I learned to work as I was growing up. My dad taught me his way of working. Working on a farm requires time and effort every day.
The work was hard in those days. Did it hurt us? Because the work was not for wimps working on the family farm.
We were hauling bales of alfalfa hay in the heat of the summer, and we stacked the hay high up in the truck, because for us, it was the only way.
Then we threw the hay bales from the truck onto a big haystack, and that night we lay there dreaming of the hay bales rolling back.
We always used shovels and pickaxes to dig the post holes, dig in the rock and gravel, set the post in place, and hammered nails into the post.
The equipment was expensive, so our bodies did the work: for us life was not just for fun, and no one dared to be idle.
None of us even knew what a posthole auger was. The entire burden of the work fell on our backs, a heavy burden indeed.
I was up by 5am milking Holstein cows by hand. My grip was like a vice. Now arthritis is an issue.
One day, while I was helping Uncle Clarence lift a trailer hitch, I lost my footing and felt pain in my lower back.
He said, “You may not feel any pain now, but you will when you get older.” I’ve also heard from people that the pain gets worse when it’s especially cold.
Now, 50 years later, I experience stabbing pains and cramps all day long. I know from experience that this was true of my Uncle Clarence.
I wake up every morning. I get out of bed. My joints are stiff and sore. The experts say it’s because I’m getting older. I say, are you going to make excuses?
The sharp pain reminds me of how hard we tried and how we played. Back then, we were invincible. We never once thought the word “scared.”
Do I regret the life we’ve led? My job has worn me out. I pride myself on working hard, so I don’t make lame excuses.
And the back pain every morning is a pain for me, but it always reminds me of the work that has gone before.