Amarillo

Decommissioning.

"One of the world's largest areas of offshore oil and gas exploitation, in Europe's North Sea, is closing down. Over the next few years, thousands of wells will be plugged and hundreds of giant production platforms removed from the storm-tossed sea, in one of the world's largest and most expensive exercises in industrial decommissioning."

Fred Pearce, Yale Environment 360, 2018

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A Sojourn in the North Sea

My name is Roger Lattimore. Angus McPherson, Dennis Jones and I work on the Shell Brookstone 4, a production platform in the North Sea. We were hired by Stevens Engineering for the crew that is doing the demolition of the enormous oil rig. The platform stands 10 stories above the sea level, and the superstructure extends another 200 feet above that. They have been working here for eight weeks, while I have been here for six months.

It's 6 pm, just after dinner. The sky is overcast and pitch dark, the only lights coming from the rig itself. The lights of other rigs would normally be seen in the distance, but the weather keeps the visibility down to less than a half mile tonight. The temperature is twenty degrees Fahrenheit, and expected to drop to ten degrees by midnight. The wind is a steady forty miles per hour, gusting to sixty or better. The sea is running twenty feet high. Sea spray, whipped up by the wind, is freezing on exposed steel on the rig.

Angus and Dennis stepped out on the catwalk behind the dining room to light up and have a smoke. Angus fills his pipe and lights it before stepping out into the wind. Dennis has a cigar that he likewise lights before stepping outside into the elements.

From a cigar case in the inside pocket of my parka, I take out my last Cohiba Robusto. I bought a box of twenty-five of the expensive Cuban cigars in Amsterdam on my first break here, and I've limited myself to just one a week.

We stood there in silence, contemplating the deteriorating weather, until boredom finally overtook us. Dennis was the first to speak.

"Say, mate. What is it brought you out to work on a job like this? I know it isn't the money. There's more money to be made in other places, like Kuwait."

"Well, my boy. What can I say? I've been to all the other places. I've worked in Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. I've worked in Libya and Nigeria. I've even worked in North Dakota and Alaska."

"On every job, I'd manage to come back home to Aberdeen to my wife and our son, every three or four months, and spend a month at home. Last year, I took a job in the oil fields in Siberia. I was stuck there through the winter, and it was eight months before I could get home again."

"When I got home, my house was empty. She had moved everything out, and the house had a for sale sign in front. Even my Land Rover was gone. It took me a while, but I found out she had taken up with this bloke, and moved in with him. Everything she couldn't sell, she gave to charity, even all of my clothes. She took my son, and left."

"Well, what was I to do? What could I do? I took the first job I was offered, and now here I am."

"What about you? You're a long way from the outback."

"Well, mate. My story is not too different than yours. I tried to work closer to home than you have. I grew up on a sheep station Southwest of Sydney. As a teenager I learned to weld, and got a job with a pipeline crew. We worked all over Australia, and even into Indonesia and Southeast Asia."

"I was working on a job in Thailand. When the job was over, I flew back to Sydney, to my wife and our two children. When I got home, I found she had taken the kids, and left with her lover, a bigtime American prat from Los Angeles. He promised her a big house, a big car, lots of money.

They took off from Sydney on an Airbus jumbo, on a direct flight to LAX. The plane disappeared somewhere over the Pacific, and nothing was ever found of it. I decided I had to get as far away as I could, so I ended up here. I'd say I succeeded. This is about as far away from 'stralia as you can get.

"What about you, Rog? What's your story?"

"I grew up on a ranch in west Texas, and like Dennis, I learned to weld and use a cutting torch there. Before I was thirty, I had my own truck mounted rig, and I had all the work I could handle. I worked in the oil fields across the Texas Panhandle and the Anadarko Basin in Oklahoma, but I always came back to my roots in my family ranch. I've got a 600-acre spread about 40 miles south of Amarillo that I will be getting back to next week, back to my Justin boots and Stetson hat.

We stood there in silence, finishing our smokes, contemplating our fates. The wind was howling around the platform, and sleet started pelting our faces. Angus and Dennis decided to get back inside and warm up, but I waited a little longer, looking out at the wild sea being tossed by the storm. I hoped this would all blow over by morning, in time for the helicopter to pick me up to go home.

