With my writing approaching four decades, there is this nagging or just an inner questioning of this knack. I suppose it has to do with being out of sync with the concept or general idea of a boilermaker, however, this personal aspect is not broad based since its been limited only to family and friends. I remember a co-worker who swore that my essays had to come from my wife. Whether joking or not, I understood and considered it a compliment.
So, here I am writing and at times, only to myself since many op/ed efforts end up in the can. Still, this is my world and my purpose. Not bragging but I have come to accept that yes, this misplaced ability has become my personal drive, more so since being retired. To my friends who remain, even while enduring my verbal rants, I value your patience and lasting friendships.
At this point of aging, I have come full circle to appreciate my parent’s similar time for closing in on “the hereafter.” Their generation came from a period when much was kept inside, especially by those stoic hard men. Their show of emotions were monumental if ever. These are the guys who felt fortunate in being able to work two jobs for most of their lives. They were a different and hard-crusted breed yet still were able to appreciate the “little things in life.”
In my early working days, I remember men who were hired in their teens. With paperwork not so available, age wasn’t verifiable. These leathery skinned men loved working and took pride in it. They believed that whatever one does in life, be the best. They carried lunch in their metal lunch boxes (lunch pail was the term) and rather not take vacations. In fact, they had to be forced into retiring; which had to be only based upon their numbered years at work.
One other remembrance is that those oldsters knew that the family was in capable hands since mom was home and “ruled the roost!” When they came home, dinner was on the table, and everyone ate together as a family. Also, we kids ate what was cooked whether we liked it or not!
Personally, I remember one time when saying goodbye to my dad, my wife asked if I ever told him that I loved him. Since I was his son, I didn’t, but thankfully, she suggested that I do and that just maybe I should give him a hug and a little peck on the cheek. It must have been the right time for those words since I did. Instinctively, my dad stiffened and gave me a funny look, all the while with a slight grin. I’m happy to say that there was never another parting that I didn’t happily repeat my show of affection, and he stopped stiffening up and finally even admitted the same.
That was then, in the closing days of a time when a generation of men and women always did what had to be done. It was their life’s calling. My father was born in 1907, just to give a time reference. They experienced the depression and a world war. These events affected and had to further their appreciation and personal resolve. In a nutshell, I highly respect that generation for their example of always greeting the challenge rather than preferring the easier path. And contrary to today, their tears, if any, were private.
In closing, my life has been enriched from first experiencing and then following their examples. Sadly, I sense that America has lost that desire to endure no matter what. The more difficult the journey, not only are the rewards greater but so is the self esteem and self pride! This needs to return.
