I took my mother to the doctor today and it got me thinking about my dad who has passed away. Then my mind "spider webbed" to my childhood home of Gold Run and joined my dad in the memory. My dad worked hard as a mission pastor of a very small church in a very spiritually cold part of the world.
It not only was cold spiritually, but it got down right weather cold in the winter time. Going the road toward Donner Pass many times required snow chains. My dad would get out on the side of the road and offer to put the "city slickers" tire chains on their cars. It was cold hard wet work. Many people were happy to pay someone else to freeze their backside off.
When traffic died down or dad was sufficiently frozen, he would come home and hang his money over the furnace to dry. I remember feeling so sorry for dad and how cold he was, but very proud of him to suffer while providing for his family. If he were here, I'm sure he would refer to those times as the "good ol' days".
And then there were those on the bus to California that professionally work the social programs. Hard work quickly translated to hardly work. Sad...
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