Remembering Labor

On this day, I remember. I grew up in a coal town with a breaker. There was still a “patch” (company homes). I know where the company store was. I played in the barn where the mules were housed. My grandmother told stories of the strikes. The old men spoke of the times and when they said “scabs” they spit on the ground. My stepfather was a breaker boy who saw a kid crushed when the belt tore lose. My grandfather’s wagon was used to carry bodies from the site of the 1911 fire where 62 men died because of improper conditions. The story of labor’s fight is part of my story.