Bruce had a sun shade contraption that he'd rigged up over the table and a few choice items that he'd saved from the heap. There was a microwave, two radios, and a broken guitar. I'm pretty sure he'll be able to fix them all. He showed me a small park bench he was working on; it looked great. Someone had brought it in on the weekend, and tossed into the pit. He'd pulled it out, sanded it down, repainted the metal, and stained the wood. "Damn Bruce - this is fine work". He told me that he'd used paint, stain, and even brushes that people had thrown away.
He had a few drinks in a cooler that his wife Rose packed. So we chatted for a bit about his other projects, and about his family. We finished the drinks, and I sorted out my own reclyclying. I came back to close the back hatch of my van, and the newly refurbished park bench was loaded up. I looked at Bruce and he said: "I did that for you brother".
He smiled and ran off to deal with a big pick-up truck loaded with cottage trash. I heard him yell "fiat lux" again as I drove off.
