Years ago, I used to drive into Rosedale to get my workday started with a big cup of black coffee. Every morning, Monday through Friday, until the town grocery store’s business dried up and blew away, you could have found me slipping through a back door — left unlocked for the early birds — of the old Red and White, 15 minutes before it opened for official business. I’d quickly pour a travel mug of hot determination, leave my quarters on the counter, and speed off to face the classrooms and quizzes and organized chaos of a school day. I miss it.
I make my coffee at school now, sharing it with a few of my teaching buddies, and I do it well before most of my co-workers get to work, the parking lot quiet and growing darker as these weeks pass into fall. I like to be there early in the morning, like to get after my jobs right away and in solitude. It’s just the way I am.
But I do miss running into town for my coffee, perhaps stopping for a moment’s conversation with Wendell Jenkins, who often beat me there to get his day under way with a plate of biscuits and gravy. I also noticed that nearly every morning a pair of men, sometimes in heavy winter overalls, shuffled into the bakery to eat breakfast and gab and smoke before their workday started. I knew they’d be working a lot harder than I would that day — physically, anyway — and I would often quietly mutter a simple thanks for having a job in which I wouldn’t freeze in a bitter wind or suffer under a brutal sun or test a creaky back that had by then betrayed me.
I believe I work hard, harder than most folks who don’t teach probably think I do; certainly harder than some of the folks at our state’s Department of Education believe. I recall a day even more years back than my coffee story when a teacher-farmer buddy of mine needed help with his hay. I told him I’d come down after school to help him throw a few loads into the loft before supper, and I met him, gloves stuffed into the back pocket of my blue jeans, just like they were when I was 16 and in need of gas money.
As we stood in the August heat summing up the courage to either be the one who tossed the bales on an ancient rusting hiker or the poor chump who’d arrange them lengthwise in the sauna of the barn, my friend’s dad, a grizzled tiller of soil and chewer of tobacco, who had worked hard his whole life, walked up to us. He offered his help, but as was most often the case, he offered his opinion, too: Neither of us, he said, should be tired at all. We’d spent all day inside; that wasn’t “real work,” he added.
My friend nearly came out of his boots. “You don’t have a clue, Dad,” he said in a tone of voice that was as harsh as I’d ever heard him speak to his father. “I am more tired right now than if I had put up hay all day,” he said, and he bit his lip and turned to throw a bale onto the hiker with deeper attention than was needed, I suppose so he wouldn’t say anything else.
I think that is the case for most of us; no one, unless he’s walked a mile or two in our boots or wingtips or heels or orthotics, understands what our job is truly about. Some of the hardest work I have ever faced was done behind a fast-food counter, in a grocery store aisle, or on a maintenance crew detail as a teenager or young, young man. I don’t think anyone saw the “unskilled” tasks I handled as being “hard,” but they were, and I was determined to do them well, whether it be cooking a hamburger or sweeping a floor or digging a post hole.
I have said it before in this space, and I’ll say it again: We don’t appreciate the work the average American laborer does anymore. We often want our children to grow up to wear white collars and striped ties and carry briefcases and make the big bucks, and that is admirable, but we have almost reduced getting dirty to being dirty, and I think that’s too bad. Many of my heroes, my dad and my grandfathers, my mother and grandmother, and a few of my good friends, too, never got college educations; some never finished high school. It was a different world in which they grew up, that is for sure, but one thing about them made me love and respect them all the more: They were never afraid to work for what they had, and they expected me to do the same.
This day, today, is for anyone who has ever waited tables, taken on the task of caring for ailing and elderly neighbors or parents, cleaned a house, or kept our electrical power on. It’s for those who patch and plow our roads, trim our trees, dig our ditches, and watch our children. It’s for those who take our blood pressure and stock our store shelves and deliver packages to our doors. It’s for carpenters and teachers and store clerks and janitors, and it is for those who sit behind desks and clack on keyboards and man the phones. Labor Day is for those who work at their jobs and value their labor for more than a paycheck.
To me, Labor Day is a celebration of generations of hard work, not a recognition of my own life of earning a living. Like my family did years ago, I will stay home today to work at chores I can’t usually get done during a regular work week. I won’t be heading to a union rally or cheer on a speech, but I’ll work a little, and I’ll sweat a lot, and hopefully, I’ll remember those folks who put me in a position to sit down when I want to.
Mike Lunsford can be reached by email at hickory913@aol.com or by writing to him c/o The Tribune-Star, P.O. Box 149, Terre Haute, IN 47808. Read more of Mike’s stories at http://tribstar.com/mike_lunsford, and visit his website at www.mikelunsford.com. His third collection of stories, “A Place Near Home,” is due to be released in October.