Like I had told my companions, I have a 200-acre ranch that I call home. It has a four-bedroom ranch house, a barn, and various outbuildings. I usually kept about twenty head of Hereford cattle, and a few horses. I have lived there for thirty years and raised four kids. Jake was still at home and running the ranch in my absence. Zach graduated from veterinary school at Texas A&M. Abby is married to a banker in Amarillo and has two kids of her own. Judy, the baby of the family is a barrel racer like her mom.

The next day dawned cold and clear. The winds of the previous night were gone. Seen from the deck of the giant rig, the sea looked calm, but a closer look would reveal the swells that would rock the supply boat coming later today. A return trip to port by sea would be long and rough, but as a crew leader I was entitled to a seat on the helicopter this morning. There are three crew leaders and we rotate two weeks on the rig and one week on shore. A week on shore doesn't mean a week's vacation, as we were expected to come into the office every day.

This time was different though. I was going home. I was looking forward to seeing my kids and playing with the grandkids. Two days in Amsterdam, and then fly back to Amarillo.

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Amarillo by morning

The jumbo jet took off, and I leaned back into the plush seat in the first-class section. After I finished the scotch brought to me by a flight attendant young enough to be my daughter, I closed my eyes and reflected on how I got here from a dirt-poor ranch in west Texas.

I grew up to be a rodeo cowboy. By the age of 16 I could ride anything with 4 legs, meaning a bucking horse. I was known throughout the county. If you had a horse that couldn't be broke, they would call me. Now, I don't ride bulls, no sir. You had to have a death wish to ride a bull. At least when a horse bucks you off, he doesn't turn around and try to kill you.

I wasn't getting rich on the rodeo circuit, but I had enough for entry fees and gas money to get me to the next rodeo. I was driving a Ford F-150, not new but in good shape. I was wearing my best boots and a new pair of Wrangler jeans, a Toni Lama shirt and my black Stetson hat. I was headed for Amarillo, up from San Antone. If I could make it by morning, I could get a few hours sleep before I had to be at the County Fair Grounds.

I'd been driving since noon, and I was starting to get too tired to go on. When I got to Childress, I still had a few hours to go. I saw a truck stop diner on the side of the road that was still open, so I pulled in to get some coffee and rest awhile. It's been a long day since I left San Antonio.

I was sitting there with my second cup when they walked in. They were obviously rodeo cowgirls by the way they were dressed. I had seen them before on the rodeo circuit, and I knew them to be barrel racers, and good ones. They were sisters, Reba and Lucy. Following them was Reba's husband, Randy. Randy had been a bull rider back in the day, but now he was the wrangler taking care of the girls' horses.

"Well, howdy cowboy. You here by yourself?" asked Lucy as she pulled out a chair for herself and sat down at my table. When the waitress came over with three glasses of water and menus, Lucy just pointed at me and said, "I'll have what he's having."

By the time we left that diner, I was three hours behind schedule, but I wasn't alone. I had a nineteen-year-old blond, blue-eyed barrel racer keeping me company for the rest of the trip. And it didn't stop there, we were together for the rest of the season.

The season ended with the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas. We had both qualified high enough to be there, and I was looking to be in the money even if I didn't win a buckle. Lucy was one of the top five barrel racers in the country.

When the dust settled, I was third in bronc riding, and I did take home some money. But for Lucy, it was a disaster. As she was making the turn around the third barrel her beloved horse, Cupcake slipped and fell. The vets examined the horse and determined her leg was irrecoverably broken and she would have to be put down.

As you can imagine, Lucy was inconsolable on the trip home as we pulled an empty horse trailer. She had raised and trained Cupcake from a foal since she was 14. She mourned for a week before I found a way to take her mind off her horse. I bent down on one knee and proposed. With the rodeo money I had bought the biggest diamond engagement ring they had in the jewelry store. From then on, she was too busy making wedding plans with her mother, my mother, her sister and all her cousins to think about her horse.

My dad and his brother Chet had 600 acres they had inherited from Grandpa. It included a barn and a corral, a machine shop, and the old ranch house that Grandpa had built for Grandma when they married. Mom and Dad were living in the house now. When Lucy and I got married, Dad gave us the house to live in. They moved to Amarillo to be close to Grandma Spencer who needed their help.

