Words of wisdom from an old coal miner haunt me tonight. [View All]

[WindRiverMan]

My dearest friend was an old blacksmith in the coal mines. He was a child during the end of the great depression. The called him "Plug" because he was fond of plug chewing tobacco and always carried a wad of it in his hip pocket on his overalls.

I remember one time, as a young man myself, when the miners were on strike. I was at one of the meetings where the union folks were holding a meeting for public support. When his time came, Plug walked up to the podium to speak. He did not wear a suit, not even slacks, just the same old green flannel shirts, blue coveralls, and workboots he wore daily in the mines.

Plug's words were metaphorical, but put simply as was his way. "These people, these corporate people, you know they would have made piss poor farmers. They remind me of a man I knew as a kid. He had one horse and one mule. A plow mule he used to work the fields, and a fancy black horse he used to ride to town for Church on Sundays. This farmer, his Sunday horse was always sleek and shiny. He alwasy put shoes on his Sunday horse. He fed what grain he could afford to the Sunday horse, he let his mule crop grass. I remember asking him one time, why don't you give that old mule some grain, he's thin and works hard. The farmer replied that his Sunday horse needed the grain to keep his shiny coat. Well, it didn't take too long until the old mule broke down. Hard work and poor feed will do that to an animal. It wasn't too long after that, the farmer had to sell his fancy Sunday horse. Then he had no mule and no horse. These company men would make piss poor farmers."

Plug's words came again to me tonight while I listend to Obama, and the stories of the people he chose to make his point. Plug is gone now, black lung and emphysema taking their toll on him. Next Tuesday I will cast my vote in remembrance of Plug and for the future of my own sons.