Painting in the Sun

Back in college, we often had to clean the fraternity house.  Often, the few of us actually working were far outnumbered by the many watching or not being there.  On larger building projects, that worked out nicely as the guys who had no clue what to do stayed the hell out of our way.  One summer, we decided to repaint the mural of our coat of arms in the courtyard.  It took a long time.  The guys helping out could not have been more different:

Suburban south Florida kid.  Generally quiet.  Girlfriend, not really close to many guys around the house.  Never lived there.  Worked random jobs throughout college up to that point, including construction.  Never much of a painter.

Reformed partier extraordinaire.  Good friends with my girlfriend’s family, but not me.  Close with a lot of other guys and despised me as a pledge.

Southwest Florida laid-back hands-on kind of guy.  Know-it-all.  Worked on many projects, but rarely finished any.  Again, lots of friends around, but didn’t know me at all.

Last thing the three of us ever imagined would be that we would toil, day and night, to repaint this mural with little help from anyone else.  The most anyone else ever contributed was a six-pack and Bob Marley’s “Legend”, which we listened to endlessly for most of the job.  I’d never heard much Bob before that point, but since those days, I can sing almost every song on the CD.  More than any other, “Buffalo Soldier” reminds me most of that project for the simple fact that I’d never heard it before.  Of course, it took me a few years to even fathom the meaning behind it.  I’m sure that Bob never intended that particular song to remind this white kid of his white “brothers” painting in the oppressive sun because they wanted to.