After that we settled into married life. A year after the wedding, Abbigail was born. Then almost like clockwork every year we welcomed another addition to the family, first Jacob, then Zacharia and finally our little darling, Judith. We decided then that was enough, so Lucy had her tubes tied after Judy was born.

Since I had grown up on this ranch, I knew what I needed to do. We ran several head of cattle every year and kept a few horses. Any year we had enough rain we would raise and bale hay. Whatever we didn't need for ourselves we would sell. We had 200 acres under irrigation, with a huge self-propelled sprinkler system that moved in a circle every 24 hours. Here we planted soybeans or wheat.

Running the ranch didn't take all my time and I knew I needed to find something to make more money. I had learned to weld when I took shop in high school and a few more classes at the vo-tech school after I graduated. We had all the tools and equipment we needed in our own shop on the ranch. I could fix anything that broke on the tractor or other implements. I also had other ranchers bring by any broken equipment they needed fixed. I didn't charge to help out neighbors, because neighbors help neighbors. Usually, if they butchered a steer or a hog, they would bring some to fill our freezer. If it was something special, like a fancy wrought-iron gate or pipe fencing then I would charge for it.

With Uncle Chet's help, I got a Ford F-350 flatbed and rigged up an arc welder and generator on it, as well as oxygen and acetylene bottles. I had a complete mobile welding shop. I started getting jobs in the oil fields and pipelines around Amarillo, and eventually, as my reputation for good work grew, even in the oil fields in Oklahoma. It didn't take long before I was making more money than I did from ranching. As my boys got older, I turned most of the ranch operation over to them.

Lucy never got over her love of horses and barrel racing. Lucy's folks gave her a filly for her 25

th

birthday after Judy was born. Lucy spent as much time as she could working with her new horse. When she couldn't take the kids with her out to the barn and corral where she could watch them while working with her horse, she would get Connie, our babysitter, to watch them.

You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille.

It was the middle of May, and it had already been a long, hot day. The sprinkler had broken down overnight and wouldn't move. I had to jack up one of the wheels and go to town to get a new tire put on it. Then I had to go back to put it on and get the sprinkler moving again.

As I drove up in front of the house, I was hot, sweaty and tired. I was looking forward to having a shower and getting some clean clothes on before supper. A tall glass of iced tea would be great.

I saw Connie's car parked in the driveway. Constance Johnson had been our babysitter since Abby was born. The Johnson ranch was our nearest neighbor, about a mile up the road. Lucy would have Connie watch the kids when she was in the barn with her horse. She usually spent several hours a week training horses and teaching barrel racing. She had several students, from 10 to 18 years old.

I walked into the kitchen after kicking off my muddy boots on the porch. I looked out the kitchen window towards the barn, and I saw Lucy and her wrangler, Jimmy McMillen, walking back to the house. What stood out to me was the way they were holding hands as they walked. Jimmy had been working with Lucy for the last six months, helping her train horses.

Just before they reached the porch, Lucy turned toward Jimmy, and they kissed. It wasn't a kiss between friends. She had her arms around his neck, pulling him in to her, while he had both hands on her butt, pulling her in to his groin. I could see bits of straw in her hair.

When they walked in the house, Lucy saw me first. The look of surprise on her face was priceless. She quickly dropped Jimmy's hand and pushed him away. Jimmy didn't see me at first, but he recovered quickly. He stepped up in front of Lucy like he needed to protect her from her jealous husband. That was a mistake.

Jimmy is about 5' 10", a thin, lanky cowboy. He works with horses all day, moving bales of hay and bags of feed. On the other hand, I'm 6' 2" and twenty pounds heavier. I've been working in the oil fields for the last ten years. Jimmy never saw it coming. That's why it's called a sucker punch. He collapsed like a sack of feed.

Lucy was standing there, frozen in place, her hands covering her mouth. Her eyes were as big as saucers. My hands were still doubled up in fists, but I wasn't going to hit her. I just looked her in the eyes and said "The kids and I are going to check on my folks. We'll be back later. Don't be here when we get back." And then I turned and left, calling the kids to come after me.

