At the age of 16 in 1928, following in his fathers footsteps, Dad went to work in the coal mines in West Virginia.   In 1934 he and my mother were married, they were blessed with 3 boys and 1 girl.   Losing his father in a mining accident on October 3, 1951, Dad was determined that his sons would not have to work as miners.   So in 1953, after working underground for 25 years we moved to Ohio.   But at the time we did not realize that his lungs had already paid the price of working in the mines.   Dad worked long hard hours, sometimes holding down 2 jobs, to make a home for us in Ohio.

      He was a small man but in our eyes he was a GIANT.   Never too tired to spend time with his family and friends.   Mom and Dad were married for almost 50 years and not once did I hear them fight, I don't even remember hearing him raise his voice.   My brothers and I had so much respect for the man.   We lost Dad on August 11, 1991, at the age of 79.   Over the years dad suffered with Black Lung and his heart could no longer take it.

Oh, to those who know no better, and the ones who do not care,
I'll take this means of telling you what a miner has to bear.
So when your servant fires the furnace and the smoke and blazes roll,
Just stop, and think who suffered for that little lump of coal.



He gets up in the morning--he's in the land of Nod--
And at the family altar he will kneel and ask his God
To care for and protect him from the dangers underground,
So he can come back in the evening to his family safe and sound.



He eats a hasty breakfast, fills up his carbide flask,
Picks up his lamp and bucket, and he's ready for his task.
Says good-bye to wife and baby, stops to kiss them at the door.
He doesn't know if he'll see them in this life anymore.



He's soon below the surface, gets his car up in its place.
As he swings his pick and shovel the sweat pours off his face.
He's tired, weak and weary--two hours have rolled around--
But he's got six more to suffer till he gets above the ground.



He's got to set some timbers, and drill a hole or two,
And then he'll roll some dummies. Then there's something else to do,
So he stays, toils and labors, loads every car he can
To earn a meager living and to pay the clothing man.



When he lines up at the office with the others in a row
With their statement signed and ready for their little bit of dough,
And everything he's buying is away up in the air.
Do you think what he's asking for is anything unfair?



He only asks for wages to enable him to share
A part of mortal pleasure, and that is only fair.
It's a six-hour day, and Saturday stay at home and see
The sun rise in the morning like God aimed for us to be.



So brother, when you're knocking on the man who digs the coal,
Just stop, and think he's human, and he's got a heart and soul.
And don't forget the millions of tons he loaded out,
When the Kaiser tried to smear on us his lager beer and kraut.



You can tell your pals and neighbours, your servants and your wife,
That the plaster of your office room cannot crush out your life.
He's just a dirty miner, a sort of human mole,
Who takes these dangerous chances for a little lump of coal.
author unknown