News Columns
Related Photos
-
Tribune-Star columnist Mike Lunsford
Discussion
MIKE LUNSFORD: The value of hard work goes well beyond a paycheck
- News Columns
-
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Raising a flag for my father, veteran or not
My daughter, Ellen, and I stood at my parents’ graves on Mother’s Day a few weeks back and talked about how it couldn’t possibly have been so long since we lost them. My dad, for instance, has been gone for 16 years, and that is nearly unimaginable
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Time to become one of the boys of summer again …
Besides writing for a living, I teach school, and I’m not ashamed to tell people that I still love my classroom. I’ve been a teacher for 33 years, all of them in the same school district, and virtually all of them in the same building. But I also have to tell you that if the next few weeks don’t slide by pretty quickly, I may just let loose of the last thread of sanity from which I have been dangling for a while now. There are a lot of teachers out there who feel the same way.
-
MARK BENNETT: A lesson to be learned from Lugar’s loss
It can happen to one of the nation’s most revered, principled, effective, hard-working U.S. senators.
And, if it hasn’t already, it can happen to you. -
MARK BENNETT: Despite challenges, 2012 grads have youth, tenacity on their side
Let the doomsday crowd line up like a scene from “Animal House.”
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: It’s time for us to get the real lowdown on dirt…
I have had my hands in the soil as of late. Two Fridays ago, I planted a viburnum bush, three chrysanthemums and a yellow poplar, not because it happened to be Earth Day, but because it was sunny and warm, and I had the whole afternoon to myself. The dirt I scraped out of and back into the shallow holes I dug near a backyard picket fence smelled good, and when dampened with a few sprinkles of water, it soon found its way into the deep wrinkles of my knuckles and under my fingernails. For the most part, I have nothing but good things to say about dirt.
-
MARK BENNETT: When it came to artwork, ‘Salty’ always kept it real
The depth of my visual art expertise mirrors that of Neil Young.
-
MARK BENNETT: Ongoing challenge: To keep Mother Nature from getting trashed
Soggy, mud-caked jeans and a formerly white T-shirt were my youngest son’s summertime uniform, as a kid.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Make big money: Raise worms at home for fun and profit…
When I think about all of the crazy things my brother and sister and I did just to make a few dollars when we were kids, I can’t help but feel a little sorry for teens this summer as they try to find jobs in what is supposed to be a very tight market. Money, to say the least, was a rare commodity when we were growing up, but you have to at least give us credit for trying.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: ‘When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d…’
Had white lace curtains been hanging in the west window of my cabin, I would have had a perfect Wyeth painting to watch last Thursday. A gentle breeze was wafting through my screens, and the sunlight of a warm late March day was fractured by the window sill as it poured onto my legs and feet. I could catch the scent of lilacs as it was carried in by that wind, and it and the subtle melody of the chimes that hang just outside made me as lazy as an old cat.
-
MARK BENNETT: How much of your spring break will be spent in the digital world?
It seems harsh to give folks a math assignment on the brink of spring break, but wisdom should never take a holiday, so here goes.
-
MARK BENNETT: Litter trashes scenery on first day of spring
A mop is an ironic piece of litter.
Someone once used it to keep floors spotless. When its utility ended, this cleaning device became trash on the edge of a road. -
MIKE LUNSFORD: A report from the country as a new season brings sense of renewal
Regardless of what the calendar may yet say, spring has happened. It couldn’t have come too soon, and it wasn’t just last week and its windy 70s that have convinced me. I have been keeping a journal of sorts in my head for a fortnight now, stashing away reports of birds and buds and sounds in the crammed cabinets of my mind, all in a file marked, “The New Season.”
-
MARK BENNETT: Manning leaves great memories for Colts fans
The emotion behind the words was obvious.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Feeding time at the homestead draws a host of new guests
I stepped outside into the warmth of an unusually mild early March morning last week to do what I always do just before I grab my briefcase and book bag and lunch bag and head off to work. It’s nearly always dark when I leave, even as the sun gets up earlier and earlier in the late winter, so I often go about the business of feeding our cats with porch lights on and a flashlight in hand.
-
MARK BENNETT: Year of the River a common interest for diverse entities
Water can compel people to get better acquainted.
-
MARK BENNETT: Our greatest president had some help from an obscure relative
On this Presidents Day week, historians weigh the impact of Washington, Jefferson and the Roosevelts on Americans’ lives.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Taking a road less traveled in this illogical life
If you can still recall reading the poetry of Robert Frost in your high school English class years ago, I imagine that you can conjure up a line or two from his “The Road Not Taken.”
-
MARK BENNETT: Electrician proves to be a real handyman for ad agency
On a billboard hovering over a busy stretch of U.S. 41 south of Terre Haute, the gritty hands of an electrician look 30 feet wide.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Books open our eyes to that which we will never see
I got a letter last week from a friend, Sister Margaret Quinlan, who lives amidst the beauty of the St. Mary-of-the-Woods campus. Besides the email space and the time she invests in describing the flowers and trees and birds that she shares with her roomies out there, as well as her accounts of teaching and traveling, Margaret most often writes about books. She loves them, and she knows I do, too.
