`I'm As Happy as the Best'

Competence may be the least appreciated of virtues. A world without competent people is a nightmare. The driver of our eighty-foot moving van, a fifty-five-year-old father of three and grandfather of four, maneuvered his rig with the casual precision of an empty wheel barrow. Since 1976 he has logged more than 2.5 million accident-free miles. His build is vigorous but non-steroidal, and he effortlessly hoisted my overloaded boxes of books. He claims to tire more readily than when he was young, but never gets sore. He and a slower partner loaded nine thousand pounds of our household goods in five hours on Friday. 

Gary is a library of anecdotes, even unflattering ones, like the time another driver dropped a load of fishing equipment on his head and snagged his nose with a halibut hook. His stories seldom indulge in braggadocio. At the end of the loading, as I signed my name on the paperwork twenty-seven times, Gary said: 

“This is my favorite times of day. I worked hard, there were no screw-ups, and I can go to bed with a clean conscience.” 

John Clare writes in “The Wood-Cutter’s Night Song”: 

“Now my hard day's work is done,
I'm as happy as the best.”