My father was a deep-vein coal miner. He was born in 1913, and went into the mines with his father when he was just 13. Imagine. Now it would be classified as “child labor” and was then! We lived in western Indiana, a prime location for coal. The shafts went deep into the earth—1-1/2 to 2 miles long. He was the “mule skinner.” He had 2 mules that pulled the car down into the mine. The men picked the coal off the walls with pickaxes and loaded it into the cars. It was the job of the Mike’s to pull it out. And they didn’t like it. They were stubborn and refused to go sometimes. And he MADE them. So if at times he told you, you were “stubborn as a mule,” it was not a compliment! Often at night when he came home his hands were covered with bites. And his legs with bruises where they had kicked him.
There lights down in the mine were carbide lamps. They put them on the front of their hard hats. He got the lamps ready every night. There were 2 compartments—the bottom held water, and the too filled with carbide. When he lit it, it produced a dim light, and the odor was acrid and very unpleasant. You can imagine several workers with these lights burning in an enclosed space. No wonder many of them, including my dad, developed lung problems. I still have his light, which at this time must be at least 80 years old. It survived many years of moves as the wife of an itinerant preacher.
One day is burned into my memory. Coming home from school that day we were greeted with terrible news. And the anguish on his face was heartbreaking. In the mine that day, a car got loose and ran down the track, hitting and killing the mine owner, John Runyan. Dad stood there watching and could do nothing to help. Even his great strength couldn’t move that car. Dad lost a great friend that day. It took a long time before he could live with the horror of what he saw that day.
Dad was a tall man, 6’3.” And often they worked bent over in the shaft. He was a lover of sunshine and the outdoors. He didn’t like the dark. It was a while as a child before I realized the sacrifice he made for his family to provide for us. He did what he could do. Sadly, when I was 9 years old, he suffered severe injuries when the mine caved in on the workers. Nobody was killed, and all escaped, but with serious injuries. Dad had broken bones and was never able to go back to the mines. Sometime after that one of my favorite uncles, Uncle Ben, was killed in the mines.
Dad’s strength was legendary before his accident. He did recover to a great extent. I will always remember his strength and his gentleness.
One very difficult winter, all seven of us children were sick. Several things were going around then, measles, mumps, chickenpox and other ailments. We missed many weeks of school. And I realize now how harried my mother must have been trying to take care of all of us.
One spring day, I ventured out to the barn not far from the house. I was so weak that I could not get back to the house and my bed. I was just sitting there by myself trying to work up some strength. He came by and saw me, picked me up in his strong arms, and carried me to the house. He said, “Daddy’s little girl is as light as a feather.” Unfortunately, he could not say that now.
I believe the strength and character of both my parents contributed so greatly to the person I am now. Their courage and devotion and dedication to each other and to their children are surely recorded in God’s books.
Thoughts From the Garden 