Yesterday I told Bee ” I really liked a poem she’d written because of how “accessible” it was to my blue color workers brain.”
She replied :“I am wondering what a “blue color workers brain” looks like.” 😉
Her words got me to thinking all sorts of ways to unpack that question….
Rather than get all philosophical on you, extolling the virtues of having the opportunity to make a living working with my hands, I decided to write this little ditty about my dad.
Dad graduated high school in the early 50’s. I’ve been told a local attorney offered to pick up the tab on his college tuition because while he had a knack for math, my grandparents were not rich. I’m sure this was before student loan money was readily available. Dad opted not to go to college, instead went to work at a packing house. From there he started driving a cement truck for a cement company. At some point, he was asked to come into the office and help behind the counter in the lumber yard portion of the business….eventually rising through the ranks to manage both the lumberyard and the concrete plant.
(Remember what I told you about math.) 🙂
In the early 1970’s dad went into business with his brother as a general contractors. They built up a multi-million dollar construction company, employed one hundred eighty men over the course of a 30 year span, one of which was me.
This is an ode to the blue collar man that shaped my life..
Ode To The Blue Collar Man
The heart of
the mind of
between raising a family,
paying the bills and farming the land,
his steel guitar got misplaced in the mix.
Life is a pendulum.Sometimes we learn
by example, and sometimes we choose
a different path.
And on a completely different note. I changed the picture in my blog header today. I took that picture of the sun dogs this past Tuesday on the way to work. When we see the sun-dogs in Iowa it usually means it is cold.
Very cold. DM