Paul Jones
Paul Jones
Paul Jones frequently told me I had to see Michelangelo’s “David.” He’d tell me this while I was cutting his lawn. While I was scraping the paint off his boat. While I had a hard-on for his blonde wife. Paul Jones always had a beer in hand. Occasionally, he threw a non-alcoholic into the mix. He’d mention a beer was non-alcohol when he was drinking one. It wasn’t necessary. Paul Jones drank and I cared only vaguely. He wasn’t as colorful or crazy as Celine’s Courtial, but he was a successful and unorthodox inventor, always letting me into his house and always trying to overpay me. When he bought his beach house it did not have a basement, so he dug one. He and my predecessor used shovels and when they were finished, Paul Jones gave the kid a VW beetle. He used to tell me that story. If the day ever came when I finished his boat, maybe I too would get my first car. I think the sole purpose of that old dory was to give me something to work on and it was in such shape that it would never see the ocean, especially given my work habits. Paul Jones did not have to work, but he was the director of the engineering laboratory for a major company, where he worked closely with my father, also an engineer. That’s how I got the gig working around his house. The two men each thought the other was a genius, so no matter how many tools and mower blades I broke, my job was safe. Paul Jones mentioned two of his inventions to me. These are what secured his fame and wealth. One was the wetsuit. He was in the navy at the time. He didn’t mention getting any money for that. One amusing fact is that Paul Jones’ neighbor’s name was Paul Jones. Not only that, but he had been a navy diver. And not only that, years later I would work for this Paul Jones. Or that Paul Jones. The second invention was an infrared sensor system, which he sold to the military for big bucks. The system detected enemy fire by muzzle flash and directed counter-fire automatically. Paul Jones’ genius was math. His brother was always trying to drag him out to gamble. He could count cards. He always won at Jai Alai when he relented to a night out. But he was not a gambler. He was an inventor. What I remember most is him coming down that yard with a beer in his hand while I mowed his estate. He’d create a break and tell me stories about great works of art.
Paul Jones frequently told me I had to see Michelangelo’s “David.” He’d tell me this while I was cutting his lawn. While I was scraping the paint off his boat. While I had a hard-on for his blonde wife. Paul Jones always had a beer in hand. Occasionally, he threw a non-alcoholic into the mix. He’d mention a beer was non-alcohol when he was drinking one. It wasn’t necessary. Paul Jones drank and I cared only vaguely. He wasn’t as colorful or crazy as Celine’s Courtial, but he was a successful and unorthodox inventor, always letting me into his house and always trying to overpay me. When he bought his beach house it did not have a basement, so he dug one. He and my predecessor used shovels and when they were finished, Paul Jones gave the kid a VW beetle. He used to tell me that story. If the day ever came when I finished his boat, maybe I too would get my first car. I think the sole purpose of that old dory was to give me something to work on and it was in such shape that it would never see the ocean, especially given my work habits. Paul Jones did not have to work, but he was the director of the engineering laboratory for a major company, where he worked closely with my father, also an engineer. That’s how I got the gig working around his house. The two men each thought the other was a genius, so no matter how many tools and mower blades I broke, my job was safe. Paul Jones mentioned two of his inventions to me. These are what secured his fame and wealth. One was the wetsuit. He was in the navy at the time. He didn’t mention getting any money for that. One amusing fact is that Paul Jones’ neighbor’s name was Paul Jones. Not only that, but he had been a navy diver. And not only that, years later I would work for this Paul Jones. Or that Paul Jones. The second invention was an infrared sensor system, which he sold to the military for big bucks. The system detected enemy fire by muzzle flash and directed counter-fire automatically. Paul Jones’ genius was math. His brother was always trying to drag him out to gamble. He could count cards. He always won at Jai Alai when he relented to a night out. But he was not a gambler. He was an inventor. What I remember most is him coming down that yard with a beer in his hand while I mowed his estate. He’d create a break and tell me stories about great works of art.
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