlier than the 7 to 10 days the silly doctors at first thought I would need. What did they know? Heck, the Bethel overseers put up with me and even let me limp around doing my regular job in pain. So, luckily, I was able to do my job better and better each day, limping less and less. You see, the pain eventually worked itself out, so it was no big deal. I mean, it was a small price to pay even though 30 years later I still have problems with that knee. But the important thing was not to lose those crucial 7 to 10 days of making books and magazines. Best yet, I'd never see Hanger Man again.
I look back on this now and realize that this was all part of the plan.
LivingTheDream