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Blogs by Jean Sheldon
Which way do you think our feet are facing? 6/27/2007 6:18:49 AM
Much of my family came from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, where both of my grandfathers were coal miners. My maternal grandmother explained how we ended up in Chicago, though her version and my grandfather’s were a little different.
Grandma told me that one morning grandpa left for the mines at around six twenty in the morning. At six forty, the entire town heard the explosion. An electrical wire fell on one of the coal powder cars in the tunnel and exploded. They weren’t sure of the death count until they dug into the tunnel to find the trapped men.
Luckily for my grandfather, (and me, I guess), he hadn’t gone in yet. When he came home, my grandmother hugged him, kissed him, and began yelling at him.
“You’re going to take that job in Chicago and we’re moving.”
“We’ll move when I say we’re moving, woman.”
“Fine.”
My grandmother was soft spoken, and rarely argued with her husband. She was not even five feet tall, and he stood well over six feet, but since I was born and raised in Chicago, you know whose decision was final.
Sometimes I think about how difficult life had been for them. Grandma considered the hand turned wringer for her laundry a labor saving device and grandpa thought working ten-hour shifts on the line making car parts, was heaven. Wow, how spoiled am I?
I also wonder about the different kind of pressure we feel. There’s no doubt they worked harder than I do, but I have the sense, their rewards were greater. When their work was done for the day, they rested in an almost Zen state. When I finish my day, I begin working on my list for tomorrow.
This morning, I stood out side looking at the Sandia Mountains with my coffee and thought about how grandma made hers. She taught me how to drink coffee and we shared a cup the week before she died. She was ninety. When she was eighty, the doctor told her to stop drinking coffee, or it would kill her. She rolled her eyes and shook her head to convey her opinion of that young doctor’s suggestion.
I think a part of me pines for a simpler life. To be able to lie down and night and feel nothing but exhaustion, they way my grandparents did most nights. One of my aunts told me when they came to visit and they were both in their late eighties, she could hear them in the bedroom talking like a couple of teenagers.
“Which way do you think our feet are facing, Charlie?”
“South.”
“I think their facing east.”
“I said, south.”
“Fine. Sleep well, and I'll get up and close the curtains if the sun is too bright in the morning.”
