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Neither heat of the burning sun, nor red tide, nor attacks of hordes of no-see-ums stay these hearty volunteers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.
They get moving and ply their trade before the birds sing. The Early Fielders risk body and soul as they sail on unlighted EZ-GOs with loose steering and spongy brakes but sail they must. |
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They use their faces to clear the cobwebs from pedestrian boardwalks. Bathrooms are checked for that unflushed toilet. Dumpsters are searched for those pesky raccoons. The Jungle is cleared of diapers and Bud Lites. The Desert is emptied of hot charcoal and rib bones. Endless tales of medical ailments and political buffoonery must be endured at the Liars Club. However, neither insect bites, nor grill burns, nor boredom, nor broken bones, nor scratches and tears of flesh from the dreaded Nickerbean shall slow them down. They gladly go where no man has gone before.
It is for the beach rat, the sun worshipper, the man with pole and hook, the watcher of birds and finally the picnicker that we ply our trade in our uniforms of black. With a smile on our insect- repellent covered faces we are the few, the proud, the unpaid. We are the Early Fielders of Del-Nor Wiggins. |
