The guy on the left there is my dad. The guy on the right, my grandfather.
My mom posted this on Facebook today and I just love it. I started thinking about my roots.
I come from a long line of hard working men (and women).
My grandfather, a coal miner in a small WV town. My dad worked in the coal mines for 30 years. He retired when I graduated high school!
My uncle, cousins, and many other family members before these, were coal miners.
My roots are in WV soil. Deep within the earth. Dug by my family members.
I was always proud of what my dad did for us. He worked hard. Sacrificed. He never once opened a pay check. My whole life. He would bring it home, sealed, and hand it to my mother. As if he was not working for himself, but to provide for his family. This is the true example of a man. A wonderful example of what a man does. But, my dad was not like the image of the 1950s working man that went to work and has nothing to do with his family. He was one of my best friends.
He taught me how to play sports. He taught me how to take down someone if they were coming at me. He taught me to joke, to laugh. He taught me patience, and love.
I am proud of my roots. I am proud of where I come from and where it has brought me now.
I am a coal miners daughter.