This is short, but one of my favorite stories. It would have little impact if it were told by a Mr. Peepers kind of guy.

Noland’s size and deep voice gives weight to his stories. And when he talks he looks me dead in the eyes. He has often complained about “Mr. America,”the not quite husband of his wife’s cousin who wears “cheaters”(sunglasses) indoors. “I was on the road for years. If I can see the eyes, I can size a guy up in a few minutes.”

” After the war, I hauled beef for Sullivan’s in Boston. Eight cows each cut into four parts, each piece weighing about two hundred fifty pounds. I’d drive them to Essem’s where they make ëem into hot dogs and hamburgers. Since Essem’s was union and I wasn’t, I’d unload them without help. Those bastards wouldn’t lift a finger.”

Noland extended his right arm and then bent it, like on the Arm and Hammer box. “You put the leg right here in the crook and swing the beef up onto your shoulder.”

“One day I’m on route 114 driving back from Salem. I pass the new stadium being built in Lawrence. There was this crane with the name Shaugnessey’s written right across the boom. I looked up and thought, I lift more weight in a day than that goddamn things does in a week. I turned around, drove back to Sullivan’s, and gave my notice.”