I heard a loud truck outside, looked out the window, saw it was a septic tank truck, and immediately took cover. I closed all the windows and warned a neighbor down the street to do the same. She replied, saying they’re servicing ALL the septic tanks in the neighborhood, which was a surprise because I thought they were responding to just one service call. I was going to mow the lawn, but this was certainly a good excuse to say “tomorrow is another day” and stay inside. I thought of the late Conrad Eaton, who perhaps had a local monopoly on this kind of service back in the 70s, before the Pepperell town sewer was even an idea.
Mr. Phillips in state house security or Tricia Melillo in the senate staff might remember Conrad. His personal pickup truck had a wooden hood ornament in the shape of a hand “giving the finger,” something I learned the significance of from older kids in the neighborhood. Each time I saw that truck around town, especially when parked out in the open, like Razzaboni’s parking lot or at the Lorden Hardware plaza, I would snicker about it and surmise what kind of person Conrad was in his personal life. It would be decades later before knowing how wrong my intuition was!
Many years after leaving home and after the town sewer was completed, I made a casual remark about Conrad while at my parents’ house, and my dad quickly came to his defense. He said something like “Conrad is an exceptionally intelligent and well-spoken guy, and he holds his own in arts and culture, even attending the opera.” I laughed in disbelief at the thought of a septic tank service guy with such a hood ornament attending the opera. Many years after that conversation, my mom, who always looks at the obituaries, told me of Conrad’s death. That was a long time ago, and I don’t think I read his obituary. I haven’t given him much thought in the many years since then, but I vaguely remember my dad praising his prose on whatever one would call a “platform” before the Digital Age.
A while after the septic tank truck left the neighborhood and it was safe to go outside, I wanted to look something up about Conrad that I thought his obituary might mention, so I did a quick internet search and found it. I also found other trivia in it, like his membership in the Odd Fellows. I didn’t think I knew any Odd Fellows before meeting “Patrick the Equalizer” on Telegram a few years ago. He’s in Littleton, so he requested a bill from Carrie Gendreau that had to do with the Odd Fellows, but it died in Senate Ways and Means, thanks to Tim Lang.
My wild imagination about the Odd Fellows went back to the 70s, even before my first encounter with Conrad Eaton. I remember riding shotgun with my mom on Factory Street and stuck at the light to cross Main en route to the Indian Head Bank drive-thru. The Odd Fellows building is right there, next to that light, and I would drive my mom nuts with endless questions about the Odd Fellows. My childhood impression of Conrad Eaton was that he was certainly an odd fellow, but I had no idea that he was a card-carrying member!
The other thing I saw on his obituary was his DOB 5/11/32. Monday was his birthday. Readers might be thinking “so what” as there’s a 1 in 364 chance of such things happening, but I find it amusing that the septic tank truck was scheduled to service the whole neighborhood on his birthday. Some people claim there are no coincidences. The believers would point to Acts 17:26 and say that God wanted it that way. Whatever you, the reader, think about that is certainly up to you, as we still have freedom of thought, for now.
I will share one thought that came out of all of this: McConkey, a septic tank guy, needs to be primaried. If he’s your senator, please consider recruiting someone who can be a viable candidate. We need senators who won’t take any crap from their handlers.
