the importance of being a provider

In high school, I liked to read. Anything I could get my hands on became a center of my sole interest. It’s not really important that anyone know that I like to read. It’s much less important that a lot of things. Like, for instance, I’m a coal miner. For another example, I have an adopted daughter named, Elissa. There are so many things in life more important that my reading habits. What I’m getting to is this: When I was younger, life was about growing and learning. I was supposed to go to college and leave the countryside. For some reason, people have this maxim that being a coalminer is a bad thing. The general opinions of coalminers are split into three sectors: it’s either a way of life and absolutely vital, it’s filthy and not good things at all and then there are the coalminers, themselves. I fall under the last quartile.

At first, coalmining was a summer thing I did for some quick cash. My uncle, Ray, had been doing it for years and extended the invitation to me. This was the summer after high school; this was the first summer of adulthood. Rain or shine, everyday that summer I trod up the road to the mine. On better days, I’d walk with a smile on face. I appreciated that job and the cash, but sometimes the slightest tinge of warm West Virginia air made me love my job even more. On the rainy days, I would hum along in an old blue pickup. Sometimes I would sing with the radio and sometimes I would crack my window to let the rain slip in. It wasn’t until mid-summer that my attitude changed.

On a hot and muggy Thursday, I had wondered into the local grocery store to pick up a few things for my mother. I had just finished my shift at the mine and looked like I had bathed in soot. It never occurred to me to be ashamed of my...

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...ue to mine. I provide for many the same way reading provided for me: I’m helping to make something much larger than myself.

I am a lot of things: a snorer, a father, a son, a husband, and even a Bengals fan. But one thing that I find to be very important is that I am a coal miner. Sure, there are things more interesting to talk about and certainly less controversial professions to have. In the end, I know I will be criticized by many for what I do. Those critiques will probably never see the inside of a mine or hear the words, “Thank you, son,” come from a stranger. I could be wrong about that, but they too could be wrong about their own statements. It’s not important to me to have a dishwasher. It’s not important to me to have a fancy television. But for people everywhere, it is important to have power. For many people, everywhere, it is important to have coal.