working with dad

When I was a kid, I would work with my dad to make a few bucks. My dad worked during the day as a maintenance man in the school district I attended. When he was done with his work there, he would do odd jobs for various people in the town. He was a pretty good carpenter, roofer, whatever was needed he would do it. Often, he would need another set of hands to help out, so I would go along and he would pay me a couple bucks an hour. I carried shingles up ladders, crawled under houses, and generally did whatever he told me to do. Sometimes I think he would make up work for me to do, so I could earn some money, and maybe, so we could spend some time together. Dad grew up in the Great Depression, one of eight kids, and poverty was just a way of life for him growing up. He quit school after the eighth grade and worked for the rest of his life. We moved to California in 1966, and soon after he found that his many skills were in demand. So he worked a lot, and made more money that he ever dreamed of. He would work 7 days a week, week in and week out. He worked for cash, and saved that money so we could take a vacation every year, or to buy the few extras he could afford. He kept up this pace until 1976, when he suffered a heart attack. After that he had to slow down, and after another heart attack in 1978, he retired on disability. He would still pick up an occasional odd job, but his breakneck pace days were over. By then, I was out of high school and working in construction as an iron worker. But I never met anyone who could work as hard as dad. Almost forty or so years later, I have an office job where I make more money in one day than dad would make in a week, and at the end of and 8 hour day I am tired. What would he say about that? I think my brother and I inherited some of dad's work ethic, but I don't think we could match his pace. We lost dad in the winter of '84, but that fall he shingled half of his house, all by himself, 62 years old, 1.5 lungs, and a bad heart. And, oh yeah, cut, split, and put up about 4 cords of firewood. But that is another story.

it's this or homework

 As incredible as it may sound, I am finally getting close to finishing graduate school. As a matter of fact, I should be doing homework now, I am tasked with cranking out about a thousand words for a critique of an article. I won't bore you with the subject, but it was rather interesting. So doing the work should not be a chore. Getting started is the chore. Perhaps this will serve as a warm up exercise. At any rate, 2 more class meetings and then it's just one more class and I am done. Which is good, as I am now ending year 5 of the 2 year program.