-
MARK BENNETT: Super Bowl luck? His is mostly bad
I’ve learned to take a Seinfeld approach to Super Bowls.
In a flash of clairvoyance, Jerry excitedly reminded buddy George Costanza that “if every instinct you have is wrong, then the opposite would have to be right.” -
MARK BENNETT: On the banks of the Wabash, a sculpture
Paul Dresser remembered his hometown at its best. Terre Haute should remember him the same way.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Hoping to master the art of taking a nap
I got away from work as early as I could one day last week. It was a cloudy day, filled with grayness and rain, and my head felt as if I had inhaled my pillow the night before. My throat suggested I’d swallowed a wood rasp, too, and my eyes felt as though I was looking through someone else’s glasses. Yet, I had work do, this column being on the list of chores.
-
MAUREEN HAYDEN: NFL players in ‘lock step with organized labor’
It’s not uncommon to see lawmakers in the Statehouse sporting American flag pins on their coat lapels.
-
MARK BENNETT: Hall-of-Famer Larkin delivered more than clutch hits
A logjam of kids swelled behind the first-base dugout in Riverfront Stadium.
-
STATE OF THE STATEHOUSE: Legislative labor bill banter goes on
No one really expected the start of the 2012 session of the Indiana General Assembly to be uneventful.
-
MARK BENNETT: Polian, Colts and Terre Haute were good for one another
Sentimentality seems alien in a discussion of Bill Polian.
That emotion rarely influenced his decisions in 14 seasons as the day-to-day boss of the Indianapolis Colts. He surely felt it, but seldom submitted to it. The NFL is a business, after all, with winning as its bottom line. Polian knew how to make that happen, and did. Anyone or anything threatening to divert the Colts from title contention could not linger. When it came to that mission, Polian functioned with all of the sentimentality of Joe Friday. -
MIKE LUNSFORD: A house with a hearth becomes a home
My son came home with a load of wood one day last week. Our little two-wheeled mowing trailer was groaning under the oppressive weight it held, its tires as pudgy as a glutton’s belly and its tongue nearly lapping the ground.
-
MAUREEN HAYDEN: Higher ed tops the list in a week full of headlines
There’s a lot that went on in and around the Indiana Statehouse last week that made headlines:
-
MARK BENNETT: Holiday season makes going to the mailbox fun again
Ants decided to set up a colony in our family’s mailbox last summer.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Persimmons planting a few seeds in our heads for winter
Surely, you have heard that we are in for a long, rough winter. The local weather forecasters are saying it; “The Farmer’s Almanac” is warning us of it; and now, the persimmons have confirmed it.
- More News Columns Headlines
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Raising a flag for my father, veteran or not
Man Falls Off Crane, Dies After Police Standoff
Obama Honors Fallen Troops at Arlington Cemetery
Man in Crane at Texas College Says He's Armed
Raw Video: Deadly Explosion at Minn. Paper Mill
Raw Video: Cop Shoots Man Eating Another's Face
Unexpected Smog in Pristine National Parks
Air Canada Plane Makes Emergency Landing
Dairy Farm Uses Chiropractor to Help Cows
Romney Promises World's Strongest Military
Russia Condemns Ally Syria Over Massacre of 108
Raw Video: 19 Dead in Qatar Shopping Mall Fire
Obama Pays Tribute to Vietnam Veterans
Beryl Knocks Out Power in Florida
Raw Video: Earthquake Shakes Evacuees in Italy
Service Dogs Help Wash. Soldiers Battling PTSD
Beryl Makes Landfall on Florida Coast
Japan Farmers Plant, Seek Radiation-free Rice
Raw Video: Memorial Day Aboard Intrepid
Raw Video: Heckler Bursts in on Blair Testimony
UN Blames Syrian Forces for Shelling Houla
LeAnn Rimes Rocks Short Shorts
Drunk Women Breaking Into Houses: A New Trend?
Beyonce Shows Off 60 Pound Weight Loss at Concert
Gordon Ramsay Carried Off Field
Man Dies Getting Lap Dance
Bear cools off in Calif. family's pool
Kim Kardashian Claims Items Stolen from Her Luggage
Ep. 3: Chopped Desserts
Air Force dad surprises family at baseball game
Justin Bieber Wanted for Questioning for L.A. Scuffle
J.Lo and Marc's Friendly Reunion
Jet makes emergency landing after debris falls off
Cynthia Nixon Ties the Knot
Woman, 80, Falls Out of Skydive Harness Mid-Jump
Keira Reveals Engagement Ring
Dog runs alonside cyclists for 1,100 miles
Lady Gaga Cancels Indonesian Show After Threats
