On this Labor Day, I’m grateful for not having had to work at hard labor like my two First Mentors, My Dad and My Tío Rulie. Their sacrifices, mentoring, and guidance led me to achieve more than I could have ever dreamed. Okay, I dreamed it, but didn’t expect it to happen.
I’ve worked for as long as I can remember. My first job was delivering newspapers in my little hometown of Deming, New Mexico. I used to be up at zero-dark-thirty (maybe that’s where I started that habit), ride my bike to the newspaper office where I’d roll up the newspapers that Mr Smalley gave me to deliver that morning, then, I’d get on my bike and ride down the street where all the railroad houses were. I’d, then, pitch the newspapers onto my customers’ porches. Luckily, they were big porches. I usually couldn’t see whether or not my papers met their targets, since it was still dark, but I could hear them thump onto the wooden decks. The worst part of that gig was having to collect my customers’ money every month. I had to find my customers at home, which was as random as there were customers.
My Dad was key to my developing my work ethic. He worked at DPAC, a meat packing company, for most of my school years. He, too, would get up at zero-dark-thirty to get to work. I’m not sure how many hours he put in, but based on when I saw him, he must have worked at least ten hours daily and six on Saturdays. I was honored to work with him on Saturdays and during the summer. I was always awed by how hard he worked, never complaining, always teaching me about how important it was to do a good day’s work.
My Tío Rulie was, like My Dad, a very hard worker. I’d spend summers with him and my aunt, Mama Joyce, in Buena Park, California. He was a baker. Another zero-dark-thirty job. I remember him coming home, about the time I would be leaving for work at the Lincoln and Knott Car Wash, barely able to walk. He, too, never complained.
I’m suffering from phantom pains as I type, which is hurting me to do right now. I went out and did several hours of yard work yesterday. My hands and arms are still cramping up from holding the tools I used. Just as they did when I picked onions and, especially, as they did the first day I worked at the car wash. I remember My Tío picking me up from work and me vowing never to return. He laughed and made me return…every day…until it didn’t hurt so much. I’m grateful for that now.
We lead in many ways, at work and at home. Those men showed me the value of doing good work at the job and, more importantly, doing good work at home, showing me the benefits of honorable labor. Whether we’re leading our fellow workers or our families, the best we can do is give them roots and wings. We provide the roots by showing them the value of honorable work and then we let them go to do the work themselves.
My Dad and My Tío gave me a gift that will transcend even my own existence because I’ve been doing the same for others for decades. It’s all a labor of love!
Until next time, Be GREAT! You ARE!
¡HEIRPOWER!
bob vásquez!
No comments:
Post a Comment