The kids and I got back the next morning. I had work to do so I couldn't stay away too long. I looked around the house, doing a quick inventory. Not much was missing from the house, just her clothes and a few personal items. Of course, she took her horse and the horse trailer. She took her car, so I guess Jimmy pulled the trailer with his truck. I started getting calls from horse owners about when they could pick up their horses, so I guess she had called them when she left.

As I had guessed, she was on her way back to her dad's ranch in Southern Colorado. He had 1000 acres of prime grassland, and he raised thoroughbred quarter horses as well as rodeo bulls. His bulls were infamous on the circuit for bucking off cowboys.

So here I was, left with four kids from ages 5 to 10, and I had to run the ranch by myself as well as doing welding on the side in the oil patch. I called Connie for help. Connie was there every day. She took care of the kids and kept the house clean and cooked our meals. I don't know what I would have done without her.

Then there was that day I came home from working all day and into the night trying to fix a damaged drill rig up in the panhandle. I felt like I was getting the flu. Connie had stayed with the kids all day and well into the night, waiting for me to get home. When she saw the condition I was in she put me to bed and stayed the night.

I was sick for a week, unable to get out of bed. Connie called Uncle Chet, and he was able to hire some help to take care of the ranch. Connie never went home that whole time. She had her mother bring her some clothes, but she stayed there with me and the kids.

I was 30 years old, and Connie was a very good looking 25. She had started babysitting for us when Abby was born, ten years ago. I realized I had never known Connie to have a boyfriend. After I recovered, Connie had been living with us for over a week, and she just moved in and never went home. It wasn't more than a few days before Connie stopped sleeping on the sofa and slipped into my bed after the kids were asleep.

Connie told me she had always had a crush on me since she was a teenager. That's why she never dated boys in school. She had known Lucy was cheating on me for a long time, even before Jimmy, so she was just going to wait for her chance. Lucy filed for divorce so she could marry Jimmy. And a month after it was final, I married Connie. Lucy went through three marriages in the next ten years.

Connie

It had been a long week for me, working on a site in west Oklahoma. I had worked on several jobs for Stevens Engineering, and they seemed to be satisfied with my work. I finished up about six o'clock on Friday and pushed to get home. It was about ten when I got in, and I was met by my daughter, Abby. Abby lived in Amarillo with her husband, Jack and my two grandchildren, Tommy and Susan. I was curious why Abby would be there on her own on a Friday night.

After the usual pleasantries, Abby had me sit down at the kitchen table. I wanted to say hello to Connie but Abby stopped me.

"Dad, Mom's asleep and I don't think we should bother her right now. Let me get you a cup of coffee, and let's sit and talk."

She had me worried now, because she wasn't acting like the Abby I knew. She got me a cup of coffee and started to talk.

"Dad, I came over this morning to see if Mom wanted to go shopping with me for Susie's birthday next week. When I got here, it was already almost noon and Mom was still in bed. You know that is not normal for her. She is always up with the birds and ready to go feed chickens and horses, and milk the cows."

My kids have been calling Connie 'Mom' since she moved in with us.

"I asked her if she felt alright, and she said she was just a little tired and wanted to rest. So, I left her in bed and went to do the morning chores for her. I came back after a couple hours, and she was still in bed. I helped her to the bathroom, and then fixed her some soup. Afterwards, she went back to bed and hasn't been up since.

"I'm worried about her, Dad. Mom has never been sick a day in her life."

I tried to settle Abby's nerves, but I was getting a little anxious myself. Abby was right, Connie was never sick. Even when she had a cold, she was still up caring for kids and animals. Nothing had ever stopped her like this.

I quietly stepped into the bedroom. It was dark except for a nightlight near the bathroom.

"Connie, honey. I'm home. Are you not feeling well?"

"Oh, Rog. Are you home already? I'm sorry I wasn't up. Have you eaten? Let me get up and fix you something."

"No, dear. You stay in bed. I've already eaten before I got home," I lied. "Are you alright? What's the matter?"

"No, I'm okay. I'm just tired." And then she leaned back and went back to sleep.

Doctors don't make house calls, especially to a ranch 40 miles away. But Bob Murphy's daughter had been one of Lucy's barrel racing students, so I called his answering service, and he called me right back. I explained how Connie was feeling and he said he would come right over. He was there within an hour.